Home of Greg Sanders Slash Fiction
by Amireal and Beccat
Willow slid the car into park and checked the address Grissom had given her one last time. �Come on Andrew, let�s go.�
Greg�s apartment door opened easily with the key Grissom had fished out of Greg�s pockets.
Looking around, Willow spotted a knitted afghan slung over the end of the couch. �You can sleep there.� She pointed it out to Andrew. �I get the bed.�
Andrew looked at her confused. �But I thought we were just gonna pick some stuff up.�
Willow started checking doors, looking for one with a bed behind it. �I can�t do anything until I nap. And I despite Mr. Grissom being incredibly reasonable, I don�t think he�d appreciate us crashing at his place.� Ah ha! One queen size bed, complete with sheets. �Besides,� she murmured to herself. �They practically screamed �We need alone time.��
�What?� Andrew�s voice called from the living room.
�Nothing, go to sleep Andrew so I don�t have to hear you whine about how tired you are later when we�re running for our lives.� She ducked out of the bedroom, threw a pillow at Andrew and climbed into bed.
*****
Greg woke up slowly, feeling a soft warm blanket over him and a solid warm body behind him. Gris--Gil, he corrected himself--had one arm thrown over his waist and a leg tangled with his own. He tested his barriers carefully and was pleased to see that they'd come back most of the way, although his link with Gil seemed to have faded while they slept.
Slowly, he tried to extricate himself from Gil's hold, only to have Gil's arm tighten around his waist. "Don't go," Gil murmured against his back. "I like you here."
"I didn't want to bother you," he admitted.
"You'd only bother me if you left." A soft kiss against the back of his neck and Greg's eyes fell shut. "Tell me something, Greg," Gil said quietly.
"Hmm?"
"How much trouble is this situation?"
Greg sighed. "I don't know. A lot." Greg relaxed into the body behind him, relishing the small pleasure. �I�m not really the one to ask, but from what I�ve heard I know I�d be peeing in my pants if I knew the whole story.�
Gil�s lips brushed against the side of his neck. �Tell me what you do know.�
Greg had to wait for the lips to recede before he swallowed and tried to find enough spit to answer. �What I do know? I know that a lot of myths and legends have a stronger grain of truth to them than most people give them credit for.� He sucked in a startled breath as Gil�s tongue traced a wet path around the edge of his ear.
�Ah.� Greg cleared his throat. �Willow said something about Pandora�s box--� His breath caught as Gil gently sucked on his earlobe. �--Pandora�s box and since the story ends with plagues and war and death and doom? I think there�s something very bad going on.� He finished in a rush, eyes fluttering closed to enjoy the sensation.
"What about Giles?" Gil's hand worked its way up under his shirt, smoothing over his stomach, his chest, one finger flicking over his nipples.
"Ah--" Greg swallowed, arching into Gil's hand. "He--he's kind of everyone's mentor, I guess. Older guy. British. Knows a lot." Gil's teeth scraped over his neck and Greg gasped, head falling back.
"So it's a bad thing that he's missing."
"Y-yeah." How did Gil expect him to think when he kept doing things like this? The leg between his own pressed against him, Gil's thigh settling *right* where he wanted it and he made a soft high noise.
"Focus, Greg," Gil murmured. "Focus."
He tried to twist away, out of Gil's arms, but Gil held him securely and he couldn't go anywhere. Not, he admitted, that he really wanted to. "I--yeah. It's bad that he's missing. We--we should contact Willow."
"She called earlier," Gil told him. "She and Andrew crashed at your apartment. They'll be by later."
"Oh." That came out a bit higher than he wanted, although Gil's fingers playing with his nipple might have had something to do with that.
�You ready to tell me what that was?� Gil asked.
�What �what� was?� Greg asked, trying to concentrate on something other than Gil�s hand. Because if he didn�t, he was pretty sure speech would be a fond memory.
�That thing you did in my office,� Gil elaborated, punctuating it with another kiss to the back of the neck.
The thing in the-- oh! Right. The office. The thing that had started out like he�d been taught, like he�d done a handful of times before and then had quickly spiraled into something bigger and different. Of course, every time was different, Greg knew that. Energy was as unique as fingerprints. The taste of it, the smell of it, the feel.
�Everyone calls it something different.� Greg began. �Everyone perceives it differently. We as people are more than just the sum of our parts. There�s something intangible, just beneath the surface.�
He felt Gil nod, nuzzling behind his ear. �What I did was�� He trailed off, momentarily distracted.
�Go on Greg.�
Gil�s voice was low and husky in his ear. He shuddered before continuing. �Energy, I guess is the best word for it, though I hate using it because it�s been corrupted by commercialization and New Age hacks. I tapped you because� well� because you were so easy to tap��
�Is this something I should worry about?� Gil asked.
