He tossed in his bed, tangled in the blankets, damp with sweat. Sleep seemed to thwart him at every turn. Glancing at the clock, he snarled.

"1:30."

Throwing the blankets off of his legs, Xander stood, blindly struggling through the clothes lying on his floor towards the light switch. The bright light pierced his eyes, and he cringed. Grabbing a sweatshirt, he stumbled downstairs.

He stood in the kitchen doorway, staring. And the kitchen stared back. Counters crusted over with brown goopy stuff that once was food. Dishes stacked high in the sink, the water old and filmy. Crumbs scattered across the stovetop.

Xander contemplated grabbing a plastic bowl and having cereal. Just avoid the mess of the kitchen in general. But he couldn't. Reaching under the sink and grabbing a sponge, he began to clean.

When the room was relatively sanitary, he pulled out the cereal and milk. But as he sat down, ready to eat, he realized that his hunger was gone. He dragged a fingernail across the formica topped table. Tears began to form in his eyes as he pictured a face. His face.

"What's happenin' to you, Xand-Man?"

But he couldn't seem to find an answer.

*****

"I believe in following strict protocol. If the girls are trained shoddily, then their performance will suffer. If they follow the guidelines set forth by centuries of Watchers, they will become excellent Slayers."

Giles' eyes wandered as he listened to the man drone on and on. Ever since he had met his replacement, his mind had been in a terrible state of boredom.

"Oh, and I have my own books to add to your collection, Mr. Giles. I should hope that the library will remain our 'base of operations," so to speak." The new Watcher chuckled, apparently happy with his wit.

"Yes, of course," Giles said dryly. He worked to hold his sarcasm in, trying to maintain some sense of decorum around Wesley. But it became more and more difficult to focus, as he seemed to be slipping into a coma.

But then his mind shifted, contemplating dark hair, darker eyes. He began to think of Xander. Without bidding his thoughts began to build a fantasy world where he and Xander were alone on some deserted isle, with plenty of sun, sand, and lube. He tuned out Wesley as he thought of his mouth on Xander's cock, lovingly drawing the boy to an orgasm. He lost himself in his mind, happy with the things he wanted but could not have.

"M-Mr. Giles?"

Startled out of his reverie, Giles looked up. He realized that the fantasy had done something for his crotch, and deftly moved the book he was holding to a better position. "Yes?"

"When should the Slayers arrive from patrol?"

*****

Xander wandered the streets, occasionally reaching inside his pocket to fondle the stake and cross he had brought along. The coolness of the late night touched his face, allowing him to think.

These walks had become a nightly routine for him. As insomnia beckoned, as he became more and more haunted with his passions, he needed a place to think.

"Damn you, Giles," he muttered under his breath. "Why me? Why did I have to lust after you, after your... hands... and tweed... and..."

He shook his head.

"Why couldn't it have been someone I could have?"

Walking faster, keeping away from the streetlights, trying to be nondescript. As he brought his eyes up from the ground, he looked at his destination.

The apartment sat, trim and clean, looking at him in the moonlight. The tears that had threatened before came charging to the foreground, spilling over his cheeks.

"Giles... I love you..." His voice was less than a whisper.

The windows, darkened, did not answer back.

Quietly, Xander walked away.

*****

Watching Wesley unpack his books, Giles felt an itchy sense of worthlessness. He had nothing to do, nothing worth doing, and he was falling asleep.

"Look, Wesley, go ahead and finish things here. I'm going to head home for a spot of tea and some sleep."

Nodding, Wesley continued to leaf through a volume bound in faded brown leather.

Giles picked up his jacket and bag and headed out the doors. As he drove home, the familiar clunking of his engine droning in the background, his thoughts once again wandered towards Xander. Xander reading, his lips silently following along. Xander laughing, his eyes crinkling with delight. Xander walking with Buffy and Willow, happy, animated.

"Get a hold of yourself, Rupert. Enough of this."

But the little RipperSelf within him beckoned, told him to think about Xander.

"After all," Giles said mechanically, "Thoughts can't hurt anyone..."

He hesitated. Then, his eyes flared, and he slammed his fist on the steering wheel. "Anyone but me."

*****

As Xander turned the corner, the silence of the night was interrupted by the noise of a car. A car in bad shape. Suddenly hopeful, he turned around, peering down the street.

The car was in his driveway.

Xander's heart leaped, his feet starting towards the apartment. He blocked out all thoughts of stopping, all thoughts of being discovered.

