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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Please, call me Blair."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I told you, I have my ways."

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

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

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

"Yeah, it sucks, but it qualifies me as an unofficial instructor, so I get the card. And don't sweat it." He wiggled his eyebrows. "I only agreed if they were required to write an essay at the end of the semester that actually made sense." Giles had to smile. "Most of them will have someone else do it for them, but your effort is appreciated."

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

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

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

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

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

"It shouldn't be that long."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm used to it. My partner has the attention span of a gerbil. I'll just have to come up with something they'll be interested in. How about sex?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ah, here it comes."

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

"But another one? What about Xander?"

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

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

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

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

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

*sniff*

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

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

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

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

"Jim? You look funny, man."

"Chief, have you been handling frogs?"