Note: I've pretty much fooled around with the whole timeline of this episode. Also, for the purposes of this story, Xander never quit working at the campus bar.
Part One
Doyle looked over at the dark-haired vampire behind the wheel of the black convertible. He opened his mouth to speak, then, thinking better of it, turned back toward the southern California scenery flying by his window. It was that 'flying' that was worrying the half-demon. Angel, usually somewhat of a cautious driver, was racing up the interstate at nothing less than 100 mph. Doyle noted the white knuckles clutching the steering wheel, as well as the stubborn set to Angel's jaw, but felt like he had to speak anyway.
"You know, Angel, we won't be any help to anyone if we end up in a fiery crash half way to Sunnydale."
There was a pause and Doyle was sure he was going to be ignored. When the vampire finally did speak, he had gone back to the near-monosyllables he had used when the green-eyed man had first met him. "You had a vision. Buffy's in trouble. We need to get there now."
"I'm not arguing with that. But we also need to get there *alive*. Well, some of us do. I think -"
"You didn't have to come."
The smaller man blinked. "Well, you know, " he started, but trailed off.
Angel glanced over at him briefly. "I'm sorry. I just don't want to get there too late," he said softly.
Doyle shrugged and sat back in his seat, remaining silent for the rest of the trip.
* * * * * * *
Upon arrival at Giles's apartment, Angel immediately went out to find Buffy, while Doyle settled down to do some preliminary research with the older man. His vision hadn't exactly been forthcoming with details about what this evil was going to be, so there was very little for them to go on.
After awhile, Doyle slammed shut the book he had been looking through in frustration and stretched as Giles went to go and make them both some tea.
The sudden opening of the front door surprised them both.
Giles sighed when he saw who it was. "Thank you ever so much for knocking, Xander," he muttered sarcastically.
The teenager's response died in his throat as his eyes met those of the Irishman sitting on the couch. Both men felt a the air thicken around them as they stared at each other.
The whistling of the tea kettle brought them back to the reality of Giles's living room and they both suddenly found other things to occupy their attention. Giles, carrying a tray with the tea preparations, noticed nothing amiss when he re-entered the room.
"Xander, if you're going to stay you should really close the door. Actually, I'd prefer it if you did, because you can help Doyle and I try to research a possible threat to Buffy."
Xander had actually heard only one word in that entire sentence. "Doyle?" he asked.
"Oh yes. Forgive me. Xander, this is Angel's friend, Doyle. Doyle, this is Xander Harris, one of our young demon fighters. Xander, Doyle has visions of -" here he broke off, not really knowing enough about the visions himself to explain to anyone else.
Doyle picked up where he had left off. " - of people in trouble. Then I get Angel to go and save them."
Xander looked startled. "Visions?"
"Yep, in the form of headaches so bad they'd make you want to jump off a building. But they're always right, so far at least."
The slayerette looked confused. "So you had a vision of Buffy, and came up to tell us she might be in trouble?"
"No. Well, yes, in a way. But Angel's pretty sure he can help fight this thing, whatever it is, then we can get outta here before she even knows we were here. He's got this weird thing about not wanting her to know he's in town."
"You're here with Deadboy." Said flatly.
"Deadboy?" Doyle grinned at the name. "Yeah, we work together in L.A."
The dark-eyed man turned his attention back to Giles with a mock sigh. "Sorry, G-man, but tonight I have to go to my pie-in-the-sky job, bartending to the privileged and the obnoxious at the campus bar. Alas, instead of pouring over books in languages I don't know I'll be pouring for drunks who speak languages I don't know. Really, it's not much different, except they pay me for it there."
Giles looked mildly irritated. "If you have no intention of staying, then why did you come here in the first place?"
"Umm. Oh, right. I came to drop off this book. It's Anya's, and since we're not together anymore, I thought it might be...uncomfortable to host her in the basement. I figured she'd come here sooner or later." Xander set the book on the end table next to the couch.
"Well I'm very glad that you think of my home as a repository for all of the things you no longer want in your own. Now if you'll excuse us, we have researching to get back to."