Greg shook his head. �No, I should have said that you were easy for *me* to tap. You were just� there. And you were� warm.� His face heated as he realized what he�d just said.
�Warm?� Gil chuckled low and deep.
�Like I said,� Greg went on, slightly embarrassed. �Everyone sees, hears, smells and tastes it differently. I was drowning in something�� he didn�t want to think about it long enough to describe it, �really gross� and I was blasted wide open from that hotel room and you were just� there� so I set up an energy transfer.�
�But it�s more than that, right?� Gil guessed. �It�s not just energy� calories as it were, it�s� essence, a little part of the person� complete with their personality, their uniqueness.� His voice was breathless against Greg�s ear.
"Yeah." Greg swallowed. "It's--the way it feels depends on that, on how well-matched two people are."
"So what does that mean about us?" Gil asked, nuzzling Greg's jaw.
"Ah--well--it means that we match resonances well," Greg managed.
"And?"
Greg dropped his head back against Gil's shoulder. "And what?"
"What else does it mean, Greg?"
"You--" It was like a light bulb turned on. "You wanted me," he said, realization dawning. "Even before--"
"Smart boy," Gil whispered, pressing a kiss behind his jaw. "I figured you'd catch on eventually."
"You wouldn't have been that open otherwise. I mean--I should have realized--" Greg blushed. "But you--I mean--"
"I'm human too, Greg. And you're a very desirable person."
"I'm a lab rat with a music and Playstation fetish," Greg muttered under his breath.
"Greg, I race cockroaches for a hobby. I wouldn't be too concerned about geekiness."
Gil's voice was so dry, Greg couldn't help but laugh.
"Do you feel better now?" Gil asked, still lazily petting him.
"Yeah. Thank you." Greg shifted in Gil's arms, turning to face him. "For--"
"You don't need to thank me." Gil bent his head ever so slightly and kissed him. It was gentle, soft, and then Gil pulled back. "Do you want a shower?"
Greg hummed in pleasure, letting it settle through him before opening his eyes. He blinked in surprise. �You shaved.�
Gil quirky his head and his lips twitched. He traced a finger down the side of Greg�s face. �You were getting beard burn.� He cupped Greg�s cheek. �Wouldn�t want someone to think you had some sort of rash.� He leaned in and kissed Greg again, a little longer, but just as slowly. �So, shower?�
�Umm.� Greg shook his head slightly pulling his attention back to the question. �Yeah. I�m feeling a bit grungy.�
Gil tapped him lightly on the cheek. �Bathroom�s that way.� He pointed to a doorway just across the hall from the bedroom. �Come on, try and stand up.�
Greg found himself being hauled up into the sitting position. Those insects of Gil�s must be heavier than they looked, because Gil had had been hauling him around like a rag doll most of the day.
He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and pushed himself up. He wobbled a bit and could feel Gil�s hands hovering ready to catch him. But he steadied quickly. Straightening up the rest of the way gave him a small head rush that weakened his knees and this time Gil did wrap an arm around him. �I�m good.� He was quick to reassure.
�Maybe I just wanted to cop a feel.� Gil smiled at him.
Was that a little leer?
Greg shook his head mentally. He couldn't let himself be drawn into this. Gil said he wanted him, but... and if he thought about it too hard he wouldn�t be able to think about anything else. "Across the hall, you said?"
Gil nodded. "I'll get you some towels."
Part of Greg wanted to invite Gil to come with him. The rest of him was grateful for the chance to get his bearings. He turned the water on as hot as he could stand it and stripped, stepping under the spray and letting it drench him.
He closed his eyes, letting his tension run down the drain along with the water streaming off his body. Water was one of the oldest cleansing techniques, and one of the best. As he soaped and rinsed and washed his hair, he could *feel* the taint fading, scrubbed away by Gil's unscented soap and Suave clarifying shampoo. He wrinkled his nose at the bottle, but at least Gil had conditioner. His hair was having a bad enough day.
By the time he shut off the water, his skin was flushed pink from the water and he felt... clean, inside and out.
"Feel better?" Gil asked from the other side of the shower door.
"Gah!" Greg nearly fell over in the stall. "I didn't know you were there."
"I did say I'd get you some towels." Gil's voice was rich with amusement. "Are you going to come out?"
"Can I have a towel first?"
A thick blue towel was tossed over the door and Greg caught it, hastily rubbing himself down and tying it around his waist before sliding the door open and stepping out into the steamy bathroom.
Gil was leaning casually against the door frame, a small smile gracing his lips. �The electric razor is next to the sink if you want to shave.�
Greg nodded mutely.
