Rupert glanced over, and saw that look on Xander's face. The one which prevented him and Xander's other friends from staking Spike and kidnapping Xander back to Sunnydale. The boy was besotted. "I'll keep it in mind," Rupert said, amused. As if he would ever have the chance -- or take it, if he did. Not that it wouldn't be fun to see Spike actually looking cute.... Rupert suddenly decided he'd had too much beer.

"Of course," Xander continued, "if you get him sopping wet and offer him a lollipop, the cute look doesn't last very long..." Wesley groaned. Rupert wasn't sure if he'd ever raised his head from his beer, come to think of it. No, he had, He'd passed Rupert a bottle. "Since he gets naked pretty soon after that..."

"Right. Orgies," Rupert interrupted. Xander perked up. "The ones... one, I mean, that I attended, purely as a favor to a friend..."

"Ethan?"

"No, not Ethan! Why on earth does everyone think I used to sleep with Ethan?" Even Wesley raised his head to give Rupert an are-you-kidding look. Rupert was *not* going to blush. "All right, possibly I used to sleep with Ethan. Occasionally."

A low snort. "Used to as in 'in the last five months' ?" Wesley asked, one eyebrow raising and apparently sticking there.

"You must be joking. Drusilla would-- never mind."

Xander's eyes widened, then narrowed, then did little circles within their sockets. "Oh God. Though that does explain how he got here so fast, if he didn't come with you guys."

"Well," Wesley said in a reasonable tone. "That gives you an excuse not to invite her to a threesome. Because then you'd have to invite him, as well."

Xander goggled. "Yeah. That pretty much puts me *right* off. Green socks. Brrrr." He shuddered.

"Green socks?"

"Um. If I explain, it will involve me talking about Spike being naked."

"Ah." Rupert nodded. "Please don't explain." Xander looked like he was thinking about doing it anyway, so Rupert, not at all evilly, added, "Ethan wouldn't care if you invited Dru without him. Trust me."

Xander slumped down in his seat. "Oh." When Rupert looked questioningly at him, he sighed. "It's not that I don't like Dru. It's just-- you know. She was there before. Plus the whole crazy-not-chipped-vampire-might-eat-me-during-sex thing, but mostly the other one."

"So it's not so much the idea of someone else, as it being specifically Drusilla?" And they were safely away from orgies again, for the moment.

"Well, if it were Wesley, we'd only have to deal with Angel and Gunn killing us slowly."

Wesley choked on his beer. Possibly because Xander wasn't grinning, as though he were only saying it for shock effect. Rupert reconsidered, for the twentieth time, going back out and talking to Cordelia about teal morning suits. "I seriously doubt Spike would allow Drusilla to harm you...under any circumstances," Rupert told him.

Xander did grin, this time. "Well, no. Probably not. Unless I wanted her to." Wesley returned to his beer as if it were oxygen and he'd only just remembered he needed to breathe. "She's got really sharp teeth. Even when she's human," Xander added.

Rupert went off somewhere for a moment. It was a nice place. Women with sharp teeth lived there, and they didn't have any inclination to suck one's blood. He blinked, and returned to the present. Wesley and Xander were both staring at him. "Yes?"

"Giles?" Xander asked, and there was a note of hesitation in his voice.

"Yes, Xander?"

"Can I change my mind?"

"About what?"

"I don't want you treating me like I'm a grown-up. Treat me like your errant adopted son who's too young to know what sex, taxes, and cricket are."

"Ah. In that case, I'm afraid you're not old enough for that beer." Rupert snatched away the glass.

Xander pouted. Something like Number 17.5, but not quite. "Okay. Let's talk about orgies, then."

Rupert handed him back the beer. They stared at each other for a while. And stared. Drank a bit more beer. Looked about the room, a bit. Looked at each other. Looked at their mugs of beer. Finally Xander sighed. "Would it be really, really stupid of me to say yes?"

Rupert studied his beer. It really was rather a fine brew. "Er... You're asking me if I think having sex with his ex-girlfriend will suddenly make Spike not want you anymore?"

"Pretty much. Does that sound too dumb for a guy who's been old enough to buy beer for quite a while, now?"

"It does sound a bit silly coming from a man whose fianc� has refused to let him alone for one second for the last two days. The only reason you're here now is because Spike got kidnapped by Joyce, and he's incapable of turning her down."

Xander didn't look completely convinced. After a bit of staring morosely at his beer, he said, "But she's his Sire. Angel aside, she's the one who made him. He...can't say 'no' to her."

"And you think that he'll go back to her?" Rupert asked gently. Xander shrugged. "You can say 'no', you realize."

"But...what if that's...what makes him...."

"He won't." This came from Wesley, astonishingly.

"Huh?"

