"Her dolls?" Cordelia said. Willow was arranging the china dolls on the chest in Angel's bedroom. "You brought Drusilla's dolls?"

"Yeah, we rescued them from the mansion and had them cleaned up. Mostly we did it for Spike's sake, but she should have them back. The guy at the shop said she should get insurance. They're worth a lot."

"Spike doesn't want to take her back with you?"

"He's not sure...."

"Because of you?"

"That, and Ms. Calendar. Giles still wakes up screaming." Willow smiled at Cordelia's stare. "We stayed with him when he got hit with that dart," she said. "That, and Spike looks after him sometimes. He says Giles needs a minder. I think Spike's just lonely."

"I hadn't thought about having Drusilla here."

"Are you afraid of her?"

"She's afraid of herself."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Have they decided what to do?" Xander asked Buffy.

"They're too busy chasing each other in circles. I don't think anyone really wants to find Drusilla, not even Spike."

"You do, though."

"Yeah, I do. I'm going on over there, as soon as I can get away for a minute. You coming?"

"I don't want to be a part of this, Buffy."

"Neither did Kendra. Did you see her? Her throat was slit, like this."

Xander closed his eyes to wall out Buffy's finger as it sliced across her throat.

"Spike loves Dru."

"Spike loves Willow. He won't get two feet from her. How do you think Drusilla's going to feel about that? I thought Willow was your friend, Xander."

"Okay, it's about Willow. I can deal. We've got to do what we've got to do."

"So you're in?"

"I guess so."

"Good. Then let's go."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Tara worked with Anya for the rest of the day, and rode with her at dusk to unload the truck, holding a plate of chicken fingers on her lap for Riley.

"We've got to find him something to do," said the former Payback Kid. "He just has no respect for himself any more."

"He fights demons," Tara observed.

"They don't have the council behind them any more," Anya said. "Nobody is paying them to fight demons. They're pretty much living off Giles's trust fund."

"I didn't know Mr. Giles had a trust fund."

"That much tweed, you've got to have a trust fund. What in hell...?"

Tara held on as Anya wheeled the truck up beside the shack where they stored the ice cream. There was glass all over the ground, and each and every one of the new-bought windows was shattered. The back door hung crazily from one hinge, and both freezers were overturned behind the house. Tara could almost see the ants crawling on the melting treats.

"I'm gonna kill the slimy little son of a bitch," Anya fumed. "I'm gonna make putrid purple worms crawl up in his sinuses!"

"Riley? I don't see his car," Tara said. "Maybe he wasn't here."

Inside, the walls were covered with smears of melted ice cream, but Riley Finn was nowhere to be found.

*****
Part 11:

Riley's car had not been suited for dirt roads when it was new, and it was far from new.

"Is it much further?" he asked the demon.

It coiled around the stick shift, an inky black reptile with ruby eyes.

"Not far," it told him. "A small way, and then you will be safe."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Angelus."

He turned and faced Giles across the darkened bedroom.

"Angel," he said. "I'm Angel."

"Are you certain?"

"No." It came out as a whisper. "We should get back to the others."

"They're only on the other side of the wall. No demon is going to shatter your wards and rip them to bits. The demons are all outside."

"I'm not sure."

"Why?"

Angel looked away.

"Tell me." Giles hadn't raised his voice, hadn't even spoken in a harsh whisper, but there was an authority in him that Angel didn't question, couldn't question.

"I dreamed about you."

"Is that all?"

"Every time I see you, look at you, think about you...."

"I see. And do you often have this kind of thoughts about...."

"About men? No. I mean, I like... for a vampire, heterosexualty pretty much isn't an option, if you know what I mean. I dream of men. I dream of Spike, a lot. I miss him."

The Watcher was frowning.

"He hates me, doesn't he?" Angel asked.

"You should talk to him about that."

"I don't want to. I don't want to hear him say he hates me."

"Angel." Warm hands touched his shoulders, but he made himself pull away.

"Don't do that. I can't control...."

"Yes you can."

Angel felt his face changing, slipping into his other self, the one that sent people screaming.

"I can't," he said. Fingers touched him, traced the brow ridges, trailed down to his mouth. "Please don't."

"Of course you can. You simply have to learn to trust yourself. Here." His hands touched Angel's shoulders again. This time they pressed him down, pushed him to his knees, pressed his face against warm khaki already redolent of the hardening cock beneath.

