Title: Strange Attractors 4/6
Author: K.V. Wylie
Disclaimer: Permission to use these characters relating to BtVS & AtS, has not been given. Joss, Twentieth Century Fox, UPN, WB & Mutant Enemy own TM and copyrighted them. This is purely for fun, and no copyright infringement is intended

"Light has a powerful mythical history in the creation of the world. In the Judeo-Christian
religion, light was the result of the first act of creation, and in this sense, everything that exists
comes from light. Light fills the universe and there is not one region of space, however remote,
that is not crisscrossed by complex patterns of electromagnetic radiation. Moreover, all this
light is carrying information - it conveys information about its origin. Every volume of space is
alive with electromagnetic radiation and therefore packed with an immense amount of data
about the whole universe."
  Textbook on Quantum Theory

"I refuse to sit around and wait," Ira said. It was late afternoon, and he and Giles had been inside for nine hours. "Is there anything you can do?"

"Such as?" Giles looked up from his laptop.

"A spell?"

"You've done a complete turnabout on this magic thing, haven't you? I feel like Elizabeth Montgomery after the second Darrin."

"Pardon?"

"American culture," Giles said. "I spent a year watching television. I became quite steeped in it."

"Rupert," Ira admonished, and Giles sighed.

"Let's put it this way, Ira. *I* don't like spells much either. Not anymore. I'm not going to set up a battle between me and Ethan. Also, something I do could set off something of his."

"His spells will come into affect anyway, will they not?"

"Everything has a life span, even magic." Giles tapped a few keys, then added, "All I plan to do is lie low, then go to shul with you."

"Shul?" Ira repeated, and blinked.

"It's Friday. Sabbath starts at sundown."

"I had forgotten, with everything that's been going on....." Ira said in consternation. "We haven't prepared anything."

"It might be better if we don't," Giles said. "It occurred to me earlier that Ethan might have left a spell to be triggered by lighting a Shabbat candle or reciting a blessing."

"That's profane!"

"It wouldn't be profane to him."

Ira paced around angrily, ending up finally behind Giles' chair.

"What are you writing?" Ira squinted, not having his glasses. "What it means to be Jewish. But it's blank underneath."

"I know," Giles sighed in frustration. "I've deleted a bunch of nonsense. I don't know what to put down." He shut off his computer. "What does it mean to you?"

Ira sat down. "It means.....to be in exile. To be the odd one out everywhere I go. But it also means to be part of a special people who have endured for over five thousand years."

"Special people," Giles commented. "Sounds exclusionary."

"Feelings of distrust run many ways," Ira said. "Jews. Christians. Muslims. Hindus. Pagan. Historically, the Christians have been the bloodiest, but I think they may lose their title." He paused for a few moments. "God told us we were His chosen people, but where was He during the Holocaust? We've been killed, abused, deported, maligned, spit on in the streets. Our temples and homes have been burnt to the ground. I can't understand why you would want..." He stopped and looked away.

"I think I see now," Giles said. "You're not so sure yourself. You're trying to keep me from walking a path that's shaky for you as well."

"I never said *that*," Ira said. Too quickly.

"Is it sometimes only the constant rituals that keep you hanging in? I heard that the Jews don't keep the Sabbath so much as the Sabbath keeps them. Is it true that no two Rabbis can agree on the Talmud?"

"Rupert, I'd rather not get into this subject."

"But I want to," Giles said gently. "When we first started living together, you said the Amidah every day. You looked forward to the Sabbath. You used to talk to me. One night, we discussed Deuteronomy for three hours. I remember fasting with you last Yom Kipper, and standing beside you in the synagogue during the services. And now.....I don't think you even said the Shema today."

"You think you are a bad influence?" Ira asked. "You said that your desire to convert was nothing to do with me. Well, this has nothing to do with you. For many years, I had no faith. It was when my daughter was born that I returned to the rituals and began to find joy in them again."

"So what's happened lately, if it's not me?"

"Perhaps, it is *somewhat* you," Ira admitted. "Rupert, Leviticus is remarkably clear on what you and I do together, and I was raised Orthodox."

