*****

Kissing Cordelia always seems a little dangerous--he never knows when she�s going to go pseudovamp and nip the hell out of his bottom lip. Xander�s original theory was the biting was a response to something he�d done to annoy her. Later, he just decided she liked the feel of skin between her teeth. Weird fetish for a Sunnydale girl, but what the hell.

He�s not about to complain. Lying under her in the dark as she nibbles her way around his face, he roams a hand over hips he hasn�t touched in months, so long they feel unfamiliar. She�s all over him, stroking and squeezing, petting and licking. So dark he can�t see more than a shadow but he can feel she�s way more dressed than he is. In fact, Xander�s nude under the sheet that separates them. His hand strokes fabric--expensive slacks. Odd, that. One of his favorite things about Cordy is her definite penchant for skirts.

His hand travels upward as she goes in for a long kiss, tongue sliding to the back of his throat. He�s horny enough to spontaneously combust, but if this isn�t a going all the way kiss then Xander�s never had one. She�s forgiven him.

His wandering hand travels over a weirdly flat ass, over the belt to a muscled back, shoulders which are far wider than he remembered. Maybe she has been working out?

Maybe it�s not who he thinks it is.

He strains against the darkness for any kind of view of what�s kissing him. It breaks the liplock and straightens atop him. Panic starts to rise as it straddles his hips, outlined in the faint light of a lantern outside.

Too big for Cordy.

Masculine.

Spike? His heart revs, mixed excitement and terror.

But it�s too big for Spike. Oh, no.

�What do you say, Xander?� Angelus. �Gonna give me a happy?�

Xander thrashes but the weight on his legs is hot and heavy--he feels Like he�s trying to run through mush. Angelus shreds the sheet, exposing him to warm night air and does he even need to say he�s lost his erection? He�s struggling, trying to pull himself out from under and Angelus bends close, fangs extended, vampires need to feed to have sex... fuck no. Very no.

Hands clamp around his upper arms, shake him like a ragdoll, and hot breath blows in his ear from a mouth too close to the big veins. Tears are leaking down his face...

�Xander! Xander!�

Why is Angel raping him with an English accent?

He wakes up.

***

Where is he really? A rented cabin in San Francisco. Giles shaking him awake, a worried expression on the bruised and puffy flesh of the librarian� s face. The tears, the fear, the pounding heart and crawling balls are all real enough, though.

Just a nightmare.

�You were shouting,� Giles says, after Xander�s eyes are done checking for Angel and/or Spike and/or *anyone* in the crannies of the room. He doesn�t answer, just gasps for breath. Can�t seem to make his eyes stop leaking so after a second he stops trying, surrenders to a five or ten minute weepfest Giles pulls him into a hug which is awkward only because Xander�s lying in such a twist of sheets. Even though it�s barely dawn, the librarian has an undershirt and pants on, and he produces a linen napkin right when Xander�s ready for a tissue. So English.

�You mean I was screaming like a sissygirl.� He blows his nose. �Sorry I woke you.�

Long armed shrug. �I was awake. Couldn�t get comfortable.�

Which makes sense. They saw action last night. Giles looks like he�s been tossed through an industrial shredder.

�Was it about Spike?�

�No,� he says quickly. Then: �Sort of.�

Giles stands shakily, moves with the caution of the supremely pained to the foot of the bed. He tugs the coverlet out of its knot and straightens the sheets, tugging so that Xander�s feet untangle, drop onto the mattress. He remakes the bed around him, pulling everything up into a Xander sandwich, tucks him in.

�I�m not sure I�m going back to sleep.�

Giles nods. Sits down on the bed beside Xander, so they�re side by side�him in nothing but blankets; Giles dressed and sitting atop them. The older man leans gingerly against the backboard, extends one arm. Xander snuggles into the offered crook, glad for some human contact. Things have flip-flopped again. Yesterday he was Mr. Supportive, Giles was the one with a problem. Give and take, ebb and flow. Life going on.