�Feel free to use my comb too, it�s next to the razor.� Gil added.
Greg just nodded again and turned to the sink. He found a clean hand towel waiting for him, he used it to wipe the fog off the mirror and stared at his face. He was completely unprepared for the touch of cool fingers on his back. He spun around to find a grim looking Gil.
�I hadn�t realized there�d been scars.� Gil said quietly.
Scars? Oh. On his back. When the lab had gone boom. �Yeah.� His voice shook slightly. �Chemical burns will do that.�
Gil�s hand hadn�t moved when he�d turned and it now rested solid against his stomach. �You came back to work before they�d healed.� Gil didn�t have to ask, he knew as well as anyone they worked with the average time for things like that to heal.
Greg nodded mutely, still rather focused on the hand.
The hand slid up to his chest, fingers catching on the sparse hairs before moving to his neck and face. Gil�s thumb stroked against his cheek and Greg couldn�t help but close his eyes and lean into it.
Soft lips touched his brow and then mouthed a trail to his temple past his cheekbone. They stopped briefly under his jaw, nibbling gently. Greg gasped and his hands grasped at Gil�s shoulders. Gil moved in, closing any space left between them as his mouth finally closed over Greg�s panting lips, leg sliding into the terry cloth towel, bracing Greg in just the right way.
Long, hot wet kisses tangled them up in each other. Greg knew he should pull away; this was insane, stupid, there were so many things they had to do, they didn�t have the time to get caught up in each other. But Gil's hands were warm and firm on his back and his mouth felt so good, demanding and giving and teasing, that all Greg could do was cling to him and let the sensations wash over him.
When the phone rang, it startled them both badly. Greg jumped, his towel falling, and Gil pulled back abruptly. "Th-that's probably Willow," Greg said hoarsely.
Gil nodded. "I'll get it." He left the room; a moment later, Greg heard him speaking.
Alone in the bathroom, he closed his eyes and leaned against the counter, suddenly cold despite the lingering steam.
He dressed slowly, slipping his underwear and jeans back on like armor. His shirt was nowhere to be found; instead, there was a clean black t-shirt on the counter and a blue button down shirt on a wire hanger hanging from a hook on the door. His fingers skimmed the material, they were both soft and crisp and very *Grissom*.
He pulled the t-shirt on, surprised when it was only slightly large. He eyed the one hanging on the door, hesitating. It wasn�t his usual style, but the extra layer would be comforting. He pulled the crisp cotton down and slid it on. He left the cuffs unbuttoned and let the whole thing hang on him. He checked himself out on the mirror--between the clothes and the lack of hair gel he looked like a completely different person.
He padded out into the living room, following the sound of Gil's voice. "Yeah, we're all right now," Gil said. "Mm. Hold on, he's right over here." GIl put his hand over the phone, turning to Greg. "You all right?"
Greg nodded. "Is that Willow?"
"Yes. She wants to bring over some items and needs to know what you have and where they are. Feel up to talking to her?"
No, not really. But the whole day was such a mess to begin with�at least his hair had mostly gone back to blond, even if it was lighter than it had been and his highlights were completely gone. "Sure," he said.
"Hey, Greg, how're you doing? I took a nap in your bed, didn't think you'd mind. You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm all right. Fell asleep for a bit, took a shower. What do you need?"
As they spoke about herbs and stones and other assorted items, Greg felt a hint of warmth wrap itself around him. It was shortly followed by Gil's arms around his waist and the man's chin on his shoulder.
"Okay," Willow said at last. "I'll gather up what I can, wake Sleeping Beauty over here, and we'll be over soon."
"What do we do then?" Greg asked a little apprehensively.
Willow sighed. "We try to find Giles."
�Right.� Greg said into an empty phone line. Willow had already hung up. Greg clicked the cell phone shut and sighed.
�She say how long she�d be?� Gil�s voice was hushed in his ear.
Greg shook his head. �Just said she�d be heading out soon.�
Gil took the cell phone from his hand and it disappeared somewhere, but Greg couldn�t follow it because he was being nuzzled behind his ear.
"I'm glad I kept that shirt after it shrunk," Gil murmured, hands sliding up Greg's chest. "It looks good on you."
Greg shivered, head dropping forward.
"Once this is over..." Gil pressed a gentle kiss to Greg's jaw. "And we have more time..." His teeth grazed Greg's neck. "You have no idea what I want to do with you."
Greg closed his eyes. "It's the energy," he whispered. "Isn't it? This isn't--can't be--"
Gil's arms tightened around him. "No, Greg. It's not. I won't lie and say that the energy link you created did nothing, because I wouldn't have done or said anything otherwise. But that doesn't mean I didn't want to." One last kiss to his throat and Gil stepped away. "What are we going to do once Willow and Andrew arrive?"
