Hee. I'm glad you enjoyed.

This part kind of ended up like "Ethan & Giles, by Elmore Leonard"

It went fine between Buffy and Raylan until she literally kicked him in the junk.Admittedly, it was in a sparring session, so, you know, there was no malice involved, and it might have been his own stupid fault for kidding her about holding back.Not that he was a stranger to pain…he’d made it through boot camp at Parris Island, after all, and he liked to think of himself as a man of the world, therefore familiar with the uneasy border between pleasure and pain, but this was something else again.

It hurt, and it pissed him off and he didn’t like even the faint whispers of Arlo-thoughts that were assembling in his brain like memories of last week’s nightmares. Things like Control your woman. And Teach her a lesson, and other such shit he’d made a boyhood vow to stay way the hell away from.”A real man walks away,” he said to himself.

Maybe Helen told him that, or maybe he got it off some stupid poster at the library…he didn’t know, but Buffy wasn’t making it easy. Looking at him with her big hazel eyes wanting him to talk it out about her mystical fucking destiny as if the whole area below his waist wasn’t throbbing every time he breathed hard. “Jesus Christ!” he yelled out, relieved to be in California where a man might blaspheme in relative peace.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked again.

“Yeah, I told you, I’ll just put frozen peas on them for a few hours…I’m reasonably sure you didn’t neuter me, although I guess that’d be tough luck for you, too, huh?”
He tried to smile.

She responded a bit more than was called for when she kissed his forehead and said “The toughest…” like he was some weekend warrior who jammed his fingers playing racquetball. “Just let me know how I can help you deal.”

He rose from her mother’s couch with relative difficulty and said “You know what, Buffy? I think I’ll ‘deal’ better(All of Sunnydale talked weird like that…if he lived to be a hundred, which seemed depressingly likely given his brand-new status as a eunuch, he would never really understand them.) “if I go spend some time in a dark room with a bunch of strange men who don’t even know I have testicles…wait, that sounded wrong. But I’m going to go to a bar, and I’m gonna drink way too much of something brown, and I’m gonna get sloppy and maybe puke in the parking lot. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Sounds like a jam-packed evening,” Buffy said. “But it doesn’t sound like dealing.”

“Time-honored method in the Holler. Well, okay, minus the gun fights, but I’m not feeling one hundred percent.”

She looked serious enough to ask him to stay so he said “I’m kidding.” Though he knew he wasn’t.

Sunnydale didn’t have that many bars of the dark and anonymous kind Raylan preferred, so he wasn’t all that surprised when, a couple strong drinks later, he spotted Buffy’s, well Mr. Giles, sitting in the corner with another Brit that Raylan totally didn’t like the look of.There was something in the man’s eyes that said he would do anything,given the right opportunity. Raylan didn’t know if that look truly repulsed him, or just made him homesick, but he tried to put it out of his mind, especially as the alcohol started doing its work.

“Mr. Giles, I really wanted to thank you for what you did in that frat house. I’d like to think I’d done the same, if my emotions hadn’t got the better of me.”

There was no mistaking that Giles looked uncomfortable. Whether it was the praise itself or the fact that it came from him was the part that was hard to make out.”Really, quite all right…it’s all in a day’s work for a…conscientious librarian.”

“No, not at all. I know what you mean to Buffy, and especially now, since we’ve taken our relationship to the next level and all…”

Rayne’s mouth twisted in a mocking smile. “Oh, come now, Ripper…don’t be so modest.This bucolic young man was trying to pay you a tribute…it’s not like they’ve been thick on the ground since the (continued...)

( continues...) Council made you redundant. So accept it graciously, even if this young man does have terrible taste in bits of totty.”

Then there was an uncomfortable silence. It was so quiet and still that, not only could Raylan feel his injured groin through the protective covering of Jack Daniels, he could count the individual throbs.
Rayne looked at the both of them like a man in deep thought, at least until he lingered on Raylan’s back until it seemed his eyes would burn through the TA’s cheap t-shirt and Raylan finally felt like he understood what they were talking about in the Women’s Center…he felt objectified. And he did not care for it. “Unless,” Rayne said. “the story is ever-so-much more exciting than all of Jethro’s tiny hints would have us believe…it’s not like you to hold out on me, Ripper.”

“Look, Rayne, I don’t think I like your tone. I’d advise you to be civil or shut up.” He was prepared to do what he had to, but not for the way his voice quivered when he said it.” I think I’ve been more than patient, seeing as you are new to our shores and all, but these insinuations are…not appropriate.”