�Do you want to tell me about the dream?�

�I don�t think so.�

�Buffy finds the process comforting.�

�Buffy�s dreams come true, Giles.�

�This one won�t, Xander. You�re safe here.�

�Safe,� he muses. There has been something he�s been meaning to tell Giles. Now�s as good a time as any. �You remember Vorpazon?�

�Vorpazon? No, I...�

�Human looking demon with a lot of rings. Buffy killed him about a month before graduation.�

�Was that its name?�

�Yeah. Remember it cast a spell on me?�

�Oh, yes. The swimming spell. You said it wanted you to retrieve something from a storm drain.�

�I lied,� he says. �It was something else.�

The hug tightens--silent support. Go ahead Xander, tell me, it says.

�He liked to curse people, Vorpazon did. His favorite trick was making them--� His heart pounds. Hard to give voice to his double-edged secret.

�Yes?�

�Making them irresistible,� he says. �People can�t say no to me, Giles. Not Cordy, not Willow. The demon we fought last night. That�s how I lured him here. I want someone, I get someone.�

Outside, cars are droning on the nearby highway.

�I see.�

�Do you? Sometimes I get more than I bargained for. When Spike came to Sunnydale, that�s how I kept him from feeding off Larry. But I couldn�t control him...�

�And it went badly.�

�Yeah.� A shudder wracks him from toe to scalp. �But it worked out okay, in the end. I got him back.�

�Yes, so you said.�

�But now... I don�t know. Using it last night--I got the demon here, fixed Ethan for calling the cops on us. It�s the only gun in my arsenal and there are times when I�m really glad to have it, but using it is sometimes pretty gross.�

There�s a quiet space. �Are you saying you want the spell removed?�

�I don�t know. Maybe. Sometimes I think yes. Look at the emotional carnage. But then sometimes I think that having an icky gun is better than having no gun at all. And who knows if fixing the spell is even possible?� Or what it� ll cost, he thinks. They saved Giles� life last night, but two innocent people got in the demon�s way.

�It wouldn�t hurt just to research it,� Giles says. �But getting rid of the spell won�t help with the nightmares you�re having now. At most it might act to prevent further experiences which might...�

�Might give me more things to have the screams over?�

�It�s a dangerous power, Xander. You already know that.�

The arm tightens around him and long fingers stroke his hair. Xander relaxes into the feeling of being soothed. It has probably been ten years since anyone held him like this, played poppabear to his poor cub, petted him like a little kid. Even though he�s very much accustomed to and invested in the idea that he�s an adult now, he can�t help feeling that everyone should Get this when they need it. Comfort on demand.

Through the thin cotton of his undershirt, Giles� body is cool. Xander is leaning on his mostly unbruised side. The fingers swirl, slow circles through his hair and he drifts back into a doze. He�s perfectly happy, perfectly calm. The dream�s hold relaxes, falls away entirely...

Then the world swerves under him again. Giles plants a little kiss on the top of his head. Weird, but okay. A little quaint, but a little charming too. But it doesn�t stop there. He kisses him again, moves in tiny smooches down Xander�s face. He begins to feel very worried, very weirded. Keeps His eyes closed and doesn�t move. The lack of encouragement doesn�t make a difference.

What does he say now to stop this without hurting feelings?

The lips are on his, flesh meets flesh with a cool sensation like electricity. Horrible sensation, because it�s familiar. It�s a vampire kiss.

His eyes fly open and he�s face to demon with Giles, yellow eyed and fanged, driving kiss after kiss onto his lips.

Shit. He lashes out blindly, lands a punch and drives the vamped Watcher off the mattress. Flailing, he bounces onto the other side of the bed, drops through the straightened sheets and smacks the carpet ass-first.

�Xander?� Normal Giles voice now but he�s not going to go for that fool me twice gambit. He snatches up his pack, hurls himself into the bathroom. Locks himself in and then checks the tub, the window, the cupboard, even the toilet for monsters. Nobody in here, no Angel no nothing. Sunlight�s streaming in from the window, but beyond the glass are bars, too narrow to climb through.

