A brief description from Spike put the demons’ last known whereabouts somewhere near the edge of town. Since it was an unpopulated section, and they had to walk through the center of town to get there anyway, the Scoobies decided that they should look for their errant Watcher along the way. Besides, as the vampire informed them, “the rotters moved slower than Marrowlot spit in a January freeze”, so time was not initially a crucial factor.
They tried all the obvious places first. There were several convenience stores and a bakery on their route, but the later was already closed for the day, and no one in any of the stores could recall meeting anyone with a distinguished British accent buying candy bars or snack cakes in unusual amounts.
Continuing on, the gang would occasionally pop into a likely looking shop, and ask after their friend with as much discretion as possible, but with each “no show” they began to lose heart, and resign themselves to the fact that they might never find their elusive companion until he decided to come home on his own.
They were trudging determinedly through downtown when Willow suggested that they try checking Willy’s Bar. It wasn’t an impractical idea. At times the shady bartender was a veritable font of information, rubbing elbows with all the low lifes and gossip mongers of the supernatural underworld. If there was anything to hear on the demon grapevine, Willy was the one who would know it.
Crossing the street, the gang immediately headed for Willy’s place. While Tara, Willow and Dawn kept watch over the weapon’s cache outside, Buffy entered the bar, Spike and Xander dogging along at her back. The slayer strode purposefully up to the bar, and slapping her palm down on its surface with a loud bang, she drew the attention of every eye in the room.
From the opposite end of the counter, a sniveling voice whined out a protest.
“Okay, okay! I’m comin’ already. Just hold your hor-oh! It’s you.”
Pulling up short, Willy frowned, his narrow features expressing an obvious unhappiness at seeing the slayer.
“What’ll you have...slayer?” the bartender asked, forcing a false grin as he raised his voice to make sure everyone had heard him.
Buffy pouted. She hated dealing with Willy almost as much as he hated dealing with her. She always felt dirty when she’d been to the bar. And not just in a physical sense, though her hand did feel disgustingly sticky just from her brief contact with the bar.
“All right, Willy,” the blonde sighed wearily. “Since I’m a busy girl with places to go, and better things to kill, why don’t you do us both a favor and tell me what I want to know. Then maybe we can both get back to our lives and forget we had to have this little meeting.”
She had expected at least a token whine from the bartender about losing income because she scared away his customers, or how bad it looked that he was fraternizing with the slayer, but Willy’s reaction took her by completely by surprise. With a noncommital shrug, he flipped his mop towel casually over one shoulder, and leaned forward, propping his elbows on the bar.
“Sure thing, slayer, only, could we make this quick? Happy hour’s over in ten minutes, and there’s always a last minute rush of orders.”
“Fine,” Buffy agreed. “Short and sweet it is. I’m looking for someone...”
“Let me guess,” Willy interrupted. His mouth beamed in a smug, oily grin. “You’re lookin’ for you Watcher. Right?” Again Buffy was taken by surprise. “Yeah, he was in here earlier,” the bartender nodded. “Yesterday, too. But he ain’t here now.”
“Well,” Xander blinked, his expression echoing the slayer’s astonishment. “Gotta admit, that explanation was short and sweet.”
“Yeah, but it weren’t worth diddly-squat in the help department,” Spike grumbled peevishly. Leveling a menacing glower at the bar man, the vampire postured brusquely. “You wouldn’t by any chance have some directions to go with that trusting confidence?”
“What do I look like? His mother?” At Spike’s surly snarl, Willy quickly relented, throwing up his hands in surrender. “Look, I don’t know where he went, exactly, but I can tell you who he left with.”
“He-he left with...someone?” Buffy’s voice caught, her mouth suddenly dry for no reason.
“Yeah, they took off about an hour or so ago. And they was all feelin’ pretty ‘friendly’, if you get what I mean.” He winked, wagging his eyebrows as he leered suggestively, making sure that they got his point.
Spike chortled, his eyes rolling in dubious disbelief. “Giles?” he snorted. “Wait, we are talking about the same guy, right? Older bloke, British, like me, only not quite so much hair...”
A loud noise exploded behind the vampire’s shoulder, and he twisted his head around to glare at Xander, who was coughing hysterically.
“What?” he frowned, his irritation with the younger man clearly rumbling in his voice.
