TITLE: The Meaning of Heroes (Book One: 6/25)
AUTHORS: Jess (Watcher Giles) and Lara
WEBSITE: http://heroes.darling-moon.com
DISCLAIMER: We only wish we were as successful as Joss Whedon. He and Mutant Enemy own this.

WARNING: SEXUAL SITUATIONS

Sun was once again streaming in through the crack in the curtain that none of them had again bothered to pull completely closed the night before. Fred groaned a bit and pulled her part of the blanket up over her head as she snuggled a bit closer to Wesley. A while longer. She just wanted to sleep a bit longer with her guys. The day could wait. The day could wait because the books were supposed to arrive today, and even though she knew they needed to help Connor, a tiny, selfish part of her wanted Wesley and Rupert to herself a while longer.

Wesley stirred slightly as he felt a ball of warmth settling into his side. It took several minutes to get his blue eyes to focus, and he couldn't help but smile as memories caught up with him. He was in his bed, with Fred on one side – Fred was a cuddler, who knew? And Rupert on the other – that would explain the protective forearm draped over his midsection. It wasn't as if he wanted to complain about either.

"Hey," Fred murmured as Wesley shifted a bit, meaning that her pillow – which consisted a bit of the actual one as well as his back – move as well. "Was just getting comfortable again." She opened her eyes and uncovered her head a bit. She could see that Wesley was awake, his eyes open. "Can I vote we stay in bed a little bit longer?"

Wesley smiled patiently, his body feeling the delicious aches from yesterday. He wanted to adhere to Fred's request, but his bladder decided to play traitor on him this morning. Pushing his weight up and over her groggy form, he tested his legs until he felt they were stable. That assured, he padded to the bathroom, not self conscious in the slightest that he was totally naked.

Giles stirred when he felt the bed dip, his senses on alert for any trouble with Wesley. He allowed a sleepy smile to cross his face when he realized no one was on pain or in trouble. Keeping one eye open, he watched one of his lovers enter the bathroom.

"Now there is a lovely sight to wake up to," he commented in a voice thick with amusement and sleep.

Fred raised her head slightly and nodded before resting her head on the pillow again. "It is, isn't it?" She felt a bit more tender this morning than she had the night before, but as Rupert had asked, she wouldn't mention it to Wesley. It wasn't important anyway. And she'd get used to it after awhile, she was sure – especially if all of them remained as...amorous as they had been. Reaching over she rested a hand on Giles' chest. "Morning, by the way. Did you sleep better?"

"Mmmmmm, yes. Regrettably at your expense. But no more nightmares. Thank you," he replied, placing his hand over her smaller one. He still felt guilty about her tenderness and not having considered it in the slightest. But she did have a point. She could have said no.

"How are you this morning? Better or worse?" he inquired, but before she could answer, Wesley reappeared at the foot of the bed, snapping excitedly. It took a moment for Giles' sleep-fogged brain to piece together what the younger man was going on about. "The things are here?" he asked, receiving an ecstatic nod. "All right, I'm coming." He sighed, getting out of bed.

Fred was actually kind of glad that Wesley had interrupted them – she didn't want him feeling any worse for her current...condition. Instead, she followed Rupert out of the bed, pulling Wesley's shirt closer around her as they went out into the living room. There, sitting on the floor in the area between the coffee table and the television cabinet were a stack of books and some other things. It looked like the Council had been busy in their research.

Giles noted the papers and stack of texts, along with some parchment sticking out from under the couch. He got down on one knee to look.

"Looks like their aim was off," he commented with a smirk. Standing, he moved in front of Wesley when his lover stepped toward the stack of books. "No, you shower, now." He pointed back toward the bathroom. His brow furrowed when Wes seemed to silently protest. "Wesley, your physical well being is still in my care. I will not have your throat get infected because you allowed yourself to get ripe while we researched. Take a shower, and while you're in there, I'll organize this mess, and Fred can start the tea. While she showers, I'll make breakfast for everyone. You two can eat while I get myself cleaned up." He shook his head. "No arguments, Wesley. Go."

"You heard him," Fred said, putting up a united front. She took put her hands on Wesley's waist and steered him around to march him back to the bathroom. "I won't have either of my guys facing any of that without taking care of themselves first."

She let go of him but stood where she was to make sure he went into the bathroom before heading into the kitchen to make up a pot of tea.

Giles bit back a smile at the pout that appeared on Wesley's handsome face before he retreated to the bathroom. He turned to face the piles of materials, starting to organize them by languages. He knew which languages he could handle and those Wesley could handle. He created a smaller pile, assuming that since Fred had been helping Wesley with research, she had to have at least a passing familiarity with some of the languages the other man knew.

"He didn't look happy we steam-rolled him," Giles commented when he entered the kitchen after finishing his task.

She looked up from the kettle, which was just coming to a boil and shrugged. "I know. If there's anything I've learned about Wesley, it's that he's rather stubborn and independent when he wants to be. But he knows we're doing this because we care. At least I hope he knows that we're doing this because we care because if he thought that we were just doing this to be mean then we'd have a whole other load of issues that could pose a problem and...I'm overthinking things again." She measured the five teaspoons of tea into the pot and then poured the tea in. "One of these days, I'm sure I'll stop doing that. Maybe. Actually, probably never."

Giles smiled patiently, starting to get things out of the fridge for breakfast. Eggs, some onions, diced ham, cheese. He could make scrambled eggs for Wesley and Western omelets for Fred and himself. He cocked his head to the side, listening for the shower.

"I blame his father for that. Roger always thought himself some kind of hero. Always wanted to play the hero himself. It's something he instilled in Wesley. Wes just doesn't see how different he is from that pillock already. Roger would have no qualms about sacrificing others and claiming the credit, whereas Wesley won't risk anyone if he can help it and try and do it all himself. I think he's starting to get the message, though. He's not alone. And we're not about to let him go through this without us."

The more she heard about Roger Wyndam-Pryce, the more she despised the man. At least Giles was right – he did seem to finally be getting the message and understanding that he didn't have to rely on only himself anymore. She hated that he had been forced to go through the stuff with the prophecy alone before this, and she didn't want that to ever happen again. Not as long as she and Rupert were around, not as long as she was alive.

"In Pylea, a hero was the one who slew the most opponents in the ring," she said softly, looking down at the tea steeping in the pot before putting the cover on. "That hero was known as the Groosalugg. He's a good man, but he did it mostly to get out of his own lot in life, not to help others. Then I thought a hero was someone like Angel. But he does good because he feels he has to, not because he really wants to. I know now that a hero is someone that does what has to be done for the good of others, even if it might cause their own death...or worse. Wesley's a hero. I hope he'll truly understand that someday."

Giles nodded, understanding her sentiment, probably more than she realized. He was pleased to see her come around to her solution on her own, especially when it brought her down on Wesley's side.

"When Buffy and I first arrived in Sunnydale, two of the first people we met were Willow and Xander. Both had grown up in the town, and both were determined to help us in any way possible. When they discovered that their school resided on a Hellmouth, and despite the fact that one of our first confrontations had cost them their childhood best friend, they couldn't just sit by and do nothing. Willow turned out to be quite a powerful witch in her own right. But Xander....the boy is clumsy, hates research, and couldn't use a sword proficiently if his life depended on it. His biggest weapon is," Giles placed his hand over his heart, "that he fights from here. His love for his friends, for his town. He takes his lumps and comes back for more. To me, it's people like Xander who personify the idea of a hero. The boy has virtually no training and no skills, and we could never do the things that we have without him. In a way, he and Wesley are a lot alike. I wonder how both of them, with the upbringing they had, can have such warm hearts, such selfless natures. That,will always be an enigma to me."

She nodded at that. "It is amazing, isn't it? And some of the coldest people I met when I was in school had loving parents. Guess it goes to show that it's not all about environment and nurturing. It really can depend on what a person is like on the inside." She looked over at him and smiled. In some ways, she felt like she had learned more in the last week than she had in her last 27 years. "I'm really looking forward to meeting the others when we return to Sunnydale. That is what you said we were going to do, right? Go back there after we get..." She waved her hand around to indicate everything they had dealing with. "All this worked out?"

"Yes. It'll be safest for you and Wesley...and for Connor. L.A. is Angel's town – between him, Charles Gunn and Lilah Morgan, leaving you here unprotected is not an option," he replied adamantly. "And I can't in good conscience leave the Hellmouth to the others much longer." He swallowed thickly. "Buffy might be gone, but that Hellmouth is still my responsibility. Plus not to sound selfish, I'd rather face that task with both of you with me," he admitted, his smile a bit sheepish.

Fred's eyes opened wide when he said that. "Really?" she asked. As he nodded, he reached over and squeezed his arm. "Well, I'm not completely sure though he probably feels the same way – but I know that I would be glad to do whatever I can to help you and the others out in Sunnydale. It sounds like you all can use whatever assistance you can, based on the stories I've heard about the Hellmouth."

"I'm worried about Wesley's feelings about returning to Sunnydale, though. Logistically, he knows I'm right. It is the easiest place to protect you and him as well as Connor. But he also has a history in Sunnydale, very little of it good. I can deflect most of the grief from the kids regarding the past, but the biggest challenge will be Wesley facing his own demons," he explained, concern radiating from his green eyes.