�Xander, it�s all right. You drifted off again. What happened? Did you have another dream?�

One hand braced against the door, he pukes into the tub while outside Giles taps the door, tries to get him to let his guard down. He scrubs his face frenetically with the white square of a hotel washcloth and then dresses, driving his legs into the jeans, snatching up a t-shirt.

The knocking has stopped but he can sense him out there, pacing beside the door. Lurching, limping steps, as though all the action has hurt the man on the other side.

Very, very good. Nice try. Almost convincing.

�Giles?�

�I�m here.�

�Look, I�m over it. I�m calm. Why don�t you go lie down, take a breather? I�ll be out in a minute.�

�All right.�

There�s a creak.

That�s it. Get a little farther from the door.

He shoulders his pack, runs water, shaves, waits. When he hears the bedsprings and Giles groaning in unison he launches himself out of the room at a dead run. He blows past a gorgeous Hispanic girl who works for the resort, barely managing to avoid knocking her over as he heads for the highway with his thumb in the lead.

***
Part 2:

Interior monologue: downtown San Francisco.

Okay. Am I awake or asleep? Not sure. Giles a vampire--did that really happen? Don�t know that, either. But why? How can he be a vamp? We killed a demon last night to prevent this.

What do you bet it�s all Angel�s fault?

And Xander likes that answer a lot. Everything down to Angelus. Spike�s very existence, not to mention Dru and Angelus torturing Giles. Xander�s tempted to hightail it back to L.A. and see if he can stake the fucker but no. Something�s hunting him, he�s pretty sure of that, and he�s not so dumb that he doesn�t know you clean your plate of trouble before going back for seconds.

Maybe it�s the spell. Maybe he doesn�t even have to want anyone anymore. Maybe he�s irresistible to everyone. Maybe it�s just like when Amy cast the love spell and every woman in town went nuts for him.

In which case the spell�s got to go.

But that�s out of his league. He needs help.

Luckily, Xander knows someone who�d definitely like to break the irresistible spell.

***

Finding Ethan Rayne--even in a strange city--turns out to be remarkably easy. The guy knows a lot of people, and they�re all willing to rat him out. Xander tracks him right to his home, a quaint little pink-trimmed duplex on a twisting street.

Another thing about Sunnydale is that if someone isn�t home when you need them to be, you immediately assume the worst. Here, when he knocks on the door and gets no answer, he almost goes into worry mode. Then he remembers he�s in the real world. Ethan could be out shopping, out drinking.

Or Ethan could be gardening. Was that a sound in the backyard?

Xander follows a smell of tea, finds the man sitting over a cup and the morning crossword, fresh and pressed, as if he hadn�t been party to a demon slaying the night before.

The older man gives him a look full of sullen, doesn�t offer him breakfast. �What do you want?�

Xander made Ethan love him last night, the only fair thing to do since the guy almost got them killed. But Ethan�s fighting it hard.

�Ethan, hunnybunny!�

�I�m not helping either of you with anything, even if you do get this bloody spell off me.�

�Talk about your wacky coincidences, I�m here to do exactly that.�

�It�s not within your control.�

�Been researching? Boy, you really are bothered. I�m seriously not your type, huh? Or maybe I am, and you�re scared of that. Or maybe you just don�t like thinking about the gay thing because you�ve got the jump for someone else. Like maybe... Giles?�

Flinch on the lizard-like face and Xander decides he�s being a prick.

�Here�s the deal. You�re right, I can�t just turn the spell off. Once you�re hooked, there�s nothing more I can do. But I thought maybe you could shut it off at the source. Make me not so irresistible.�

For someone who wants to be loose, Ethan doesn�t exactly act overjoyed. He finishes a bite of something that might be a crumpet, takes a swig of tea. �I have been researching, it�s true.�

�Any luck?�

�There are a couple of ways to remedy your little problem.�

This sounds eerily like the conversation he had with Giles yesterday. Giles, you�re a little possessed by a vampire? We can cure it one of a few ways. We can leave it alone and hope for the best, or we can do something kind of reckless and get two people killed...