The young man paused with his hand on the doorknob and turned back to Doyle. "I don't suppose you'd want to come and get a drink at the bar, would you? I know researching can be thirsty work. Oh, and hungry work, too."
The older man nearly leapt out of his seat at the opportunity to dodge more ineffectual flipping through pages. "Sure! I mean," he said, turning to the Watcher, "if you don't mind."
"What, you're just going to leave me here to do this on my own?" Giles's voice was more resigned than anything else. "Fine. Go. Enjoy yourself. I'll tell Angel where to find you if he should need to."
With that, Doyle and Xander smiled at each other as the half-demon pulled on his jacket and walked the younger man out the door.
Part Two
For some reason, the Wednesday night before Thanksgiving was packed at the campus bar. Xander had expected it to be slow as students went home to spend the holiday with their families. Because of all the activity, he was only able to talk to Doyle for a few minutes at a time, though he did keep the Irishman swimming in free whiskey.
Finally, just before closing time, the bar was practically empty and the other bartender told Xander he could take off early since he had a friend waiting. Xander still ended up waiting for the green-eyed man to finish his last drink, during which time Doyle convinced the teen to drink with him.
For this reason, it was two giggling men who nearly fell down the stairs into Xander's basement a couple of hours later. There was no way that either of them was up to going all the way to Giles's, so they both decided to crash on Xander's pulled-out sofa bed. Actually "crash" was an entirely appropriate word: they didn't even bother taking off their coats or shoes before they were both asleep, lying side by side on the thin mattress.
* * * * * * *
The next morning, the world was dark and full of pain as Xander regained consciousness. "Ummphg," he murmured, only to be startled awake when there was an answering groan next to his ear. His eyes snapped open in a move which the teen immediately regretted as the bright sunlight forced needles of pain to balloon across his frontal lobe. Opening them more slowly this time, he was confronted with...a hand. He frowned and examined it more closely. Not a girl hand, by any stretch of the imagination.
Sitting up slightly (after placing a kibosh on his first urge to bolt upright), the dark-eyed man realized that his head had been pillowed by a lean chest, with Xander's own treacherous arm wrapped around an equally trim waist.
Looking hesitantly higher, the young man relaxed when he recognized Doyle's sleeping face. Even as his eyes traced the handsome features, the Irishman's eyes fluttered open and locked with Xander's brown ones. "Morning," Doyle whispered.
"Hi," the mortal responded.
They might have continued gazing at each other indefinitely if Doyle hadn't abruptly leaned forward and captured surprised lips with his own.
The kiss was gentle and short, and left both men wanting more. Again their eyes met, only this time it was Xander who kissed Doyle, sliding his tongue into the warm, whiskey-tasting cavern of Doyle's mouth.
Doyle's hands came up to hold the back of the youth's head as Xander began a quiet exploration of the half-demon's chest after slipping under the hem of his shirt.
Eventually, both men had to break off the kiss in order to gasp for breath, even as Xander pinched and teased the older man's nipples. The Irishman's moan was enough of an incentive for the slayerette to try it again, only this time with his mouth. In order to accommodate the questing youth, Doyle sat up and pulled his own shirt over his head, then reached over and relieved Xander of his before allowing the boy to reclaim the green-eyed man's nipples.
As Doyle lay back down, his head strongly objected the move with a bright flash of pain that quickly undercut any and all of the erotic sensations that Xander's skilled lips and tongue were providing. The half-demon groaned loudly.
The teenager raised his head and smiled into Doyle's long-suffering expression. "Ooohh, is somebunny feeling allll bbaayyd?" He asked in a singsong voice. The older man merely groaned again in response.
"Ahhhh, poor baby. Well, you can go back to sleep while I take a shower, okay?" He had already gotten out of bed with a minimum of pain before turning back and pulling the covers up to Doyle's chin. "I'll be back soon."
Only a second later, or so it seemed to the hung over half-demon, the insanely loud ring of a telephone jerked him out of sleep and sent him to new heights of agony.