"It was that bad?" She didn't need his response to tell her that it had been – the tone in his voice at mentioning Wesley's demons had been enough. And somehow, she had the feeling that those demons also involved his father. "Whatever the demons are, I'll be there with him and you however I can help. Maybe the th–four of us going there together as a family will help him. He's going back for a different reason this time, and he's wanted."

"It was. Wesley was used, plain and simple. But for you to understand even remotely, I should go back a bit. Buffy's eighteenth birthday is the right spot." He took a breath, steeling his nerves against the one thing he would never forgive himself for....betraying his slayer.

"On a Slayer's eighteenth birthday, the Council conducts a barbaric, outdated test on the current Slayer to test not only her physical acumen but also her mental capabilities. Her Watcher is to secretly give her injections, supplied by the Council, to sap her strength. The Council then locks her in a facility with a vampire. If she survives, she passes. If she doesn't, the Council moves on to the next Slayer." Giles hung his head. "All through Buffy's test, I warred with myself. She was terrified, begging me to help her figure out what was going wrong with her. And, then her test went horribly wrong."

He swallowed past the lump in his throat. "The vampire Quentin brought with him was a particularly vicious customer. In life, he was an insane serial killer that massacred his own family. It got loose, turning one of the Watchers and killing the other. The test should have been stopped there, but it wasn't. The vampire kidnapped Buffy's mother, and after confronting Quentin, I confessed my part in it. She was livid and rightfully so. She left me standing in the library, doubting if I would ever see her again. Whether she talked to me or not, however, I couldn't let her face things alone. She killed the initial vampire, tricked him into ingesting Holy Water. But she forgot about the turned Watcher. I followed her and interfered, staking the Watcher. Buffy passed her test. I was sacked. 'Caring too much for my charge' was what they called it." Giles' eyes took a far away look as he remembered that night, the night Quentin fired him, and he hadn't cared a whit, because Buffy forgave him.

"I knew that pillock Travers was up to something when he threatened me to not interfere with Buffy's new Watcher. Buffy was unorthodox, you see. She was a free thinker, not raised by the Council. She didn't give a whit about men in tweed sitting safely in their offices thousands of miles away. She only cared about the lives with her. They hated her for that, and they hated me for not breaking her of that. So they picked the greenest, most eager-to-please, young man fresh out of the Academy they could and made sure he didn't have a lick of field experience. That was who they sent to take over charge of my Slayer. Wesley was who they sent. I think they were hoping he would get both Buffy and Faith killed, and they could start over fresh with a more pliable Slayer. Neither girl gave him an ounce of respect, and most of Buffy's friends were quite hostile toward him...well, except for Cordelia. I was hard on him myself," Giles smiled wryly. "He didn't exactly make it easy to be nice. Always in someone's face, spouting orders or Council rhetoric. But the longer he was there, the more he realized how clueless the Council was – that when you're on the front line, hardly anything is back and white. By the end, he knew he was going to be sacked, and he stood with us on graduation. Granted, he and I didn't become close until after he left Sunnydale, but I'm sure that experience has left some lingering ghosts in him."

Fred listened at first in amazement then in disgust, to Giles' story. The Council had used them – Buffy, Rupert...and Wesley. Hadn't even given a crap that the Slayer was a person and that Giles as her Watcher had to do...that to her. And Wesley... Oh, God, poor Wesley. Cordelia had often teased him about how green he had been, but Fred had had no idea just how green that meant. It could have gotten him killed as well as Buffy and Faith.

And the Council didn't care. The Council didn't fucking care. No wonder neither Rupert nor Wesley had very good things to say about them. No wonder Wesley never really wanted to talk about his time Sunnydale, instead always referring to what others had done. No wonder Rupert was worried about how Wesley might take it when they returned.

"How could they do that?" she asked, not really looking for an answer from him. She didn't really want to hear the answer. It sickened her that the group charged with safe-guarding the world from evil was possibly even more evil in its twisted view on the disposability of people. "No wonder he–I..." She shook her head. What could she say? That she would be there? Of course, she would. She could say that until she was blue in the face. But she wouldn't know what would happen, how Wesley would react, until they were there. "Whatever his reaction, we'll be there for him. Hopefully, he'll know that."

Giles was about to respond but sensed the movement coming toward the kitchen. He motioned to the door, letting Fred know the man in question was approaching. Schooling his face, wiping it of all anger and resentment toward the Council, he smiled seeing a freshly showered Wes walk up behind Fred and wrap his arms around her midsection.

"You get scrambled eggs this morning, Wesley. I'll try and do something to them to make them a bit more palatable," he promised, grabbing a bowl from the cupboard to start breaking eggs.

Wesley just nodded, his attention focused mainly on the woman in his arms. He wasn't foolish. He knew they had been discussing something about him before he entered. Part of him warmed at the idea that two such wonderful people worried about him. But another part of him was mildly annoyed that they felt they had to coddle him, to change the subject if he happened to walk in. Leaning down, he pressed his lips into the crook of her neck, smiling against the warm skin when she shivered.

Fred leaned back into Wesley as he kissed her. God, this felt so nice. And he smelled so good – all deodorant soap and mint toothpaste and his shampoo. She bent her arm back to rest her hand on his upper arm, another shiver rushing through her. He was also quickly learning the kind of things that drew a reaction out of her.

"You're definitely looking stronger," she told him he paused for a moment. "I made some tea if you'd like a cup."

Wesley took the cup from her hands and smiled when he tasted it. Bless her. She knew just how he liked it. He spied the pad of paper on the counter, and his smile grew into a grin. Rupert had left a pad in just about every room in the house. He felt his heart warm at the sweet gesture. Setting the cup down for a moment, he grabbed the pad.

Rupert has been teaching you, he wrote. And as usual, you are an exceptional student. He angled the pad for her to read before reclaiming his cup.

She blushed a bit as she poured a cup for Rupert, deciding that she'd get a cup of her own when she got back from her own shower. "And he's an amazing teacher. Just like you." She definitely felt like she had learned more from the two of them than she ever could have expected.

"Okay, I'm off to shower. Don't start breakfast without me." With that, she gave them each a kiss and hurried off to the bathroom after grabbing a fresh set of clothes from her bag.

"Not a chance," Giles remarked, his green eyes meeting the blue of Wesley's as she left the kitchen. "Why don't you help me a bit." He smirked when Wes looked toward the living room. "The research is organized, Wesley. It will keep until after breakfast. Come on, we have a lady to keep fed. I'll add some cheese to your eggs," he offered, trying to 'spice up' the blandness of Wesley's diet. "Think you can dice the ham for the omelets?"

Wesley nodded, picking up the knife, and got to work. Giles pulled three plates out of the cupboard, deciding to make Wesley's eggs first, so they would have time to cool. They worked in companionable silence for nearly ten minutes, Wesley adding little touches as his lover finished the cooking. He carried the plates out to the table, pouring orange juice for Rupert and Fred, and finished by bringing a cup of tea out for said lady. He added a milk for himself.

When Fred came back out of the bathroom, wearing a pair of shorts and top with her damp hair pulled back in a braid, she smiled at the sight of Wesley setting breakfast on the table. Between the three of them, they would manage to keep all the housework covered, she was sure. And who would want to eat out with the meals that Rupert could make?

"Smells great," she said as she approached the table. "Anything I can help you with?"

Wesley frowned for a second as she stepped out of the bathroom. It had just occurred to him that they may need to go shopping for Fred soon, or she would have to resort to wearing his shirts. The frown disappeared immediately at that thought. Fred in his shirts, and nothing but his shirts, was damnably sexy. He forced himself to focus when he realized she was talking to him. Grabbing a pad from the other table, he quickly scribbled down his thought.

Don't know. Have to ask the chef, he wrote before motioning toward the kitchen.

Fred smiled at him and nodded after reading his note, reaching over to run a hand through his short hair. "I really do like this look on you. It suits your face." Feeling a bit impish, she leaned over and whispered in his ear, "And it looks really, really sexy."

She gave him a kiss on his cheek in front of his earlobe before turning to go into the kitchen to ask Rupert if he needed help with anything else before they sat down to eat.

Wesley felt his breath catch in his chest as her lips brushed his skin. His eyes slid closed, trying to tamp down his body's reaction to the thought he had been entertaining just moments before, coupled with the feel of her body so close. When he opened his eyes, she was already in the kitchen. He barely suppressed a shiver of delight. But the day for them was over, he reminded himself. After breakfast, it was time to work.

"No, everything is done. Just turn around and head right back out," Giles joked, picking up the plate with his and Fred's omelets on them. He stopped in the doorway between the kitchen, smirking when he saw Wesley. "All right, luv, what'd you do to him," he asked her knowingly. Setting the plate on the table, he took the seat to Fred's left. He was about to serve the omelets onto their plates when he felt a hand on his arm. He looked up to find Wesley holding a notepad at him. He looked down, his smile growing evil when he read what it said.

If you're going to wait until after breakfast to shower, at least put on a robe so that I can concentrate.

Fred's eyebrows shot up her forehead at the look that passed between the two men and she leaned over in her seat in order to read what Wesley had passed to Rupert. When she saw it, she started giggling, her hand going up to cover her mouth.

"Apparently, whatever I did can't compare to you in your boxers," she told him. She knew that would probably earn her a few more glares, but she didn't care. She was enjoying all this too much. Too soon, it would be time for them to get all serious and settle down to work and not think about anything else but their search, and she wanted this to last as long as possible.