"Spike won't. Go back to Drusilla. She's left him too many times." Wesley's voice held a strange certainty, and Rupert wondered just how many nights he'd spent down here with Spike, drinking Batham's. "He..ah..."

Xander's eyes were round. "What? He what?"

Wesley looked elsewhere. "I'm not supposed to be telling you this."

"I'll take Spike away for two weeks..."

Wesley blinked, then smiled. "You're talking about the honeymoon, aren't you."

Oops-I've-been-caught-out face from Xander. "Ah... busted, huh?"

"Good, that means you can keep that picture. Or better yet, give it to me," Rupert said to the man across from him, who was still smiling gently at Xander.

Wesley spared him a larcenous glance. "Why, what will *you* give me for it?"

"He what?" Xander asked again.

Wesley took pity on him and said, "He won't leave you. He loves you, he trusts you, and he...how did he put it...he finds contentment in knowing that you need him in all the same ways that he needs you. Or reassurance. Something. Why do you think he wants you to have a threesome? Rather than simply inviting Dru up for the day? He doesn't want her - he wants to remember what it was like, having her. Nostalgia. Old times' sake. Saying goo--"

"Wesley?"

"Yes?" He turned to Rupert.

"Are you drunk?"

"Does it matter?"

Rupert shook his head -- Xander was still staring at Wesley, absorbing what he'd heard. "I was just wondering if we should get you drunk more often. Or *not* allow you to get drunk."

Wesley blinked at him. "Why?"

"Your accent is slipping. You sounded like Spike."

"Well, that's only fair." Xander seemed to have come out of his revelation-of-love induced shock. "When Spike gets maudlin, he sounds like Wesley." Xander shook his head. "In fact, he must've been *really* maudlin, if he used the word 'contentment.' Non-maudlin Spike would say something like 'He's a great shag, makes me all growly, an' he spanks hard.' " Xander quoted --or misquoted-- Spike in a dead-on impersonation of Spike's usual accent.

Rupert looked at the floor. The beer wasn't doing it for him anymore. He needed something *really* complicated to focus on. Parquet tiles almost seemed to be doing the trick, except that he could still see a faint image superimposed over them-- of an imaginary soaking wet Spike, holding a lollipop, being spanked. He glanced up, hoping that perhaps Wesley might have an interjection into the conversation, something safe and not-Spike, and he found the other man gaping, staring off into space. The faint flush on his cheeks said that perhaps he'd gone off somewhere, as well.

There was a smug tone to Xander's voice when he said, "Spike says I spank better than Angel." Wesley's eyes did something quite intriguing. Rupert decided he would *really* rather argue with Cordelia. Or, perhaps, even wear teal to the wedding.

"Better than Angel?" There was a little squeak at the end of the question, and Rupert closed his eyes. He was either too drunk, or not drunk enough.

Xander nodded solemnly. Then looked a little uncertain. "Of course, this *is* Spike we're talking about. He lies. Lots."

Something entered Rupert's head. It might have been a thought. Or possibly a stray dust particle. It was getting that difficult to tell. "Yes, he does. If the Great Exhibition was in 1851, and he was turned in 1880, he'd have to have been twenty-nine when he was turned to even have been *born* in time to crawl into the Crystal Palace and let loose a bag of ferrets."

Xander's eyes went round in circles as he tried to puzzle out the arithmetic. Finally he frowned. "You said he would've been eight."

"I'm drunk. You expect me to do maths?"

Xander blinked repeatedly. "Okay, so he lied. Remind me to spank him for it."

Rupert found himself actually opening his mouth to respond to that. Firmly, he shut it. Looked at his beer, and decided he needed more. Wesley was looking at Xander, and Rupert started praying that he didn't ask. Wesley opened his mouth. Rupert prayed harder.

"I've thought of where I can get more Batham's," Wesley said.

Rupert offered one of the bottles of Batham's as a sacrifice, to whomever had been listening. Then he looked at Wesley. "Where?" He watched, somewhat surprised, as Wesley stood up and wandered over to the bar.

"I keep some here for when I'm too drunk to telepat...telopot...get it from my cousin."

"You... fine." He wasn't about to complain. He could look forward to at least a few more bottles, and the subject was thankfully changed, so he wouldn't have to hear anything else about--

"But now I'm wondering if I really do. Spank as good as Angel, that is. I mean, if he lied about the ferrets..."

"I once knew a man who put ferrets down his trousers," Rupert interrupted desperately.

Xander stared blankly at him. "Um..."

"It was part of a stage act."

"Okay..."

"He juggled sausages, as well." Rupert gave Xander a wide smile.

Xander nodded. "Cool." Then he turned to Wesley. "So, do you think I would spank as good as Angel?"