"Ira, I can't believe it's wrong to love someone. Besides, we go to the Reform synagogue, and no one there has said anything to us."

"You are not the first man I have loved," Ira said, in a low voice. "When I was young, there was someone. It broke me away from my faith and split my family into pieces. I tried, but I was never able to defend myself. Eventually, he left and I married a woman. There was no reconciliation. There was no other way save that one. For an Orthodox Jew, to fail at any part of God's law is to lose God."

"I understand that to perform mitzvot puts us on the path to being holy, but I'd like to think that my intent is important too. For those laws that I simply cannot follow, if my reasons are good, then I believe or, rather, hope that I won't be judged harshly. I think I do a greater sin by marrying a woman when it's not natural for me. I do her an injustice at any rate."

"It's not that simple, Rupert. Sometimes.....I don't know if my prayers reach anyone. Perhaps I've fallen too far away."

Giles searched through a pile of papers on a table, then handed one to Ira. "I found this in a child's prayer book."

Ira had to hold the paper at arm's length to read it. "Inscription on the walls of a.....collar?"

Giles laughed. "Inscription on the walls of a cellar in Cologne, Germany, where Jews hid from the Nazis. "I believe in the sun even when it does not shine. I believe in love even when I do not feel it. I believe in God even when He is silent"." He put the paper on the top of the pile, but reverently. "I want that feeling, that relationship with God, that trust."

Ira eyed Giles. "You want certainty. Hasn't Dr. Schrodinger taught you anything?"

"I don't equate certainty with safety, Ira," Giles said with a quick smile. He leaned over and kissed Ira, but their lips had barely met when Ira's beard and Giles' two day lack of shaving created a giant static shock. Both men jumped back and rubbed their cheeks tenderly.

"Time to shave, Rupert."

"I *told* you that it was your turn to–" Giles started, but was interrupted by a sudden, loud pounding at the door.

Ira gave Giles a wary look. "Would Mr. Rayne knock?"

Giles shook his head quickly. He got up and looked through the window, then shrugged and went to the front hall. "Yes?" he asked, as he opened the door.

An unkempt man was on the step, holding pamphlets. "My friend, I am Ezekiel, a lowly servant of Jesus Christ Almighty. It is time for you to wake up."

Ira, coming behind Giles, said, "I know this man. He has been escorted off campus several times."

"I will bless the Lord at all times: his praise shall continually be in my mouth," Ezekiel said quickly, likely thinking the door would be shut on him. "O magnify the Lord with me, and let us exalt his name together. Fear not the demon who passes through your gates. Call for the Lord and He will walk with you."

"Thanks for that," Giles said, pushing the handle back.

"The trickster is at your portals! Do not dance with him! Do not invite the serpent into the sanctity of your–"

Giles shut the door. Immediately, Ezekiel began banging on it and calling, "Wake up! Wake up!"

"How long do you think he can keep that up?" Giles said.

Ira shook his head. "I don't know. He's been quite persistent at the university."

Giles started up the stairs. "Let's just get ready and go to shul."

"And leave him out there?" Ira asked uncertainly.

"With the ward, he can't get in. When we leave, I'm sure he will too."

Which is what they did, leaving by the back door and passing up the walkway towards the front of the house. Ezekiel, who had been knocking at the door since Giles had shut it, caught sight of them too late. Giles slipped the car into gear and drove down the road until Ezekiel's calls died out.

"I haven't seen him before. He must be new in town," Giles said.

"He came to this small town," Ira commented. "Where does he go at night? I wonder if a church takes him in."

"How long has he been here? Do you know?"

"Do you believe in coincidence, Rupert? I believe he arrived a day before Mr. Rayne."

Giles gave Ira an uneasy look before turning his attention back to the road.

Ira settled into a thoughtful silence, for which Giles was grateful. Ira was hesitant about driving on the Sabbath. There was no other way to get to the synagogue; it was too far to walk, being across a river in a neighbouring town. As well, they were not the only ones that drove there. Still, it bothered Ira and, without having the itinerant preacher to think about, he'd be subjecting Giles to a monologue on the subject.