He just wanted to be in the light.

*****

Giles moved through the kitchen, making tea, going through the motions. His mind drifted, dancing in and out of the turmoil consuming him. His body was hot, cold, filled with lust that he refused to satiate.

He just wanted to drink his tea, and go to bed.

"Right."

He laughed softly, amused at the level of which he had been deluding himself.

"You know what you want."

Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

He looked up, wondering who could be at his house at this hour. The thought of a world ending emergency flitted briefly through his head. He rushed quickly over to the door. As he opened it, his breath caught.

"... Hi."

"Xander.... you shouldn't be here." Giles swallowed, hating every word, loving every second they stood there.

"I need you." Xander looked at him firmly, nervously.

"I..."

And then they were kissing. Lips meeting hotly, hands touching whatever they could feel. Xander pushed Giles into the house, never ending their continual kissing. His fingers fumbled for the buttons on Giles' shirt, trying blindly to undo them.

Giles pushed him away softly, his eyes glazed over with passion. "This way."

He led Xander over to the couch, working his own buttons as they went. He guided the younger man onto the cushions slowly, never taking his eyes off of his face.

"Xander... we shouldn't... This shouldn't happen." His voice wavered as his eyes crawled over Xander's face, his chest, his hips. He licked his lips, restraining, trying not to heed the call of his strained trousers, the call that told him to jump on Xander and...

"I don't care."

And Giles was left without a choice. Xander threw himself on the former Watcher, pulling off his sweatshirt, kissing his cheeks and neck. Giles felt his body press against the cushions. He wrapped his arms around Xander's nude chest, letting his lips press warm skin.

They lay together, clothes removed feverishly and tossed on the floor. Xander, in a frenzy of inexperience, was everywhere with his tongue. Giles smiled calmly, grabbing Xander's head lightly between his hands and guiding it, teaching Xander the art of slow, sensual touch. Xander caught on, teasing Giles' nipple softly with his tongue and teeth.

Giles leaned down, unzipping his trousers, moaning as Xander's teeth nipped him. His cock sprung out, erect. He rubbed up against Xander, enjoying the friction. Xander looked at him, wide eyed, wondering what to do.

"No worries..." Giles said softly. He moved his hands down Xander's chest, stroking the boy's bulge beneath his pants. Giles undid the fly, letting loose Xander's growing erection. He let his hand dance over the hot skin, before sliding down and engulfing him in his mouth.

Xander gasped softly, surprised, not understanding what this was, not caring. He closed his eyes, shuddering lightly under the care of Giles' tongue.

As Giles licked, running his tongue over the ridges and bulges of Xander's member, he began to stroke his own cock, moving in time with his mouth. He felt his previous passion grow amazingly, all of his fantasies and imagingings coming to a head. He felt Xander twitch in his mouth, and Giles knew that the boy was close. Putting the pressure on the head of his cock, Giles sucked.

That was all it took. Xander came, falling back, limp from exertion. Giles swallowed quickly and pulled up, looking at the younger man. The dazed pleasure on Xander's features was enough; Giles' orgasm shot through his body, stealing the energy from his knees, making him grateful that he was seated.

He pulled his handkerchief from the pile of clothes, wiping himself clean. Xander's gasps were faint, quavering. Giles leaned over, concerned, touching his lover's face.

"Are you okay?"

Xander opened his eyes, hazy with love. "Never been better... Rupert."

Giles smiled, already hearing the voices of reason and conformity screaming in his head. "I do love you, Xander..."

"I... love you, too."

"But... we can't do this again... I shouldn't have let it happen in the first place. The Council..."

"Fuck the Council!" Xander sat up, his eyes blazing. "I can't handle this! I can't handle not being able to sleep or eat because I am thinking of you. I hate not being with you! Why should it matter what they think? They are the ones that fired you."

Giles turned away. "Because, like it or not, they still control me."

"You could get away... find some place new to be..."

"You can't run from them. You can't hide underneath. That's like trying to run from God. They are everywhere."

Xander placed a hand on Giles' shoulder. "I... can't..."

Giles turned back to Xander. His eyes were two wells of sadness. "Neither can I..."

*****

From his position in the house, he had a good view of the apartment.

"Call the office. It's been over an hour."

His companion stood, going over to the phone. Dialing a number quickly, he listened intently.

"Hello. This is Evan Marksmith. Put me through to the Council's meeting room... yes, they will find this to be of great importance..."