“Did he really say ‘new to our shores’? Honestly, Ripper, you have the most shocking taste these days.”

Until that moment, Raylan would have taken bets that “Ripper” was some kind of joke nickname, like naming a fat man “Tiny” or a grim one “Chuckles”. He might have kept on believing that until, the librarian, with a suppressed rage that Boyd Crowder might envy, grabbed his countryman’s wrist and squeezed, his face unreadable without his glasses.”Yes, Ethan, do go home. But don’t be a stranger. You know I’d love to thrash you again.” This Ripper lived up to his nickname.

“Damn,” Raylan said. And, just to be safe, he switched to Pepsi as Rayne mumbled something about lack of cell reception and the markets in Taiwan.

Giles cleaned and replaced his glasses. “I’m terribly sorry about that. Mr. Rayne is…difficult.”

“Difficult, like the one part of your past that haunts you no matter what else you do? And you owe him and you hate him…well, then, Mr. Giles, I swear we have that kind of difficult in Kentucky, too, and its initials are Boyd Crowder.”

“Does he worship chaos, too?”

“Near as I can figure.”

Oh, nice. Nothin' like a good dose of Ripper to get the blood moving in the morning. Raylan, dude, next time, wear a cup.

You'd think so, right?

After the ultra-disastrous body-switching thing, although Faith supposed she got a decent ride out of Buffy's cowboy(He seemed to like to be abused...if they were friends, Faith would talk to Buffy about that...ultimately, he might get tired of vanilla superhero love. But, they weren't friends, so that would just be B.'s problem somewhere down the road. Speaking of down the road, Faith had ducked the CoW assholes andbegged somebody at the airport to put her on a plane to anyplace, pronto, feeling like she was trapped in some fucking Journey song. But she must have sounded wicked desperate because it worked.Except now she was on her way to Lexington, Kentucky with only a little of Joyce's money....and, well, sex appeal and her superpowers. And she kind of remembered that this girl she went to juvie with knew a guy from here, if she was willing to drive for a little while to see him. She wasn't exactly willing, but she was standing on the corner of Stranded and No Choice so she promised all kinds of entertaining things to the yokels to get them to drive her into the Holler.Of course, they wouldn't get anything, besides a little pleasant friction up against the gear shift, but by the time they figured that out, she hoped to be making bank for this Crowder guy.She fended off several locals with her darkest “Don’t even think about it, Gomer,” expression and made a careful, yet confident way toward chez Crowder.

“I’d like to see Boyd Crowder, please,” she told the bodacious blonde who answered.

“What do you want with Boyd?” the blonde said, but she stepped back a little and said “Nice pants.”

“Thanks…do you think I could see him today?” It felt weird talking to someone who not only got her number, but played her song back, bluegrass-style.

“Well, I’ll tell you, girlie. It don’t look likely.Boyd, as far as I know, is on his way to California. And he didn’t even ask me to come. I’m just good enough to clean the bathroom, play lookout, and, if I’m real lucky, get him off.Sometimes this life of crime’s just like the hair salon. Only I don’t have to sweep up nearly as much.”

“Well, there is that,” Faith said. “But don’t worry about it. California’s not that great.”

The blonde looked serious then. “Legal troubles?”

“Yeah, well, something like that.”

“You don’t have to tell me. Legal troubles are kind of traditional here. And despite my little hissy fit before, I am generally the soul of discretion. Boyd calls me that. But I always wanted to travel. “

“I can imagine.”

“Are leather pants the style in California?”

“I think I have some in my bag that’ll fit you perfect.”

• * All of the rest of the Scoobies were surprised when Raylan looked at Tara and said “As I live and breathe, you’re Fiona McClay’s girl.Of course, she was Fiona Morgan when I knew her. Man, I had such a crush on her. Looking at her actually hurt for about half a year.”

Tara flushed. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Now that I’m older, I can accept she had a right to like someone else.”

“How did you know that…I was, you know?”

“Well, I heard there was a daughter, and if you’ll excuse me, you’re her spitting image. But you have the McClay chin. I could spot that chin in a line-up…not that I would have to…the McClays are good folks, a mite severe maybe…”

Raylan couldn’t miss the cloud that came over the girl’s face. “You could certainly say that,” she said and tried to laugh.

Raylan wished he’d never been a boy on the baseball team with a broken heart, who followed Fiona out to the woods to see what she liked better than she liked him, and was surprised to find Fiona, not with some point guard or boy from town, but just out there in the woods with a bunch of Mags Bennett’s cheap candles talking to herself. When he saw her pencil fly, he’d been afraid. So he did what he’d been taught and made fun. It took the heat off him with everyone, even Arlo. But the Holler was small, and pretty soon, even people on the wrong side of things like the (continued...)

