Is Shrift around? Leviathan is hanging for me.

I don't think shrift is ever in this thread. Anyway, I got to Leviathan fine. (And I got your e-mail and will reply when I'm finished nursing husband through job crisis.)

No rush, and I'm very sorry to hear of the crisis. It seems to have been a temporary hang on Leviathan.

Sorry if that sounded curt. I was trying to talk on the phone at the same time, usually a mistake.

Is he safely docked at the port of Sanity?

Eh. The crisis is averted, but he's at the point of telling his boss to go fuck himself. As this would result in us having no benefits, I'm trying to avoid that. And this is hugely off-topic. I'll e-mail you about it.

Plei posted this elsewhere, but since the story was originally serialized here: my last fan fic, "In the City," is now up:

[link]

You mean latest, not last, right, Victor?

t hopeful and pedantic

Yikes. Latest. Hell, I'm not even done with "Yesterday's Guitars" yet, although I'm not happy with the last two sections and may rework them. Don't think I'm capturing Future!Dawn's disorientation quite right, and my Andrew's... off. Also, I need to get everybody into one place soon, or it's going to start dragging.

Need to abandon the structure I've been using, too. It's kind of limiting.

this is getting great response over on LJ, so I'll share. Setting: my idea S6, with Giles coming back earlier and upsetting incidents in bathrooms not happening

Being in the wrong and having to apologize was bad enough. Angel rather prided himself, though, on getting to the point where he could recognize the need to apologize, especially without Cordelia poking him.

But this--

He stared at Giles, hoping the man would suddenly give a Ripper-esque smile of satisfaction that he'd put one over on Angel. Heaven knew Angel deserved any number of revenges from Giles, petty or profound.

"You're not serious," he said finally, unable to hold out any longer.

Giles just shook his head as he watched Angel from the other side of the Magic Box counter. "I'm not the one you need to apologize to--this time."

They both looked away from each other until the moment passed.

"But--them . . ." Angel said.

"I'm afraid so." And there was Ripper peeking out. "It was their plan you disrupted, a plan which, quite to my surprise, was working quite well."

"Since when the hell have Spike and Xander been working together?"

Giles' left hand came up halfway to his face, then he reached for a chunky cluster of amethyst crystals on the counter to fidget with. "They, um--since the wedding didn't happen, Spike and Xander have-- well, Xander said something about male companionship close to his own age."

"Spike's nearly a hundred and fifty years old, alive and dead."

"I'm fairly sure he meant mentally."

Angel nodded in understanding. "Still, you let them go out against demons together?"

"Let? I wasn't able to be here for the wedding, and by the time I got here, the two of them were already settled into their bizarre buddy movie and the girls were looking relieved and amused."

"Even Buffy?"

Angel smelled sudden blood as a chunk of the amethyst cluster broke off, but Giles showed no sign. "Buffy--is one of the most relieved. Something about them distracting each other."

"From what?"

Giles put the crystals down firmly. "Perhaps you can ask them. I have work to do."

Angel took the blatant hint and left.

Another demonic drug ring had popped up, using one of the outlying hangers at LAX as a trading area. Various suppliers brought their goods to the hanger, where the brokers set up shipments to go around the world. When Angel had gone to poke around, he overheard complaints about someone named Doc up on the Hellmouth who was getting more and more demanding about his percentage. The description of the vampire in the long leather coat and bleached hair had been enough to tell Angel that his next stop was Sunnydale.

And what had he found in the back room of that truck stop by the freeway but Spike drinking whiskey with demonic representatives of the drug ring--and Xander Harris sullenly leaning against a wall. Questions about Slayer interference in the business had been raised; Spike had sneered and waved his whiskey glass at Xander, pointing out that their man on the inside would keep the Slayer away from things that didn't concern her. Only the look of mingled fear and disgust that Xander had sent towards Spike had kept Angel from bursting in and breaking up the whole thing. He lurked outside, waiting to see if Xander was being coerced into helping--only to be pounced on by an equally lurking Buffy, who demanded to know why he was trying to ruin everything.

Now Giles had confirmed Buffy's story of Spike and Xander concocting a way to break the Sunnydale connection with a masquerade that had already gone on for two months. And Angel had nearly ruined everything, risking both the masquerade and Spike and Xander's lives.

It turned out the two of them were all but living together in Xander's apartment, with Spike's old crypt serving as meeting place for demons. Angel pulled up in front of Xander's apartment building, practicing his greeting so the first words out of his mouth weren't "Please tell me you have separate bedrooms."

He knocked on (continued...)