Giles snorted, still wondering how two brilliant people could be so blind. He wiped a flat hand over his chest.

"Oh yes, my grey hair and middle-aged paunch. I can see how that would be distracting," he commented in a self deprecating tone. He finished serving everything and looked up at Wesley. He was surprised to see the hunger radiating from those blue eyes and ducked his head blushing. "Bloody hell, stop looking at me like that," he mumbled.

Standing, he held Wesley's gaze momentarily, warm blush still coloring his cheeks. Reaching up a hand, he cupped the younger man's cheek, rubbing his thumb across Wes' cheekbone. "Your eyes should be a sex crime," he muttered thickly, smiling slightly when Wesley blushed. "But fine, sit. Both of you go ahead and start while I fetch my robe."

God, if they didn't watch it, they would never get anything done ever again. Giles was right, though – Wesley had the most gorgeous eyes she had ever seen on a man. The way he used them in intimate situations was absolutely killer. They had been what had almost stopped her from leaving him when she had visited after the incident with Billy's blood. But they had also been what finally convinced her that she had to go.

"Go on," she said, pointing toward the room to indicate that Rupert should go. "And you..." She turned to Wesley and picked up his fork, which she handed to him. "You, eat."

Wesley barely resisted the urge to glare at her. He looked down at the fork in his hand and knew she had a point. If they couldn't reel in these feelings, they would never get anything done. It didn't make it any less frustrating. Regretfully, he sat down in his chair, eating the eggs on his plate, but admittedly, not tasting them.

Once he started eating, she looked after Giles. "By the way, grey hair and a so-called paunch are very attractive when the guy in question wears it well."

Giles laughed from the other room as he donned his blue robe. He started making his way out to the dining room once again, the amusement clear in his voice. "I wasn't aware that one could wear middle aged well," he smirked, returning to the table. "Now...you eat."

She knew she had asked for that in playing the mother card with Wesley. Although really, she didn't want to be thinking that way because that brought up a whole load of issues they didn't need. Things were likely to be complicated enough, no matter how much they loved being around each other.

Sitting back down in her chair, she picked up her own fork and cut off a piece of the omelet that Rupert had made. She hadn't had an actual omelet in a long time – her attempts with eggs had usually ended up with broken-yolk fried eggs. "Really good," she said with a smile before taking a sip of the tea that one of them – Wesley probably – had made up for her.

"It isn't much. Just a Western Omelet. Little ham, peppers, onions, cheese and ouala," Giles replied.

Breakfast went by fairly quickly, a little too quickly for Giles' tastes. It wasn't that he didn't realize the seriousness of bringing young Connor home. It was that now instead of protecting Wesley from his guilt, the three of them would have to openly embrace it in order to get through this task. Exposing Wesley to this type of pain, on purpose, wasn't something he was relishing.

"Just leave the dishes; I'll take care of them after my shower," he told them, getting up from the table. "Give Wesley a minute. He'll be able to figure out how I arranged the piles," he added to Fred alone.

She nodded as she got up from the table. She knew this was it – their time had ended, and now they were going to dive headfirst into the thing that had brought them all together. As Giles headed for the bathroom, she looked down at the dishes. She felt bad about leaving them there, but she didn't want to leave Wesley alone either to face those books because she knew that he had been on edge about them since they had arrived. Deciding to let the dishes be as they were nowhere near as important as Wesley, she followed him into the living room and stood a few feet behind so she wouldn't crowd him or make him feel like she was shadowing over his shoulder.

Wesley smiled to himself. Rupert was right. It didn't take him long to figure out how things had been arranged. He knew the languages Rupert spoke and the ones he himself could cover. His stack was obviously the largest of the three. It looked like he guessed about Fred's capabilities, and Wesley was surprised to see that the man was nearly spot on. He moved the smallest of the three stacks to the coffee table and placed his hand on top of it, extending the other toward Fred telling her that this was for her. He noted there were quite a few things within his own pile he had never seen before. He broke down his own pile even further into different dialects of the same language as well as the demonology lines within the resources. This was going to be a long process, but he was determined. He owed it to Connor to make this right.

When Wesley waved her over, she walked over to the couch and looked down at the stack of books Rupert had put aside for her to cover. Even though it wasn't as large as either his or Wesley's, she knew it would take her just as long to get through it. She sat down and picked up one of the books. It was one of the first languages that Wesley had taught her to translate since it had similarities to Spanish, a language she had known since she was a child. She wondered if all the Watchers began their learning with that particular language or whether Rupert had just figured it out based on her background and his knowledge of Wesley. Or whether Wesley had told him – he had mentioned that they had been talking to each other for a while and she had been the subject of some of those discussions.

She looked through the others – she was fairly familiar with all the other ones, so she decided that she'd start with the one she knew best and take it from there.

Giles stepped from the bathroom in his worn jeans and a grey t-shirt. Since they would probably be spending the day inside, he stayed barefoot. He approached the couch quietly, observing the others looking through their assignments. He smirked, realizing that Wesley had broken the pile down even further....just as he suspected he would. Both of them seemed lost in their thoughts as he watched them closely.

"Everyone find everything all right?" he asked, finally announcing his presence.

Wesley jumped, not having realized that anyone had approached. His heart was racing, and he had to force himself to calm down. It was only Rupert. Rupert wouldn't hurt him for anything, he reminded himself. Grabbing the pad, he scribbled furiously.

Bloody hell, we need to put a bell on you.

Fred shook her head, trying not to laugh as she flipped open the book she had set on the top of the pile. Three people living together in what had once been home to only one? Definitely going to take getting used to – especially if any of them were concentrating.

"Maybe we could announce ourselves every time we enter a room. Or some kind of spell so we'd know where the others were." She wrinkled her forehead at that. "Actually, that may not be a good idea. Would probably end up knowing way more than we wanted to."

She held up the book. "You managed to get the languages I do know something about. Good guesses on those. 'Less Wesley told you."

"No, not exactly a guess. And Wesley didn't mention it. We've been training for this nearly all our lives. Giving up our childhood's to learn languages, hand-to-hand, weapons and so on and so forth. I know which languages he can handle, and I know which languages are easiest to learn. Also, given the fact that you're from Texas, which has a high Catholic population with the Latinos....anything steeped in Spanish or Latin should be a piece of cake for you to pick up," Giles explained. He picked up a thick text from his own pile and sat on the other side of Fred, putting her in the middle, between them.

She glanced back and forth between Wesley and Giles before she settled back against the couch and began studying the text in her lap after putting her glasses on. It didn't take her long to be totally absorbed in what she was doing, reading through and trying to find any reference she could to Quor'Toth or anything about a dark world.

The first book didn't have anything, so she moved to the second. A few times, she got up to get them some fresh tea or something soft for the three of them to snack on. Sometimes, they shared something they found, trying to decide whether it was relevant, but nothing seemed to be yet. The closest Fred herself came was finding a reference to Quor'Toth that pretty much just translated as "Don't go there." They didn't seem to want to say anything else about it, it was that bad. And any place that scared demons? Scared her as well.

When she finished the second book, she looked up and rubbed her eyes, checking the time on the clock across the room. "Good grief, we've already been at this all day. It's nine o'clock!"

Giles arched an eyebrow in amusement at her declared 'Good Grief' but had to ultimately agree with the sentiment. It was time to stop for the night. He had to get something solid into Wesley other than tea and soggy biscuits. He knew this was the first test. Looking across to Wesley, the younger man would not give up the book willingly. Meeting Fred's gaze, he smiled wryly before leaning across her.

"Wesley?" He chuckled when he got no answer. His smile turned feral before he latched his lips onto Wesley's jaw. "Wesley."

This time the other man's name was said in a sing-songed voice. Inwardly, he cursed. He could tell by the change in Wes' breathing that the man wasn't as unaffected as he was pretending to be. But the cheeky little bugger was throwing down the gauntlet by not reacting. Well, he would show him. Allowing his lips to trail down his jaw, Giles made sure his mouth was right next to the younger man's ear. Drawing the lobe into his mouth, he nipped it with his teeth, chuckling at the answering gasp.

"Do I have your attention now?"

Fred leaned back into the couch and watched for a moment as Giles trailed his lips along Wesley's jaw. So pretty, her two guys. So pretty, especially with Giles leaning across her and–oh, crap, the book. She could see that Wesley was now definitely caught up in what Giles was doing, so she reached underneath and took hold of the book he was holding, pulling it out of his hands with a couple of swift tugs. She grinned, knowing that he would probably realize what she had done...sooner or later. Depending how distracted Giles managed to keep him.

Giles could feel the moment Wesley capitulated to his taunting. He felt the book slide along his chest, knowing Fred had disarmed their lover. Turning his head, he looked into deep blue eyes, and was lost. He claimed Wesley's lips, relishing in his taste, the taste of tea and biscuits, and something uniquely to the other man. He braced one hand on the couch, sliding his weight forward, to allow Fred to slide out from underneath him. He smirked when he felt Wesley shift his hips to rub against his brace arm. He only pulled back when oxygen became an issue.

"So wanton, so beautiful," he rasped, loving the way Wesley responded to his touch.

Fred slid to the floor with the book and set it on the pile of books on the coffee table before moving it away so Wesley couldn't try to make a grab for them whenever they came up for air. Although... Turning around, she looked back up at Rupert and Wesley, who didn't look like they wouldn't be separating from each other any time soon.