“It’s the hair thing,” Buffy explained. “Giles kinda has...well he...his hair’s all...” She sighed, unsure why it so hard to talk about her friend. “It’s, you see, since Giles turned into a demonnnnnnn...ding, a demanding Watcher,” she corrected, skillfully back peddling in mid-thought. No use telling Willy everything. “Well, he’s been letting his hair down, in a manner of speaking.”
“Yeah,” Xander echoed in agreement. “And believe me, he’s got plenty of hair to let down these days.”
Spike cocked a curious, scarred eyebrow at the slayer. She nodded at his silent question, her hand gesturing to indicate an ample length of invisible hair.
Snickering, the vampire’s blue eyes glinted in mild amusement. “You don’t say? Well, this is quite the turn. Sounds to me like the old codger’s managed to find himself a second wind. Shame it’s come so late in the game. Doubt it’ll do him any good at this point.”
“I dunno,” Willy smirked as he polished the bar top with his damp towel. “From what I was seein’, the guy was doin’ just fine. The ladies all seemed to think so, too. Lucky bastard had every female in the joint followin’ him ‘round like he was the best thing to come along since Brad Pitt.”
“Ugh! Could we please just not go there?” Buffy pouted in exasperation. “We need to find Giles. Now! This girl he was with,” she said, directing her focus on the weaselly little man. “Any idea where she might have taken him?”
“My guess? Home,” the bartender chuckled. “And let me tell you, they was in one hell of a hurry to get there.”
“Again with the information overload,” the slayer complained, dramatically placing her fingers in her ears. Willy gave an apologetic shrug. “So...” Encouraged, Buffy cautiously lowered her hands to her side. “Got an address for Ms. Easy?”
The bar tender turned to a shaggy creature sitting on a bar stool a short way down the counter. “Hey, Zeke! You used to date one of the Trillyaad sisters. Know where they live?”
With a low grunt, the figure turned to regard the slayer. For a moment, Buffy thought that she had met her first real live minotaur. The eyes that looked at her were huge and brown, and the face behind them easily able to pass for bovine. A second, closer inspection, however, showed her that the cow-like vision was merely an illusion. Though the man’s features were thick and crudely lined and covered in a scraggly growth of beard, he was just a normal, albeit exceedingly unattractive, human.
“I hear she moved into that new place up on Belden Lane. You know, the one with that piece of rusted crap out front that passes for art.”
“Uhm, thanks,” Buffy returned.
The man mumbled something into his beer that sounded vaguely like a muffled mooing, and turning his back on the slayer, returned to the conversation he’d been having with the horned demon beside him.
“Belden Lane,” Xander frowned thoughtfully. “Lucky us, we pass right by the place on our way.”
“So, put it in gear and let’s get moving,” the slayer said. Turning on her heel, she led the way toward the door, exiting Willy’s bar without so much as a thank you to the bartender. Joining the rest of the gang that waited outside, there followed a brief exchange of information, and then the march resumed as the Scoobies set off to find their Watcher.
It wasn’t difficult to figure out which apartment complex the man at the bar had been talking about. Though there were several prospective rental choices on Belden Lane, only one had a large lump of twisted, rusting girders gracing the center of its front walkway. If it hadn’t been for the prominent plaque proclaiming both a title and creator for the piece, Buffy would have mistaken the pile of metal for some kind of abandoned salvage. As they walked past the sculpture, Xander muttered something about trading in his construction work hard hat for an artist’s beret, a comment Anya answered with the practical observation that, with the right promoter, he could possibly triple his yearly income.
The roster in the entry lobby listed apartment 333 beside the name Trillyaad. Sequestering their weapons beneath their clothing to avoid undue suspicion, the gang waited for a tenant to leave, and slinking in before the door locked again, they snuck up the main hall to the elevator.
They managed to make it all the way to the third floor without meeting anyone. Apartment 333 was only a few doors down the carpeted corridor. As they stood outside, debating the proper etiquette of what to say when knocking on some stranger’s door, a piercing scream suddenly reverberated from behind the thick barrier.
Whipping her hand axe from beneath her outer jacket, Buffy motioned her companions aside.
“Okay, everybody, stand back!”
Sparks flew as she brought the blade down against the door jam. Three strokes later she had disarmed the lock, and the door swung open. In a thundering head of footsteps, the Scooby gang stampeded into the apartment, their weapons poised and ready to do battle.
“Giles? Giles!” Buffy called out to her Watcher, her expression betraying the consuming fear she felt in her heart.
A low, tortured moan answered from behind a large couch across the room.
“Giles?” Gripping her axe tighter, the slayer vaulted over a low coffee table, and launched herself toward the overstuffed sofa. “Hang on, Giles! I’m coming!”
