Winter Of Discontent 15
Author: Gileswench
Contact: gileswench@yahoo.com
Feedback: Constructive criticism always welcome. Praise abjectly sought.
Disclaimer: It all belongs to Joss, Mutant Enemy, etc., etc., etc. I
just let them have all the fun Joss won't. I own nothing except my
twisted mind which you really don't want. Please don't sue.



Sullivan hummed to himself as he blew out the final candle.

"Did it work?"

A feline smile wreathed Sullivan's face.

"Something certainly happened. Whether it was precisely what you had in
mind...well, this sort of spell is tricky at best. It really depends on
what the magic users in that house were up to."

"Well?"

"I know there was magic cast there tonight. And from the way I'm
feeling now, I suspect someone was trying to improve their love life."

"I don't care how you feel," Travers snapped impatiently. "What
happened? Did it affect Rupert?"

Sullivan shrugged.

"I can't be sure of that, but I did my best. I widened the range of the
spell to cover everyone who lives in the house and intensified it as
much as I could. From there on, it's up to fate."

"What sort of spell did you say it was? A lust spell?"

"I'd say we either made poor old Rupert incredibly happy or utterly
miserable tonight. The only question is which one."

"And the reason you couldn't have simply done something directly to him
rather than piggybacking your magic onto the witch's?"

"This way we can cause far more trouble to him before he starts looking
for us. It will create an air of mistrust within the group as opposed
to uniting them further against an outside threat. It might take a bit
longer, but this will tear them apart. In the end, it'll work much like
that wretched demon raising he did so long ago. It will drive him away
from his trouble making friends and back to us."

*****

"Rupert?"

"Hmmm?"

"I'm sorry."

Giles sat up and reached over to stroke Buffy's cheek.

"What on earth for, darling?"

"For what I said the other day. About the pictures and stuff."

"I don't understand. What's brought this on?"

"Well, today with the whole hunka burning lust thing? I - I don't
really know how to say this..."

"It's alright, Buffy. You can tell me anything."

"It's just...you weren't the only person I was looking at. And now I
feel bad that I got so mad at you. I mean, it's not like you knew me
then. Heck, I don't even know if I was born then."

"That doesn't matter, luv," he told her.

"Anyway, it was just...I didn't know what it felt like, y'know,
to...want someone who's the same sex. And then today I caught myself
checking out Anya's boobs, and I liked what I saw. I feel like such a
perv."

"You're not perverted. There are simply a few aspects of your sexuality
you haven't explored. It's not uncommon."

"Does this mean every time I've looked at another girls' boobs I wanted
to have sex with her?"

Giles chuckled.

"Obviously not very seriously or you'd either have tried it or at least
been aware of the impulse before now."

"So this spell we were under, did it make us want things we wouldn't or
did it just make all the undertow of our libidos surface?"

"You knew? That it was a spell?"

"Not until after I got here and had a chance to think," Buffy admitted.
"But then it got pretty obvious. So are you going to answer my
question?"

Giles considered carefully for a moment.

"I think it was more a case of intensifying the desires we already
felt. Spells of that nature rarely create feelings, especially when
cast on a large group of people."

"So that means I wanted to...with Anya?"

"If you'd wanted to very much, the urge would have been far more
difficult to resist, Buffy. And Anya does make it somewhat
problematical to look at her in anything other than a sexual light."

"She does have a deep love of the sharage when it comes to her sex
life."

"Precisely, luv. Now you'd best get some sleep."

"Okay. But you have to, too."

Giles chuckled.

"After the night we've had, I don't believe that will be a problem."

Still, he lay awake for a long time looking at his terribly young wife.
He couldn't help thinking the photographs of him with Sullivan had been
taken three years before Buffy was born.

*****

Cordelia stopped at her bedroom door and turned to Wesley. She bit her
lip as she looked at him, unsure of her next move. He looked equally
uncertain.

"So. Here we are. Home sweet home."

"Yes," Wesley agreed.

