Immortal Convergence
by Kay

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven-Nine

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How did you know?"

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

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

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

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

*****

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

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

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

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


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

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

"I drove all night."

"What on earth for?"

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

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

"Some little town called Sunnydale."

"Shit," muttered the older man.

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

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

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

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

"Hellmouth?" Duncan asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What's going on?" Richie asked.

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

"I'm coming," Duncan said.

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

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

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

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

Part Two

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Incidentally, did you see that Immortal again?"

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

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

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

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

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

Part Three

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

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

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

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

“It’s always worked before,” Xander protested.

“Get going.” It was true; Xander’s Plan Nine always worked.

“What, no kiss for luck?”

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

Xander pouted. “It worked in Star Wars.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you want?” growled one of the pair.

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

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

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

“Audition?” one asked.

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

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

Wesley approached him. “I hate Plan Nine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you looking for a fight?” Xander asked.

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

“Wes stays.” Xander’s chin poked out obstinately.

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

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

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

“What?” asked the redhead.

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

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

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

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

Part Four

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

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

“What, you’ve got plans we’re keeping you from?” the mortal guy asked.

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

“I’m Richie,” the other man answered. “This is Joe,” indicating the bearded
mortal, “Adam,” the thin man, “and Mac.”

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

“Duncan McLeod of the McLeod,” the long-haired man elaborated.

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

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

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

“The Slayer?” Richie asked, obviously confused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Duncan shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

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

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

“If it’s so dangerous, how did you last growing up here?” Duncan challenged.

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

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

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

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

Xander nodded as he glanced at the clock. “The sun’s going to be coming up
soon.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The Hellmouth...”

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

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

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

“We didn’t,” Duncan protested.

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

“I don’t know,” Duncan ground out.

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

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

“Any particular reason he’s dressed like a pirate?” Xander muttered.

“Why don’t you ask him?” Wesley suggested.

“K.” Xander raised his voice. “Ahoy, there!”

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

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

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

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

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

“How were we supposed to know he’d do that?” Richie asked. “What the hell
was that?”

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

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

Wesley blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“What were you thinking? You could’ve been hurt!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wesley shook his head. “That was rudimentary. Anyone who can memorize the
chant can fling Kreslir’s Fire around.”

“Anyone can do magic?” Duncan asked skeptically.

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

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

“Where should we look for him?” Duncan asked.

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

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

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

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

“See you soon, then,” Duncan said.

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

“Home?”

“Please,” Wesley answered with a tired grin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bedroom,” Wesley suggested, hands sliding up under Xander’s shirt.

“Yours is closer.”

“Yours had a bigger bed.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not right now.” Wesley’s arms tightened around Xander and he kissed him
lingeringly.

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

Part Five

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe he could steal a video camera.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where to now?” Xander asked, reaching up and straightening Wesley’s
glasses.

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

Xander sighed. “Elm Street’s a mile away.”

“Hlerns are notoriously nasty.”

“There’s a whole nest of vampires.”

“Hlerns spew mucus.”

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

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

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

He should have brought a video camera for them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Adam frowned. “I don’t remember you. And I haven’t gone by ‘Benjamin’ in a
very long time.”

“Yeah, about ninety years, isn’t it?”

“Who are you?”

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

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

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

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

“You know him?” the long-haired man asked.

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

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

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

“That’s only because your mouth was full of other things.”

“Your still jealous that my technique is better than yours.”

Adam shook his head. “You’re delusional.”

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

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

“What the hell is he?” ground out MacLeod.

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

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

“How do you know we’re looking for someone?” Wesley asked.

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

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

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

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

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

He could get to like this.

Part Six

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

Wesley chuckled. “Does that make you Dorothy?”

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

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

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

Wesley nodded his comprehension. “You’ll catch up with us?”

“As long as Spike isn’t lying to us, I know where you’re going.”

“Hey!” Spike objected.

“Don’t even bother,” Xander said. “I won’t be long,” he promised Wesley.

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

“Where’s he going?” Adam asked.

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

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

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

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

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

Joe looked at him speculatively. “I’m not going to guarantee you any
answers.”

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

“What do you know about Watchers?” Joe’s voice was low and controlled.

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

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

“So that’s how you heard of the Hellmouth?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you have fun?” Wesley asked.

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

“But he didn’t?”

“I think he’s beginning to give up. I’m beginning to break the old
bastard’s spirit.”

“Who are you talking about?” Joe asked.

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

“You can’t do that,” MacLeod said sharply. “It’s dangerous!”

“No shit. I mentioned the gun, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Shh,” the vampire hissed. “Can’t you hear that? There’s fighting up
ahead.”

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

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

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

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

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

“At least he’s got the rules down!” Xander shouted.

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

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

“Just keep him out of my way.”

“This man was attacking you,” MacLeod objected.

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

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

“I don’t-” MacLeod began to object, but Xander didn’t let him finish.

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

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

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

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

Slamming into MacLeod’s sword.

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m good. Just twisted my side when I fell. What are you two doing back?”

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

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

“The robes and Fire o’ Stench was kind of a tip off.”

“Kreslir’s Fire,” Willow muttered, letting Oz help her to her feet. “It was
Kreslir’s Fire.”

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

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

“Hey!” Joe made his way forward. “What do you think you’re doing?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Spike,” Buffy hissed, pulling out a stake. “The only thing you’re here to
do is die.”

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

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

“We don’t need him,” she said, hefting the stake.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Xander looked his friend over with concern. “You sure you’re all right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can take her,” Spike said.

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

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

Spike shook his head. “So long as it’s human, type doesn’t actually make
any difference.”

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

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

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

“Nothing wrong with staying in a crypt. I’m a vampire, for fuck’s sake.”

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

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

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

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

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

The Henta nodded violently.

“Is it correct?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The ass and the accent...”

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

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

Wesley swallowed hard, the arousal he’d felt outside returning full force.
“Xander...” His voice was hoarse.

Xander looked up at him. “Wes? You OK?”

“I won’t be if I don’t get out of my jeans soon.”

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

“Right after you called me ‘sir’.” Wesley’s embarrassment disappeared under
the heat of Xander’s gaze.

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

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

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

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

“What’s wrong?” Xander asked, hands moving in soothing circles on Wesley’s
skin.

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

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

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

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

Wesley ducked his head and bit Xander’s nipple.

“Ow!” Xander’s breathing sped up. “In the drawer. Wes, please!”

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

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

“More,” Xander begged. “Faster.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then he heard the door snick close.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shook his head. “I couldn’t.”

“Too in love with me?”

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

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

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

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

Part Seven-Nine