She could feel the others at her back, the entire gang rushing to save their endangered friend. In a sweeping leap, Buffy cleared the sofa back, her axe swinging as she flung herself at the writhing heap spread out below her on the carpeted floor. It was only at the last second that her brain finally registered the true horror of what she was actually seeing, and with a strangled shriek, she did a quick tuck and tumble, rolling to a stop a few feet away from the most shocking spectacle she had ever seen.
Like an innocent bystander drawn to the scene of an accident out of morbid curiosity, Buffy’s wide eyed gaze focused on the bouncing figures before her. Her jaw dropped, a mute cry of protest locked within her throat. It was hard to tell where one body ended and the next began in the twisting pile of flesh that undulated on the floor. Legs wriggled in the air, while arms stroked and flailed, hands holding and squeezing various unidentifiable body parts. A rippling sea of pale blue curves surrounded pink flesh that rocked in a desperate, pounding rhythm. With an anxious shudder, a huge wing flapped before her face, stirring a frantic whirlwind of cloying perfume sweetness into the room. And through it all rang a chorus of strained gasps and heavy panting that left Buffy’s head reeling in a state of shock.
“G-Giles? Oh, my GOD! GILES!” Buffy gulped, unable to tear her eyes away from the specter of her Watcher engaged in an act of flagrant coitus with what appeared to be a female demon. No, wait! Make that two women! Giles was having sex with two women!
Circling around to the back of the couch, Spike pulled up short, almost tripping over the mass of wriggling flesh stretched out at his feet.
Like a cast of silent screen Keystone Cops, the remaining Scoobies followed closely on the vampire’s heels. Being human, however, they lacked Spike’s superhuman reaction time. Upon encountering their immobile companion, they knocked him forward onto his knees, stumbling and spreading out around him as they attempted to bring their domino line to a halt.
“Great jumpin’ Jehosaphat!” For a moment Xander merely stared, his dumbfounded gaze taking in every impossible detail. Then, with a girlish squeal of outrage and horror, he threw his hands up over his face. “Dear God, my eyes!” he wailed. “They saw...everything! Now I’m going to have to tear them out!”
It took Willow a few seconds longer to figure out what she was seeing. When she did, her mouth drew into a tiny circle of amused awe, her cheeks instantly flaming a red that was a vibrant match to the color of hair on her head.
Tara breathed a mousey squeak, and quickly turned her face away in embarrassment. Grabbing Dawn, she managed to direct the teen back to the other side of the sofa, dragging her away before she could see what had so shocked the others.
Recognizing that her employer was not in any immediate danger, Anya lowered her weapon. She frowned, carefully contemplating the sight before her from several different angles.
“I’ve always wondered if a tail would get in the way when you did that,” she observed with almost curious detachment. “I guess not.”
Giles and the two demon women continued to thrust away against each other, seemingly oblivious to the audience now standing watch over them. Every once in a while, a raspy musical tremolo would underscore the mounting tension within the room, followed quickly by an increased vigor of motion from one of the three participants on the floor.
Her entire body cringing in a whimper of denial, Buffy struggled to get to her feet. Inside, her mind was spinning in a tumultuous seething of confused emotions. She was both horrified, and aroused. She’d seen Giles...naked! And not just nearly nude, lusciously wrapped in a towel kind of nakedness. The Watcher was completely and utterly bare of clothing from head to toe! Okay, so most of his body parts were hidden under other naked demons’ body parts, and she couldn’t exactly see everything, but all the good stuff was obviously there somewhere within that writhing mass of flesh before her, or those demon women wouldn’t be smiling the way they were. Plus, the occasional exposed flashes of skin she did get to see looked very yummy indeed!. A peek of lean, muscled hip, the smooth firmness of a curved buttock...the images fired her imagination, burning themselves immutably into her brain.
A twinge of guilt assailed the slayer, and averting her eyes, she wobbled forward on unsteady legs, skirting delicately around the copulating trio. Her face was a deep shade of heated red as she scrambled over to her friends and anxiously herded them back toward the other side of the couch.
“We soooo need to get out of here, and now!” she hysterically hissed. There was a fervent round of nodding agreement from most of the Scoobies, and with frantic shuffling, they stumbled off, sweeping Tara and Dawn along in their escape as they headed toward the broken door and the hallway’s safer refuge.
