Ahhh... More V!Giles fic on an otherwise crappy day. Thank you so much, Connie.

BTW, I absolutely adore the way Xander and Baynar interact. I always got the idea that Xander would be a cool dad.

Yay, Connie.

KAY

It’s weird. As much as I’ve thought I’d had a death wish lately, when I thought the monster inside Munch was gonna suck the life out of me, I still wanted to fight. The image of the fangs still creeped me out, but not as much as what I’d almost let him do in my dreams.
Cause I’ve been doing my research, huh? When the Angel gang is out on another job, or de-sliming the streets, or whatever the hell they do(I’ve been trying to research that, too, but they don’t have a Board. If I do what I’m thinking, and stick around, learning the demon-fighter thing, things are just gonna have to get more organized, no matter how much Wesley loves his dusty little engravings. These streets are crazy now...who the hell cares what happened in the fourth century? Not Kay Howard, anyways, even though I like how it sounds when Wesley says it.

I couldn't work like this. Where was I? I’m getting all ranty, like the Munchkin, huh) Anyway, I looked up the dreams I’ve been having...the next step would be my drinking his blood, probably after we have sex. Then DreamKay is on the Transylvania Express. Jesus...in real life I don’t always like it when a guy leaves his toothbrush, and in my sleep, I give up my soul?! The next thought is “Think about it, Kay. No more mammograms.” No more heartbeat. No more nutrition from solid food. No more awkward post-shooting sex with Ed Danvers. It was decent before, even good(nothing like I told Frank, though) but since the shooting, he gets freaked by the scars on my chest...wants the lights out and he’s always asking about my diet...and well, worrying that I’m over-exerting, huh? (Feel free to edit that part out later. I was just being woman-to-woman, but I don’t want it on the news, right?) They are pretty dramatic, but not too bad for a woman who’s been ripped open and stuck together with duct tape.
I think Ed just doesn’t want to think about how vulnerable somebody he knows could be. Victims are those people with their names on the file folders, right? Not somebody you love...somebody you kiss. I don’t want to make Ed the bad guy here...I’m sure it’s the same feeling that drove me to consider suicide on a rooftop in Tinseltown, huh? Vampire Munch would probably think the surgical scar by my heart is sexy. It’s like a zipper or a lightning bolt and it intersects my breast and he thinks everything’s sexy, anyway. Or he did when he was a person. And I think a lot of vampires are just urges with fangs.
If I were a younger woman, I might put a tattoo there, some kind of climbing vine with flowers on it. But you have to wait a year for the skin to recover, and I’m too old for that kind of nonsense(and I can just imagine the variations of that story circulating the coffee room, huh? Before the ink dries, it’ll get around that I have some kind of holographic sexual suggestion there, some new erogenous zone that if a guy touches it, he can drive me insane. I might not know demons, but I know the guys, God help me. )Against my will, the image of Munchkin kissing the raised white ridge of my surgical scar floods me with feelings. I have to back him up and fast...my soul’s at stake.

I’m halfway through my Dirty Harriet spiel when I realize I can’t even fake it. In addition to leaving the stake Wesley gave me on the dresser at the Hyperion, the pants I covered myself with only look like they have pockets. Son of a...am I felony stupid, or what? Survive getting shot by a dirtbag only to die because I’m dumb. But instead of lunging on me, and covering me with his cape like Bela Lugosi, he stands there smirking and making a dirty joke...like Munch. He looks relieved when I tell him to give it a rest. Probably like foreplay to him by now.

Speaking of foreplay, it was probably incredibly easy for that undead bitch to get her fangs in him. Munch is too forthcoming with women. One good kiss and he’s in love. Two good kisses and I gotta spend the next office party entertaining the latest Psycho Squeeze. He probably fell for the hair toss, that little thing where you touch a guy’s arm to show him how close you wanna get, and if I had to guess, she laughed at his jokes. (Just cause I don’t play games doesn’t mean I don’t know how to play,huh? And if you laugh at Munch’s jokes, he’ll follow you anywhere.) And knowing him, he didn’t twig to what was going on till it was too late.
Such a smart guy, with such a big blind spot. I get choked up when I think of what happened next. The intense pain, the random funeral and burial that asshole Bernie arranged on the cheap. I would have been there...it's the least a friend could do, but the way it turned out, I guess his brother being a creep was lucky. If I had known all that, they'd have to work on my heart again. I already met Bernie once, when he came by with some paperwork after Crosetti...well, after Crosetti. He called me Legs. I hate him, honestly, although after what happened, it feels creepy to say stuff like that.

erika, I have no idea how to highlight the section II want - I'm on a mac and it doesn't love me - but that whole introspective thing there just floors me. I love her when she's being honest with herself and doing it in a purely female way; Kay's big thing with herself, one of them anyway, always seemed to me to be about her believing she had to feel like one of the boys to stay even. And she so didn't.

And the idea of her whipping AI into shape - probably over Cordy's outraged screams - is a thing of purest beauty.

Yeah...I think she likes being, you know, one of the guys some of the time. I think she's very proud of being macha, but when something's really bothering her, it's a liability. Like when her sister had the biopsy, and Beau's like "Wanna talk about it?"
And she says "You're a MAN!" like "You're a complete, stupid, piece of shit."(Which he kind of is, but not that second.)
And even I've noticed that a lot of times on Angel they don't know where each other is(oh, gonna need the jaws of grammar here) But that would drive Kay crazy. Cause Gee taught them "Your partner is like your lover. He should never be far from your thoughts."

