Bordello

Bordello


Disclaimers: I don’t own any of the characters depicted herein. Wish I did but it’s all Joss.
Spoilers: Up to and including Season 7-Chosen
Summary: Andrew and Xander do some healing after Chosen.
Pairing: Xander/Andrew
Ratings Note: NC-17
Author’s Note: I know Andrew and Xander aren’t the most, ahem, sexy couple. I always thought that Andrew should be happy, though. This piece starts out pretty light but it gets a little angsty. Just a warning for those who don’t like drama with their porn.
Pet Peeve #38: Sand in my bathing suit. If there are places I haven’t been, sand should be there either.
Feedback: Yes, please. scarletsfiction@yahoo.com
Dedication: To Kaz, of course. She is the World’s Best Beta.

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Life does not cease to be funny when people die any more than it ceases to be serious when people laugh.

-George Bernard Shaw

~~~


“You know what this place needs?”

“A jacuzzi?”

“Hey-yeah!” Xander squirmed excitedly. “But no, that’s not what I was gonna’ say. It needs a big screen T.V. on the ceiling. That would be so cool. You know? So you could just pop in “Debbie Does Dallas” or something when you need to rest. All sex-all the time.”

After a pause, Andrew spoke up. “You mean like with J.R. and Sue Ellen?”

Xander groaned. Andrew’s obsession with pop culture obviously didn’t extend to classic porn. “No, you big freak. Never mind.”

Xander stretched languidly on the enormous bed. Draped in blue velvet (and didn’t Andrew sing a few lines of that ditty upon first seeing it) it occupied most of the room in which the two dutiful Scoobies now waited.

“I’m hungry,” Andrew whined. Xander could relate, but he would not be letting on. He had an image to maintain. A battered, broken-hearted, one-eyed, scabby, and rather itchy image, but an image none the less. He asked himself for the millionth time in his twenty-two long years how he got himself in this mess. Demon magnet, butt monkey, visually challenged and now, possibly, gigolo? Wait, wasn’t a gigolo supposed to get gold chains and Richard Gere’s deadpan smolder? He’d been gypped.

It was all Ethan Rayne’s fault. Damn British bastard. Xander had been perfectly content with the way things were going up until yesterday. The large farmhouhat hat Giles had purchased and Xander had renovated (well, instructed Willow and the slayers to renovate-they of the extraordinary depth perception) had happily housed them for several months. Only an hour from Cleveland-and a l, yl, yet powerful Hellmouth-word had begun to spread and slayers had begun to trickle in. Buffy’s small band of Slayerettes rose to the challenge. No longer relegated to the rank of sidekick, Xander grinned with the knowledge that he was a…well…what would he be called? Not really a Watcher-he wasn’t nearly British enough for that-but something…special.

Then came that heavy knocking at the door and the sure knowledge that whoever stood on the other side would only bring trouble. He remembered that knock four Thanksgivings ago. He’d been in a sweaty, syphilis stupor when Captain Peroxide had graced their presence in supplication for the first, but not the last, time. Then again, from a certain perspective, that hadn’t turned out…No, he wouldn’t let his mind go to that place. Too new. Too raw. Better to think of the here and now. Don’t dwell on the past. What’s done is done. Don’t cry over spilt milk. All that stuff you were supposed to say when something so huge has happened that you can’t put an image of it in your mind for fear of weeping with abandon until your remaining eye swells shut. Or maybe that was just his experience.

“I wish we had some Doritos.” Actual tears were only moments away. Xander could tell the signs by now.

“Yeah, that’s sexy, Andrew. ‘Please Mistress, can we have some Doritos? We had to stop with the Boinkfest to load up on salty snacks.’ ” Xander rolled his eye.

“You know, Xander, I don’t see you contributing much to this situation. You’re just lying there. Maybe…I’ll just tell the Mistress that you had a headache and that’s why there aren’t, um, Happy Sounds coming from this room.”

Xander gritted his teeth. “There aren’t any Happy Sounds because no one in here is HAPPY!” They’d been in the room for nearly an hour. The illusive Mistress was taking her time. He shifted and felt himself slide a little on what he imagined were satin sheets beneath the velvet. Could his night get any weirder?

***

“The Mistress has information. You want it. That’s all I’ll tell you.”

Xander watched Giles’ eyes squint with irritation. He knew the ex-Watcher was very close to committing bodily injury against his old chum. As it was, he chose to sip demurely on his cup of tea. Andrew shifted uncomfortably on the small couch next to Willow. Dawn was perched on the arm, twirling hair through her fingers. No one spoke for several moments, then Ethan finally broke.

“—About the Hellmouth. And a certain organization that may be trying to open it. And that is really all I’m going to tell you.” Ethan sat fuming in the tall wingback chair reserved for guests they wanted to make especially uncomfortable.

“I must ask…,” Giles began, and then a rather humorous smile broke his façade. “Why in the world would you even imagine that we would take anything you have to say seriously?”

