Xander Sammich (or, Xander in the Middle)

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Xander had several realizations at once: 1) Buffy and the Slayerettes were outside his front door; 2) he wasn't wearing a shirt; and 3) he had no way to explain the two vampires in his apartment whom he'd just been making out with.

'Oh fuck, hellfire, and damnation. And what could be any more of a mood killer than this? Everyone I know has just interrupted my nearly getting it on with two males. Not just any males, no; they had to be male vampires. What a way to be outed. Mom, Dad, you here with them? Maybe a nun or a priest while we're at it.' Xander's thoughts verged on the hysterical. On the surface, he tried to appear unflustered.

"Look, it's everybody -- at my apartment. Wow, hey everybody. Gee-gosh golly, if I'd known you were coming, I would have cleaned up a little, maybe even put on a shirt." He stepped back, allowing them to parade inside. Buffy led the group.

"Aww, Xander, it's just us friends here, you don't have to get all dressed up..." Buffy trailed off, stopping short as she spotted Spike and Angel in Xander's living room. "What's going on? What are they doing here?" This last part was said with a nod towards Spike in particular.

Xander's thoughts raced. "Umm, I..."

Spike came to the rescue. "Visitin' him, aren't we? Walked the whelp home, got caught by the sunrise. Had to stay."

Everyone as a whole glanced at Xander to back this up. He nodded in confirmation. They seemed to accept this.

Willow spoke for the group, crossing to his side. "Well, everyone was still worried about you, Xander, even though I told them you were okay, and they wanted to come see for themselves, that you were, you know, fine and everything." Her eyes were apologetic, obviously recalling his pleas for 'breathing room' in their earlier conversation.

Xander smiled at her in a way that managed to encompass the assembly in his living room. "Hey, that's great." His face looked strained for a moment. He motioned for everyone to sit down. They settled themselves across the room, on chairs and some on the floor. Xander sat where he could see everyone, Willow sitting on the arm of the over-stuffed chair, mirrored on his other side by Tara. Buffy was at his feet.

Xander glanced around; Spike was leaning against the wall and had lit a cigarette. Xander considered telling him no smoking in the apartment, but decided Spike probably needed it. Hell, he half felt like asking him for a drag; but thought that might clue his friends in, just a little, that all was not as it usually was. Angel was still in his place on the sofa, looking downright pissed. Xander didn't blame him; sexual frustration was a bitch.

"So," piped Buffy, "Wanna tell us what's up?"

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Xander's balls ached; kinda like someone had kicked him between the legs with Slayer strength, from so much repeated denied release. His nipples were still stiff, and a fine sheen of sweat on his torso was quickly drying in the air conditioning; leaving him chilled and longing for the torn remains of his shirt on the floor in front of the couch, which he was doing everything not to glance at.

All these realizations danced through his brain as he squirmed in his seat, surrounded on all sides by his best friends, a room full of demon fighters, and two Master Vampires he had been this close to having some serious nookie with.

'Wow,' thought Xander, 'My life is more entertaining than a daytime soap opera!'