Greg swallowed and shook his head. "I don't know. She said we had to find Giles, but... I don't know how."
Gil nodded and started walking towards his kitchen. �Well, I may not know all the rules in what we�re dealing with, but I�m willing to bet that the immutable fact that energy is energy no matter what the form still holds true.� He was bent into is fridge, sorting through the contents. �How do you like your omelets?�
Greg blinked dumbly as he watched Gil putter around the kitchen. There was something so� hot about Gil barefoot and cooking for him.
�Well?� Gil leaned on the counter, staring at him affectionately. �Any allergies I should be aware of? Food that you find completely inedible?�
A mental shake. �Um� Onions. No onions.�
Gil grinned and went to the fridge, taking out a variety of items. Greg sank into a chair and watched him whisk eggs in a bowl, heat a pan...it all seemed so *normal*, so bizarrely routine, that he was more confused than he'd been when he was dealing with the slime trying to invade his brain.
Okay, so he'd been more sickened and revolted then, but the idea was the same.
"Earth to Greg?" Gil said, setting a plate in front of him. "You there?"
"Oh! Sorry, I guess I zoned." Greg looked down at the overstuffed omelet in front of him and blinked. "Is there anything you *didn't* put in this?"
"Onions." Gil ruffled his hair affectionately and went back to the stove. "Eat before it gets cold."
He took a bite, nearly groaning as eggs and cheese and mushrooms and peppers and tomatoes exploded with flavor on his tongue. He was halfway through the food when Gil sat down opposite him, setting a plate of toast on the table as well as his own omelet. "Hungry?" he asked with a wry smile.
"Energy work does that," Greg said, swallowing. "And this is really good."
"I'm glad you like it." Gil buttered a piece of toast and took a bite. He set it down, looking thoughtful. "I never told Willow where I live," he said slowly.
Greg snorted. "She'll find it."
"She's very powerful, isn't she?" Gil asked.
"Yeah. Probably the most powerful witch out there these days. She had some trouble, but...I think she's okay now." Greg took another bite of food.
They ate in surprisingly companionable silence, not that Greg could have said much between stuffing his face full and breathing. Despite the teasing Greg, noted that Gil was just as hungry. He was just slower at inhaling his plate.
When they were finished Gil cleaned the table, dumping everything into the dishwasher before wandering to the couch. �Come on, I think I have cable,� Gil called after him.
Greg shuffled after him and found Gil slumped into the corner of the couch, legs stretched out and balanced on the coffee table. Greg sat next to him and was enveloped in a warm hug. Greg settled against his side and was surprised to find the remote control settled into his hand.
Gil smiled at him. �Come on, let�s digest.�
Greg settled on the History Channel as an unspoken compromise and they watched in comfortable silence.
Gil�s hand settled back into his hair, stroking through with slow, lazy movements. Greg found himself holding back a purr. His own hands strayed over Gil�s chest in sedate circles.
When the knock on the door came, it startled them both. Gil kissed the top of his head and stood up. "Stay there," he mock-ordered before going to open it.
"Hi," Willow said cheerfully. "You shaved! It�s a look that works on you. Are you guys hungry? Because we ate on our way over, but we could run out and get more if you wanted. Although I'd like to put this stuff down first. Not really liking the whole "getting caught by a cop with a backpack full of arcane items including an athame and a wand" idea, especially since Blondie seems to have it in for me."
"We had food already, thanks. Come on into the living room."
Greg sat up a little straighter, watching the three of them walk in. "Hi," he said.
Willow looked at him carefully. "Well, you look a lot better than the last time I saw you, although I doubt that would have taken much. And you're cleaner, too."
"I took a shower," he said dryly.
"So not what I meant. Unless--" Willow set her bag down on the floor and crossed over to him. "Oh, you used it to do a cleansing, didn't you?"
He nodded. "Oldest and most reliable way I know."
"Worked well, too. Nothing left." She grinned. "Not so out of practice after all, are you? Which is good, cause we're going to need all the help we can get. I think I know where Giles is, and if I'm right..." She chewed her lip nervously. "It's not good."
"I kind of got that impression from the screaming agony echoes on his glasses." Greg leaned forward. "How bad is it?"
�And is he going to need a hospital when he gets back?� Gil asked.
Willow favored them with a sad look. �I�ve got some supplies, I�d rather just get into the car and back as soon as possible.� She turned to Greg, �As for how bad is it? There are some places that humans aren�t meant to go and some forms of transportation that humans aren�t meant to experience.�
Greg digest that while Willow unpacked the supplies. His eyed widened in surprise as Gil removed a dated and sealed evidence packet from his pocket.