"AHHHH!" He screamed to no one in particular as he pulled the pillow over his head. The phone rang a second and third time before Doyle's foggy brain grasped the idea that Xander was in the shower and probably couldn't hear it. He reached blindly out from under his pillow protection and groped blindly along the table next to the bed until he located the traitorous contraption.
"Hello?" he muttered sleepily after dragging it under his pillow.
"Doyle?" Angel's worried voice came through the line. The worry woke the Irishman up a little more and he emerged from his pillow chrysalis.
"Yeah, it's me. What time is it?"
"Almost noon. I started to get worried when you didn't come back last night..."
"And I didn't call, neither. Sorry about that. We got to drinking and I ended up sleeping here. I was going to call you as soon as I got here, but then I just...forgot."
"That's okay. I was just worried. I didn't want to call too early and wake Xander up if he had no idea where you were. Where is he, anyway?"
Doyle stretched and felt little aches all over his body begin to present themselves as a consequence of sleeping on the sofa bed. "He's in the shower now. He should be out soon, though. At least I think he should. I'm not really sure what time he went in." He stretched again and winced. "Do you have any idea how uncomfortable it is to sleep on one of those pulled out sofa beds? It's a wonder Xander can even walk if he sleeps on this thing every night."
"You...slept in Xander's bed?"
" 'Course. Not like he's got an extra one stashed in the closet." Doyle hear the water turn off in the bathroom. "Okay, I think he's out of the shower now, if you still need to talk to him. Hold on."
Doyle put the phone down for a minute and Angel could hear him having a muffled conversation with Xander through the bathroom door. A minute later, Xander's voice came on the line.
"Angel?"
"Xander. Listen, I need you to do me a favor and not tell Buffy about our being here, okay? I think I might just distract her and end up doing more harm than good."
"Fine," the teen said, stifling a large yawn.
"Also, can you try and send Doyle back to Giles's as soon as possible? He might be able to find something in the books."
"Double fine. See ya, Deadboy," Xander said as he hung up.
He turned and looked at the green-eyed man laying in his bed and smirked.
Part Two
"Feeling better?" Xander asked, eyes appraising every inch of uncovered flesh before him.
Doyle smiled back sheepishly. He resisted the urge to squirm under the other man's hungry eyes, deciding to answer the question as a means of distracting them both. "Yeah. I think a shower might help, though."
"I left you some hot water, if you want to take one right this minute." When Doyle showed signs that that was exactly what he wanted, Xander got up and removed the rest of his discarded clothes from the bathroom floor. If the teenager was surprised at this turn of events, he hid it well as he showed the half-demon where the towels were.
Upon emerging from the bathroom, his shoulders draped in a oversized Snoopy towel, Doyle could smell cooking eggs and sausage, a scent which made him realize how simultaneously hungry and nauseous he was from last night's festivities. His hangovers were never as bad as they would have been if he were purely human, and it astonished him that Xander felt good enough to eat something so heavy for breakfast.
As Doyle discarded the towel in favor of his shirt, the younger man waved a spatula at him, clearly wanting to say, "Doyle, dear guest, please do sit down and break bread on this lovely morning," but unable to because his mouth was full of toast.
The green-eyed man surveyed the greasy offerings and shook his head with solemn regret. "Sorry, man, but if I eat any of that right now, it'll probably come back up in about ten minutes. I will have some toast, though, if you've got any more."
The teen nodded, popping two more pieces into the toaster. Finally having his mouth free, he turned to Doyle. "Angel wants you back to Giles's pretty much now so you can get back on the research horse. I kinda got the feeling he was mad at me for leading you astray last night, so it might be a good idea if I actually get you there before he has to call here looking for you again."
"Don't worry about it. Angel knows I have a soft spot for pubs anyway. If he's mad at anyone, it'd be me."
Xander went to hand Doyle a plate of freshly buttered toast but paused, thoughtfully. "I don't know how this figures into you and Angel's plans, but the Buffster and the rest of us are supposed to be headed over to Giles's around two to start cooking Thanksgiving dinner. If you're still playing the invisible men, it might be better if you weren't...visible."
The half-demon grinned. "That's probably good advice. I think Angel just wants me to grab some books anyway and head back to the mansion so he can check them out himself. He hates being left out of things, you know."