They were within mere feet of the exit when, suddenly, an urgent psalm arose from behind the couch. The Scoobies froze in their tracks, their collective stares unconsciously drawn toward the source of the disturbance. A head appeared behind the sofa, a female demoness with short cropped white hair and beautiful porcelain features. As they looked on in stupefied horror, the creature threw back her head, her face contorting into a mask of wondrous agony. From her lips spilled a sublime eulogy of climactic passion and desire, her voice rasping and ethereal as it began to climb the musical scale. Higher and higher she sang, her head jerking, her body bouncing above some hidden thrusting force that acted from below, until suddenly, a wracking spasm overwhelmed the beautiful beast, and her cries entered an impossible vertex of sound that defied the range of mere human hearing.
Within the vacuum of her silent scream, other noises soon made themselves disturbingly obvious. A strained duet of groans and panting echoed loudly in the unnatural stillness, filling the room with a palpable heat. The remaining unseen members of the coital triangle continued to thrust and flop, until finally, a second voice began to scale the loft apex of harmonious rapture. As it crested, breaking into a plane of mute euphoria, the first female collapsed, her head falling below the back of the couch as she hummed a lazy and contented sigh of release.
What seemed like an embarrassing eternity of grunting underscored the ongoing sexual Olympics as the Scoobies, too afraid to speak and too stunned to flee, waited out the encounter’s climactic finish. The tension in the room grew almost painful, and only worsened when, at last, a triumphant crow rang out over the room. There were a few more moments of synchronized thrashing, and then slowly the huffing and gasping died away, and a calm gradually returned to blanket the apartment, restoring at least a sense of artificial normalcy to the surrounding room.
In the absence of any extraneous sounds, it seemed a logical conclusion that the fracas behind the couch had come to its inevitable end, and yet, not one of the Scoobies dared to move. Seconds ticked by, and Buffy’s heart continued to pound in her chest. What am I doing? I have to get out of here before...
It was too late. To the slayer’s extreme dismay, one of the demon females stood up. Looking around, she couldn’t help but notice her uninvited guests. She cocked her head to one side, her long hair exposing a pair of large, firm breasts. Flashing a smile, she seem completely at ease with the discovery of several strangers in her apartment, however, upon seeing the damage they had caused to her door, her initial reaction became tempered with a disapproving pout. That didn’t last long. With a tinkling sigh she dismissed her misfortune, her shoulders rippling in a shrug that sent several pairs of Scooby eyebrows rocketing skyward with discomfort, while others of them waggled in appreciation.
The demon glanced downward and addressed someone behind the sofa. None of her words were even vaguely intelligible, her language apparently consisting of various tonal clusters and rhythmic nuances that resembled music more than speech. Her sister, apparently, understood her quite plainly, and popped her head up from behind the sofa to see for herself if what the long-haired beauty had said was true. Observing that it was, she smiled a warm greeting, and stood up pose beside her naked and identical twin, adding yet another dimension of surrealism to the already improbable scene.
“Bugger me, will you look at that?” Spike muttered with awed reverence, his eyes flitting from one perfectly shaped beauty to her mirror-like image.
“Twins!” Xander’s voice cracked, his expression envious disbelief. “Giles knows twins?”
“Uhm, guys, I-I don’t think that they’re twins,” Dawn remarked with a hesitant trepidation.<
In perfect sync the two male Scoobies inclined their bodies forward, leaning in for a closer inspection, though their studious eyes managed to take in whole lot more than just he aforementioned spot.
“Well, if they’re twins,” Dawn frowned, her arm making a sweeping gesture toward one wall of the room. “Then who’s she?”
Almost as one, the gang turned as one to look where the teen was pointing. Near the wall’s center, a doorway led into what looked to be a bedroom. Only a small portion of the space beyond was actually visible, but what the Scoobies could see appeared to be quite lavishly and richly appointed. A bright oceanic blue imbued the surroundings with a Mediterranean feel, as did the white washed columns of furniture that were so carefully scattered about, harkening the room’s style back to a more ancient time of emperors and burly gladiators. An invisible breeze from an open window teased a pair of long sheer draperies which billowed gently, wafting on either side of an enormous circular bed. As Buffy stared with awe, she found herself thinking that it was possibly the single largest piece of furniture in existence, or at least certainly within the paltry city limits of Sunnydale. An array of luxurious silk sheets and a satin spread lay casually rumpled across the broad horizontal surface, within which lay lounging the object of Dawn’s directing gesture. A woman. And not just any woman, but a demoness the exact duplicate of the two standing before them.