Giles was a little unprepared for the intensity when Wesley threaded his long fingers in his hair and reinitiated their carnal kiss. He lowered himself slowly, allowing the weight of his upper body to rest over Wes' lap. The kiss was demanding, as if the younger man was trying to get at his soul. He wasn't sure what Wesley seemed to be searching for, so he willingly opened himself up, dropping all walls and barriers to him. When they finally broke apart, Giles gasped when it occurred to him. Scrambling up to his knees, he held Wesley's face in his hands as if it were the greatest treasure itself.

"He's not here. You'll find nothing in me Wesley but acceptance, and love," he promised, serious green meeting vulnerable blue. "No judging. You are mine, and I will kill anyone that tries to come between us."

"Same here," Fred said softly from where she was still sitting on the floor. "We won't let anyone hurt you again as long as we can help it – not Angel, not your father, not the Council, not anyone." She gave Wesley's knee a squeeze and took his hand to kiss it, then stood up, knowing that the rest of this moment was for him and Rupert. He had to see that each of them where there for him – together and on their own. "I'll be in the kitchen starting some dinner and making some more tea if you two need me."

Leaning over, she gave both of them a kiss before heading into the kitchen.

Giles held Wesley's gaze, knowing instinctively that the younger man had been holding back on him. He didn't blame him. Knowing Roger Wyndam-Pryce like he did, it explained a lot. He wouldn't push, but he would let Wesley see beyond his walls, he needed to see the truth. Once Fred left the room, he ducked his head, a small smile crossing his lips. He understood what she was doing. She was giving Wes and him a chance to get past this first hurdle, alone. Bless her. Lifting his head, he watched Wesley's face as he trailed his hand up the younger man's thigh, his hand stopping over the bulge in his jeans.

Wesley gasped, feeling the long fingers tracing him through the denim. It wasn't that he didn't want to make that final concession to Rupert, he did. But the fear was almost stifling. He'd only ever felt like this for another man once. And the man was bought off by his father, but not before he tasted the ridicule of that purchased life. Deep down, he knew Rupert wasn't like that. But that fear, it was ingrained. He felt the trembling work its way up his spine when Giles slid to the floor in between his spread legs. God, was this really going to happen? Nimble fingers lowered his zipper and undid the clasp. Giles held Wesley's gaze, his heart breaking for the fear he saw there. Reaching into his boxers, he grasped the hard flesh, exposing it to the air.

"I'm not them, Wesley. I will never break your heart or your spirit," he promised, before lowering his head and drawing the younger man's penis into his mouth. It had been a long time since he had been with a man like this, but gauging from the way Wes' fingers threaded through his hair, he hadn't lost his touch. Closing his eyes, he called on all of his experience to bring this amazing man as much pleasure as he could.

Well, she knew one thing. If Roger Wyndam-Pryce ever appeared in their lives and tried to chase her or Rupert out, she definitely wasn't going to let him. She wasn't about to let anyone take away the best thing that had happened to her since she had returned from Pylea, the men that made her feel like she was accepted for herself – even if she was crazy, geeky, nerdy and occasionally silly. She wasn't some kind of prize to be displayed with them; she was their equal, and she loved them for that. So she was damned if anyone would ever chase them away from their sides.

As she pulled a few things out of the refrigerator for dinner – she was nothing like Rupert, but she wasn't going to feed them tree bark either – she heard a strangled gasp come the living room. Setting the food down, she went over to the kitchen door and opened it to peek out. Wesley was on the couch, his head resting back so he was almost looking to the ceiling, and she could see Rupert between his legs. It wasn't hard to figure out what they were doing, and it made her heart pound and a bit of that familiar ache deep down in her as she watched them for a few moments, a loving smile spreading across her face. Then she closed the door again and paused with her forehead resting against the frame before she turned back to the fruit she had taken out for dinner.

Wesley was lost in the fire thundering through his veins. One hand gripped the arm of the couch tightly while the other was wrapped in Rupert's hair. He could feel the unspoken demand in the older man's action. Giles wanted him to drop that last wall, to let him in. Could he do it? Could he trust Rupert with his heart, to keep it safe? Wes gasped, he was so close. Lifting his head, he looked down at the head moving on him, unable to stop the movement of his hips, sending him deeper into Rupert's throat. He felt Giles hum, the vibrations sending him hurtling over the edge. He threw his head back, barely biting back the cry as he emptied himself into his lover's mouth. He felt his body jerking when each tremor passed through him, and still Rupert refused to release him. It wasn't until he slid bonelessly against the back of the couch that he felt the cool air on his now flaccid penis. He didn't even lift his head as Rupert crawled up his body.

"You don't have to say anything you're not ready for, Wesley." Giles told him, his face hovering just over Wesley's. "Just know that I'm not going anywhere. I'm falling in love with you. Even if this is just a physical attraction for you, for me, that's enough."

He moved too get up and stopped when he felt the hand clamp around his wrist. He looked back, seeing Wesley struggling with what he wanted. But he reminded himself this was up to Wes, so he couldn't push.

Grabbing the pad on the couch, Wes looked down at it, embarrassed to watch his lover's reaction to what he wrote.

NOT just physical. He underlined 'not' several times before turning the pad toward Giles. He felt Rupert sit down on the couch next to him. Giles placed a finger under his chin, raising Wesley's eyes to meet his.

"Is this your way of saying you care about me?" he gently suggested and felt the shiver run through Wes. Shaking fingers took the pad back from him.

Not care. Wes took a deep breath and looked at Giles sheepishly. Scared, he wrote, trying to steel his courage. Not care....love. Have for some time, he confessed, closing his eyes, waiting for Rupert's response.

"Wesley, look at me." He smiled when the younger man shook his head. "Look at me, Wes." When those beautiful blue eyes met his, he pressed his forehead to his. "I know how difficult that was for you. I promise no one will ever make me leave you. Or turn against you. You, me and Fred, as far as I'm concerned, this is for life. I am too bloody old for what Anya refers to as 'orgasm friends'."

Fred finished cutting up some fruit into a fruit salad – Rupert had thought that Wesley would be able to handle it after a few days, so she figured on giving it a try. He needed some of the nutrients, especially potassium, so she made sure there was a good bit of banana, especially since it was so soft. She had also put some more water on to boil and dumped enough pasta for the three of them in the pot while she heated some sauce on low in another pan.

The tea was ready, so she placed everything on the tray and then opened the door to peek out, not wanting to interrupt them – they needed their time. It was something they would all have to learn as part of a threesome. She caught the last part of Giles' words to Wesley and felt a lump form in her throat. For life. She liked the sound of that.

Giles turned, when he sensed Fred enter the room. He wanted to give Wesley a chance to collect himself, to not feel so exposed, both emotionally and physically. He gave her a gentle smile.

"So what's for dinner?" he asked, thankful that she had given them this time alone. She was far more understanding than anyone of her years. And it seemed that she had acquired a gift of seeing what a person needed. Getting up, he took the tray from her, immediately beginning to pour their teas once he set it down on the table.

Wesley had felt his heart swell at Rupert's words. He nearly felt like taking his own pulse. He had managed to drop that final wall, and he was still alive, still happy. With a broad smile and a confidence he hadn't previously possessed, he tucked himself back into his jeans before standing to greet Fred. He hugged her tightly and then moved into the bathroom. Poking his head out of the door, he held up one finger, letting them know he'd be right out.

Fred smiled as she watched Wesley disappear into the bathroom and then turned back to Rupert. "Fruit salad and spaghetti. Figured that some potassium would do him good. As well as the time alone with you." She sat down on the couch arm and reached out to touch his arm gently. "He looks unbelievably happy for that. And I–I heard what you said...about us–the three of us, I mean. I...I don't think I was ever so happy to hear something in my entire life."

"I meant it," Giles replied. "I'm too old for anything casual. Besides, it's not what I need in my life right now. But something permanent, something forever...worth fighting for, that's different." He placed his hand over hers on his arm. Looking toward the bathroom door, he frowned. "Roger really did a number on him. This mess with Angel hasn't helped. I don't think Wesley has had a relationship with a man that hasn't backfired on him. He's terrified I'll do what the others have." He shook his head. "It's going to take time, but he'll see that's not the case....eventually."

She nodded. It seemed a big step had already been taken in the last hour if Wesley's demeanor when he left the room was anything to go by. But Rupert was right – nothing was healed that quickly. She knew that as well as anyone. The emotional scars from Pylea, from being lost, had taken a long time for her to even face, much less get over, and she still had times where she had to deal with them.

"I know I said it earlier, but I really hope I never meet his father. I'd be tempted to make a special contraption just to take him out."

"They will have to face each other at some point if Wesley ever hopes to get out from under his father's thumb. He still sees Roger as some kind of 'demon' to appease. It'll be up to you and I, as the ones that love him, to show his that his father is just a pathetic little man and a bully," he pointed out. "As much as I'd like to crack the wanker's skull myself, this is Wesley's fight. We can only be there for him when he faces it."

As he sighed, she shook her head, knowing he was right, and then looked toward the kitchen. "Oh, God, the sauce!" She jumped up and ran to make sure that it hadn't been splattered over the walls while they were talking.

His eyes lit up with humor when she ran into the kitchen. "I'll get Wes, and we'll be there in a moment," he called out to her.