He shrugs off the memory and guilt, focuses on Ethan. �Go ahead, tell me.�

�Here�s the first one. This spell is not meant to be nice for you.�

�It�s not like I haven�t noticed.� He�s sorry as soon as he says it, because Ethan looks pleased.

�There�s one person who is completely unaffected.� His eyes glitter now. �You are still in love with her, aren�t you?�

Her meaning Buffy. The torch he never put out, not for Cordy, not for Willow. Xander ponders the grass. �Your point?�

�If she kisses you, of her own free will and in a fashion other than sisterly--you get my meaning?-- then we all go free of your perfidious influence.�

�Great.� What is it with Buffy and breaking curses? The chances of her kissing him have always been slim to nil. �And? You said there were two ways.�

�Yes, there is a second way. It would cancel the spell and free all of your...� The man�s face works through variations of disgust. �Victims.�

�That being?�

A wicked half smile. �Someone kills you.�

The words send an icy shock through Xander but he knows Ethan pretty well. �Gee. Too bad you don�t have the nerve.�

�I don�t need the bloody nerve,� Ethan says. �That�s the beautiful thing. You killed Markanis the Shaper last night. Made a rather sloppy job of it, I might add. You had it all nice and helpless in a summoning circle, you and Giles, and then you let it escape.�

�With a little help from you.�

�And then you had to use your love trick to bring it back to where you could kill it. Stealing hearts is a dangerous game, Xander...�

�What�s after me, Ethan?� Words issue from his throat without his having planned to speak.

�Another Shaper,� he says. �Markanis� girlfriend. Sister, really. Or perhaps she�s his wife now, too. Marriage laws down there really put the hellish in Hell...�

�So if this girlfriend was earthside all along, why didn�t it bring her along to back him up in the fight?� Although he thinks he knows the answer. Markanis was pretty dumb.

�She wasn�t here.� Ethan grins cheerily, peers in the pot to see if there�s any tea left. �After you took it upon yourself to hex me, I summoned her myself.�

And that does sound like Ethan. No guts for the face to face confrontations, but only too happy to slice your brakes and see what happens when you drive your car downhill. Or maybe the demon got here on her own ticket, and the sorcerer�s just taking the credit. Either way...

�What�s her name?�

�Miss Jealous and Vengeful Hell 1999.�

�Seriously.�

�Seriously? I�m not going to tell you.� Ethan stands, folds the paper, picks up his tea tray. Turning his back on Xander, he disappears into the pink and white duplex.

He loses a second to fuming and then he�s pounding up the patio steps, fists on the door. Buffy can kiss you or you can die my ass, he thinks. Kicks uselessly at the solid wood. No answer.

Then there�s a sound inside. Wet thump. Something body-sized hitting a wall and a cut off scream...

... and Xander�s definitely moving in the wrong direction as he runs to the patio window, jiggles it back and forth until the catch hitches loose, slides the portal wide and bursts through white curtains like a master of ceremonies...

He finds Ethan in the kitchen. And the living room. And the den. And the bathroom. Blood runs down the walls like a messy paint job. A face and most of a head lie near the smashed teapot. Dead eyes stare up at him, the unlovable creep�s face is turned into nothing but a mask. Xander�s fault?

Yes. He started this. He bends to close the eyes, slips a little, grazes his hand on sharp ceramic. A bubble forms on the Ethan lips, seeming to widen the mouth as it expands. No... it is moving. Which is seriously to freak.

�Xander, would you go and pull on my cock just once? I think it�s in the hallway.�

Laughter chases him as he runs for the exit.

�Get out of my truck!� Ethan shouts in a girlish voice.

Xander wakes up.