"You want me to... like this?" Angel curled back his upper lip, exposing the full length of an alpha vampire's fangs.

"Just like that," Giles said, "for starters."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Xander really didn't want any part of it. He had never learned to tolerate Spike, but somehow the thought of hurting him was just too much. Spike hurt. A stake through the heart, through Drusilla's heart, her eyes locked on Xander's as she crumbled into dust. Her eyes haunted him, and Spike's, when they told him she was gone. Did vampires cry? Xander wondered.

He didn't want to know. He didn't want to find out, not like this. He had to stop Buffy, and he only knew of one way. When she and Spike and Wesley were bent together over some yellowed scroll from the depths of Angel's collection, Xander gently opened the door to the bedroom and stepped through, closing it behind him.

It was like stepping into an Escher print, or maybe Bosch with his clocks drooping everywhere. Things were just wrong. It was wrong to see Giles sprawled beautifully naked across Angel's bed, his face buried in a pillow, the vampire prone between his legs, lapping away at the cleft between firm buttocks. This could not be. Xander had somehow wandered into another world where the people he knew... weren't the people he knew, where Giles could make those low singsong gasps that rose and fell with the probing of a cool tongue against his ass, where Xander could step back through the door and soundlessly ease it shut and will it not to be so.

It wasn't so. He had never opened the door. He was just standing there, hand on the knob, forehead pressed against the frame, thinking about it. And now that he though about it, he thought he'd go out and get some air, instead. He forced himself not to stagger to the office door, and then down the hall to the window. It helped, but not enough. He lifted himself through the opening and settled on the fire escape.

"Xander?"

"Buffy? I... uh...."

"You okay?"

"I dunno. Did you ever not know you wanted something that you didn't think was real and then you see someone else has it and you can't live without it but you have to?"

"Yeah. Marcella Lamitt's 921 convertible. You ready?"

Was he? Was he ready to kill Drusilla? Dru, whom Angel loved enough to rip her from her family and keep her by him for over a centry? How slowly could you put a stake in, Xander wondered? Would it hurt, if he stopped just short of her heart and played with her a while, cat-with-mouse like? Would her screams of pain come in musical gasps? She deserved it, after all. She had killed Mrs. Calendar. Giles was still broken up about it. She'd hurt Giles. She deserved to suffer and die.

"Xander?"

"Oh, God, yes!"

"Are you all right?"

"I won't be all right until we come back and tell them that bitch is dust on the wind. Let's go."

*****
Part 12:

The Slayer'd taken herself off somewhere and left Spike with Willow and the Watcher-git and his books. This one might have a tad on Giles in the translation department, but common sense and intestinal fortitude did not seem to be Wesley's forte. Also he took pains to keep Willow between himself and Spike, as if Spike would bite someone like Wesley Wyndham-Price. All string, he was. A body'd be all night wringing a pint of blood out of that tight-assed carcass.

But he could read third-century North African dialects from places Spike couldn't spot on a map after he'd been told where they were. Wesley was good. It wouldn't do to let him know that, but he was good. Mind you, all the talent in the world was no good at all if the text didn't say anything about the problem, and so far they'd learned nothing. Spike rubbed his temples. That was what came of learning to read after you were an adult--hell, after he'd been turned. He'd not seen the point at the time, but he'd have done anything for the privilige of sitting next to Drusilla for hours on end, or basking in Angelus's aura. A childe could feel his sire's presence, and for Spike a dose of the pouf was a sure cure for the literacy-induced headache.

Which would be bloody convenient just now, come to think of it. Spike smiled at Willow and moved toward the bedroom door. He wondered what his sire was up to with the Watcher all this time. Debate on the desirability of a soul? He couldn't imagine, but it might be good for some serious smart remarks a little later. He slid the door open.

After a moment, he slid it closed again, sat on the sofa and dissolved in silent laughter. Oh, God, only Angelus would have the nerve!

"Spike?" Willow came and sat beside him. "What is it?"

He placed a finger on her lips and led her to the door. Gently, quietly he pushed it open. Angel was kneeling over Giles's upturned butt, fucking him gently, slowly, almost sweetly, wearing an expression of utter tenderness. The Watcher's blond head rested on his crossed arms, eyes closed, smiling. After a good look, Spike pulled the door to, placed a finger under Willow's chin and lifted until her mouth closed.