"Did...you want to come in for a minute?"

"Um...if you'd like me to, yes."

"Yeah. I think so."

Cordelia opened the door and ushered Wesley in. She sat on the bed, and
he took the chair in the corner near the window. Neither seemed to know
quite what to say now that they were together.

"Well," Cordelia began at last. "This is no way uncomfortable."

"None whatsoever," Wesley agreed, "unless you count that awkward,
silent, bewildered sort of uncomfortable we both seem to be
experiencing."

Both laughed ruefully. Wesley stood and crossed to where Cordelia sat.

"Look, we don't have to take this...reconciliation all at once. It's
bound to be a bit strange at first."

"Yeah, what with me having been hands off girl for so long."

"We've both made mistakes."

"And then I totally blew it tonight with how I dealt after we...what is
it about us anyway?"

"What do you mean?"

"Wesley, we're all complete emotional retards in this place. It's a
wonder any of us found anyone at all."

"And yet, the bonds we've formed are exceptionally strong."

Cordelia smile wryly at him.

"How did you get to be such a glass half full guy?"

Wesley blushed slightly as he returned the smile.

"Frankly, I've no idea. It's not as though it's been either my training
or experience. Until that day in October when you decided to have your
way with me."

"Chalk it up to Buffy and Giles. Okay, and the whole I wanted you
anyway, thing."

The pair sat quietly for a moment, but the awkwardness seemed to have
dissipated. Cordelia allowed her head to rest against Wesley's
shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her waist and laid his cheek against
her head.

"Wesley?" Cordelia began. "Would you stay with me? Tonight?"

"We couldn't...tonight."

"No, not that. I already had that and it was good, but it was enough,
really. I just want not to be alone."

Wesley kissed the crown of her head and began to stand. Cordelia held
onto his hand.

"What? Don't you want to stay?"

"I thought I'd go get my pajamas."

Cordelia laughed.

"It's okay, I've already seen you naked. And I promise I won't do
anything. I just want you here, so I know when I wake up I didn't dream
it."

"Well I do still need to stand if I'm to get undressed."

"Okay. I'll allow that."

Cordelia stood beside Wesley as they both stripped. The girl made no
move to get her own pajamas.

"What about you?" Wesley asked.

"I don't want anything getting in the way. You, me, blankets. What more
do we need?"

"Are you sure you'll be warm enough?"

Cordelia turned down the covers and invited Wesley into the bed.

"Body heat. It's a wonderful invention, they tell me. Trust me, I'll be
warm enough."

As they snuggled down under the blankets, Wesley made sure they were
tucked warmly around her. They kissed gently.

"Good night, Cordelia."

"'Night, Wesley."

*****

It was nearly dawn when Angel finally let himself in and headed up to
his room in the attic. He wasn't ready to deal with the others yet.

Spike.

He'd really agreed to help get Spike back into the house. Back where he
could kill Buffy if the chip broke down completely. He couldn't believe
he'd agreed to such a dangerous thing.

But the alternative of being exposed as gay was too much for him.

No choice.

Angel stuffed the little voice that berated him for his choice to the
back of his mind.

Nobody could ever know he'd slept with Spike.

Nothing could be worse than that.

When he opened the door of his attic room, Angel expected to see Wesley
sleeping in the other bed.

It was empty.

For a moment, a wave of panic washed over him. What if something had
happened to Wesley while he'd been out screwing - no. He refused to let
his mind go there. No doubt Wesley was keeping some sort of knightly
vigil before one of the girls' rooms. After all, he was the only one
who seemed to suspect that Angel had changed his attitude.

The vampire crossed to the small fridge he kept his blood bags in and
popped one into the microwave he'd set up so nobody would have to watch
him eat. He pulled out a mug and waited for the ping that announced his
dinner was at just the right temperature.

98.6.

Nothing like a hot meal.

At least with Spike in the house he'd have someone to share a mug of
blood with at the dawning of the day.


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