“I have this on good authority.” Giles snorted. “I’m just trying save my own skin, Ripper—“ Ethan began to defend himself. In less than a moment, Giles was across the small study that served as a meeting room. One arm propped his body against the back of the chair. The other gripped the dark haired man’s throat. His face was red with barely controlled anger, but his voice was even.

“I have told you many times, Ethan, that you may not call me that anymore. Now, I think we’ve heard all we need to hear. Please. Leave.”

Giles released the man’s neck-now purple and beginning to bruise. He stepped back and removed his glasses, polishing them meticulously.

Ethan rose to his feet. As the tall man approached the door he paused, considering. Turning, he slipped his hand into his front pocket and tossed an object at Giles. The usually stoic man cringed instinctively as something shiny struck the bookshelf where his chest had been moments before.

“A gift, Rupert. Just in case you reconsider…and just a thought, but I’d send the boy.” He nodded to Xander. “I’m afraid you or your dark friend would not be as welcome there.” This last comment was addressed to Robin, who bristled. “Oh, it’s not your color, I can assure you. It’s just that the Mist wou wouldn’t be as fond of your unique stature as they would be of your one-eyed co-worker.”

“Hey!” Xander protested at the eye comment, then, “HEY!!!” as he realized that in some way he wasn’t quite sure of, he was being insulted. “I’ll have you know, buddy, that I have a fine stature! I’m athletic and sturdy. I’m like a mighty oak. A…big one.”

“Oh, I’m sure that you are.” Ethan raised his eyebrows suggestively, then turned and made his way to the door. “I’ll show myself out.”

Andrew was the first to scramble to the spot on the carpet where Ethan’s “gift” lay.

“Don’t touch it!” Faith reprimanded sharply, but Andrew already had the small charm in his hand. He dropped it, instantly imagining the flesh on his hand melting or boils forming under a hex from the scary Englishman. Willow joined him on the carpet. She studied the object for a moment and then picked it up.

“Don’t touch it!” Andrew squealed, unintentionally mimicking Faith.

“Relax Andrew. It’s not magical.” She tossed it lightly in her hand and passed it over to Giles who squintedit iit intently.

“So what is it?” Dawn asked impatiently.

“It appears to be a key. It’s very old…” Giles began pacing in front of his books, trying to remember the significance of the tiny trinket. Robin stood up.

“What do you think it opens, Rupert? A door? A lock?” Robin asked.

“It’s really small. Maybe it opens a locket or a book?” Willow suggested.

“Oh, like Marcia’s diary. You know, the one they bought her after Dezi Arnaz…Junior…” Andrew trailed off when he noticed The Look. Xander had to admit that the guy was getting pretty good at identifying The Look and shutting up accordingly. It was a lesson he had learned himself.

Giles didn’t even notice. “If I’m not mistaken, this key opens neither a door nor a lock. If it is what I think it is, I believe it’s the possession of the object itself that holds significance. Good lord. I hadn’t realized that these were still circulating. Do you see these two symbols?” The gang eagerly leaned in to examine the key.

“Hey, get your elbow out of my armpit!” Andrew complained as Rona moved in front of him.

“Get it out yourself,” she challenged, raising a single eyebrow. Andrew gulped and moved to let Rona go in front of him.

“I do believe Ethan may have been telling the truth about the Mistress; in part anyway.” Giles plucked a t plu plum colored book from the shelf and thumbed quickly through the pages. “Yes, the palm and serpent are generally accepted as her sign. Whether this key is authentic or not remains to be seen.”

“Even if it is hers, Ethan could be-well, probably is-lying.” It was the first time Buffy had spoken since Ethan had arrived and it startled Xander. It appeared to startle Giles as well.

“Yes, yes. Of course. You’re probably right.”

“Then again, if some big beasty is planning on opening the Hellmouth, I’d-we would-probably like a little ‘heads-up.’ “

“Of course. We’ll want to be prepared when, if, there is a threat to…ahem...the Hellmouth.” Silently, Xander cringed and wondered when the enormous white elephant called Sunnydale was going to finally trudge back to where it came from. Hum...Elephants were from Africa, right? Any trudging would have to be on a boat, of course. An elephant couldn’t trudge across the ocean alone. How would it breathe? Would it dog paddle? Then would you call it elephant paddling?

“…be Xander.”

“Exqueeze me? What?” Damn elephant tangent.

“I said that if Ethan is correct about the key, then we must assume he is also correct about sending you, Xander, as its messenger.”

“You really wanna listen to that guy?” Xander was horrified.

Buffy stood up. “I’ll go. I could use a little action.”

“Thank you for your offer, Buffy, really, but—“

“See, even Buffy thinks I’m the last person you should be sending on a mission.”

“Look, Xander, I’m loathe to send you into what is almost certainly a trap but whether Ethan’s motives are pure or not, part of his story does appear to be correct and I think it behooves us to examine all of our options. Now, for some reason, Ethan felt you would be the best conduit for this reconnaissance. Perhaps the Mistress respects youth, or fears the mystic. Whatever the reason, I do suggest we research further before sending you into the lion’s den.”