�The swatch from the shirt,� he said shortly. �Ideally I�d rather not break the chain of evidence like this, and I�d appreciate if you didn�t destroy it, because if anyone did check it would probably be noted and logged. But we�d learn nothing from it that we couldn�t get from any of the other bits of evidence, there were two other pieces, as you noted, and I highly doubt this will lead to a trial, in any event.� Gil explained.
Willow took the packet carefully, barely touching the plastic with her fingertips. "Thank you," she said sincerely. "This will help a lot." She turned to Greg. "What we'll need to do is create a circle and then use this to go find Giles. His blood is on the shirt, so we've got a link to him. We just need to *find* him and bring him back here."
"Why do I think this won't be as easy as that?" Greg muttered.
"It never is." Willow grimaced. "Is there somewhere we can do this? Someplace with enough space to create a circle for all four of us--and yes, Andrew, that means you--and room enough *in* the circle so that if Giles shows up he won't land on someone?"
Gil nodded. "The living room should have plenty of room. We can push the furniture against the walls if it�s not big enough."
"Great." Willow picked up her bag again. "Let's go do this before I lose my nerve."
Before *she* lost her nerve? Greg swallowed nervously.
The living room was bright and open. Greg took a moment to take in the sparse conditions. Gil pushed the coffee table against the couch, leaving the floor open and waiting. There was plenty of room for four of them, and Greg was reasonably sure they wouldn't have to worry about Giles landing on anyone's head.
Assuming they got him back.
Willow set her bag down and began rummaging through it, taking out a quartz wand, salt, and a few other things Greg didn't even recognize.
Willow handed Gil a diagram, roughly sketched onto scrap paper. �It�s all labeled and you seem the type to enjoy this sort of thing.�
Gil nodded ruefully and began sorting through items.
�Greg, you help him while I sit here and try not to throw up.� Willow took a nearby chair and sat clutching at the packaged fabric before she grabbed a bowl and began preparing some sort of concoction.
Greg grabbed a piece of chalk. �I�ll draw the runes, I at least recognize most of them.�
Gil nodded absently as he began sorting through various sets of stones, incense and bone fragments.
They worked easily together, creating the odd diamond like pattern on the floor. Gil was just placing the last of the candles when Willow wandered over, carefully placing the bowl in the center.
�Everyone pick and point and sit.� Willow said, before doing just that.
Greg ended up facing Gil, with Willow on his left and Andrew on his right. He settled himself cross-legged, noticing that they were all doing the same. Gil gave him a warm look and he felt the faintest brush of energy over his body before Gil pulled back.
"Okay." Willow took a deep breath and let it out slowly, rolling her head around on her neck. "Greg and I are going treasure hunting. You're going to be his anchor," she said, pointing at Gil. "And you're going to be mine." She pointed at Andrew. That was followed by a slightly dubious look at Andrew. He looked scared out of his wits but nodded.
"What do we need to do?" Gil asked.
Willow chewed her lip, looking like she was trying to find a way to explain. "You know how you were supporting him earlier?" she asked. Gris nodded.
"Same idea. Keep him from falling too far into...well, wherever we go. There should be a connection between you two. If it starts thinning out or looking fragile, pull him back." She looked at Andrew. "Same for you." She looked thoughtful. "We're going looking for Giles, and some places...well, humans aren't meant to go there. It would be all too easy for us to get lost, or..." She swallowed. "Like I said, you'll be able to see some kind of cord or connection between yourself and Greg, or in my case, me and Andrew. You need to make sure that cord doesn't fray or break or something. If it looks like it's starting to get stretched too thin, pull on it. But *don't*, whatever you do, follow us."
They all nodded solemnly and Willow closed her eyes and settled into a trance.
Greg made eye contact with Gil, holding it hoping to convey something of the whirling emotions in his mind. He felt the power prickle over his skin as the circle was closed. Gil�s eyes widened as he got a small wafting of Willow�s Talent. Greg gave him an encouraging smile and sent out a probing tendril. He was met in the middle and the familiar feel of Gil surrounded him
�Ready?� Willow�s question interrupted his fog. She was giving both of them a knowing smile which made him blush.
"Yeah. Ready." Greg swallowed. His hands were ice-cold, but he closed his eyes, following Willow down into trance. It was easier than he'd thought it would be, and he realized that was probably due to the gentle warmth and support of Gil around him, cradling him like a blanket.
He felt Willow's presence and reached for her; she took his mental 'hand' and linked firmly, trusting to follow her lead wherever they were going. "Follow the blood," she said, her voice echoing strangely in his mind.