***

Did he doze off before or after he saw Ethan; was the whole convo a dream, or just the splatter at the end? Xander isn�t sure. He thinks maybe he caught a ride from Ethan�s after he got the door slammed in his face...

Making Ethan not dead?

He�s afraid to go back and check. Probably left his prints all over what may or may not be a crime scene by now...

The woman throws him out onto the highway. It�s illegal to hitch here but his screaming gave her a good scare. She�d have punted him out of her ride while it was moving if he�d given her trouble.

He hikes to a truck stop which is strangely familiar, whose logo he has seen on stickers somewhere. He orders a massive, late lunch. Very unhappy to be out here on the open road. Sunset�s in seven hours--not nearly long enough when Angelus could be out there, when Giles might be a vamp...

But what if he�s not? I ran away from the only help I�m gonna get?

The other problem is he�s tired, sleepy as can be. And sleeping�s problematic. He seems to be dreaming this stuff. Say seems because he finds an Angelus bruise on his pelvic bone when he pees in the truckstop john; there�s an Ethan�s teapot scratch on his hand.

Of course, he could be dreaming the injuries, too.

Xander�s problem is he doesn�t remember dozing off in Giles� arms, doesn�t remember leaving Ethan�s and catching forty in a hitched ride. He could be asleep now, headed into another nightmare...

Or it could all be real and the you-were-dreaming riff was Giles the vampire �s idea of a mindfuck. Good one, too. He wants to believe he dreamed Giles the vamp, wants to run back cabinward and beg the G-man to help him.

If he could just remember dozing off!

At least the diner�s extremely good food--familiarity again, someone talking about a godlike apple pie--revives him a little. He looks around the customers for a likely ride. Maybe fate should decide if he should rabbit north or turn south to face San Francisco...

And that�s when Oz walks in. He�s carrying a guitar case that has the diner� s sticker on it.

Xander blanches. If this *is* a dream thing, he�s fallen asleep again.

�Hey,� says Oz, and Xander all but leaps out of the booth, spraying french fries in a three foot corona as he scrambles for the fire exit.

�Don�t touch me,� he says, and Oz puts his hands up in a non-threatening gesture. Xander creeps another couple steps back.

�You okay?� Wereboy asks. �You seem kind of freakish.�

�I�m freakish?� Xander pinches his arm a couple of times. It doesn�t help.

Oz takes a step and Xander bolts. He pivots on one heel, spinning and running at once, and slams into a trucker whose ribs are solid steel. His own momentum drives the rebound that throws him back Oz by northwest.

�Xander...�

Twisting, he manages to dodge Oz�s extended arm. It�s a bad choice. He goes headfirst into the diner�s counter.

Crunch. Blackness.

***

No time seems to have passed, of course; when you�re unconscious it never does. One second he�s seeing the silver rim of the counter, zooming in for a close encounter. The next he�s naked, bound and gagged in the back of the band van. Oz and Angel are with him. Giles the vamp is driving. The sun�s down; moonrise is imminent.

It occurs to him that this trio is composed of the three men in the world he �s least attracted to. He�s tried wanting Angel, just for the sake of ruining the dead man�s yen for Buffy. But no go on Angel, no go on any of them. Giles is too dadlike, Angel�s a killer and Oz is Willow�s number one thing now. They�re a great big triple scooping of �not in your lifetime�. In this situation, even Xander�s icky gun is out of ammo.

Angel and Oz. The quiet twins. Wereboy and Deadboy watch him as Giles negotiates the road. Angelus has his looking forward to some torture face on.

A sudden swerve brings Xander up hard against the side of the van.

�Fucking tourists,� Giles snarls, in a very American accent.

�Full moon,� Angelus chuckles. �Brings out all the crazies.�

Full moon... Xander�s eyes flick to Oz. In the fading light, his face is already elongated, his hands are just a bit hairy. He hop-crouches over to Xander, begins pawing at his ass.