Giles began picking books from his shelves and making notes as the Scoobies settled in to their now-familiar spots for research.

Research first and virtually death-defying mission later. “ At least some things will never change,” Xander thought to himself.

***

“Okay, my turn. Ginger or Maryanne?”

Xander pondered that one. “See, I know I’m supposed to choose Maryanne ‘cuz she’s all sweet and ‘girl next door’, but you gotta give credit to the tramp, you know?”

“Yeah…I liked the professor.” Andrew looked wistful for a moment. Xander raised an eyebrow at the blond boy. “Uh, I mean Maryanne.”

“My turn. Scully or Xena?”

“Xander, I can’t answer. It’s, like, asking me to choose which limb to cut off. It’s a Sophie’s Choice.”

“Fair enough.” Xander rubbed a tender spot on his chest where tape had ripped the hair clean off. His stomach was beginning to become an issue. “You know, for being a Porn Palace and all, they really should have some seductive snacks or something.”

“Like strawberries and champagne,” Andrew volunteered. Xander stared at him. “Hey, I’m a happenin’ guy, well versed in the art of seduction…and I saw Pretty Woman fourteen times.”

Xander was not surprised. “Oooh! And whipped cream, too.”

“Yeah, and chocolate syrup! And filet mignon.” Andrew was getting into this game.

“Hum, you know what I would like?”

“Bionic vision?”

“Very funny. No, some of Giles’ scotch. You know, that good stuff he keeps in cabinet that we pretend isn’t there until after he goes to bed?” Xander rubbed his hands devilishly.

“Oh, yeah! That would be cool…”

Andrew stretched out on the bed, hanging his feet off the end.

“Okay, new one. Spiderman or Batman?” Xander asked.

“Keaton or Kilmer?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Andrew was horrified. “Doesn’t matter? How can you say that…?”

***

“Tell me again, why hav have to wear a wire?” Xander itched uncomfortably as Dawn added another piece of tape to his chest.

Giles explained.“Because, Xander, we want to be able to monitor the situation. If Ethan has a trap set for us, we’ll be able to get in and get you out of there before you are put in any danger. Now listen to me. I want you to be very careful. All of my research indicates that Ethan was telling the truth, but the Mistress is a very old and very powerful being. You must be cautious. In and out. Find out what she knows, then leave. That’s it. Have you got it?”
eah,eah, Giles. I think I can remember ‘get in’ and ‘go’.”

Dawn stood and stretched her legs. “Well, the wires should hold up. Just don’t get them wet.”

“Because I was planning on showering with them?” Xander teased. Dawn threw a roll of medical tape at him but he dodged it easily. “And the one-eyed man wins again!” Xander made an attempt at a noogie but Dawn sidestepped him and picked up her supplies before she raced out of the room.

Giles and Xander were alone. The silence hung heavy in the air. Giles obviously had something to say and that rarely turned out well.

“Xander—“

“Oh no. Not the Xander Speech. What is it this time? ‘Xander, we think you may have a mystic STD?’ or ‘Xander, your girlfriend is a liver-eating demon?’ or—“

“I think you should take Andrew with you.”

“Um, could I take the liver-eating demon instead?”

“I’m serious, Xander. Look, I know Andrew can have his moments, but he respects you a great deal and I think it would be good for him if he could contribute in some way-you know, make him feel useful.”

“If you want him to help out, then let him polish the weapons, Giles. Don’t send him on a reconnaissance mission that might get me killed!”

“Xander, I think you’re being overly dramatic.”

“Maybe I am, but that guy is just so…”

“I think it would be good for you two to spend some tiogetogether.”

“Absolutely not! No way.” Xander was firm, firm, firm. If he had to go on this mission, no way was that geek going to sidekick him. “I’ll take Dawn or one of the slayers. Anyone else.”

“Can I be honest, Xander?” Giles removed his glasses and began rubbing them absently. “You’ve done remarkably well here. Guiding, leading. I’m very proud of you. But I observe you at times and I see pain. I know that pain you’re feeling. I felt it myself when Jenny was taken and I see it mirrored in that young man’s face. You’ve experienced great loss. We all have. But you may have found the one person for whom Anya’s death was as painful as it was for you. You-you need each other, Xander, and if you weren’t so-so pigheaded, you might see that. Can you do that? Can you admit that there might be others in as much pain as you?”

Xander remained shamefully silent.

***

“Mr. T or Gary Busey?”

“Steel cage or just the ropes?”

“Um…just the ropes.”

“Mr. T now or Mr. T circa A-team?”

“Whichever.”

“Hum…tough one…I’d still have to vote for the man with the teeth. You gotta’ give odds to the guy who could actually remove your skin with his choppers. ”

“Oh, yeah. Good point.” Andrew began flipping tiny balls of toilet paper into the ice bucket at the end of the bed.

“Hey, four out of five. Not bad.”

“Thanks. I usually do it with playing cards, but…”

“You must have had some really exciting weekends, Andrew.”