If he looked with more than his eyes, he saw the trail leading off from the fabric. It was murky and blackish-red with sullen sparkles of black light. He shivered inwardly; he did *not* want to follow that path. But they didn't exactly have a choice.
It was like crawling through a sewer, complete with extraneous garbage. Willow was like a bloodhound furiously zooming in on every piece of the trail. Endless black tunnels, dark sucking tentacles brushing against him, feeling colder and colder until finally he felt Willow stop. �There.� He heard before he saw a darkening glimmer of light. He felt Willow reach for it and mimicked her actions, grasping onto the light strongly.
"Goddess," he heard Willow whisper. "Oh, sweet Goddess..."
The two of them pulled, extricating the light bit by bit until a vaguely human-shaped form stood in front of them. "Giles?" Willow sounded tentative.
The form nodded, but didn't--or couldn't--speak. Greg swallowed. They'd found Giles...he hoped. Now they had to get him back into his body and get his body back to Las Vegas.
He hoped Willow had an idea, because he didn't.
Greg felt an enormous build up of energy all around him, power surging and pulsing and it took a moment before he realized it was Willow. The space around him condensed and thickened, coalescing into something almost firm. Willow took his �hand� and together they ripped the solidity.
Pain. Sharp and biting, burned through him. He screamed, but didn�t stop. Together they pulled and ripped. Something burned its way up his arms and Gil was fading from his consciousness.
�Push him through.�
And he did, he pushed even as his skin was stripped layer by layer and his hands slicked with blood. He pushed.
And then he was flying back, pulled with such force that he gasped as he landed back in his body. He opened his eyes to see two very worried ones looking right into him. �Thanks.� He whispered just before passing out.
When he opened his eyes, he saw Willow lying on the floor as well and another man, his skin red and blistered, lying in the center of the circle. "We did it?" he croaked.
Gil nodded. He'd moved to kneel next to Greg and for the third time that day, Greg had his head in Gris's lap. "How long was I out?"
"About a minute. He hasn't moved and Andrew and I decided to let you and Willow wake up before we did anything else."
"Oh." Greg swallowed. "Okay."
Willow groaned and pushed herself up. Her hair had gone white again, Greg noticed vaguely, which probably meant that his had too. "Ow," she said, raising one hand to her temple. And then she saw Giles. "Oh my Goddess," she whispered. "Andrew--get the first aid kit. Now."
Andrew scrambled to his feet and ran for the bag.
Greg reached out a hand. �Help me up.�
�Are you sure?� Gil asked even as he was helping Greg sit up.
�No.� He answered as he shifted onto his butt, leaning heavily on Gil. He watched Willow and Andrew tend to Giles with a practiced ease.
Gil eased an arm around Greg, pulling him close. �I have to admit, that was probably one of the scarier moments in my life.�
�You didn�t see it from my end.� Greg poked at the still tenuous link between them and was oddly reassured when it burned a little brighter.
"I meant when I nearly lost you." Gil's voice was low and serious. He tilted Greg's face and kissed him soundly before tucking him back under his arm. "You weren't *there*, Greg. That cord--it got so thin I was afraid it was going to snap before I could pull you back."
"I'm here now?" Greg offered weakly, and Gil's arm tightened around him fiercely.
"Yes. And if you think you're going anywhere anytime in the near future..."
Greg flushed and turned his head into Gris's shoulder.
"How is he, Willow?" Gris asked.
"He's still unconscious," Willow reported. "Which is good, given the state he's in. Do you have a spare pair of sweats or something? His clothes didn't exactly come back with him and Giles would likely be mortified to wake up naked in a stranger's house. Not that he won't be mortified anyway, but there's a difference between being terminally British and constantly embarrassed and, you know, actually having a reason for it."
Gris smiled a little and got to his feet, caressing Greg's shoulder as he did. "I'll be right back."
Greg wondered if he was the only one who noticed that Gris hadn't necessarily been speaking to Willow.
He had just returned with a pair of worn gray sweatpants and Willow and Andrew had begun working them onto Giles, trying to avoid contact with his skin as much as possible, when there was a fierce knock at the door.
"Blondie," Willow said with a groan. "We so do not need this now."
Gris waited at the door until the sweats were mostly in position. He unlocked the bolt and smiled brightly. �Catherine. How can I help you?� His body was conveniently blocking most of the inside view.
�You shaved.� Catherine�s serious yet slightly bewildered voice said.
Greg fervently hoped that the new clean shaven Gil would continue to be a distraction.
�Yes, I shave.� Gil answered her ruefully, probably hoping that he wouldn�t continue to be a distraction, at least at work. �How can I help you?� He asked again.