They left quiet Druggins and crossed the bridge into Stenholme. Stenholme was a large town with a twenty mile long main street that reminded Giles of Las Vegas, especially on a Friday night. Every conceivable form of entertainment, legal or otherwise, was available, and it was no exaggeration to say that the population of Druggins emptied out here on the weekends.

Giles drove slowly down the strip, passing people standing outside theatres and clubs, drinking in outdoor restaurant patios, hanging out by bars, or simply walking among the profusion of neon lights. That it was still chilly outside didn't bother anyone. Women wore short skirts and men were in tee-shirts. Teenagers rode their bikes and skateboards. Rollerbladers cruised in shorts. Everyone was loud and laughing.

The same thought always went through his head as he went past. He felt as if he and Ira were the only ones going to synagogue. It wasn't true, of course, but it *felt* that way. He wasn't part of these people, and was glad to be in a car where the yarmulke on his head wouldn't be so noticeable.

He parked several blocks away from the United Memorial Temple, understanding that Ira needed to walk at least part of the way. They got out of the car and, after being greeted with a friendly, "Shabbat Shalom", joined a family they knew also going to Friday service, falling into step beside the men.

As they neared the temple, they met more and more people until he and Ira were part of a group so large, they filled the sidewalk for half a city block. And Giles, carried along in their infectious Sabbath excitement, felt genuinely happy.

Giles and Ira entered the temple, still greeting and being greeted all around, a noisy bunch trooping through the aisles. They found a place to sit, then looked towards the front of the hall to the curtain behind which was the Torah in its ark.

The moment when the Cantor lifted the huge, scrolled Torah from where it rested always thrilled Giles in some way he couldn't define. Perhaps it was the atmosphere of anticipation created by the singing and chanting while the scroll was handed to whichever congregant had the honour of carrying it around the room. Perhaps it was the sight of the venerated document going by (for he generally had an aisle seat). Or the beauty of the Hebrew words when the Torah was read, the lilt and prose and poetry that seemed to resonate with deserts and vast skies and the deepest human history he could imagine.

Not being Jewish, Giles could attend the services, but was not allowed to take part in them. He could never be one of the seven congregants called up to the front and allowed to read from the Torah directly (something Ira had done twice).

"I thought you said not too many people came on Friday," Giles said.

"This isn't many," Ira replied, which caused Giles to wonder, for the hall looked nearly filled to him.

The service started, the candles lit, and the first blessing recited while everyone shielded their eyes. The first hymn was sung, and the first Psalm read, the congregation following along with enthusiasm.

"O come, let us sing unto the Lord: let us make a joyful noise to the rock of our salvation. For the Lord is a great God, and a great King above all gods. In His hand are the deep places of the earth: the strength of the hills is His also."

Six Psalms were read, followed by the hymn "Come My Beloved". At the last verse, everyone stood and faced the entrance of the synagogue, as if welcoming a bride within. Again, Giles felt that peculiar thrill, a quiver running through him that he couldn't define in words. Beside him, Ira nudged him gently with his shoulder. The two men gave each other an intimate smile.

After the welcoming of the bride came the first prayer with its proclamation, "The children of Israel shall keep the Sabbath. It is a covenant. It is a sign."

At the end came the Kiddush blessing over wine. Everyone stood and began greeting each other again with lively calls of, "Shabbat Shalom" and "Gut Shabbes".

"What a beautiful evening," Ira murmured, looking up when they were outside. In the darkness, he felt safe enough to brush his hand against Giles'. "Let's go home, Rupert."

The drive back was uneventful and Ezekiel was, fortunately, gone from their doorstep. They entered their house and Giles checked the ward. It was secure.

"I'd kiss you, but....." Ira said with a significant look.

Giles sighed. "All right. Marriage is about yielding, over and over and over."

"I compromise as well."

"Right," Giles snorted. "I'll go shave."

Ira hung up their coats, then asked, "Are you hungry?"

Giles glanced back at him from halfway up the stairs. "That depends on what you mean."

The men exchanged another long look, then Giles went to shave. When he came out of the bathroom into their bedroom, Ira was waiting for him.