“It’s not so bad.” Andrew retrieved the tiny balls as Xander checked his watch. “How long?”

“Two hours.”

“Well, how long do we have to wait until we give up and decide that she’s just never coming to see us?”

“I don’t know. Another hour?”

“Okay…my turn for Celebrity Deathmatch…steel cage suspended over the arena…Jerry Springer or Gary Busey?”

“Oh Springer. Without a doubt…”

***

Buffy opened the freezer and pulled two frozen waffles from its frosty interior. She shut the door with a slam. Xander was pouring juice into large tumblers that advertised Biff’s B-B-Q as the best ribs in town. After several greasy meals, neither Buffy nor Xander could say that they agreed with the claim.

“So I told him, ‘Just because you live here doesn’t mean you can use my gel without asking.’ I mean, what kind of country does he think this is? Some kind of…of…gel-taking-allowing…country?’ Or something that makes a little more sense and sounds twice as threatening. And that’s not the first time he’s taken stuff without asking. He took one of Robin’s beers last week. You have no idea how much sweet-talking it took to keep that guy from burning Andrew’s X-men collection.”

“You just have to know how to deal with him, Buff. He’s not so bad. Its just time you learned that that guy has no boundaries. I swear I caught him wearing Anya’s coat the other day. I mean, it’s a girl’s coat. You would think, ‘Hello? Gay factor?” but he just doesn’t care. I mean, it’s just a—just a coat.” Xander’s voice hitched slightly, catching him off-guard. “I mean, it’s hers, but he really shouldn’t—shouldn’t be…shouldn’t be doing that.” He picked up a glass of juice and gulped it swiftly, not meeting Buffy’s eyes.

Buffy took a deep breath. “Look, I’ve been seriously thinking about something. I think we need to ask him to leave. He isn’t helping at all and he keeps making a nuisance of himself. He has no consideration for other people and that guy only brings death and destruction to everyone he sees. I think I’m going to talk to Giles about sending him someplace where he’ll annoy less. Maybe Giles can find someone who will see his redeeming features, because I’m sorry but I just don’t.” She narrowed her eyes and gritted her teeth with resolve. She had been complaining about the blond boy for nearly fifteen minutes and Xander couldn’t take it any more. Sure, the guy was a pain in the ass, but he had—he’d…

“Leave him alone, Buffy.”

“What?”

“I said, leave him alone.” He slammed the tumbler on the table, sloshing citrusy goodness on the counter. His eye was blazing with defensiveness. “You hate the guy. I got that. But you know, he also contributed a lot—contributes a lot that you don’t know about, okay? He’s smart and he’s loyal. Sure, he’s not always loyal to the right people and okay, he killed his best friend but he’s trying to make things right and…and he…” Damn. Xander could feel tears burning and tried to blink them back. “He was good to Anya. She died saving his life and she…she would want him here. So I guess I want him here.”

Buffy was sipping her juice and gazing steadily at the ranting young man.

“ I don’t ask for much around here, but I’m asking for this. And if you really insist on sending him away…then…then you’re not the person I thought you were. Andrew doesn’t deserve to get ‘voted off’ because he used your hair care product without permission. And what kind of person would make that decision and then pawn it off on Giles to tell him? I mean, that’s just so…so…cruel…and you’re never cruel, Buffy. Cordelia maybe, but not you. This whole conversation is ridiculous. It’s so…so…”

Buffy allowed a Cheshire smile to graze her lips.

“…so freaking much a set-up that I can’t believe I fell for it,” Xander sighed.

The waffles popped out oe toe toaster and Buffy leaned across her friend to get them. “Giles told me he was having some trouble convincing you to let Andrew go with you today.”

“Buffy—“

“No, Xander. Just let me say this and then you can finish your breakfast. I’m not usually one to defend the guy but everything you said is true. Isn’t that enough? Giles asked you, I’m asking you, and if we’re being honest…I think Anya would like you to let him do this. Xander, he fought by her side. Why isn’t he good enough to fight beside yours?”

Xander’s heart was beating steadily in his chest. Buffy’s words had begun to sink in. He sighed in resignation. Damn conscience.

“Tell Dawn that we’ll need another wire. But let it be known now that if I have to hear his Voyager vs. Next Generation debate, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

***

“See, because she’s a woman. I mean, could you see Picard doing that? That’s all I’m saying.” Andrew was silent, having made his point. “So…who do you think would win in a fight-Willow or Fa”
”

“You can’t ask me that question. Willow is my best friend—“

“And Faith would kick her ass, right?”

“—before Willow could say ‘abracadabra.’ “

They sat in a comfortable silence. Xander took an opportunity to appraise the other young man. Andrew had gotten taller in the last year. Stronger. He was still, well, Andrew. But given the right incentive, he could probably take on a small Lothor demon. Or maybe Dawn. Well, maybe one of the new Slayers. A really new one…that was suffering from mono.

“How long now?”

“Almost three hours.” Xander’s stomach growled loudly.

