Xander Harris sat dejectedly on
the bench outside of the Sunnydale High School. Tomorrow night was Halloween,
there were parties *everywhere*, and he hadn't been invited to a single one.
No date, no party...no *life*.
He knew that he was probably
being unreasonable, and he knew that Buffy *was* the slayer, and as such she
*was* expected to work on the busiest night of the year on the Hellmouth. And
where Buffy went, Willow followed with her spell book, ably assisted by the
local vampire, and werewolf tag team, leaving him, as usual, to follow on like
an old, incontinent spaniel who only got invited because they didn't want him to
stay at home alone; they probably thought that he whizzed up the drapes when no
one was watching, or something.
Xander sighed heavily, he knew
that it was necessary to fight the powers of evil, but he was still feeling
lonely, and rejected, and *incredibly* horny.
Of course, therein lay his latest
After an encounter with Faith,
and months of dating Cordelia, he thought he was possibly off women for good.
He'd found that these days, he
was happy to look, but for some reason, he just didn't want to touch anymore.
The thought of sex had somehow become scary...
..except with Scott Leyton, the
big football jock.
That guy had muscles in places
Xander wasn't aware you could get them. Great bulging biceps, a huge wide chest,
washboard stomach, and the biggest dick that nature had ever created.
Now...he'd only noticed this
stuff because he'd once, accidentally, been caught in the showers at the same
time, and just *happened* to take note.
It was at about the same time
that he started searching the internet for information on penis enlargement.
But, back to Scott.... all two
hundred pounds of muscle, and sinew. Soft, hairless skin, except for that pale
blonde bush at his crotch, which exactly matched the wheaten close cropped hair
on his head, and the pale eyebrows, giving him a Scandinavian look, and *all* of
which gave Xander a permanent hard-on.
<Could be worse,> Xander
thought, <He could be a demon, or a vampire or, God forbid, a Republican,>
but, when all was said and done, getting horny over the school football jock was
pretty damn low.
The current revelations, plus
years of being a fan of the Hardy Boys, added up to the frightening conclusion
that Xander had, indeed, landed butter side down after all.
He sat back, and wondered when it
was he'd really begun to notice other men around him?
Was it *really* the fault of
Scott Leyton? Had those incredible muscles, and that quite terrifying penis,
*really* turned Xander from a girl chasing loser, to a *boy* chasing loser?
He couldn't remember ever being
attracted to say...Angel or Oz? But that could just mean that he wasn't into
necrophilia, or those of a canine persuasion.
Sitting up sharply Xander
scrubbed his face. "Oh please" he muttered, "Giles? He's old
and...and...stuffy and...a *librarian*," Xander threw up his arms. That
settled it; everyone knew that you didn't get gay librarians. And well...he
There, what more was there to be
"Giles!" he chuckled to
"Yes?" A voice said
suddenly from beside him.
Xander shot to his feet, coming
face to face with non other than Rupert Giles, school librarian, and Watcher.
"Giles! Hey!" he
croaked, feeling his eye twitch the way it always did when he'd been caught out
"Did you want me for
something?" the older man asked.
"NO! No, what makes you
think that? Did I ever give you a reason to assume that I wanted you in *any*
way? Have I ever made advances towards you? Or shown any preferences for my own
Giles' face creased in that
interminably puzzled frown that he felt he'd worn permanently since his arrival
in the U.S.A. "Xander what *are* you babbling about?" he gasped.
"You...you said that I
wanted you, and I never remember even looking at you like a prospective...er...lov...sex...partner."
"You just said my name as I
passed. That's why I asked what you wanted," Giles replied with a sigh.
Xander swallowed past the boulder
in his throat, as the tidal wave of heat, starting at his toes, engulfed him.
"Well, *did* you want
anything?" the Watcher asked again patiently.
"No! Nothing, thank
Shaking his head at the enigma
that was American youth, Giles strolled away.
Xander slumped back on the bench.
"What a jerk!" he hissed to himself, "No, 'jerk' isn't a strong
enough word. They don't *make* a word sufficient to cover what I am."
After the heat in his face had
receded, Xander sat back, and resumed his daydream.
<Now where was I? Oh
yeah...Giles. Wonder what he looks like under all that tweed?>