Connie, I love the Xander and Baynar interaction. This story is so comforting for some reason. It makes me feel flinchy, waiting for whatever's coming next.

Erika, that's just wonderful. I love the inner dialogue and the characters and you're the one who made them real to me.

To me there is no higher calling. Except maybe the actual "working for God" which circumstances have not fitted me for.Jeez, dramatic much? But it makes me proud to read that, especially when what I hear from fandom can be summarized by the new tag. And I hope each story brings me closer to being able to do the same for characters of mine. Sometime.(And I love the Dumpster scene...the response is great, and I thought it was funny...I still do. But I'm not Dumpster Sex Woman.)

It makes me feel flinchy, waiting for whatever's coming next.

Not the most unwise of reactions . . .

I love the Xander and Baynar interaction. This story is so comforting for some reason. It makes me feel flinchy, waiting for whatever's coming next.

this. I'm too familiar with connie's work to get too comfy.

erika, the introspection is masterful.

More, please. Both of you.

It's a trend, I tell you! More fic!

Both Joyce and Xander joined the community for Vespers. The sun wouldn't set for several hours yet, but the times of prayers had been standardized generations before to avoid bunching up all the observances at one end of the day or the other. Baynar tried to sneak away from his mother when he saw Xander in the chapel, but Savlin told him firmly to sit still. Xander gave him the best stern look he could manage without laughing until Baynar slouched in defeat and sat quietly.

Supper was a different matter, and Savlin let her son wiggle in next to his human friend to continue chattering in English/Minoto. Xander felt momentarily disoriented when he saw that Joyce's indulgent smile was nearly identical to Savlin's. The Mom thing transcended species, obviously. Fortunately he was distracted from contemplating his own parents by the arrival of a peach cobbler Sister Teresa had put together from the food gifts Joyce had brought.

The three novices sat at the end of the table nearest Sister Agnes. She kept a close but genial eye on them, giving them pointed looks whenever their whispering became a bit too intense. Sister Teresa made sure everyone had seconds, though Joyce tried to demur at more peach cobbler.

"You are too thin," Sister Teresa said firmly. "You've been ill, you need to feed yourself up so you can get well."

Xander failed to muffle his snicker, and Joyce turned to glare at him. She finally sighed, though not too hard. "All right, I'll have more of the cobbler."

"Good for you. And you'll sleep well in the guestroom tonight, and I'll give you a big breakfast tomorrow."

Sister Teresa bustled away, and Joyce sighed more sincerely. "I'm going to go home having gained five pounds." She glanced at Xander.

"I didn't say anything," he protested. "I know far, far better than to make any kind of comment in a conversation involving women and weight. Not me, no, sir."

After supper, Xander went back to the stable, followed by Baynar. They worked until Sister Dymphna brought the cows and the plowhorse in from the meadow.

"And that will be enough for tonight, gentlemen," she said firmly. "Zorrababel, Hepzibah and Mehitable need their sleep."

Out of the corner of his eye, Xander saw Baynar yawning. "Looks like someone else does, too."

"And so do you," Sister Dymphna said. "You drove all that way and you've worked all afternoon. You must be ready to drop."

He shrugged. "If I work hard, then I sleep well. Otherwise I just toss and turn. I'll be fine. Do you need any help with the animals?"

"Not at all. This is my favorite time of the day, when I settle them for the night. You two go on to bed now."

Baynar tried to distract Xander with something interesting further down the road from the convent, but this time Xander was firm. The little demon made loud protests, which immediately stopped when they met Savlin coming out of the dormitory.

"Here he is," Xander said, "safe and sound and fighting tooth and tail against going to bed."

Savlin nodded. "It is the same every night. But he will cooperate soon enough."

Baynar's face screwed up as he fought another yawn, which escaped despite his best efforts. Savlin picked him up and cuddled him against her shoulder. "Say good-night to Xander, little one. You will see him in the morning." Baynar tried to protest, but yet another yawn interrupted him, and he rested his head tiredly on his mother's shoulder before he caught himself.

Xander grinned. "Good night, Baynar. See you in the morning."

Baynar said something sleepy. Savlin smiled. "Good night, Xander."

He watched the two of them go back into the dormitory. For the first time all day, there was silence around him. He almost started towards the dormitory in search of company, but unlike the silence of his apartment in Sunnydale, this silence held a subnote of peace, despite what had happened here just a few months ago.

He listened to the birds in the trees and the cicadas in the grass. The sun was warm on his head, and he could smell the dry dust--and the chickens. Finally he let his mind relax a little and tried not to flinch as the echos of screams and gunshots returned to the corners of the courtyard around him.

Now he was glad he'd come with Joyce. Tara spoke of the great wheel of life and death, light and dark. Now he had different memories he could lay over those of that dark, bloody night.

He started towards the dormitory to ask when a young man could get a thorough wash without running the risk of shocking anyone, but stopped after a couple of steps. No one was around, no one was watching him with caring, concerned eyes. No expectations or worries haunted him with accusations that he wasn't dealing with matters the way that he should. There was something he needed to do before he could honestly think he was on his way to settling things. Glancing around once more to make sure he was unobserved, he walked slowly out the front gates, around the walls, and up the slope to the olive grove and the memories sleeping there.