“I KNEW IT! You’re hungry, too!!! I knew it wasn’t just me! And you sat there and told me it was just me and that is so unfair!”

“Quit whining, you damn baby. Yes, I’m hungry, okay? But complaining isn’t going to get us anything to eat. Getting the hell out of here and to a clean, yet eientient Burger King is going to get us something to eat. Now, quit talking about it because you’re just making it worse.”

They sat listening to their stomachs growling in unison.

***

The Bordello sat on a corner not usually frequented by humans. Located on a dimensional crossroads, it could only be accessed by reciting an incantation and burning an offering-in this case, Dawn’s strawberry incense. Much begging had gone into getting it-resulting in the promise of one chick-flick and a milkshake from Giles.

“I’m really good at demon languages, Xander. You should be the one holding the Stinky Sticks.”

“It’s English, you doofus, and I don’t trust you with anything demon-related, okay?”

Xander was referring to his former construction site where the guys still called Buffy ‘That crazy girl with the nice ass.” Andrew’s crushed face brought a shameful blush to Xander’s.

“You know, ‘cuz of the demons you sent to Buffy….” Somehow, Xander wasn’t making things better with his big fat mouth. He was ashamed when he realized that Giles was probably listening to him hurt Andrew at that very moment. “Just—just hold that and don’t drop it.”

He began the incantation found in the book Giles had given him. The deserted streorneorner housed an abandoned grocery store and not much else. When they were finished, they waited expectantly.

Andrew stretched and rolled his head in boredom. “Well, that was just…lame.”

“Shut up, Andrew. We just need to give it time. Giles said…wait! Did you see that?”

The ripe fresh-rain smell of ozone began to permeate the air, though the sky was clear and the sidewalk dry. The shift came with sudden force and Xander found himself rubbing his eye.

“Did the grocery store turn into a big, white house or am I holding the incense too close? 'Cause this one time, Warren told me this stuff was patchouli, but—“

“—Shut up, Andrew. I think it worked.”


***

“It’s easy. Barry White.”

“The guy from The Brady Bunch?”

“That’s Barry Williams, you musical degenerate. Barry White? ‘Can’t Get Enough of Your Love Baby’?”

“Oh, that guy. Yeah, I guess he’d sing good make-out songs.”

“What about you?”

“Me?”

“Uh, yeah. You’re the only other one in the room. Who do you think would have good make-out songs?”

Andrew considered it for a moment.

“Chris Isaak.”

“Hmmm….Wicked Game. A classic. Good choice.” At Xander’s approving nod, Andrew grinned. “You know, for being a brothel, they should really have some mood music, too. I mean, no food, no music. This place doesn’t really inspire the lovin’.”

“I know. It’s kind of boring. But I’m actually having an okay time. Is that weird?” Andrew shifted in embarrassment. Xander looked at his ex-fiancé’s friend and found himself saying something that surprised him.

“It’s not weird. I’m having a good time, too.”

***

The two men approached the large white mansion with trepidation. Lush gardens and a small trickling spring had replaced the cracked pavement and abandoned grocery carts that had stood there moments before. As they drew closer to the ornate red door, they noticed something more than a little peculiar.

“There’s no doorknob. How do you open the door?” Andrew’s voice was tense. Apparently, he hadn’t thought too much about the actual meeting with demons and potential fighting that might ensue when he had agreed to go on this mission. Then again, how could he have said no when Mr. Giles had begged him, citing his expert knowledge of demon languages as an asset Xander would be unable to do without?

“I don’t know. Do you think there’s a secret knock or something?” Xander was perplexed. They stood at the front door for nearly ten minutes trying to decide what to do.

“Maybe we should just go home.”

“We’re NOT going home, you big wussie.”

“I’m not a wussie. I’m logical, okay?”

“You ARE a wussie and coming all this way just to turn around is NOT logical.”

“Just shut up!” Andrew whined, then shoved Xander lightly.

“You shut up!” Xander shoved back harder.

“Knock it off!” Andrew cried and pushed back and the two began to wrestle in a display of manliness that Xander thought rivaled the last time he and Harmony had fought. With one huge shove, Andrew tumbled toward the red door and found himself falling through to the other side…

***

“So you agree? Really?”

“Yeah, I mean, if you had gotten married right then, you two would have been miserable. She knew that, I think. She just didn’t want to admit it out loud. Once you’ve said something out loud…you can’t take it back. Ever. Believe me. I know.”

Xander let his mind dwell on that for a moment, then changed the subject.

“So…Demon languages. Giles tells me you’re really good with them. How did that come about?”

Andrew was silent for a while. “Actually, it was my brother, Tucker, that got me started with demon languages. He’s pretty good at ‘em. Well, some of ‘em. Not as good as me, but good. It’s sort of the only thing I’m better at. Not that that would matter to anyone. I mean, what would I tell my parents? ‘Tucker got into MIT on a full-ride scholarship, but I can speak six different dialects of Hintab in my sleep.’ Kind of doesn’t seem as impressive, you know?”