"Okay!" she yelled back while turning the burner off and moving the pan. The sauce actually hadn't splattered too badly. Just a few spots here and there on the tile behind the stove and on the counter, and that could be easily taken care of with a damp washcloth. She checked the noodles to find that they were done and drained them, then took out three plates and divvied up what she had made between them with the fruit salad in side bowls. After getting out parmesan cheese and butter for whoever wanted it, everything was ready.

Giles knocked on the door of the bathroom, calling out to his lover. He frowned when he got no answer. Wesley shouldn't be in there alone, and he was worried that he might be the cause of the younger man's withdrawal. Hesitantly, he made his way into the kitchen.

"I need you to check on Wes. I think he may be hiding," he suggested. "I'll take over here, but I have to know he's okay," he added, unable to keep the worry out of his tone.

Nodding, she immediately put down the parmesan she was holding. "Everything's ready. It just needs to go out on the table. I'll go check on him." Heading back in the living room, she crossed over to the bathroom and stood outside for a moment, trying to see if she could hear anything out of the ordinary. Then she knocked on the door. "Wesley? Wesley, are you okay? We're getting a bit worried, so either open the door or I'm going to come in, okay?"

Wesley's head shot up as he looked toward the door. He wiped the tears from his eyes, his steps heavy as he turned the handle, but made no move to open the door. He felt bad for not allowing Rupert in, but he had no idea how to explain to the man what was going on inside of him. It was disconcerting to say the least, to know that the other man could see into his heart so easily. Part of him was so terrified that this would all blow up in his face, and he didn't want to lose that friendship.

"Wesley?" There was no answer although she could hear moving inside, and then the door handle turned. But the door stayed shut. So taking a deep breath, she slowly pushed it open and peeked inside to see him standing there. "Hey, there," she said softly, sliding in a little and putting her hand up to his face. She could see that something wasn't quite right even though he had been in fairly high spirits when he had first come in here. "What's wrong? You still worried about all this? About Rupert?"

"Nothing wrong," he whispered although it came out raspy. "Told me everything I needed. Love you and him. Scared." He swallowed thickly, tamping down on the pain that shot across his throat. He drew her into his arms and lowered his head against her neck. He held her tightly, with desperation, trying to draw solace from her presence.

She wrapped her arms around him, holding him against herself and never wanting to let him go. "We love you too," she told him. "That's why we're here. You don't have to be scared of that." Reaching up, she ran her hand through his hair and closed her eyes, kissing the side of his head the best she could in their current position. "I love you, Wesley."

Wesley sighed deeply, her words and her presence reinforcing him. He felt the shame flood his system. He was behaving like a prat. He clearly had two wonderful people that loved him, and here he was questioning them. He pulled his head back, pressing his forehead to hers.

'I'm sorry,' he mouthed, apologizing for losing it. Teary blue eyes held her chocolate brown, and he felt as if he was looking into her soul. He felt a warm feeling envelop him like a blanket and offered her a sheepish smile.

"Don't be sorry," she said, shaking her head and holding his gaze with hers. "You don't have to apologize to us for anything you're ever feeling. Just don't hide from us, okay?" Reaching up, she cupped his face in her hands and leaned over to give him a long kiss. "And watch yourself with that voice. It still sounds injured, and we don't want you doing anything to lose it permanently. We both know how you feel, so we can wait a while longer – it'll be worth it."

He nodded, unwilling to completely relinquish his hold. He slid one hand down her arm and clasped her hand in his, entwining their fingers. He allowed himself to be led from the bathroom, ducking his head in regret as he saw the worried look in Rupert's eyes. He hadn't meant to worry him.

"Okay then?" Giles asked, taking care not to push. At Wes' hesitant nod, he gave a sigh of relief. He gave Fred a grateful look, holding her chair out for her while she sat. Once she did, he leaned over so that his mouth was right by her ear. "Thank you," he whispered before backing away and taking his own seat.

She looked over at him and nodded at him with a smile. He was worried about Wesley, but it wasn't because of what Giles had done, from what Wesley had said. He was happy. What Giles had done had made him happy. The thing was she wasn't sure if it was really her place to say that. Wesley needed to tell Rupert, and she hoped he did.

"I figured you might be able to handle some fruit now," she told Wesley. "Especially since you were able to have the banana in your split yesterday. And I don't think I burned the sauce or the noodles, so you're not taking your lives into your hands with this meal."

Wesley smirked when she brought up the banana split. He wanted to point out that it had ice cream, so it was different. Spearing a piece of melon on his fork, he held Fred's gaze and stuck his tongue out at her before popping the fruit in his mouth. He then smiled at the sound of Giles' laugh. Raising his eyes, he saw him looking at him. Allowing his emotions to show on his face, he smiled gently, wanting the other man to know how much he meant to him.

Giles nodded in response, his green eyes incredibly gentle. He had been so worried that he had pushed Wesley too far. But now, he knew different. He managed what he was trying to accomplish – to reassure, to reinforce, to show love.

"I think it's fine, Fred. Definitely..." He saw the corners of Wesley's mouth turn up in a devilish smile and found himself answering it. "Edible," he finished, his tone towards her teasing.

"I'm so glad to hear that," she said, her own tone dry as she tried to decide whether to toss her napkin at Wesley or at Giles. As that would leave her without one and a dinner with potentially messy consequences, she decided against it, however. "I could hide the ice cream that's in the freezer, you know, so watch it."

She couldn't help but grinning at the looks on both of their faces at that. Wesley definitely seemed in better spirits again, and Giles was too. She was relieved for that. She didn't want either one of them hurting.

Giles laughed at her threat. He knew she was only teasing but said nothing. The banter between them was too new. And he was enjoying it immensely.

"Now, Fred. Wesley is still healing. He needs the ice cream." His green eyes darkened slightly as he looked at her. "Besides, there are much more pleasant uses for ice cream when one gets creative," he stated, looking her up and down hungrily.

She stared at him, knowing exactly what he had in mind, and could feel everything from her head to her toes tingling at the thought. "Sitting out" with these two ever was going to be damn near impossible, she could tell. And she could come up with a few creative uses herself.

"Then I guess we should hurry up and eat our dinner then, shouldn't we?" she said, glancing from one of her guys to the other.

Wesley and Giles' eyes met over the table, a slow grin spreading across both of their faces. Both of them seemed to agree as they started digging into their meals. Giles' concerned gaze shot up, however, when the younger man started coughing.

"Easy, Wesley. You're still healing," he chided gently, getting up from the table and walking around to Wesley's side, where he picked up his water glass. Kneeling down, he helped the struggling man sip the water until the urge to cough had passed. "Easy. That a boy," he said softly, his hand resting soothingly on his back.

Fred was next to him on the other side, peering up at him in worry. "Are you okay?" she asked as he seemed to settle down. She locked eyes with him and raised her eyebrows in concern.

"When I said we should hurry up, I didn't mean that we should inhale it," she told him gently. "Doesn't help digestion or healing throats, you know."

Giles smiled warmly, his hand going to the back of Wesley's head. He really did like this new look on him. Running his fingers through the closely cropped hair, he stood.

"Ahhh, I wouldn't worry about him. He's tougher than he looks," he teased, trying to lessen not only his own fears but also Fred's. Wesley's face was still flushed, but he nodded, still stealing sips of water.

Fred nodded as she squeezed his hand and moved back to her seat. "You've definitely proved that with everything that's happened," she remarked. It was something she was very thankful for – that despite everything that had happened to him, both before and after she met him, he had managed to come through it all. So many people would have lost themselves or died, but Wesley was still there.

Giles' eyes were sad as he looked over at Wesley. He wondered if Fred really understood how much their lover had survived. Being blown up, shot, and now having his throat cut. He had spent a fair amount of time in the hospital these last three years.

Picking up her fork, Fred twirled a bit of spaghetti around it...and then managed to drip some of the sauce on her top. Shaking her head, she looked down at herself. "You know, I always manage to do this when I'm trying not to get stuff all over me."

Giles forced himself to smile when at that. "Well, try not to feel so bad. This sauce isn't exactly top of the line. It's why I abhor the canned stuff and prefer to make my own. But we needed the watery version for him." He shook his head. "It does make one feel like they need a bib, doesn't it?"

"At the very least," she agreed, shaking her head ruefully. Giles was right – this wasn't the greatest sauce she had ever seen, but she wasn't going to complain for Wesley's sake. She looked over at him to make sure that he really was okay now, giving him a smile. "We should probably finish up, then I'll change out of this top before the sauce sets in and get the dishes taken care of."

They ate for a bit longer though none of them obviously really liked the sauce. Finally, Fred put her fork down and looked at the others.

"Should we just skip directly to dessert?"

"There should be some Neapolitan in there for Wesley. We can eat the mint chocolate chip." Giles grinned when he saw Wes practically pouting. Poor lad, having to endure the plain...but they couldn't take the chance of one of the chips scratching Wesley's throat. "You cooked, Fred, so I can handle the dishes. Just let me get everyone their ice cream first." Standing, he picked up his plate and reached over for the leftover pasta. Perhaps they could reheat it later.

"Thanks," she told him. "I'm going to go change out of this shirt while you do that."