They kissed, a deep tingly kiss that sent a hard throb through Giles' groin. He felt Ira undo the buttons on his shirt, then open his pants and reach in. Giles moaned softly as his entire world became Ira's hand holding his penis. Their mouths met again.

They undressed each other and got into bed. There was nothing now except each other, no world outside, no street, no people; only Ira's familiar, erotic caresses on Giles, and Giles' in return. They knew each other. Their touches had meaning. Giles had found there was nothing in the world to compare with holding a man he fought with, got angry with, worried over, and adored.

He rolled onto his back and Ira followed the movement, ending up on top of Giles. He began kissing down Giles' chest, softly sucking at the hair and murmuring what sounded like, "...yes...", over and over.

Giles trembled as Ira's lips went lower. Ira paused for what seemed an endless moment, before suddenly descending over Giles' heavy, rising erection. Giles cried at the heat engulfing him and the sweet friction of Ira's tongue rubbing just under the ridge of his foreskin.

He could have had an orgasm right then and there, effortlessly, one or two thrusts and the tremulous crisis would be his. During his life, he had always had to work so hard for it. Sometimes, too often, things wouldn't be right. He'd be unable to find release, and he'd have to give up, his groin aching with disappointment and unpleasant congestion. Embarrassing if he was with someone. Horribly embarrassing, his apologies falling like anvils while one of them made a quick exit. He'd worried the same thing would happen with Ira, but Ira was patient and comfortable. There were no hurdles to get over. Ira liked taking time and he wasn't worried about reaching the 'ultimate' moment. He didn't count ejaculations.

Without the pressure, Giles finally discovered that his body worked just fine. Better than fine, actually. In the past year, Giles had become a very happy man indeed.

He shifted under Ira, moving in a way that meant, 'not yet'. Ira lifted up, but slowly, his tongue sliding up the shaft of Giles' penis and lingering at the tip. Giles moved again, spreading his legs and lifting them around Ira's hips. There was a particular activity Ira liked, but would never ask for. Either from a feeling it might be sinful or from some curious gentlemanly instinct, Ira could not bring himself to actually voice his desire for it. Giles had to offer.

When Ira felt Giles' thighs encircle his, he rose up and placed his mouth back on Giles'. Their tongues met just as Giles directed Ira's penis into his rectum.

They didn't do this often, and Ira was always careful. It was safe, so safe that Giles could let go and lose himself in Ira's mysterious, silken movements inside him.

There was one incredible spot. Ira reached it and Giles bucked up involuntarily. Ira groaned deep in his throat, braced himself on his hands, and pushed in harder and harder, gaining moist and delicious increments up his shaft until he could get no further. When he was at the very end of the thrust, jammed against Giles' testicles, his legs shaking with tension, he paused, looking down until Giles opened his eyes.

Pupils dilated wide with arousal, the two men stared at each other, each daring the other one to plummet first.

Ira felt Giles' balls tighten, and his jumped as if in reply. He began making small movements, tiny circles against Giles' anus, feeling the coarse hairs at his groin catch and tug with Giles', little sparks of almost-pain.

".....all right.....?" Ira whispered. He needed to be sure. Giles smiled in return, a gorgeous, slow smile that promised more sultry pleasures than could be had from the best prostitute in New Orleans.

At the sight, Ira stiffened and came hard. The smile did him in every time.

Giles held Ira tightly throughout it, feeling every one of Ira's jolts in his bowels, knowing there was going to be one hell of a mess, and not caring. In fact, he kind of looked forward to the mess. It was evidence of a secret between them, something they did that no one else was part of. Something just between them. It made Giles feel alive and loved.

When Ira was finished, he extricated himself gently and rolled to the side, breathing hard. Giles curled up beside him, his erect phallus pressed against Ira's hip. He hadn't come, but he didn't care. His anus twitched in pleasing aftershocks that felt like tiny orgasms.

Giles was beginning to doze when he felt Ira's hand enclose his penis once more. Without opening his eyes, he rocked himself to release while Ira kissed him. Afterwards, the two men wound their arms around each other and slept.

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