Chronos' Puppet

The afternoon turned out better then either had hoped. Xander was thankful that Will had
adopted denial as a philosophy, and also that tea was an enjoyable thing when weighted
down with enough sugar to kill a horse. His suit had caused a fit of laughter when he put
it on, wiping the tears away when he saw himself head to foot in tweed. William,
thoroughly baffled, was by no means less confused when his friend offered a gasp of 'Giles'
as an explanation.

As it turned out the errand happened to be in a used bookstore where William had
agreed to deliver a few texts his father no longer needed for his English lectures at the
university. Xander took a moment to break off from the debate between the owner of the
store and his unlikely companion about the most influential poet of the age. He continued
to step backwards, nodding periodically in feigned interest until the last one swung him
around the corner and out of sight. 'Okay, if I was a book on magick where would I be?'
the brunette pondered mentally as he searched the shelves.

Ah hah! The spine of the Necronomicon peered unassumingly back at him and he
glanced over the mostly familiar titles on the rack. Practically every tome he happened
across on the shelf he had poured over during one of the Scooby research-a-thons, and it
was doubtful that any of the dusty books contained a time-warp incantation. Flipping
idylly through a random text he never heard the debate come to a halt, or noticed William
sneak up from behind and tap him on the shoulder.

"Hello, James. What is that you have?" Xander jumped and turned, his free hand
balled into a fist while the other held the book up as a shield. After a moment Xander
caught the reflection of the pentacle on the cover in the glasses the Englishman wore. His
reply was cut off as William crossed himself, a doubtful look cast across his cerulean eyes.

"That is a book on the occult." The look was full of subtle loathing, as though he
were trying to find a way to break the news to his new friend that he had such
blasphemous literature in his hand.

"Yeah, so?" To Xander it was not a big deal. Hell, his best friend was a witch and
knowing what the future William would become the mousy poet didn't seem to be in a
likely position to give a damn.

"But...studying that is against God's will. It is wrong!" he hissed at his new friend.
It seemed incredible to the smaller man that this person would so blatantly go against the
Catholic faith. "Don't you believe in Hell?"

"Oh yeah, you could definitely say I do." This response earned Xander another
befuddled blink.

"Alright, I don't want to know what you mean by that, but that's all the more
reason why you should be worried about your soul."

By that time the American was getting tired of what he perceived as a pointless
argument and when that usually happened his mouth tended to override his brain and
worked on its own. "Right Will, and you can claim intimate knowledge in salvation even
after getting screwed by a guy last night, which, I might add, is a big 'don't' with church
people. Hypocrite much?"

A stillness had fallen over the other patrons at the store, waiting for the denial to
come from such a cruel accusation. That reply did come, but in the form of a fist that
landed squarely on Xander's jaw. Completely stunned, the taller man stumbled back into
the 'poets' section, watching from the floor as the blonde shook his right hand as he
stormed out of the store.

"Sir, I suggest you leave at once." The bookseller's eyes were hard as iron, daring
the man who insulted his young friend to do anything else then vacate the premises.
Xander decided not to take the elderly gentleman up on the dare, scrambling to his feet
and dashing out the door amid the glares of the other customers.

He spotted the familiar head of blonde curls crossing the cobblestone street,
shoulders hunched against the croas tas though he were trying to conceal his sins against
the worlds's ubiquitous, judging eyes.

"William, wait!" There was no way he was going to be left behind here to be lost
in merry ol' England. Xander wove through the crowds, watching Will's head disappear
and reappear from view like a Saharan mirage. He took his chance at catching up and cut
across the street, never hearing the cry to look out for the carriage bounding around the
nearby corner. Xander's woras aas abruptly filled with hooves as the horse reared to
avoid the human that had crossed his path. He stood staring up at the black beast as
though God himself was going to strike him down, until he felt himself pulled onto the
safety of the sidewalk.

"What on earth were you trying to do, get yerself killed? Don't you have cabs
where you're from!" It was William, pallid features ruddy from adrenaline, fury and terror
from what the brunette could see in his expression. Xander, coming down off his own
adrenaline rush could only see the raged breathing, and his shocked consciousness zeroed
in on the intensely focused eyes in front of him. Everything that his mind had banished to
the 'do not look here' box from the night before came out full force, and he grabbed the
poet's arm. "Why?"

"Pardon?" Cerulean eyes blinked in confusion, taken back by the calm, deceptively
simple question.

"You didn't have to pull me away from the street. You've known me for what, less
then a day? I pissed you off back there, and, face it Will, you don't' strike me as someone
getting kicked in the head by a horse to save a stranger."

"I...well..." the blonde stammered, unable to look up at his friend's face. He could
feel the eyes of the other pedestrians staring at them and the unfolding scene, and he
studied his shoes in embarrassment. They needed polishing, he mused as the first drops of
rain darkened their patented leather texture. t met me go, please"

"Not until you answer me," Xander's grip tightened slightly on his arms, and Will
flinched from the fastness of them. "James..."

Something in Xander needed to know why. He was standing on the brink of an
important fact and damn it, he couldn't just forget it and move on. Xander had faced
death countless times from the supernatural in ways so surreal his brain rescued his sanity
by subliminally suggesting he dreamed it all, but being run over by a cab was so normal
(despite the oddity of being back in time) that it hit home that he would die someday. He
was suddenly very determined not to leave unfinished business to chance. William
muttered something and he frowned as he tried to catch the words. "What?"

"I didn't want you to die. God, only knows why, but I like you. You dropped into
my life and turned everything I knew upside down in one night and I feel like..." he
sighed, giving in and looking up at his friend. The entire world with its' accusations and
pretences fell away when he found the pools of chocolate focused on him, and only him.
"I feel." It ended with a shrug. So much for being a poet, he mused.

Xander nodded, then pulled the other man down the alley to a litany of protests
from his saviour. The objections were quickly cut off as William found himself
sandwiched between the wall and Xander, being kissed silent by the brunette. Any sort of
resistance on the smaller man's part was swiftly subdued as William returned the kiss with
equal fervour. Tongues warred for dominance, their growls witnessed only by the rats
rooting through the refuse, and Xander was happy for his foresight of getting far enough
away from the street to avoid giving a free show.

Only when lips separated for air as Xander detoured for an ear did William start to
become vaguely aware of his surroundings. He found his body had turned to marmalade
except for one area which was trying to punch through the front of his slacks. "James?"

"Mmmhmm?" Couldn't he ever just stop questioning things? It made Xander
think, and there wasn't enough blood left in his brain for that luxury. He continued to nip
behind the ear, fingers fumbling at the tie the blonde had insisted on wearing. Abruptly he
found himself pushed away and he fought against a scream of frustration. "What is it,
Will?" he sighed as he forced his breath to calm. God, he was worse then a girl!

"Let's take this somewhere else," came the reply, and only then did Xander take in
Will's appearance; he looked thoroughly dishevelled, a fine trail of saliva glistened from
jawline to ear and down under the stiff, starched shirt collar where the tie had been
skewed by Xander's failed attempt to remove it. Nevermind the intense stare that met his
own that reminded Xander of who he was really dealing with. This mild-mannered, pious
young bookworm would become part of the legendary Scourge of Europe, and it cowed
the Scooby. William noticed the strange, almost reverent shift in mood in mistaking it for
unease, took Xander's hand and led him out of the alley towards home.