She got up from the table and hurried over to her bag to grab a clean top, making a face as she looked through – she really was going to need some more clothing sooner or later. She hadn't realized how much of the stuff she had had at the Hyperion had actually been Cordelia's. Glancing over, she wondered what Wesley and Rupert would make of being dragged around on a shopping trip. At least they could keep each other entertained... Shaking her head, she refused to let her mind wonder to the possibilities inherent in dressing room stalls. That they hadn't been caught in the theater bathroom had been luck. A dressing room, they'd have no chance.

She pulled out a top and went into the bathroom to change, running some cold water over the one she had just taken off, pausing as she did. It reminded her for a moment too much of Wesley's blood and the other blouse she had been forced to get rid of. God, they had come so close to losing him.

Well, they wouldn't again.

She finished wringing out the top and flipped it over the shower rod to dry – she would deal with the remaining stain later. She found her mind again returning to what Giles had mentioned earlier about "creativity" and ice cream.

Giles, meanwhile, had taken all of their plates in the kitchen, where he ran some water into one of the sinks, placing the pan and dishes in to soak. He then had quickly dished out three bowls of ice cream, placing spoons in each bowl. Taking them out to the table, he had placed one in front of everyone's spots. He was about to call out for Fred to hurry up when someone knocked at the door. Looking at Wes in question, he frowned when the other man shrugged. Clearly they weren't expecting anyone, which meant possible trouble.

"Stay here," he ordered and hurried to his bag to grab a dagger. Tucking it in the waistband of his jeans, he scowled when he looked out the peephole. "Wesley? There's a demon at your door."

His body was coiled to strike, to dispatch the potential threat to his lovers. Opening the door, his green eyes flashed dangerously.

"Hello. Can I help you?" he asked, standing fully in the doorway to bar the demon from entering.

Lorne had been expecting either Fred or Wesley to answer the door now that he finally managed to get away from the Hyperion, so the sight of Tall, Greying and Obviously Protective threw him for a moment. Unconsciously, he took a few steps back, not needing him to sing to see that this man was ready to take his head off for a second time – and probably permanently – if he made a wrong move. A hand went to his butt to cover his now rapidly beating heart.

Then he remembered what Fred had told him when they had spoken before she had left for good, and praying to his gods and every human god he could think of, he slowly said, "Wesley's friend Giles, I presume? Wesley, Fred, if you're in there, can you please call off your bodyguard? For the love of Pythia, before my heart pounds right out of my bottom?"

Giles blinked when the demon said his name, not exactly sure how to proceed.

Fred had just come out to the dining table to see that Giles had brought out the ice cream when she heard the familiar voice at the door, and both she and Wesley turned at the same time. As he was just getting up, she was around across the room, slipping past Giles to throw her arms around their friend.

"Lorne!"

Giles was about to say something else to the demon when she blew right by him to hug...apparently Lorne. Looking back at Wes, he frowned, seeing the guilty look in the other man's eyes, and noticed how he was standing back away from them.

"Come in," he said, stepping out of the doorway and moving to stand behind Wes. He reached up and gave the younger man's shoulder a reassuring squeeze, letting him know he was there for him, should he be needed.

"Oh, buttercup, you don't know how good it is to see you. You wouldn't believe what's been going on back at the hotel," Lorne told Fred as they walked into the flat. He glanced over at Giles, giving him a nervous smile while still holding on to her. It was obvious that the guy was just worried, but it didn't put him any more at ease.

Then he looked at Wesley standing there – and again, he didn't need to hear him singing to see what he was feeling. Unwrapping his arm from around Fred, he walked over to him, suppressing the urge to wince when he saw the bandage on his neck. He wasn't sure how to do this. Whether to hug him or just say it or... Finally, he reached up to rest his hand on his friend's shoulder, his voice taking on a serious tone and losing all trace of his usual flippancy for a moment. "I'm not angry, Wes, and I don't blame you for what you did. We both reacted in the moment, and I understand. Boy, do I ever understand. I'm just glad and thankful that you're still alive."

Wesley couldn't lift his eyes to meet his friends. The guilt weighing heavy on him. It wasn't until Lorne put a hand on his shoulder that he forced himself to look. He felt himself tearing up at the green demon's words. Could it be? That his friend had forgiven him? He had never wanted to hurt Lorne. Of all of them, he had known him the longest. He had been a wonderful friend, and in a moment of panic, he tried to smash the man's head in. He felt all the guilt and grief over the whole debacle wrap around his heart like a vice and constrict as the tears came down his cheeks.

Giles had to fight the urge to go to his lover, to comfort him. But his instincts told him that Wesley needed comfort from Lorne more than he did from him and Fred. Moving around, he stood next to her, his arm draped across her waist, just letting this scene happen. It needed to for Wesley to have a chance of healing.

"Oh, hey, don't cry," Lorne told him. "Because if you cry, I'm going to end up crying too, and then I bet you anything that Freddles over there will cry as well, and that won't do, will it? Oh, hellions and skeletons, screw it." Without a second thought, he hugged his friend, feeling the tears in his own eyes. "I know you didn't mean it. I know you just wanted to do the right thing. I wish I hadn't reacted the way I had. We're all to blame, you know, not just you. So don't you dare take all of this on yourself."

Fred felt herself choke up as she watched them, feeling Giles' hand tighten on her waist, telling her without words to stay put, no matter how badly she wanted to go over to them. He was right. Instead, she rested her head against his chest and watched, hoping that this would help Wesley before they had to face what awaited them once they uncovered what was hidden somewhere in those stacks of books.

Giles watched as the two friends embraced tightly. Lorne's grip seemed almost comforting, while Wesley's was clearly desperate. He grit his teeth, forcing himself to stay back. Instead, he raised one hand, stroking Fred's hair, trying to soothe the same desire in her – to comfort their lover.

"He's right, Wes. No martyrs here. We have too much work to do. I know you feel guilty, but as I told you when I got here, this isn't your fault. Everyone failed each other from what I can tell. This is all fixable. I swear to you, things won't seem so bleak," Giles promised, smiling when Wes gave him a hesitant nod. "Good man. Now why don't we get some ice cream in you before it melts. I'm sure the cold will feel good on your throat."

Fred immediately hurried over to the table and got Wesley's bowl, which she took over to him. "Here you go," she told him, handing it over once he and Lorne stepped back from each other. She then looked over at their demon friend. "Would you like some? We have plenty and pretty much any flavor you could want."

"My lactose intolerance will hate me for it, but go ahead. I'll have Neapolitan as well."

Fred nodded and hurried into the kitchen to get him a bowl while Lorne stood where he was, looking back and forth from Wesley to Giles.

"I...uh...didn't mean to startle you with my sudden appearance," he finally said. "It's just...things have been hell over at the hotel, and I wanted to get away from that, come see the two people I care about most and see how you were doing. I'm sorry I didn't come earlier, but I didn't know if..." He shrugged, trying to decide how to say it. "I didn't know how welcome I'd be here."

Giles nodded, feeling his anger well up. He knew this demon meant a lot to his lovers, so he tried to tamp down on the aggravation.

"Hell at the hotel? That's the second time you've mentioned it. What? Now that that git doesn't have anyone to point and tell him what to kill, he's at a loss? I meant what I said, they come for Wesley again and I'll do more than break Charlie's arm. They made their beds, they can lie in them," he snapped.

Lorne fixed his gaze on Giles at that. "You been taking care of them then?"
His temper really flared when Lorne dared to question whether he was taking care of Wesley and Fred. "I don't know, you tell me. Since I've arrived I've had to pull Angel off of Wesley in the hospital. Seems our hero has graduated to suffocating helpless individuals in their bed. That little present was courtesy of Charles Gunn. We had a visit from Lilah Morgan, and she left here not only with her ego smarting but also minus one Niazian Scroll. So you tell me, do I pass inspection?" He was being short and knew he was being unfair to Wesley and Fred's friend. He turned his head when he felt the fingers running through the hair at his temple with the attempt to soothe. He saw Wesley's concerned gaze and smiled ruefully. "I know, luv. I'm sorry. I'm just worried about both of you. I know he's your friend, but I....I suppose I'm just edgy, having a hard time being welcoming to anyone originating from the Hyperion."

"And you have every right to be," Lorne said. "What Angel and Gunn did – I don't condone it and I certainly haven't spared any words letting them know exactly how I feel about that. I also told them that they'd better stay away too. The only reason I'm still there is because of Cordy. She's getting more demon mojo every day, and I didn't want to run out on her when no one else in that forsaken place seems to be noticing what it's doing to her, not even Groo."

Taking a deep breath, he shook his head. "I'm glad that someone has been here to take care of Wesley and Fred. Someone should be because gods knows they were the ones taking care of us. You'll have to excuse my questioning, though. I question, it's what I do. 'Course, we could make it real easy, and you could sing for me, and I'd know for sure and then you can rip on me all you want for not believing you."

Wesley nodded, moving his thumb across the other man's cheek before stepping away. He set his bowl down and picked up a pad. Scribbling one note down for Giles, he flipped the page and wrote another for Lorne.

He's Anagogic. When you sing, he can read into your soul. He wants to make certain you have nothing to hide, Giles' note said.

"I'm not certain he wants to see into my soul. Even you only know a portion of the things I've done. And you know more than anyone else," Giles grumped. He sighed when Wes stepped forward and kissed him softly, his unspoken plea understood. For Wesley, he would consent to this.

Wes then passed the note for Lorne over to him. You're in for a treat. Rupert can sing.

Giles cleared his throat, before starting to sing.

"If I leave here tomorrow
Will you still remember me
I'm as free as a bird now...."