“Sounds pretty impressive to me.”

“Thanks.”

“Sibling rivalry. I get it. I mean, I don’t get it on account of being an only child, but I think I understand.”

“Could we just change the subject?”

“Sure, um…” Xander racked his brain for something to say. “So…was Mexico fun? Did you learn any Spanish?”

Andrew sat rigidly against the headboard. “Yeah, it was a barrel of monkeys, Xander. I hope I can help kill another one of your friends so I can go back and hide there in exile again.” His voice dripped sarcasm and Xander found himself cringing. “Maybe we just shouldn’t say anything for a while.”

Silently, they waited for the Mistress to release them from the embarrassed tension that had settled in the room.

***

“Do you have a key?”

The demon growled through the thin sheen of slime coating its lips. It was nearly eight feet tall and looked capable of reducing both men to a smear on the wall if given the chance. Xander had no idea what he was saying, but Andrew seemed to understand.

“He wants to see the key, Xander.” Andrew smiled nervously at the demon. He was rewarded with what appeared to be a lecherous grin. In horror, Andrew averted his eyes.

Xander chedched his deep pockets for the key. There was a moment of panic when Xander mistook a Chapstick for the key, but then his fingers clasped the cool metal and he withdrew it triumphantly. The demon took the key and nodded his approval, gesturing toward a hallway that led away from the spacious entryway they now stood in.

The ceiling was high and covered with gold engravings. The floors and walls were white and a large arrangement of unidentifiable flowers stood on an expensive table in the middle of the entryway, each stem reaching nearly 6 feet above Xander’s head.

“For a ‘house of ill repute’,” Xander whispered, “this place is definitely high-class.”

Andrew and Xander made their way slowly down the long corridor. Lined with doors, they could hear few sounds coming from them.

“Do you think it’s a good thing that there aren’t scary sounds or should we be nervous because there are scary sounds and this place is just noise-proof?” Andrew asked.

“Just be quiet and keep walking, little man.”

Not sure what they were looking for, they continued down the hall, finally stopping when they reached an intersection and a large demon stepped before them, instructing them in English.

“Remove your clothing.”

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Xander was suddenly very aware of the wires taped to their chests. “We just want to speak to the Mistress. We were told by someone she knows that she might be able to tell us something. We aren’t here for—“

“Remove your clothing.”

“Um, sir? Hey! Uh, my name is Andrew and I’m a big fan of the Kimtet-uh, you’re Kimtet, right?” The demon stood staring at the babbling youth. “Well, uh, I know your people are, uh, peace-loving and that you don’t usually use violence to, uh—“

“No one sees the Mistress without checking with me first. Remove your clothing or leave.”

The two Scoobies exchanged glances. Through unspoken agreement, they left their shirts until last, but when they found themselves standing in only t-shirts and underwear, the Kimtet demon tapped his clawed foot expectantly. Taking note of all possible exits, Xander slowly pulled his t-shirt over his head. Andrew did the same. The demon took in the electronic equipment without blinking.

“You are not permitted to bring objects of pleasure into The House. Anything you would like will be provided here for you. I must ask you to let me remove those.” The demon gestured to the wire and moved to peal it off of Andrew.

“You don’t understand. These aren’t objects of pleasure, Mr. Demon Kimtet, sir,” Xander began to babble. “These are…uh.” Words escaped him. Andrew’s eyes squinted at him. What was he doing? How could he explain that the wires snaking around his chest were electronic surveillance equipment intended to potentially bring down some of the patrons of this establishment? “Okay. Yeah, they’re mini-vibrators. Sure.” Andrew sighed with relief and Xander had only a moment to wonder when the tables had turned and Andrew had become the slightly cooler, confident one before his wire was grasped and the demon ripped it from his chest.

“Ow!!!” Xander screamed. In the places where the tape had been, Xander found himself staring at bare, hairless skin. Andrew squealed as the Kimtet removed his wire as well.

“I apologize if I have hurt you. You may redress. If you like.” The demon smiled coyly at the guys and Xander felt uneasy. There was definitely something strange going on-other than the whole Demon Whorehouse thing. He had the sneaking suspicion that the Kimtet was psychic. And maybe gay. A big, gay, psychic, demon. The hits just kept on coming.

“When you are finished, you may go to Room 14. The Mistress will see you when you have been approved.” The demon smiled wistfully as he walked off.

Xander was speechless and Andrew’s mouth hung lax. They scrambled quickly into their clothes. As Andrew pulled his Babylon 5 shirt over his head, Xander began searching the hallway for Room 14. Each door had a different number but they didn’t seem at all sequential. 26 was next to 7. 13 next to 128. In addition, each door was painted a different color. Dark pink for door 11. Rich wine red for 43.

“What do you think he meant by ‘approved.’ “ Andrew asked.

“Dunno. Maybe they need a credit check first.”

“He didn’t ask for our names.”