"Wow!" she whispered.

Trust Wesley to break in just then.

"Willow? Er--Spike? Where's everyone got to?"

"Just looking for a headache cure, mate," Spike told him as he led Willow back to the desk. "Think I found a bloody good one, too."

"Well good on you, but look at this. I think I've found our problem."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"It can't be demons," Anya told Tara. "Very few demons can come out in the light, and those that can aren't up to this. Trust me, I know. It's not demons."

"Then who would do this kind of thing?"

"Competitors. Probably Jimmy the Clown. He has that red truck, and he dresses up in the clown suit and hangs around the schoolyard. He got run off, though. Some of the parents thought he was up to something, so now he's trying to knock Xander off and steal our business."

"Ice cream is a cutthroat affair."

"No lie. But it's not something the average demon would be interested in, except maybe to extort a Brown Cow in hot weather. This has nothing to do with magic."

"Are you sure?" Tara asked.

"You think different? Convince me."

Tara took Anya by the shoulders and turned and pointed. In what would have been the kitchen of the tiny shack, a circle was marked on the linoleum in green chalk, with strange multi-colored glyphs all around. The area stank of incense.

"Okay, that's evidence in your favor." She looked at Tara. "Well? You're the witch! What does it mean?"

*****
Part 13:

"Which way?"

The demon leaned forward from his perch on Riley's shoulder, grasping an ear for balance, pricking it with tiny claws. A dark rose tongue danced out, forked end tasting the air.

"Down there," it said, pointing.

"Okay." Riley started down the dusty stairs, the arm raised to protect his face from years of cobwebs inadvertantly sheltering the demon as well. "So why are these guys after me?"

"You are the Slayer's."

"Ye-yeah. What about it?"

"They do not wish her to interfere with the war."

"War? What war? Is Buffy okay?"

"Stop."

"Stop? In the middle of a staircase going nowhere? What do you mean, stop?"

The tiny demon leapt up and caught the edge of an opening Riley hadn't seen.

"Up here," it said. "Come on."

Muttering, Riley levered himself up into the dark. There was a passage up here, all right. An empty passage. The demon was nowhere to be found.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Buffy raised her head from the desk, stifling a yawn. Research always did...

Wait a minute. This was wrong. She'd been driving down the highway, she and Xander, not knowing where they were going, exactly, just following Buffy's absolute certainty that Drusilla was *that way*. She closed her eyes and willed herself to wake.

"Cordy?"

Eyes open again. Still sitting at the desk. Willow was standing beside her, and Wes and Spike were watching them with evident concern.

"Cordelia? Are you all right?"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Cordelia screamed. Something had her wrists, something burning like acid, and her feet were shackled and there was a greasy kid of a pervert with his hands under her clothes, on her breasts, inside her, and her arms *hurt!*

"Yeah," the pervert hissed. "that's more like it!" He dug his thumbnail into her nipple, and twisted away until the agony in her wrists overcame her.

"What are you doing?" came a voice from the door. A tall, silver haired man glowered at the pervert, who skittered away.

"Please," Cordelia said, "it hurts. Oh, please make it stop hurting."

"Stop?" the old man asked. "But that would make it all for nothing." He grasped her by her chin, looked into her eyes for a moment, and then smiled. "Well, well," he said, "I believe my spell may have worked better than I thought." His hand rested on her knee, and then crept upward. "Oh, I think I'm just going to have to pay you a bit more attention." From his pocket he took a tiny vial of clear liquid, and grinned as he uncorked it and let one drop fall on Cordelia's thigh.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Whoa!" The boy grabbed for balance. "Road. Right there. The hard black stuff."

"I'm sorry...." She was sorry. She was also confused and frightened and she knew very little about operating automobiles. Spike had said her concentration wasn't up to it. Perhaps he had been right. Maybe. She thought one of the pedals on the floor stopped the thing. Not that one! There. That one.

"Jeezus! You want me to drive?"

"Would you? Please?"

"Come out of there." The human pushed past her, seemingly unafraid. She waited for the twinge of erupting fangs, but it didn't come. Lucky human. He was looking at her in the mirror.

"You want to sit down? You know, seat belt and all?"

He was looking at her in the mirror. In. The. Mirror. Drusilla moved, slowly, her eyes fixed on the narrow silvered rectangle, until she could see her own face looking back at her.