( continues...) Givens and the Crowders crossed the road when they saw Fiona coming, which left her feeling like she needed to wash her sins away with Benjamin McClay, who was so much older and more sanctified.

“I’m sorry,” he said at last, “that I didn’t write when your mother passed. Aunt Helen said y’all came out to California, but you know, small towns and their rumors.”

Good stuff, erika. I really liked Faith heading to Kentucky, and Raylan knowing Tara's people.

Oh, thanks. Ava is sort of the Faith of Kentucky so I thought they'd get on famously.And I always kind of thought that Tara's people came off Southern, which might have initially been a diss on Southern people since they are so ignorant and mean, but everybody comes from someplace.

"I could give you a reading, Raylan, if you want." Tara offered.

Raylan wasn’t sure he believed in such things, but he certainly owed something to this girl and her family, so he said “Thank you so much,” and let her hold his hands.

Willow, in a welter of jealousy so strong she hardly knew who she was jealous of, mumbled “You never give me a reading,” so loudly that gentle Tara glared. Willow hardly knew what to expect since the pair met and spent half of every Scooby meeting talking of places and people the rest of them had never heard of.

Of course, Giles did that, too, but at least most of those people had been safely dead for hundreds of years so it wasn’t that important to keep track of their feuds or whatever. Not like the Givens and the Bennetts. Really? Prohibition? Even Anya let things go faster than that!(well, proportionally)He was definitely rubbing off on her, too. Willow was happy that she stammered less, but not so pleased about the “y’all” she heard last week. Not for herself so much as her mother. Sheila Rosenberg might champion the whole gay thing, but not so much if she thought the girl in question was…culturally disadvantaged.
And Willow didn’t dare say anything. Not with Buffy and Raylan joined at the hip…there wasn’t a good time to say “Stop giving my girlfriend yokel lessons!” Not that Raylan actually *was* a yokel…he just knew a lot of them. He looked over at her, questioning, one eyebrow raised, which was, like, so annoying. Not only did he seem like he could read her mind, but sometimes? When he looked over at her that way, she…felt stuff. Definite non-gay, non-proud, bad-friend flutters in her belly. Sometimes she was just as glad when Buffy didn’t come back to the dorm at night. Shifting uncomfortably in her chair, Willow focused on her baby’s amazing aura-reading talent.

“You have recently made a major life decision.” Tara said, softly.

Raylan thought Yeah, sure, so’s everybody.

“Life and death.” Tara added. “Don’t explain…just tell me if that makes sense.”

“Yes, ma’am, it truly does.” But he wasn’t really thinking anything but how soft the witch’s hands were and how they smelled like that lotion that smelled like cherries. Maybe Buffy told her some Arlo stories.

“I’m seeing a woman in authority. And I’m seeing that it isn’t the first and it won’t be the last.No matter how much you wish…death is your gift.”

“A woman? There must be some mistake. And, death a gift? I thought getting clothes I had to grow into was bad.” He managed a weak smile, and heard Xander laugh, but somehow this reading was no longer fun.

He’d been fit to be tied when he’d gone to see Professor Walsh after Buffy got that broken Initiative tazer and he’d made no secret of it. “What the hell are you doing, you psychotic harpy?”

She’d been scared, no doubt about it. Most people were when they saw the things Raylan generally held back come into full flower, but being a cold fish by nature,she tried to hide by backing up behind her desk and looking superior.
“Well, if this is that much-vaunted Southern chivalry, I’d say it’s highly overrated.”

“And I’d say that killin’ people ought to cut into your dudgeon a speck, but here we are.”

“Raylan, I told you I’m sorry about Buffy’s botched training exercise, but you can see yourself that she was resourceful and escaped.”

“No thanks to you. And don’t lie to me, neither, cause if you lie, I might do something I regret. And not just about Buffy. What did you do to Riley Finn? The autopsy report said his heart was practically liquified when he expired. Poor bastard.”

“Go ahead….tell someone what you *think* you know…it’s your military career, not mine.”

“Here’s the thing… I know for a fact that my military career has…what-do-you-call-it, plateaued a bit. Not because I can’t fight, as you can confirm from your intense desire to either vomit or piss yourself right this very minute,or because I’m not loyal to folks that deserve it…in which case, you, Maggie (continued...)