“Well, the Mistress will probably be by in a couple of minutes to ‘approve’ us then, I guess.” Xander was still searching for the correct room. 23…67…4…

“But he said we would have to be approved before we see the Mistress--Oh! Room 14!”

“Maybe he was confused.” Xander grasped the thankfully tangible doorknob and opened the dark blue door.

***

“I’m sorry, you know. I didn’t mean to hit a sore spot.”

“It’s no biggie. Let’s just forget it.” Andrew was staring at a scar on the back of his hand rubbing it roughly.

“I don’t know. Giles says that sometime it’s better to—“

“Just shut the fuck up, Xander!” The ferocity in the smaller guy’s voice silenced Xander instantly. The two men’s rapid breathing echoed through the room. After a few minutes, Xander spoke.

“Wow, Andrew…that was really….manly.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. Totally.”

“Thanks.” He tilted his head. “I was tryinr a r a sort of Pacino thing…”

“Scarface or The Godfather?”

“Scarface.

“It was close.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah.” Xander smiled at the blond boy. Andrew was about to say something when Xander stopped him.

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“Squeaking? Kind of like wheels on a gurney? God, I hope ‘approved’ doesn’t have anything to do with a freaky medical exam.” The two Scoobies strained to hear any sound that might be coming from the front door. After several moments, they relaxed.

“Maybe it was nothing,der.der. Just—“

“—SSSshhh!!!!!”

The door was opening.

***

“I just had a thought. What if ‘approved’ means, you know, um…You know?” Andrew was blushing furiously.

“Membership to the small but elite club known as “People Xander Has Slept With?”

“Yeah,” Andrew gulped nervously.

“Don’t worry. It couldn’t. Look at this room. It doesn’t have anything besides a bed to be, um, conducive to that kind of thing. No condoms. No lube. No chance in hell. Feel better?”

“Actually, many demon species don’t require additional lubricant because of the natural viscosity of—uh, shutting up now.”

“I don’t want to know how you learned that. Just, sit down and don’t talk. We’ll wait…”

After fifteen minutes had passed, Andrew began to grow restless with the silence. If he was honest with himself, Xander was itching to talk as well.

“You know, “ Xander began, “…it wouldn’t matter if ‘approved’ meant Boinkfest or not, because they don’t know what goes on in here.”

“I guess that’s true.” Andrew seemed relieved, then excited. “Maybe we are supposed to be, uh, going to the ‘happy place’. And all we have to do is wait a little while longer and then maybe they will think we, you know, and we’ll be approved anyway!”

“Andrew. You can say the word. It’s just sex.” Where did that come from? Xander could still remember countless times he’d mumbled and choked talking about sex with Willow and Buffy. Why did it seem like he was suddenly a suave guy in this place? Maybe it was Andrew. Next to him, anyone would look smooth.

“Right. Right, I know that. Just sex. I can say that. Sex. See? So…we just wait?”

“Yep. We wait.”

***

The door was pushed forward as a large silver cart was wheeled in. The two demons attending it eyed the young men with interest. The taller of the two-if he could be called tall at only four feet-moved forward and spoke.

“Naz—her reheit. Abund ca laher reley t.”
.”

Andrew looked confused. “Wein tet laher reley bitun? Hin shiref morher.” He paused and then added, “Hen wilhelm morani peta re’elet? Du morani pentua?”

The demon turned to his companion happily, repeating what Andrew had said. Enthused, the second demon stepped forward and began speaking excitedly.

“Arundi paru formiti puntaba wilfom. Vigo wilfom.”

Andrew squirmed with delight and responded. Xander watched this exchange with mounting confusion.

Finally, Andrew turned to Xander with awe. “They’re Elonian! Mr. Giles will be so thrilled when I tell him. There are only a few Elonian still—“

“What are they saying, Andrew?”

“Oh, they said they have brought the things we requested.”

“What things? We didn’t request anything.”

“Hold on, I’ll check.” Andrew turned to the demon attendants. “Paz, dieteras per tom’at kerlor? No dieteras?”

If Xander didn’t know any better, he would swear the demons were blushing. They whispered between themselves, as if trying to decide something. Finally, they seemed to come to an agreement. The smaller Elonian addressed Andrew and spoke rapidly. The boy looked confused but tried to follow what the little man was saying. He nodded. He listened. He nodded again. He listened again. He then paled and began choking. Xander moved quickly to his side, as the Elonian left, tittering quietly between themselves. Xander slapped Andrew on the back until the youth stumbled away, red-faced and heaving.

“What is it? Are you okay? What’s going on?”

He gestured to the silver cart still standing in the room. It was fitted with two large shelves, each holding several large covered domes. Xander lifted the largest dome from the cart, expecting dead rats or a bomb. On the silver platter rested a cut crystal decanter. Very old and obviously expensive, it appeared to contain scotch. Xander sniffed it. Yep, definitely scotch. He lifted another dome and then another. Strawberries, champagne, whipped cream, chocolate syrup, and filet mignon! His stomach growled. Oh dear lord! Doritos! He dove in, happily munching the yummy snacks.