Except that it wasn't her face.

*****
Part 14:

Giles found it strange to be sprawled across a man's chest and not hear the heartbeat. Briefly he wondered what Buffy had made of it, then put that thought away as too disturbing. His fingers toyed with Angel's shiny black pubic curls, nudging the exhausted cock that nested there.

"I don't think there's any life left down there," Angel told him.

"You're a vampire. There's not meant to be any life in it."

"I thought it did all right."

"It was grand." Giles brushed his lips over Angel's nipple, smiling as the other squirmed. "Are you ready for the rest?"

"There's more?"

Giles took Angel's hand and laid it against his own throat, against the pulse spot.

"Oh, no." Angel pulled away and sat up on the far side of the bed.

"You have to learn to trust yourself."

"I do trust myself to love you and pleasure you and treat you like... like someone I really care about. I don't trust any vampire to drink living blood."

"It's been done. There are records."

"It's been tried. There've been a lot of new Children made that way. Giles, I don't want that to happen to you."

"And that's why it's perfectly safe for you to do this. Spike, I don't really trust to drink out of my refrigerator. You, though, are a different matter. Come on, now. Get on with it."

"Giles...."

"Angel." He put on his best authoritarian high school teacher face, and the vampire crumbled. He pulled Giles to him and cradled him against his chest, one thumb rubbing the spot on Giles's throat.

"I can't do this. I'm not Angelus."

"You're not Angelus. That's why you can."

He felt Angel's hand in his lap, teasing, working him, and reached up to brush a kiss against lips that were no longer human.

"Do it," he whispered.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Riley found that it wasn't actually a passage above the stairs, only a tiny room with no other outlet. There was no altar with an amulet on it, no sword in a stone, no glowing circle to shield him. Only the room, and the hole in the floor, and an old book covered in scaly leather.

Okay, Riley was from Iowa, but that didn't mean he was an idiot. He scooped the book up and tried to read it in the dim light filtering through cracks in the walls. It wasn't in English, or in any other language Riley knew. At least he didn't think so. He shut it, and leaned back against the wall. It was then that he heard footsteps on the stairs.

"This way," someone said.

"You sure?" asked someone else.

"I can smell him. He's..." The voice stopped, and so did the steps, directly under the opening in the chamber floor. Fingers caught at it's edge, and someone pulled himself up. Someone vampiric. There was no way out. Riley looked around for a weapon, and the vampire grinned and lunged at him.

And crumbled into dust.

There was a rustle below.

"Shit. What happened to him?"

"I dunno, but there's something up there. Go up and see."

"I ain't goin' up there! You go!"

More fingers. Riley whacked these with the book, and their owner fell back. A vampire swarmed up into the chamber and almost made it to Riley before he disintegrated. Riley chanced a look over the edge. One guy, nursing his fingers. Okay, he could do this. He tucked the book into his shirt and dropped through the hole.

*****
Part 15:

"Where are we going to put all this stuff?" Tara asked as she lifted the last carton of Fudgesicles from the loading dock into Anya's arms. "You don't have a freezer anymore."

"We'll run the coolers in the truck overnight," said Anya, "and see about a freezer in the meantime."

"That's got to cost money."

"It'll keep us rolling. Jimmy the Clown isn't going to steal our customer base without a fight."

"I'll bet you were hell when you were a demon."

"Damn straight."

"Where are we going to park the truck, to let it run all night?"

"Giles's driveway. You need his library to figure out the glyphs."

"You've got a key to Mr. Giles's condo?"

"No," Anya said, "but you don't have to be a revenge demon to get a silly door open."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The van stopped at an intersection, and the human looked at Drusilla.

"Well?"

"Sorry?"

"Which way?"

"Which way where?"

He was glaring at her. The impudent whelp of a mindless human was glaring at Drusilla.

And she had no fangs. She didn't even have her own body. All right, another approach. The human-- Xander. She'd heard him called Xander.

"I say, Xander...."

"You what?"

"I say...."

"Are you all right?"

"I'm not certain. I don't think so."

"Do you want to just call the whole thing off?"

"What do you think?"

"I don't know. For a while, there... if we do this, Spike is never going to speak to either of us again."

"Spike speaks to you?"

"You know what I mean. I mean, he's harmless--he's helpless, and he has nowhere else to go, and if we turn him out, what's going to happen to him?"

"What, exactly, is wrong with him?"