�Don�t lose control just yet,� Angelus warns.

Oz nods briefly, continues as Xander tries to wrest himself free. The hands grope him in a fashion which is eerily unerotic, almost familiar. Pat pat, and then scratching against his skin with the growing claws. He flips Xander, ignores the shrinking mass of his genitals, scratches at his hips.

Like he�s going through the pockets of my jeans...

But I was naked. Except now he�s not, at least not from the waist down.

More wolflike now, Oz throws a leg over him, takes a long sniff of Xander�s throat. He wishes he could talk. There�s gotta be an Ozzie and Angelus joke in this somewhere.

�Hey, Xander,� Angelus says. �Want to be a really fucked up soulless fiend? Ever hear of a werevamp?�

Oz�s clothes are shredding now--big hairy muscles split the t-shirt and a slobbering tongue trails a path down Xander�s shoulder. Gagged, he can�t scream properly but that�s only a minor consideration. Angel�s on him too. Vamp Giles is crooning along to Bay City Rollers on the radio and Angel�s using his teeth on his own wrist as Oz dog-humps him with a werewolf erection--rock hard and huge and only Xander�s jeans between it and his skin...

Jeans. Came back. He tries wishing away the gag.

And it�s gone. Which might be good, except Angelus is prying his mouth open, splashing drops of demon�s blood on Xander�s face. Teasing. Blood hits his nose, cheeks, chin.

�Wake me up!� he tries to shout against the vise holding his jaw open, and then Angelus�s fangs sink into his throat and Oz teeth bury themselves in his bicep and there�s blood in his mouth, sliding into him like fire licking a path along a trail of gasoline.

He wonders how many people he�ll kill before Buffy runs him through with a silver tipped stake.

�Try harder!� Angelus with a full mouth, sounding English again.

�Snap out of it!� Oz growls around the loose flesh of his arm.

Xander wakes up.

*****
Part 3:

Back at the cabin, or so it seems. Giles is there with him. The bondage is real enough--he�s cinched comfortably atop one of the cabin beds. Hands behind his back, feet together and roped to the bedboard at both ends.

And yes, Virginia, he does have his pants on. He has punctures too, eight of them. Four at his neck, four in his arm. All bandaged, but he can feel them.

Giles--looking normal, but for how long?--brings a steaming cup of coffee. �Can you drink this?�

�Stay back!� He tries to shimmy off the bed.

Giles moves in slowly. �It might help clear your head. We need to talk before you go under again.�

He shakes his head. Angelus� blood is still hot and sludgy in his mouth. �I� m not drinking anything.�

�Xander...� Giles stops as the cabin door opens. �Oz. Did you get rid of them?�

�Devon took the band back to Sunnydale.�

�Excellent.�

�If you say so. I�ve missed my deadline.� Oz glances at the window. It�s midafternoon now. Xander reels with disorientation. When is it really? Shafts of sunlight pierce the room and the watcher. They don�t set Giles on fire.

Ok. Think about this. Giles... not a vamp? Time to do some trusting?

�How is he?�

�I�m not certain. He seems unable to distinguish between reality and the hallucinations.�

�Pretty convincing hallucinations.� Oz flicks a glance at the bandage on Xander�s arm.

�Xander believes he was bitten. The injuries reflect his conviction in that belief....�

Xander licks his lips, interrupts. �Can I have my cross?�

�Of course,� Giles says. He picks it up--his skin doesn�t burn at the contact--puts it gently over Xander�s neck.

�I think maybe I will have that coffee now.� He gulps it�heavily sugared, just how he likes it--as Giles holds the cup to his lips. �What if I walk around? Will I stay awake?�

�It won�t help. Listen, Xander, you could fall asleep again at any moment. There�s no way for you to tell when the transition occurs and...�

�Yeah?�

�And it�s getting harder to wake you.�

�The demon that�s after me...�

�It may well trick you into a fatal injury, if you�re not...�

What? Careful, very lucky?