Xander grinned back at him. "Is that what you tell yourself so you can stick him with all the research? Not a bad cover story." Then another thing Doyle had said sunk in. "Wait...you're staying at the mansion?"
"Yeah. Not exactly the coziest accommodations I've ever been in, but I think they might rival the place I've got down in L.A."
"Xander made a face, then surveyed his own basement digs. "Yeah, same here."
The older man looked around too, trying to come up with something complimentary to say about the depressingly dark and dank room he had spent the night it. "It's very...convenient, what with the washer and dryer right there. You hardly have to get out of bed to do your laundry."
Xander laughed. "Thanks. I think that's the nicest thing anyone's ever been able to say about it." He put his and Doyle's empty plates into the sink, then grabbed his keys and wallet. "Ready to go and get glared at by everyone's favorite Brit wit?"
"Does he really glare?" Doyle asked. following Xander out of the apartment.
"Are you kidding? He's got death ray eyes. He's like that character on the 'X-Men'. I remember this one time..."
Upon finally arriving at Giles's, the two men found the plan to be much like Doyle had earlier surmised: Giles simply handed him a pile of books (with an equally heavy warning to let *nothing* happen to them) and shooed the Irishman out the door again, since Buffy was due to arrive at any moment.
Xander was left sitting alone with Giles, shrinking under the other man's gaze. The teen could almost hear the questions the Watcher was too polite to ask - questions mainly revolving around the issue of whether Xander and Doyle had had sex the previous night. Although the youth had been thinking of Giles as a father figure for years, there was simply no way in hell that he was going to talk about his sex life with him. Or lack thereof.
Xander was so wrapped up in the tense silence that had settled that Buffy's aggravated entrance sometime later was one of the most welcome interruptions he had ever come across in his life.
* * * * * * *
At the mansion, Doyle was facing his own silent third degree from Angel, who the half-demon occasionally caught looking at him strangely over the top of a book. The green-eyed man sighed inwardly. It was going to be a long day.
* * * * * * *
Four hours later, Xander found himself in the middle of a philosophical argument over what should be done to stop the latest evil - the same one, he supposed, that Angel and Doyle had rushed up from L.A. to help them against.
As usual, his opinion wasn't sought by anyone else in the room, and for once he was actually thankful for this, since it allowed him to think about the green-eyed man in peace for awhile. Why had Doyle seemed so disinclined to continue what they had started this morning? Xander had gone home with a couple of guys since he had started working at the bar, and although things may have been awkward the next morning, he had never gotten the same level embarrassment that he had been picking up from Doyle since the phone call. Could Angel have said something to him? The teenager tried to imagine the aloof vampire stooping to warning his friend off another man. No, it had to be something else. But what?
The young man was disturbed out of his thoughts by Willow shaking his arm. "Xander? Do you want to come with us?"
"Um, sure," he said, attempting to act as if he had any idea what the redhead was talking about. It didn't help that Spike sneered at him as he got up and put on his jacket. Great. Even Spike, who had spent the last hour tied to a chair with stakes being thrust at him every ten minutes, had managed to stay on top of the conversation. And the sad thing was, this was *still* better than spending the holiday with his parents.
* * * * * * *
Anya held the plate of pie in front of her and smiled. She loved pumpkin pie. It was one of the few things about human life that was really worth it. Xander found himself smiling back at his ex-girlfriend, glad that there wasn't any kind of left over resentment between the two of them [*cough*Cordelia*cough*]. As they left the Dean's house, the young man noticed that it had gotten dark, which in Sunnydale was never a good thing. Darkness allowed for all kinds of things to be up and about, like slime demons, werewolves (though not that night, which was good) and...Angel.
Upon the brunette vampire's characteristic emergence from nowhere, Willow squealed, Anya stared, and Xander groaned. He so did not want to deal with Angel right now. For one scary minute he actually thought Angel had found him to talk about Doyle, only to realize as soon as the older man opened his mouth that all he was thinking of was Buffy. Typical. Relief quickly turned into query as he couldn't help but ask, "Hey Deadboy, where's Doyle?"