He glared at her again.

"Don't play with me. I mean, I don't like him. He won't let us like him. Do you know what it feels like when he calls me a nummy bit?"

"Does he frighten you?"

"I don't want to be his nummy bit, and now I'm not because he's got Willow, and neither one of them...."

"Willow?"

"Yeah, and I just want to know how much more of it there is than drinking blood. I mean, how much love can there be between a human and a vampire?"

"A good deal, actually."

"That is really not what I needed to hear."

"Spike has been involved in that sort of a relationship before. They thought... they thought they could live free of the guilt, of the evil, if the blood was given freely. It didn't work out."

"What happened?"

"Angelus killed him."

"An... he told you that?"

"It's not important. Is Spike here in Los Angeles?" Another glare. She took it as confirmation. "Would you take me to him, please?"

"You know, you are really losing it."

"Dearie, I lost it more than a century ago."

"A century?"

"Mm-hmm. But the strangest thing is that some of it seems to have come back."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Why are you doing this?" Angel asked.

"To see if I have the nerve."

"The nerve to put your cock in a vampire's mouth? Most people get over that in primary school."

"I'm a late bloomer." Dark eyes held his, with no laughter in them. "Angel, I'm just trying to help you work through this."

"You were never all that keen on me before."

"We never needed you this badly before. And we never faced you with a situation like the one with Willow and Spike."

"You're doing it for her, to keep me away from her."

The Watcher looked down at his own lap, where a pallid hand was stroking his golden shaft.

"Do you think that has anything to do with Willow?" he asked Angel. Cold fingers brushed his throat.

"What about this?"

"That has to do with you. Do you have the nerve, Angel?"

A growl rose from the vampire's throat.

"How much nerve would it take to kill you?"

"A lot less than to do this, and then let me live. Bite me, Angel. Bite me, if you dare."

Fangs brushed his neck, pinched a bit. A cool tongue lapped against his skin and then, with a growl, Angel pushed Giles's head back and sank his teeth into the Watcher's throat.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Buffy turned away from the mirror.

"Okay," she said, "I'm Cordelia. I mean, I'm in her body, and she's probably going absolutely freakazoid in mine." Xander had probably been peeled off the van's ceiling. Oh, no. What was Cordelia going to make of their plan? She'd tell Angel. This was going to take some getting out of.

"Where's Giles?" she asked.

"I think he's in with Angel," Wesley said.

Buffy started for the bedroom door. Spike guffawed, and even Willow was suppressing a giggle.

"It's not funny," she told them, and stepped into the bedroom.

In the center of the bed Angel held Giles in his arms.

In his mouth.

Blood trickling down Giles's chest.

Giles's cock spitting come in wild arcs.

Angel's dark eyes meeting hers.

There was an arm around her, a cool arm. Spike pulled her back and closed the door.

"Sorry, pet," he said, still fighting laughter.

Wesley was standing behind them, mouth open.

"How... how long has this been going on?" he demanded.

"Most of the afternoon," Spike said.

"I was wrong," Buffy said.

"About what?" Willow asked.

"About it not being funny. This is absolutely hilarious. God, what are we going to do now?"

*****
Part 16:

Wesley had a migraine, and the suspicion that it was going to get worse. Cordelia, or someone in Cordelia's body, was pacing the small office, narrowly missing stepping on one set of toes after another.

"Okay," she said. "Okay, look, if there's something in Sunnydale that I need to take care of...."

"We're not leaving Dru," Spike said from his perch on the desk. He pulled Willow closer to him, and she shrugged at the others.

The bedroom door opened, and Angel smiled at them, sheepish. No one spoke.

"Leaving Dru?" he said.

"I've got to get back to Sunnydale," Buffy told him. "Wesley thinks there's something going on."

"Cordelia...."

"Buffy."

"What about Buffy?"

"I'm not Cordelia, I'm Buffy."

Angel started to speak, and apparently thought the better of it.

"Okay, does Cordelia know what you did with your toes the night Angelus came back?"

"Okay, you're Buffy."

"Damned straight, and I've got to get home."

"No." Giles shouldered his way past Angel. "You don't know what you're getting into, and you don't have a Slayer's strength and healing abilities to sustain you."

"It might be important," Wesley said. "I've found another reference to the vampire not bound."

"Oh, have you?"

"Well, some of us have been doing research this afternoon."