Wesley brought over two more bottles of beer, and set them down. Looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, "There'd really be only one way to find out."

Rupert buried his head in his hands. Teal. Go out and find Cordelia, he told himself. You're drunk, you can deal with teal and salmon. "We'd need a neutral party, though, for judging," Xander pointed out. There was silence. Rupert told himself he was not going to look up. Told himself he would not want to see what he knew he would see.

He looked up, and found Wesley and Xander watching him, patiently. "Giles, would you--"

"NO! No, I would not. Whatever it is, I would not. Ever." He listened to himself for a moment, and realized he hadn't sounded this mentally deranged since the last time he'd talked with Anya. Calming himself, he readied a reasoned, intelligent explanation about how it was completely inappropriate for him to be discussing that sort of thing with Xander, really, let alone witnessing it or in any way participating in it. What came out of his mouth, however, was, "Er, would I what?"

"Would you...." Xander stopped, and thought hard. Rupert wondered if Xander was possibly too drunk to remember his thought processes from two minutes ago. "Would you, could you, on a boat?"

"Would you, could you, with a goat?" Wesley added, then burst into giggles.

"That is *perverted*!" Xander yelled at him. He turned a very serious, very not-completely-sober look at Rupert. "If you have, at the orgy or whatever, I don't want to know. K?"

Rupert was beginning to think he had no idea what either the other two were talking about. He suspected he should prefer it that way. "I have *never* done it with a goat. Or any other non-sentient being."

"Ethan?" Wesley prompted again.

Rupert simply thumped him with an empty beer bottle. Then again, Ethan owed him money. And a new pair of jeans. "I didn't say I'd never done it with a non-*human* being," he said after a moment. Followed by a grin.

But Xander, of course, chose not to take this as a comment on Ethan's parentage. "So... what, vampire? You been holding out on us?"

Rupert looked elsewhere. Suddenly he found that there wasn't enough of elsewhere to look in the hotel bar. "Of course I've done it with a vampire. Dear God, everyone in this *room* has done it with a vampire."

Xander nodded. "Yeah. With a vampire on a boat. But not with a goat."

Wesley grinned. "With a vampire and a Gunn."

Xander grinned back. "Oo, kinky. Where do you put the gun?"

"Excuse me, I think it's time for me to exercise my parental rights and demand that no one answer that question." Rupert gave Xander a very stern glare. "Otherwise I shall be forced to point out that I *did* agree to pay for the rehearsal dinner, and even agreed...though god knows how...to perform. I said I wouldn't ask for any return favors, but I lied. I'm asking for one now."

"Wow." Xander looked at him, amazement on his face. "You said that all in one breath?"

"You never answered the question," Wesley said.

Rupert turned to him. "What question?"

"If you would judge the spanking."

There was a reason God created cinnamon schnapps. It was so people could get drunk enough, fast enough, that they didn't have to deal with questions like that. He suddenly wished he had some. In fact, he wished he'd had some half an hour ago. No. That was the categorical answer. No, no, no, not on a boat or with a goat or a stoat, nor with ferrets down his trousers, nor while wearing a pear of green fluffy socks. The answer was no. The answer was--- "How on earth would I *do* that?"

Xander made a 'pfft' sound. "Duh! Get spanked--"

Rupert stood up and walked over to the bar. Perhaps there was a bottle, somewhere, of hard liquor. Something, anything which would ensure that tomorrow morning he would remember *none* of this. Better, something he could put in Wesley and Xander's drinks, so they would not remember it either. He couldn't find any bottles, and was considering sending someone out for one, when he heard Wesley asking, "Do you think that would be the best place for it?"

He spun around. "I'm sorry?" Was there more than one place for it? One generally got spanked on the arse, didn't one? Wonderful. Now he was actually *thinking* the words. No, no, don't want to hear, don't want to know. He turned back to the bar. No bottles, but perhaps there was a can of peanuts he could hopefully choke himself to death on?

"The bar." Wesley was standing, now, and walking towards him. Looking at the polished bar top. "It would make for nice atmosphere, but the height is wrong." He glanced back at Xander. "Isn't it?"

Xander walked over, and looked from the bar, to Rupert. No. Nonononononononono. What god had he offended that he was in this conversation? "It might work, actually." Xander positioned himself in front of the bar, as if -- Rupert looked away. Far wall, nice and drab.

"I am not listening to this. And you are not listening to *me*. I said no, that's the end of it."

Xander snickered. "The 'end' of it?"

Rupert looked back at him. He had that 'There is no Xander, there is only Zool' look in his eyes. As if he'd been taken over by that offended god, or some other, who wanted nothing more than to make Rupert Giles' life as miserable as possible in retaliation for some wrong, real or imagined. The only problem was narrowing to down to which one, really. That might take a few days.