He continued singing, waiting until the green demon told him to stop.

Fred came out of the kitchen, holding Lorne's bowl of ice cream and stopped at the sight of Rupert singing. Oh, he hadn't... She glanced over at Lorne, who was watching him with wide eyes. Slowly, his hand came up to cover his mouth as though he couldn't believe what he was reading in Giles' aura or however he did what he did. He almost seemed...entranced by whatever he was seeing too. Hurrying over, she touched a hand to Lorne's shoulder, waking him up and causing him to shake his head.

"Oh...yes, you can stop now," he said, a bit floored by what he had just seen...and heard. "First off, why don't I have Caritas anymore and why do I not have you signed to sing there? Because your voice? Best I've heard in ages. Secondly, I am so glad you're on our side because damn." He had never seen some of the stuff he had just read in anyone else before, including what he had done to that boy–no, not just a boy, but also the Hell God who almost ended the world. But that was why it also awed him. Because he was pretty damn certain he couldn't do anything like that, no matter who he was trying to protect. "Tough choices you've had to make, muffin. I'm sorry I questioned you and your motives. I just had to make sure. For the two of them. I know that's something you understand."

Looking over at Wesley then Fred, he raised one of his brow. "I thought I had seen it all, but a movie theater bathroom?"

Giles glared at Lorne, still pissed. He stepped forward in two strides and gripped the demon's arm hard.

"You ever again question my motives regarding Wesley and Fred or utter a peep about what you saw to anyone, I will personally take great pleasure in turning you inside out. And gauging from that pasty look on your face, you know I'm capable of backing that threat up. I don't have anagogic abilities, so all I can do is trust the judgment of the people I love. Thank your lucky stars, or you would already be dead." He stepped back from him and stormed off to the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. He needed a moment to cool off.

Lorne watched him go, rubbing his arm, knowing full well that what he had said was very true. "I'm–I'm sorry, guys. I didn't mean to..." He sighed, looking over at them. "I just wanted to make sure you two really were okay – that at least the two people I care about the most are all right after all the crap I've been seeing over at the hotel. I guess I overreacted a bit, but I–oh, fiddlesticks. You know I'd never utter a word about anything I've ever seen."

"I know," Fred said, patting him on the shoulder and handing him the ice cream bowl. "But he's been wonderful, and if you saw–well, you realize how we feel about him."

"I know." Lorne felt like a right idiot now, even though he hadn't known for certain. He should have trusted Wesley and Fred. Really should have. Because some of those things he saw...

She looked over at Wesley and tilted her head toward the door. "I'm going to go check on him." Hurrying over to the bedroom, she knocked on the door. "Rupert? Can I come in?"

Giles was pacing in the bedroom, fists clenched, trying to force his temper back down. He had been accused of a lot of things in his life, but neglecting those he loved was never one of them. He wanted to hit something–well, he wanted to hit Lorne, but that probably wasn't a good idea. Fred seemed genuinely fond of him. So for her and for Wesley, he would swallow his anger. He looked up when he heard a knock at the door, and sighed. Fred. Without answering, he just opened the door a hair and resumed his pacing.

She pushed the door opened slightly and entered the room, watching him for a moment as he paced back and forth. She didn't want the man she had come to love so much angry at one of the only true friends she had left here in L.A. after everything that had happened.

"He–he didn't mean to push so hard. He said he overreacted because he was so worried about us, which is something you two have in common, you know." She sighed and leaned up against the wall, wanting to go over and put her arms around him but not knowing if he would want that at the moment. "He would have reacted the same way no matter who it was. And he'd never say anything about what he saw to anyone. That's not the way he is."

"I don't give a damn how he is," Giles growled, stopping to face her for a moment. "The only reason I didn't cut his head off at the door was because of you and Wesley. I may not know him from Adam, but I trust the two of you. I would lay down my life for both of you, and I realize, no matter what I do, there are some things that I just have to have faith in. I have done a lot of horrible things in my life, but I will not take being questioned regarding those I love." Part of him was still questioning his own ability when he had failed Buffy so drastically, but it was up to him to recognize that inability in himself, not some demon who had just landed on their doorstep.

"I know that," she told him, stepping forward and putting her hands to his cheeks, looking into his eyes. "Wesley knows that. Lorne hasn't been around the last few days. He didn't know what we've been through together. He didn't know how much both Wesley and I love you. He does now." She leaned up and kissed him gently on the lips.

Giles sighed softly, her kiss doing more to diffuse his anger than all of his pacing.

"I won't have someone question me regarding the three of us. I know people will look at the two of you and wonder what the hell you're doing with an old man like me. But this is important to me, more than I thought possible," he confessed. "I need you, and I need Wes. What I don't need is one of your friends accusing me of not doing my duty to the two of you."

"And we need you." She rested her head against his, her hands slipping down to his shoulders. "He's not going to question us anymore. He's not going to question you. If he's seen what's in you, then he knows and he wouldn't dare. Besides, I'd get him first if he were to even think about it."

"My protector," Giles remarked dryly. "So are you meant to protect me from all your pushy demon friends?" he joked, knowing his purpose wasn't to protect himself from Lorne's prying but to protect Lorne from his temper.

"Thank you," he whispered, hugging her tightly. "Now maybe we should get back out there before your friend thinks I'm arming for attack."

Out in the main room, Lorne looked down at him bowl of ice cream, then over at Wesley. "I really am sorry. I had no idea what had happened between you three. But–I'm glad that you have someone who cares so deeply about you two. You deserve that sort of loyalty and love, scruffy bear. Both of you do."

As Giles came out of the bedroom with Fred, he saw Wesley passing a note to the demon before looking up and giving him a reassuring smile.

Rupert is a good man who has had to make some tough decisions. He loves fiercely and protects those he loves with everything in him. Try not to be so hard on him. He's just worried about us as well.

Lorne nodded as he read the note, wondering if Wesley realized just how right he was about those tough decisions, then looked over at Giles and Fred, seeing how she had her arm wrapped through his. "I–uh...I'm really sorry. I didn't mean for you to think I was attacking you. Guess I've lost my tact recently with everything that's been going on, so I don't blame you for–you know. And I won't say a word. I promise on everything that I still hold decent and honorable in my miserable little life."

"Well, now that that little unpleasantness is out of the way," Giles responded, trying to play off the fact that he at least wanted to punch the demon just once. "Why don't you tell us what kind of hell is going on at the Hyperion? Not that I give a flying fig about Angel – wouldn't care if he were to suddenly burst into flames. But it's easier to look out for these two if I know where all the potential threats are coming from."

Sighing, Lorne sat down and stirred his spoon through the ice cream. "Angel's turned to dark magic in an attempt to get Connor back, and he's turning the whole hotel into Dark Palace Central. He keeps trying to get Cordy to try some of her newfound demon powers to help him, but she doesn't know the first thing about what she can do with those, so of course, she can't, and that's just making things worse because it causes them to argue. Gunn's just sort of there, but he'd probably kick my butt if he knew I was here. The atmosphere there is just–I had to get out of there. I've wanted to get out of there for days. I'm afraid that if this keeps up we're going to see the return of Angelus."

"Bloody idiot!" Giles cursed, his eyes meeting Wesley's.

Both of them probably understood better than the others the dangerous game Angel was playing. His heart was sad for Cordelia, but she had made her choice, and her blind faith in the vampire would surely cost her.

"Don't go back there," he ordered Lorne. "Stay with someone else if you can, but if Angel is turning to black magicks, it's only a matter of time before this blows up in his face." He walked over to the table to collect Wesley's translation of the Niazian Scroll. He passed the notebook over to the demon. "I think you should see this. Wes was right – Connor is still in danger from Angel."

Lorne took the notebook and read what it said there, his eyes going wide as the ice cream bowl slipped from his hand. Fred managed to jump forward and catch it before it fell to the floor and put it on the coffee table before sitting down next to Wesley and taking his hand. She could see Lorne's lips moving as he read the translation over and over and over again.

"Angelus is going to be back? I'm definitely not going back to the hotel now. I have a friend I can stay with instead." He shook his head and looked at Wesley. "I'm so sorry, peach fuzz. I'm so sorry you ended up in the middle of this. But...does that mean that Connor will...? He's still in that god forsaken hellhole. Does this mean Angel's going to get him back?"

"No," Giles said, adamantly. "Angel is not getting him back, we are." He looked at Lorne carefully. "I suppose it doesn't matter if you know or not. It isn't as if they can call you into court as a witness, plus Wesley and I are also going to need an important favor when the time comes."

He motioned to the piles of books. "I called in some favors at the Watcher's Council for resources to discover a way into Quor'Toth. As soon as we find the way, Wesley and I will be going in after Connor. We're bringing him back. And before you ask, no, we aren't involving Angel at any point. If he still poses a threat to the boy, it isn't safe. The Council will be providing documents to prove that the male child Connor is the offspring of Wesley Wyndam-Pryce and Winifred Burkle." Giles noted the worried look on Fred's face and smiled sadly. "The favor we'll need is while we're in Quor'Toth, we want someone to stay with Fred so that she isn't alone. Other than that, I suggest you keep your head down. There is a storm brewing, and the three of us will be skirting it as close as possible. I'd hate for you to be caught in our wake."