�...able to defeat it.�

�Defeat it how?�

�It�s manipulating you, Xander. Using your fears against you. The sexual imagery is because of your left-over trauma from Spike�s assault.�

He wonders how Giles knows what the dreams have been like. Has he said something? Maybe he shouldn�t trust him, but then what choice does he have? This might not be real, but he�s still trussed up like a sacrifice. No way not to listen.

�You must take control, Xander. You have to transcend the reality it�s feeding you.�

�And if I do it lets me go?�

�No, but there may be a chance you can kill it.�

�Not like this, I can�t.�

�It enters your dreams, Xander. You can...�

�Untie me. You want me to fight it, give me a weapon!� Something real he can use against it, so he doesn�t have to make it fall in love with him...

�Xander...�

�Giles,� Oz says urgently. The sun�s setting.

Wasn�t it afternoon?

�Try to stay awake, Xander.� Giles sighs and produces a shopping bag. Big manacles clank inside. Oz holds out his wrists.

He hears a car pulling up outside. Feet crunch on the drive and then Buffy and Willow are in the doorway. �What�s the crisis?� Buffy asks. Willow sees him, cries out in surprise at his injuries, comes in close for a hug. Xander smells her hours-in-a-car dusty smell, feels an urge to nibble. Or drink.

Oh, no.

Fangs pull down from his mouth and he plunges them home, feels heat and power swirl into him. From Willow. She screams as he tries to pull back, can �t, drinks more. He�s relieved and thwarted all at once as Buffy yanks Will away. She blinks tears, raises a stake.

But she�s too late. Full moon rises--Oz changes, Xander sheds the ropes binding him as he becomes a dark and undead hairy guy. He howls, hurls himself through the window, runs for the beach...

Where Angelus is waiting. He has been juggling, of all things, luring out a crowd of tourists from the other cabins. He grins darkly as Xander hurls his hairy vampwolf bod at the civilians, as he brings down two with one pounce. A policeman, a middle aged woman...

...just like the two people the demon killed last night. The two people Xander got killed.

�Eat up,� Angelus says. He�s got a snack of his own, a doe-eyed Latina girl with a face full of terror.

No. He fights back the hunger, makes himself stand upright. Turns his back on Angel as Buffy comes pelting down from the cabin. Golden hair and blue, deadly eyes. She has a stake for him, all right. Ready to break his heart literally as surely as she�s nibbled it emotionally, piece by little piece, over the years with her indifference.

Angelus, behind him, whispers in his ear. �It�s the only way. Kill the civvies or sacrifice yourself.�

�No.�

�You already killed them once.�

Buffy steps closer, ready for the kill. Ready to use her powers, do her duty, save as many as she can. To do her best.

And isn�t that what he�s doing? Is making the bad guys fall in love with you really that much more distasteful than running them through with pure strength and reflex? It�s all grim and ugly; demons are built that way. Has he had it any harder than she has?

At least he hasn�t had to kill someone he loves.

�Guess you�re toast, Harris,� Angelus says. Buffy lunges swiftly, stake pointed heartward...

But Xander leaps, flips out from between them. Stake chews Angelus to dust and even if it is only a dream it�s so damn *sweet.*

At least, it�s sweet until Buffy turns, heartbreak on her face and fury catching fire. Buffy, hating him.

�How could you,� she says. �How could you?�

And then she�s all over him, slamming him with ultrastrong Slayer blows, bash after painful bash into his body, face, legs. Beating him to a pulp and why shouldn�t he let her finish it? He�s broken the heart of the woman he loves, he�s killed two civilians, he�s let Oz and Angel turn him into a monster...

Wait. Almost forgot that part�s maybe not real.

Oh.

He gets it.

The fists landing on him--they feel real enough. He can�t not believe in Buffy pounding him to tenderloin. In a way, it�s the next best thing to having her kiss him. But as for the rest...