�Aside from explaining why we�re missing evidence you mean?� Catherine answered before her voice softened. �Look Gil, there�s obviously something going on here that you�re not telling me, or anyone else for that matter. But you took evidence out of the lab and that�s the kind of thing that�s going to get noticed.�
Greg was glad it had been Cath who�d noticed, because she at least trusted Gris. Maybe.
Giles took that moment to groan loudly.
"Gris?" Cath's eyes narrowed. "What is this?"
"Andrew's not feeling well," Gris said blandly. "I think he may have the flu."
"Uh huh."
Greg glanced between Grissom's back and Willow kneeling next to Giles and barely kept himself from curling up into a little ball.
"What--Willow--" Giles' eyes fluttered open.
"Ssh," she said softly. "You're all right now. We got you back, although I don't know what happened to the book."
"Destroyed," Giles said with a groan. "I--"
"Tell me later," she said, her hands hovering over him. "You're in pretty bad shape."
Cath pushed pack Gris and stopped short in the hallway, staring at the scene in front of her. "Gris? What the *hell* is going on?"
Gris ran a hand through his hair. �Well to be perfectly honest, I didn�t understand all the particulars myself.�
The snap of the latex gloves made Greg wince as Catherine slipped them on. �That�s probably not something you should be telling me right now.�
All pretense left Gris� posture. �You won�t need those.� He picked up the small brown envelope laying next to Willow and handed it over. �It wasn�t even taken out of the bag.�
�It�s still useless in court.� Catherine checked the seal carefully.
"I really don't think we're going to have to worry about that," Gris said wryly. "Unless you want to try and convince a jury how this all happened." He nodded at Giles, who was looking better but still pretty lobster-ish, and Greg, who still felt as though he'd been caught up in an undertow, rolled around, and spit up on a rocky beach.
"Gris, I don't even know *what* happened, let alone how I'm going to convince a jury of anything."
�You�re not.� Came an accented voice from Grissom�s front door.
�Wesley!� Willow squealed. She jumped up and sprinted across the room practically bowling their new visitor over.
�Excuse me?� Catherine protested. �And who exactly are you?�
The tall man pulled out a business card. �Wesley Windham-Pryce, Wolfram and Hart.�
Catherine ripped the card out of his hand and studied it carefully. �You�re a lawyer?�
Willow giggled. Greg had never seen a lawyer do business in a jeans and a t-shirt.
�No, I�m not a lawyer.� Wesley pushed past her and went directly to Giles. �But a whole lot of them work for me.� He smiled at Willow. �I got here as quickly as possible.�
Willow made a face. �I bet that�s easier when you have, like, your own private plane.�
Wesley made a tsking noise. �Jealousy doesn�t become you, Willow.� He checked Giles�s pulse. �How�re you feeling?�
"Oh, just lovely," Giles said, voice still hoarse. "I went from a nondescript hotel room in Las Vegas to a place I fervently hope never to see or hear from or about again to here. Somewhere along the way I seem to have misplaced my glasses, my clothes, and--oh yes--the bloody *book* we came here for in the first place." He sat up carefully, wincing at the movement.
"So it's been a rather standard day, then," Wesley said.
Giles sighed. "Much as I hate to admit it, yes."
"What happened to the book?" Willow asked, carefully spreading antibiotic cream over the blisters on Giles's shoulders.
"I don't know. I think it's back...there." Giles shuddered when he said it.
Wesley nodded solemnly. �Then it�s a good thing I brought all of my research.�
Greg watched as they helped Giles stand up. Willow and Wesley maneuvered him to the couch. He looked up when a hand grasped his shoulder.
Gris smiled at him. �Come on. Time to get off the floor.�
Greg took the proffered hand and let himself be hauled up, Grissom, par for course, tucked an arm around him. �Thanks,� he mumbled.
�Catherine.� Gris tried again. �Every person who was in that room is alive and I�m fairly sure not going to file any charges.�
�And Wolfram and Hart is willing to cover any damages the hotel itself might be demanding.� Wesley added.
"So what you're saying is that we shouldn't do anything because no one cares?" Cath demanded incredulously. "They--" she gestured at Willow, Andrew, Giles, Wesley, and Greg was pretty sure her wave included him, as well--"may not want to *press* charges, but what about charges against them?"
"I highly doubt you could come up with anything that would stick," Wesley said matter-of-factly. "After all, it isn't like they *intended* to open a portal to another dimension and thereby destroy the hotel room."
"We didn't even do it!" Willow protested.
"And there you are."
"A what?" Catherine stared at Wesley. "You've got to be kidding me."