“It’s about time that they fed us. Damn, I was starving! Hey, Andrew, get over and eat some of this. I’ve been thinking, have you noticed how every demon we’ve met here so far has been male? I mean, no women at all. You’d think that with this being a bordello and all, there would be women, but no.”

Andrew was regaining his composure. “Uh, Xander?”

“Yeah? Oh, you know, Angel told me about this place in L.A. that hires demon chicks and--Oh, look! There’s more down here.” The young man squatted on the floor, ready to lift the lids from the smaller platters.

“Xander…don’t you get it?”

“Get what?” he replied from the floor. Suddenly, the room was filled with music. The rich sound of Barry White echoed in the enclosed space.

“For the love of Goddess, Xander. Please don’t tell me I’m the brains of this operation?”

Xander lifted the lid on the first platter on the bottom shelf and dropped it to the ground with a clang. Lube. Lubricant. A lubricating product. Useful in the act of…of…

“AUGH!!!!!” Realization dawned on Xander and he choked on a mouthful of chips.

“Finally. I thought I was the only one riding this train of thought. What are we going to do? They can totally see us!”

Xander took in several panicked breaths. “What exactly did the Elonian say???”

“They said that the Mistress can see us-everyone here-and that she thought we could use this stuff. Oh, and that the Mistress would talk with us after, uh, we, uh, sex--”

“--Let’s just get the hell out of here!” Xander began grasping at the blue door. Locked. He ran his fingers around the edges, looking for a hinge to remove, anything, but he could find no way to break out.

“No can do!” Andrew was getting hysterical again. “They said that once you get in, you can’t get out except through the Mistress. The front door is a one-way deal. And you can’t navigate in here because every door just leads to a room or a passageway but that only the Mistress knows what order to take them in and I think I’m starting to hyperventilate again!!!!” Andrew began the large choking gasps once more.

Xander quickly poured a large tumbler of scotch.

“That.” gasp, “Doesn’t.” gasp, “Help.” gasp, “Hyper-“ gasp, “-ventilation.”

“No but it does help panic attacks.” Xander tossed back his drink in two large gulps and refilled it. “Why couldn’t Giles have sent that hot French slayer with me? Or that one that doesn’t wear any underwear? This is crazy. There is no way that—I mean, come on!!!”

Andrew edged his way to the cart and poured himself a glass of champagne and began to chug-a-lug. He winced as he swallowed and then began choking again.

“Jeesh, Andrew, will I have to start calling you Choking Boy after this?—Uh, don’t answer that.” Xander blushed furiously as he clapped Andrew on the back again.

“I’m fine. Pour me some more,” he challenged with false bravado.

“OK, one more glass, and then we’re going to have a good long talk about how the hell we’re going to get out of this mess.”

“Whatever we say, she’s just watching and listening, Xander. She’ll know whatever we decide.”

“True…but…there has to be a way to keep our conversation private. If we whisper, or if…”

“…if we hide!” Andrew jumped onto the bed and began scrambling for the bedspread.

“Um, what are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m making a fort.”

“Burying a Scooby Snack is what it looks like, but I’ll just stand here and enjoy the insanity.”

“Come on, Xan. Didn’t you ever read X-men under your covers after your mom told you to go to bed?”

“Actually, I don’t think she worried much about that. I usu usually the one putting her to bed. But Willow and I used to read Hardy Boys in a tent in her backyard in the summer. I guess it was sort of Scoobie Boot Camp when you think about it.” Xander kicked off his shoes and pulled back the covers, preparing to huddle. As afterthought, he grabbed the scotch. And the platter of steak. And…well heck. He wheeled the cart next to the bed and then climbed in. “Now think, Andrew,” he said as they pulled the bedspread over his head and dug into the food. The velvet was thick but the light in the room was powerful and a weak glow managed to diffuse through the fabric, casting odd shadows on the two young men. “Think hard. How are we going to escape?”

***

“And he hasn’t checked back in? No, no message.” Giles hung up the phone.

“Ethan left.” Buffy didn’t bother to form it as a question.

“It would appear so, yes. I don’t think we should jump to any conclusions, though.”

“Don’t jump to conclusions? Giles, we lost contact with Xander over three hours ago. What if he’s hurt? What if it was all a trap and Ethan is just using him for something? Maybe he’s trying to open the Hellmouth himself. Did you think of that?”

“Buffy, I am as concerned as you are, but we must remain calm. Our surveillance up until we lost contact leads me to believe that Xander and Andrew did, in fact, manage to make it into The House. All we have to do is follow their footsteps and we’re sure to find them again.”

“If we’re not too late.”

“My god, Buffy. When did you get so pessimistic?”

“Sorry, Giles. End of the world kind of does that to a girl.”

“Yes, but the world didn’t end, Buffy. A fact you seem to forget every day.” His eyes locked with his beloved Slayer and for a moment, he felt understanding in her glance.

She sighed. “So. We find them.”

*****

end of part 1