�I�m not a vamp,� Xander manages between blows. �Not a monster.�

Which works in the sense that he becomes Xander again but which sucks in the sense that Slayer punches hurt that much more.

�You killed him,� she�s screaming. Kick to the face that nearly dislocates his jaw, and he barely dodges a follow up punch to the gut. Xander backs into the ocean. Tear-streaked Buffy follows, kicking up spray. �You made him love you instead of me and then you murdered him!�

It�s not Buffy at all. It�s the demon Ethan summoned. The girlfriend of the one he and Giles killed. He sees a gleam of yellow behind the wet blue eye.

Which is all he needs to snap free. Xander wheels out of the path of the next punch, lets the demon stumble past him into the ocean. He pivots and reaches blindly. Last night, in the real world, he had hidden a knife on this beach. Now he comes up with a sword. Light and deadly, it cuts through the air like butter as he swings.

The sword connects. Buffy ripples to demon and screams as she�s sliced in half.

Xander drops the sword, panting, thinking that Giles was wrong�the dreams came true after all. He�s killed her.

***

Xander wakes up still tied to the cabin bed, hurting all over from Buff-inflicted injuries. Beside him on the other bed, a tranked out werewolf is sleeping in its chains. Giles is sagging in a chair between them Worrying. Watching.

Giles springs up as his eyes focus. �How are you?�

He looks at the battered face. �They should make a salt and pepper set out of us. The Bruise Brothers.�

�The demon?�

�Dead.�

�You�re sure?�

�Giles, I am not gonna be passing any What�s Reality quizzes today.� He struggles against the bonds, manages to kind of sit. �But I�m pretty sure.�

And Giles seems to agree, because he�s untying Xander�s hands, rubbing out the pins and needles. �You did have several nightmares and you did run out of here after the last one. Oz came upon you in a diner when he and the band were headed back to Sunnydale from a... gig?�

�The diner�s a hangout of theirs. I remember.�

�He found the cabin receipt in your jeans and brought you back here. In between... we don�t know.�

�That�s okay,� he says. �I�ll keep the good bits and...�

�Yes?�

Xander�s puffed up face works briefly. �Actually, there weren�t any good bits between leaving here and getting back.�

�None?�

�Well... Ethan died.�

A smile quirks the corner of Giles� mouth. �We should be so lucky.�

�Yeah,� Xander yawns hugely. �He told me how to break the irresistible spell. I think maybe that really happened.�

�Do you still want to?�

He shrugs. Yawns again. Kiss from Buffy. He already spends his time hoping for that. �It�ll happen if it happens.�

�Why don�t you try to get some rest?�

Xander nods, slides over to the edge of the bed, taps it once in platonic invitation. �You�ll ruin your back if you sleep in that chair.�

He feels himself getting sleepy, is halfway there even before the mattress shifts to take Giles� weight.

***

Xander wakes up.

Daytime. Morning. Cabin on the sea. Giles--dressed--beside him. And snoring. Oz--not so dressed--chained up on the other bed. Hungry out.

Another glorious day on the road.

He gets up, washes, shaves, counts his bruises and his blessings. Unlocks Oz and phones the front desk to order breakfast. Gets tea and coffee both, so Giles can choose to either be relaxed or tense.

He feels pretty good, all things considered.

Giles doesn�t stir, not when Oz gets up to do the shit shower shave thing, not when they turn on the TV, low volume, and find some cartoons. They sit, quiet and companionable, and when the soft tap at the door comes Xander opens it to see a doe-eyed Hispanic girl in a maid�s uniform. She grins at him shyly, extends a tray. Gives him a bigger grin when she sees the tip.

�She likes you,� Oz says as he brings the tray in. The smell of tea finally moves Giles into stretch and mumble mode.

�Hmmm?�

�The hotel girl. Likes you.�

Xander takes a slice of toast and slathers jam on it. If it happens, it happens. Buffy�s single now. Maybe for good this time.

�I�m waiting for Miss Right,� he says, and bites down on butter and wheaty goodness.

END