( continues...) up with that set of triplets, huh? They were triplets, weren't they?"

"All the parts matched that I got a look at. And I looked at most of them."

Xander frowned as more of his brain came on line. "Why are you remembering my dream? My fourteen-years-old, watched-too-much-cheesy-scifi dream? Why the fuck were you even *in* my dream? And why am I really sore and exhausted and feeling really damned smug?"

"Xander? Xander! Are you there?"

"And why is Giles at my door? Spike, go answer the door."

"No. Why?"

"Because I can't move, that's why."

"Toldja a human wouldn't be able to keep up." With a groan, Spike got to his feet and headed for the steps.

"Spike, you're naked!"

"Oh, well done, Holmes."

Xander was distracted by the fact that he was naked, as well. His boxers and t-shirt were laying on top of him instead of clothing him, and he was laying on top of his covers.

He heard the door open. "Oh, damn," Giles said. "You're here."

"Lovely day to you, too, ducks." Spike thumped back down the stairs and headed back to the chair. He took a sudden detour and collapsed face down on the sofa bed next to Xander.

"Hey!" Xander protested. "Off the bed!"

Spike did his most inspired impression of a corpse and said nothing.

Giles came down the stairs cautiously. "Xander? Oh, thank god. Are you all right?"

He clutched his clothes to him and stared. "What the hell are you doing here, Giles? Why wouldn't I be all right?"

The glasses were off and polished in record time. "Yes, well, hm. Well--"

"Spit it out, Watcher," came from the dead man in the covers.

"Yes." Giles took a deep breath. "The day before yesterday, I had a visitor. A very--odd visitor. I would have thought it was a prank of some sort, but I could tell she was using a very sophisticated translation spell."

"She?" Xander repeated. "Did this lady visitor of yours happen to be . . . orange?"

"Tangerine," came from the covers. Xander smacked the corpse's head. "Ow."

"Yes," Giles sighed. "She was, indeed, orange in color. I, um, gather you . . . met her?"

The corpse started chuckling, and Xander fought a grin. "Met is a good word. And yes, I--we did. So the very vivid and amazing dream I had last night wasn't a dream."

"No. The lady had a, well, proposition. Stop snickering, Spike. She's from another dimension, similar enough to our own. I didn't believe her, at first, but she told me that they planned to, well, borrow one or two, um, donors for, well, long-term use."

Spike sat up fast. "Long-term? You mean, there could have been more!? Damn you, Watcher! What did you do?"

"Really, Spike, you can't imagine I'd leave Xander in such a degrading predicament. As soon as I realized what had happened, I began work on a spell to bring him back. Unfortunately, I didn't take the time to exclude you in the retrieval."

"Tissues are on the other side of the bed, mate, if you want to have a good cry." Spike gave Giles a narrow look. "So why didn't they grab you? Or do I need to ask?"

"I'll have you know their primary consideration was whether we'd consider said donors a loss, not any considerations regarding ability or--and I refuse to finish that sentence. I don't remember the entire conversation, but I'm sure I mentioned your name. They must have taken Xander due to his proximity to you."

Xander was shaking his head slowly. "You mean--for the last two days, I was in another dimension . . ."

Spike patted his shoulder. "Sowing the seeds of love, mate."

"That is so incredibly gross, Spike."

"You're welcome."

"But it makes no sense! I watch Star Trek! There's no genetic diversity. They didn't even make sure it would work. They grabbed a vampire who shoots blanks and me. If they'd grabbed you, Giles, at least they'd be getting kids with brains."

"Piss poor fashion sense," Spike commented as Giles preened modestly, "but brains, (continued...)

( continues...) granted."

Giles glared at Spike, then looked back at Xander. "When you've, um, recuperated, I'd be very grateful if you could give me a report of what happened."

"Excuse me?" Xander blinked.

Spike snickered. "This would be for the NC-17 version of the Watchers' diaries, then, would it?"

"It's for scientific purposes purely."

"Right."

"In any case, Xander, whatever you want to tell me, I'd be very grateful. And, Spike, if you can keep it from sounding like a letter to Penthouse, I'd like your observations as well."

"Penthouse, eh? I had you pegged as purely a Playboy man."

Giles glowered and let himself out.

Xander was still staring off as Spike settled in next to him. "All those girls . . ."

"Yep. All those girls. Lovely girls. I wonder what the baby the little blue girl pops out'll look like. She was certainly determined, that one."

"Yeah." Xander shook himself and glared at Spike. "Why are you sitting on my bed? Why are we talking about this?"

"Reminiscing's half the fun, pet." He put one arm behind his head and began fondling his cock with the other hand. "Sometime's re-enacting's fun, too."

Xander let his eyes close. "Vampires. Get off of my bed." The last was half-hearted, and he let himself slip towards sleep. Then he woke up again. "When you say re-enacting, you do mean, just in your head, right?" All he got was a lewd chuckle. "You like girls, Spike. I *know* you like girls."

"Oh, I love girls. Wonderful, soft, wiggly girls." He pulled his hand from behind his head and patted Xander's hair.

"*I* like girls."

"I could tell, pet. And the girls liked you. I had a couple of minutes free time once in a bit, and I could tell you were having a very good time." The hair patting had turned to hair stroking. "Very pleasant to watch."

"If I could move, I'd throw you out of here."

Another chuckle. "You just catch up on your sleep, whelp. I'll keep an eye on you."

Reluctantly, inevitably, Xander felt his eyes close. He pried one open to peer up at Spike.

"What?" Spike asked.

"I'm picturing you painted blue."

"Pleasant dreams, mate."

The above has no artistic pretensions whatsoever, and no dreams of higher purpose. But at least it's out of my head.

Bwahahahahaha! And Connie brings the porn to match any décor.

All that sex appeal could make my head burst, Karl. Have you no compassion? That could be a force to bring Osama out of the mountains, but did they try that? No, just right for the missiles.

Victor -- I am so confused.

My own fuzzy-headedness at fault - why didn't I guess that Wes was the First?

My own fuzzy-headedness at fault - why didn't I guess that Wes was the First?

You mean, when he's introduced in a chapter called "Hide in Plain Sight?"

I don't remember the chapter titles.

Yes. I'm dumb.

Yes. I'm dumb.

No you're not. I just worked really, really hard to blindside people.

Did it work? And more importantly, did it work in a way that doesn't seem forced? I know there's still lingering questions there--we'll get to them, I promise, but does the real Wesley's reveal make sense?

Okay, I really really want to reread in a format that is not on-line. But I think it did.