"Eyghon?" he ventured?

Xander winked first one eye, then the other. "Nope. Both still here."

Wonderful. It was just Xander. Drunk Xander. "Are you drunk enough to not remember any of this tomorrow?" Rupert asked.

"Any of what?"

"Would you want any padding? Or just a towel?" Wesley asked, finally looking up from his inspection of the bar. Perhaps *he* was the one who was possessed, Rupert realized. He'd been providing Xander with the beer, after all. Cheap American drek that it was. He could have cast a spell on it.

"Padding?" The moment the word was out of his mouth, he realized he was just encouraging them both. Dear God. Perhaps it was *he* who was possessed? It was, after all, he who kept opening his mouth and responding to these things.

"On the bar. Or just a towel, to cover--"

"Yes, I get the point." Rupert looked over the bar again. Perhaps there was simply a bottle of cyanide tablets back there? "It's not an issue, because it isn't going to happen."

Of course, looking overt he bar meant bending over the bar. Which he realized as soon as Xander walked up closer to him. "Oh yeah. That would definitely work."

He straightened up immediately and turned back around. Gave them both a very fierce glare, which bounced off their heads like a rubber ball. Instead he got round eyes blinking slowly at him, as if he were at an anime convention. "You two are either extremely drunk, or you're having me on."

"We can have you?" Wesley echoed, sounding pleased.

"However," Rupert continued, ignoring him, "if you are *not* extremely drunk, then you can be held responsible for everything you've said here tonight. To wit, I shall be forced to explain to all your respective significant others that the two of you were complaining about their abilities behind doors."

More blinking. Then Wesley and Xander looked at each other. Wesley looked back at him. "I'm extremely drunk."

Xander, however, shook his head from side to side. Then up and down. As if trying to decide which way worked better. Then he said, somewhat dizzily, " Um...I'm probably extremely drunk. But since we were talking about *my* spanking abilities, what is it exactly that you think you're gonna tell Spike? That I accused him of lying? "

"Er.. yes. Exactly."

"Because that would be *such* a shock. He'd have a heart attack."

Wesley looked at Xander wide-eyed. "Well, he might spank you..."

Xander grew thoughtful. "Hmm. Yeah. You're right." He turned back to Rupert. "I'm completely sober. Did you want me to go first, or Angel?"

Rupert rolled his eyes. "You think I'm not capable of lying through my eyeteeth, to get the two of you into trouble?"

"Yeah, but trouble's nice." Xander shrugged.

Rupert shook his head again. "Do you recall how Ethan always...twitches, whenever anyone mentions oranges? Or is actually, god forbid, given one?"

"Um, yeah?" Xander gave him a 'you're insane' look, as did Wesley.

Rupert cleared his throat, and said as distinctly and undrunkenly as he could, "He pissed me off."

Xander and Wesley exchanged doubtful looks, then Xander said, "Yeah...and...?"

"Would you care for me to do that, to you, with the spanking?"

Blinking. Rapid, this time. "You mean, make spanking a *bad* thing?" Wesley asked. Xander just squeaked.

"Oranges," Rupert repeated. Hoped to God they didn't ask Ethan why he really twitched whenever faced with an orange. It involved an orgy. One of them; he couldn't really recall which. And a goat. And even if forced to testify under oath, Rupert would only ever admit to *watching* it occur.

"We'll be good now," Xander said quietly. Once again looking not nearly old enough to be as drunk as he obviously was. He and Wesley both returned to their seats, eyes still in Japanimation-mode. Rupert gazed suspiciously at them, but took his own seat. Looked down to find his beer missing. He mouthed the word, 'oranges' at Wesley, and it re-appeared in front of him. With a satisfied nod, he picked it up, and took a drink.

He spit it back out as soon as he tasted it. "What the hell is this?"

"What?" Wesley looked honestly startled. "What's wrong?" But he was giggling, as well, now.

Xander sniffed his own, then took a sip. "Ah. You got mine, G-Man. The shoe polish is in my bottle." He held his beer out.

"Oops?" Wesley said, still giggling.

"I might just tell on you anyway," Rupert said darkly. A swallow of real beer improved his mood slightly, though the brief bursts of tittering from his drinking companions threatened to either drive him insane, or force him to join them.

"So," Xander said, immersed in his whatever the hell that swill had been. "About those orgies."

Rupert blinked at him. "About these oranges, did you say?"

Xander shook his head, and repeated more clearly, "Orgies. Oar-gees-- ow!" He glared at Wesley. Wesley glared back. "Why'd you kick me?"

"Because you're-- oh. Right, why do I care if *you* get...whatever it is, done to you." Wesley waved a hand. "Carry on."

*****