Lorne felt as though his entire head were being squeezed in a vice and his horns snapped off one by one. He looked over at Fred, seeing the pleading in her eyes. Even though he hadn't experienced it first hand, he knew about Angelus, the nastiness he had caused and the lives he had taken. Angel didn't know, but he had seen it when he had sung. The soul simply covered the vampire demon inside and suppressed it – it didn't get rid of it. Song allowed him to see everything inside Angel, just like it had with Giles and Fred and Wesley and everyone else he had read in his life, and he had seen those things.

So when Giles told him that Angelus was still a threat to Connor, he believed him. He believed him because Wesley had risked everything he had for it and because he knew that Giles wouldn't lie to him about something like this and because of the look in Fred's eyes.

"You have my support any way you need it in this, buttercup," he told her softly, reaching out and taking her hand. She gave him a grateful smile, holding his hand between both of hers to her chest. He looked up at Giles and Wesley. "I don't want anything more happening to that little boy, so if this is what needs to be done, then I'll do what I can to help."

"You'll have to leave us a way of contacting you," Giles responded. "Today was only the first day of going through the things the Council sent. Fred and I have called a stop to it for the night, though, because Wesley is still healing." He smirked at the man in question. "And we both know that if we let him, he'd work himself to death." He grinned when Wesley blushed.

"The answer is there, I can feel it. And we'll find it soon. Regardless of when we find it, we're not leaving before the end of the week." He saw the look on Wesley's face and shook his head. "No, I want this boy back too, but you've already put your life on the line for him twice, and I am in no hurry to discover if third time is a charm." He saw Wes was about to protest and cut him off, "It's either that, or I go alone – take your pick. Because I will knock you out if that's what it takes to keep you here."

Fred released one of her hands from Lorne's and reached over to rest it on Wesley. "He's right, Wesley. You shouldn't go until you're better. That book I read said, 'Don't go there.' And that Sahjahn apparently said it was the darkest of the dark worlds. I don't want you going unless you're healed and ready, and I don't want Rupert going alone either. You two ending up dead isn't going to help Connor, and I don't want to lose the men I love."

Wesley sighed, knowing in his heart they were only looking out for his best interests. But he was determined to right the wrong he had inflicted on that little boy. Giving a resigned sigh, he looked down at the notepad in his hands. He smiled gently, giving his fingers a little wiggle under Fred's before pulling them away so he could scribble on it before turning it toward Rupert.

Fine. End of the week, he wrote and smiled when Giles stepped forward to envelope both of them in a hug.

"Thank you," Giles whispered, bestowing a gentle kiss on each of them before stepping back. He turned toward Lorne, his green eyes unsure of the offer he was about to make. "I know Wesley and Fred like having you here. We're done for the night, but you're more than welcome to join us on the other research sessions."

"Me and research? I don't think that's such a good idea. You need me to read people, I'm your demon, but me and books? Not as much so. I almost set fire to one of Wesley's books one time, so unless you want me here to make tea and generally make a nuisance of myself, I probably should give it a pass." He stood up and pulled his hand from Fred's to run it along her temple momentarily before kissing her on the forehead. "I'll be here for you when you need me, though."

He then turned and looked at Wesley and Giles, something coming to mind that might allow him to help them in a different way. "Tell you what – I'll take this week to check into a few things. You said that Angelus is coming back? I'll see if any of my Caritas regulars might have heard something about our favorite law firm or any other group planning to bring him out somehow. Might not be able to stop it, but at least we'd have a heads up before it happens."

Giles smiled at Fred, in a way happy with Lorne's presence. He knew Fred loved both him and Wesley, a woman like her was so sincere in her feelings. It was one of the things he adored about her. But having Lorne here, he got the feeling it made her feel not so isolated from everything she thought had been good and safe. He winked at her before letting the Ripper smile cross his face.

"Or I could call my new friend Lilah and find out what she's got her sticky little fingers into," he smirked, trying to make Fred smile. He watched as Wesley wrote something on the pad quickly and passed it too him.

I REALLY wish I would have seen you put her in her place, he pouted. Giles chuckled, stepping forward and lovingly running a hand through the other man's now short hair.

"You will if she dares show her face here again. I think I made my point this time, but Miss Morgan doesn't seem the type to give up easily," he replied, consoling his lover.

Fred chuckled at Ripper's grin, remembering what he had done to the Bitch Queen Lawyer of the Universe, and knew exactly what Wesley's note had had to have said. He had definitely missed one of the best shows to be put on anywhere, and she had to admit, it would be fun to see him do it again. She had no doubt that Rupert was right and that Lilah would probably darken their doorstep again.

Lorne shook his head with low chuckle. "No one should ever cross you, muffin," he said to Giles, rubbing his arm again at the memory. "I'm glad you're the one taking care of them."

Turning to Fred, he gave her a hug and a kiss goodbye, then turned to Wesley, hugging him as well and then looking him up and down once he stepped back. "The look suits you, scruffy bear. I definitely vote you keep it, especially since it drives those two wild."

Giles laughed at the demon's comment on Wesley's new haircut, especially when the younger man blushed. "We told you! But no, you don't believe those that love you," he pouted as ran his fingers through the man's hair. "Very sexy if you ask me." His pout turned into a grin when Wes snorted and rolled his eyes.

Lorne winked at both of them before reaching into his pocket to pull out a couple of business cards and flip through them until he found the one he was looking for – one for a telephone psychic. He handed the card over to Giles.

"That's my friend Aggie – I'll be staying with her. She's always said I could crash with her if I needed to, so I'll finally be taking her up on the offer. When you need me, give her a call and tell her you're trying to reach me. I'll get the message. If I find anything out in the meantime, I'll call." He then crossed over to the front door. "I'll stay in touch and stay away from Darkness Central. Just be careful, all three of you."

"Always," Giles replied to Lorne's comment. He would always look after his lovers, no matter what the cost. He turned to face Lorne as he was standing in the doorway. "You keep your head down; I'll worry about these two."

"Will do. I'd like to keep it on permanently anyway." He waved to them and opened the door to step outside. "See you three later."

Fred followed him over and closed the door once he was gone, locking it, throwing the bolt and putting the chain on. She stood there for a moment, thankful that he had agreed to stay with her when Wesley and Giles left for Quor'Toth because she really didn't want to face the time without them, waiting for them to return, by herself. Then she turned around and walked over to her two guys and put her arms around them to hug them. They had another ally in all this, and that was a good thing.

"I don't know about you, but I think I'm ready to go to bed. It's been a long day."

"Absolutely." Giles put his hands on Wesley's shoulders and guided him toward the bedroom. "Come on, Sweet Prince, you're still healing and need your rest."

He sat Wes down on the bed and took a knee in front of him. He had to stifle his own body's reaction to the memory of what had happened the last time he was in this position. "I want to take a look before we turn in." He gingerly peeled away the tape pulling the dressing away. He found himself wincing in sympathy when Wes did. Giles frowned, the scar was still angry and red, and his heart ached for the pain Wesley must be in. But it did look better than it had.

"It looks better since I started putting the Neosporin on it. Why don't you sleep with your bandage off tonight, give it some air," he suggested. He noticed the way his lover tensed and understood his trepidation. He stood silently, and turned off the bedroom light, blanketing the room in darkness. "Even though it doesn't matter to Fred and me – we love you scars and all – we'll leave the lights off."

Fred couldn't help but smile in the darkness. Giles was right – it didn't matter to her whether he had the scar or not, but if it would make him feel more comfortable, so be it.

She decided that since they all needed their sleep, her nightgown would probably be a very good idea – less chance of causing temptation. So she hurried back into the living room and pulled it from her bag before returning to the bedroom once she had changed. She felt her way over to the bed and sat down on the edge, just able to make out the other two figures in the room.

"Wesley still in the middle?" she asked. She definitely hoped Rupert's bed in Sunnydale was bigger.

There was a rustling of clothes as both men stripped down. Giles guided Wesley down in the center of the bed, frowning when he protested lightly.

"All injured people sleep on their back in the center," he said, not willing to give an inch.

He crawled into bed on the left side, knowing that if they woke up in the light of day, he would react better facing Wesley's scar. It wasn't that he was worried about Fred. He knew the woman loved Wesley, no matter what. But it was human nature, and her gawking might upset him. He had purposely been the one to change Wesley's bandage to spare both of them.

"Good Lord, I cannot wait to get back to Sunnydale, where we can share my King Size," he remarked. He lifted his head to look at Wesley in the dark. "You do realize it is only because I adore both of you that I am willing to sleep with my arse hanging off the edge of this bed." He smirked before kissing him goodnight then stayed up to collect his kiss from Fred.

Fred chuckled as she leaned over Wesley to kiss Rupert. "We do appreciate it," she told him, reaching over to run her hand through his hair when their lips met. A smile crossed her face once they parted, and then she shifted so she could give Wesley a kiss as well. Instead of his hair, though, her hand found his in the dark, grasping it tightly.

They didn't let go of each other, though, as she pulled back and settled down next to him on her side. Their hands rested on Wesley's stomach, and a moment later, Rupert's larger one covered both of theirs.

"Goodnight," she whispered to both of them.

Giles listened carefully in the dark to their small noises as they settled. He had meant every word he had said earlier. He would protect these two with his life – in every way possible. He waited for the sound of even breathing to level out. Wesley dropped off first, as expected, and it wasn't until he heard Fred give herself over to slumber that he allowed his own eyes to close.

NEXT