"Where do you think he came from?" Gil asked matter-of-factly, indicating Giles.
The look Catherine threw at Grissom cleared said she was starting to wonder about his sanity. �You actually believe that.�
Gris's hands tightened around Greg and a small frisson of affection swelled into him. "I've had the chance to examine the corroborating evidence."
"Corroborating evidence?"
"I'm too tired for a demonstration," Willow said, rubbing her eyes. "Greg?"
"Uh." Greg looked at her helplessly. "Maybe if we both..."
"Could you--" Gil asked Greg.
He shook his head. "She's too closed off. At least, from me."
"Would someone please explain what's going on here?" Catherine demanded impatiently.
Willow groaned. She let her head fall back against the couch and gestured with one hand, mumbling something under her breath.
The candles on the floor lifted into the air and spun around a bit.
Catherine�s mouth gaped and she stared at the floating object. �I give up.�
�Finally!� Willow let the objects down.
�How�d you do it?� Cath asked.
Greg dropped his head to Gil�s shoulder and moaned.
"Magic," Wesley said with a slight smile. "Or, in scientific terms, the manipulation of external energies to create a result that cannot always be explained by traditional scientific processes."
"No. There's no such thing," Cath said stubbornly.
It was Willow's turn to groan this time. "Greg, I need your help," she said wearily.
"What do you need?"
"Link with me."
It was a measure of how tired they both were that they fumbled the link. 'Ready?' Willow asked him and he nodded, grounding himself in Gil's solid presence.
This was so much harder than lifting a candle, or even two. Catherine was a living person, one who moved and breathed and wasn't too happy about being raised off the floor even an inch, let alone moved into the living room and set down on the floor. She stumbled a bit when they set her down, although Greg wasn't sure if that was her or them.
They had just enough finesse left to break the connection without backlash before Greg�s legs dropped from under him.
�Greg!� Gil said alarm as he caught Greg before he dropped to the floor.
�Sorry.� Greg apologized. �Just really, really drained.� He was moved to a large, comfortable chair, which he sank gratefully into. Gil knelt in front of him and pressed two fingers into the juncture of his neck and jaw. Gil�s presence swarmed him in one large gentle burst, infusing him with sleepy warmth. He smiled tiredly. �I�ll be fine.�
Grissom nodded while counting under his breath. Obviously the gesture was more than just a pretense. �A little high, but you�ll be fine.� He patted Greg on the shoulder, stood and joined Catherine a few steps away.
"I don't understand any of this," she said, staring at the strange tableau in front of them. Willow had fallen over again on the couch, leaning against Wesley. Giles was looking much better now; the redness was starting to fade from his skin and his eyes were clear, if a bit haunted. And Andrew--well, he was doing his usual Andrew-thing of curling up in a ball in a corner and hoping no one noticed him.
"It's been a strange day," Gris said wryly.
She shook her head and turned to him. "Magic?"
"Can you come up with a better explanation?"
Catherine grimaced. "No, but I'm still not sure I believe *this* one."
"What else is there to believe?" Gil asked, almost rhetorically.
"Good question." Catherine crouched down next to the pattern on the floor, looking at it intently. "So what, you all just sat around in a circle and--what?"
"Willow and Greg went looking for Mr. Giles, over here. Andrew and I just made sure they didn't get lost."
"Hello," Giles said politely.
Catherine blinked. "Hi. Who are you?"
"Rupert Giles." Greg noticed that his accent was similar to Wesley's. "I came here with Willow and Andrew and managed to get myself lost. I doubt I'd have been able to get back without help."
"You didn't get lost, you got kidnapped," Willow mumbled sleepily.
�Willow, let�s not irritate the nice lady more than we have too.� Giles admonished.
�Party pooper,� Willow muttered before finally succumbing to sleep.
Wesley took her vitals like a pro and nodded reassuringly to Andrew and Greg. �We�ll give you two a chance to recover and then I�ll drive you to the airport. Angel told me to offer you the services of his personal plane.�
Giles began to object but Wesley cut him off. �And he said to tell you not to be a bloody wanker about it and that I was to shoot you if you tried.�
Giles looked at him dryly. �You wouldn�t shoot me.�
�I don�t know, you *were* a bit of a snot to me back in Sunnydale.�
�That�s because you were a right wanker.�
Greg sensed some history floating between them and decided that it was probably better if he didn�t ask.
"How long will it take them to recover?" Gris asked.
Giles glanced at Willow, then at Greg, and Greg felt a quick scan run over him. "We'll be able to leave within an hour or two, I believe. Once Willow wakes up."
They were talking about things, things that didn't involve him, and Greg put his head down on the arm of the chair and gave up the fight to stay awake.
*****