The look on Angel's face at the hated nickname might have melted lesser men, but Xander had a lifetime of backing down to make up for, and he held his own against the dark gaze. Finally, it was the vampire who looked away. "He's watching Giles's. He's going to call my cell phone if anything -"
On cue, the phone in Angel's pocket began to ring.
While Angel answered the call, the others were already scrambling to get the nearby bicycles unlocked. Maybe Thanksgiving with his parents wasn't so bad after all...
* * * * * * *
The battle was already in full swing when they got back to the Watcher's house. Doyle was outside on the patio, trying to hold two warriors off with a crossbow and an ornate fighting axe. They could hear Buffy, Giles and Spike inside, struggling against what had to be the leader. Angel, Willow and Anya helped Doyle while Xander rushed inside, only to discover too late that he didn't have any kind of weapon or self-defense strategy.
He soon found himself the focus of more than one angry spirit as they each drew what he realized were very pointy weapons and closed in on him.
Just then he heard a yell as Doyle broke through the group surrounding him and began shoving them away from the dark-eyed man. Before Xander had a chance to thank him, the half-demon was outside again, throwing himself into further battle.
At that moment, Buffy suddenly cried out, and Xander realized that there was a full-grown bear standing in the living room. Buffy was fighting it but having trouble getting a decent shot, so he hurriedly tried to distract it by throwing raw onions at it, which finally paid off when she was able to sink her knife into it's heart, apparently killing all of the spirits. After helping Giles to his feet and righting Spike's overturned chair, Xander glanced outside and realized that Angel and Doyle were nowhere to be seen. Making his mind up quickly, he moved passed Anya and Willow and opened the door.
"I'll be right back," he said, turning to go out.
"But dinner's ready!" Buffy couldn't believe he was going to leave now.
He turned and gave her his most charming smile. "I swear I'll be back in five minutes. I just need to...do something I forgot about this morning." With that, he was out the door before she could make him feel any more guilty.
From the outside, the mansion appeared just as dark and deserted as Xander remembered it being, but he say what had to be Angel's black convertible still outside, so he imagined they had to be around here somewhere. He almost knocked, but then just walked in. He wasn't sure if he'd be welcome or not, and didn't want to give them a chance to slip out the back if he wasn't.
Doyle and Angel were both wrestling weapons into a large olive drab bag when he entered the spacious living room. He immediately locked eyes with the half-demon, not looking away until Angel got the hint and announced he'd take the weapons bag out to the car. With the vampire gone, the tension in the room increased. Neither knew what to say until finally Xander reached into his pocket and pulled out the crumpled paper he had put there at Giles's. "Here," he said. Then, noting Doyle's crinkled brow, he added, "it's my phone number. Just in case you ever wanted to call...or anything. You know, next time you're in Sunnydale."
The older man ran a hand through his hair. "You'd want me to do that, yeah?" Seeing Xander nod, he added, "I wasn't sure. I mean, when Angel used to talk about you guys here, he always said how much you liked girls, and then last night...I wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or what." He stopped there, not wanting to start babbling.
"Well, Angel doesn't know everything. Especially the things that have happened since he moved to L.A." Xander found himself smiling for the first time in hours. It looked like he might actually be seeing more of the other man in the future.
Doyle pulled his wallet out of his pocket and flipped through it for a minute, then handed the younger man a business card with some indecipherable drawing on the front. "That's my number at work there, and here," he took the card back and wrote a second number in blue ballpoint ink on the back, "that's my home number. You know, in case you're ever in L.A. you can give me a call."
As he handed the card to Xander a second time, the slayerette smiled. "Count on it." Then, stepping away, he knew that Buffy was probably throwing a fit that he had been gone so long already. Doyle had to go, too, he could sense from the fact that Angel had been waiting outside for nearly ten minutes. The brunette vampire had never struck the teenager as being the most patient person around.
"So..." Doyle looked at him, not knowing what else to say.
"So. Happy Thanksgiving."
The Irishman smiled. "You, too. I'll be seein ya, then."
"Yeah." With that, Xander walked back to Giles's humming.