Angel's lip curled away from where fangs might sprout momentarily, but Giles squeezed his hand, and he relaxed.

"Think what you like, but Angel's functioning better than when I got here."

He was right, and Wesley took a deep breath to tell him so, but the front door opened and Xander shepherded Buffy inside. Well, not Buffy.

"Cordelia," Wesley said. Blond eyebrows shot up.

"Cordelia?" she said.

"It's okay, Cordy," Buffy said--Buffy in Cordelia's body. "I know you must be confused. We've just done a little body shuffle, is all. It probably has to do with those weird dreams we've been having, about Dru and all. Everybody understands, though, right, guys? It'll be all right. We'll get it straightened out."

Xander took an abrupt step back from his position behind Bu... Co... the blond, backing into the front door and pushed it closed. He whirled at the noise, then spun back to face the girl.

"Penny dropping, luvvie?" she said. Spike looked up, and a smile dawned across his pallid face. Angel saw it, and understood, and broke into a beaming grin of his own. Buffy/Cordelia bit her lip.

"Oh, god," she said, "poor Cordy."

*****
Part 17:

"You've changed," the Slayer said to Dru.

"Seems we both have."

"No," Giles said, "your behavior is very different."

"I know. So far everything I've thought was in my head has turned out to be real. Assuming...." She cocked an eyebrow at their sire's hand resting on Giles's shoulder, and Angel immediately let it drop.

"It's been an interesting day for all of us." Giles told her.

"How can this be?" Wesley asked.

"Schizophrenia is an actual disease," said Giles. "It's a physical brain condition. Drusilla isn't in her own brain any more."

"You mean she's healed?" Angel's silly grin could have melted icebergs. Who did he think he was? Spike couldn't take it any more.

"That's that, then," he said. "We're off to Sunnydale."

Wesley gaped and counted on his fingers: one, two, three. Giles saw and shook his head.

"Don't be silly," he told Wesley. "Propehcies aren't that trivial."

Buffy looked from one to the other.

"Guys? What about Cordelia? We can't just leave her where she is!"

Spike gave them his most eloquent shrug.

"It's not on, Spike," Drusilla told him. "She has custody of my fangs at the moment."

"Er, you can manage without them, you know," he said. "It's been done. And then, you know, if you wanted...."

"You are not doing that to Cordy's body," Buffy declared.

"We've got to undo this, Spike. I can't take care of you like this."

"If I can be close to you, pet, that's all I need."

She wrapped the Slayer's arms around Spike's neck and pressed the whole tiny body against him.

"She was kind to me," she whispered into his ear.

"Oh, Dru!" Maybe she wasn't all that sane after all.

"Spike? Please?"

"All right. All right, we'll get her back. But, how are we going to get her back? Know what I mean?"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Riley landed on the stairs without breaking anything, but the human was shaping his hands into a gesture. Riley stomped them, and the man squealed.

"All right," Riley said, "why were you looking for me?"

A gob of spittle hit Riley's jeans.

"That was a mistake," he told his prisoner, yanking him upright by the front of his shirt.

"You made the mistake," the other gasped.

Something moved against Riley's belly. The tiny demon stuck its head out the opening of the shirt.

"There are implements for torture in this human's pocket," it said. "I recommend the application of the Vise-Grip pliers to his genitalia."

"Yeah?" Riley laid his hand on the other's crotch in what he hoped was a threatening manner and was surprised to find a hard cock straining against the fabric. He laughed out loud.

"Don't hurt me," the other said. "Don't hurt me, please."

"You changed your tune quickly enough."

"You got a problem with that?" He sank to his knees, dodging the demon's snapping teeth on the way down, and bit at Riley's fly. Suddenly hard cocks didn't seem to be such a strange concept, not strange at all. Hands pulled at Riley's belt. The trousers slid down and the demon, having lost his perch, climbed Riley's shirt to perch on his shoulder.

"Bad plan," the demon squawked.

"Shut up." It had been a bad day, a horrid day, and Riley didn't know how it was going to end yet, but he knew he was going to empty his balls into this warm sweet mouth that was swirling itself over the head of his cock, teasing him, drawing him in so that the whole rest of the world faded away....

Until he felt a very large, very cold finger work its way into his anus, and looked behind him and up into the grinning face of an enormous demon.

"Slayer-bait," it said, "bend over."

*****