“Triplets?” Eyes bugging outward with incredulous wonder, Xander choked out his surprise in a pathetic squeak. His arched eyebrows winged upward, almost disappearing into his hairline as he gaped, unable to believe what he saw. “Giles knows triplets?”
Indeed, there was no doubting that this third creature was the sibling of the other two. Like her sisters, she was the perfect picture of ripe sensuality and beauty. Her skin was the same pale tinge of blue and bore the trademark freckling of spots that seemed to distinguish her particular breed. The ashen mane crowning her head was an identical hue with that of the others, too, though she wore hers plaited into long thin braids, each of which was interwoven with dozens of silver-colored beads. And like the others, this demon female was also naked, her lips drawn back in a sated and scandalous smile that left no other possible conclusion but that she had recently soloed in her own version of orgasmic bliss just prior to the Scoobies’ arrival upon the scene.
A lecherous smirk spread its way across Spike’s lean face as his gaze roamed with bold deliberation over the female demon’s ripe exposed curves. He chortled wickedly, his eyes fairly twinkling with approval as the third sister gave a saucy stretch, and displayed her ample charms for his appreciation.
“Judging by that blissful look on the young lady’s face there,” he snickered with a knowing wink at his companions. “We’re not just talkin’ about some friendly passin’ acquaintance. Seems our Mr. Giles and these little lovelies have had themselves some deeply serious biblical kind of knowing.”
“Ewwww!” Dawn’s expression wrinkled in a grimace of pure teen disgust. Turning her imploring gaze toward her older sib, she looked for some sign of a possible mistake. “Please tell me he didn’t just say Giles did what I thought he said. That is just sooo disgusting! Giles, doing, well, you know...with her....and then with them...and all three of them with each other and....ewwww! No, uh-uh! Don’t even want to think about it. It-it's just...wrong!”
“You’re preaching to the choir here, Dawnie,” Buffy seconded with a dramatic shudder. “The idea of Giles and anyone doing the ‘you know’ is an image I could happily have done without, but I guess that ain’t gonna happen in this lifetime either.”
She spoken the words with her characteristic tone of denial, but deep down inside, Buffy felt just the smallest twinge of jealousy rising up within her heart to fight back. That could have been me! I could have been the one with the special glowy ‘I just had lots and lots of great sex’ smile. Giles wanted me first. Me! Not these bubble headed demon hussies.
On the floor behind the sofa, Rupert Giles struggled to awaken from the stuporous fog that gripped his mind. He could swear that he had heard his slayer’s voice, but within his intoxicated brain he wasn’t sure if it had actually been her, or simply some alcohol-induced figment of his imagination. Real or not, simply thinking about the pert blonde brought a wistful smile to his lips. He could almost smell her, the heady perfume of her body teasing his body into life. His heart thumped happily, his loins tingling with expectant promise. Suddenly, the contented lethargy that had weighed down his limbs began to lift, and sitting upright, he breathed a low growl as he sought out the nearest outlet that might serve to appease his rapidly building desire.
He found a lithesome leg standing there conveniently before him, right within his reach. Sliding his hand up the shapely length, he followed along with lips and tongue, blazing an eager path toward the heated core above. He was rewarded with an approving sigh, and a delightful burbling of giggles that urged him to continue his explorations even higher, to which he happily obliged.
The spontaneous burst of laughter brought everyone’s attention around onto the female demon with the shoulder-length hair. Her companion glanced downward, her limpid eyes taking an interested note of the activity going on below her sister’s waist. She trilled a clipped repartee in her strange musical tongue, causing her sibling to laugh and nod in agreement. Another brief exchange of harmonious warbling and titters quickly flew back and forth between the two women, their voices gradually dropping lower and lower into a more throaty dulcet tone with each passing phrase until, with a whispering sigh, the sister’s fell into each others’ arms and began to kiss.
Bounding up from her bed, the third sister flounced her way across the bedroom, and hurried to join her two siblings in their group hug. Not one of the women seemed to care that there were people in the room with them, watching as they touched and fondled each other with an increasing familiarity. Spike certainly didn’t mind either, and he leered broadly, observing the proceedings with more than an intimately detached amusement.
“Oh, boy!” Buffy gulped, throwing her hands over her younger sister’s eyes as one demoness lowered her face to another’s breast. “This show has officially exceeded the PG rated guidelines recommended for certain minors present. It’s time we all moseyed ourselves on out of here folks. These, erm, ladies need to have their room back.”
Dawn let out a short squeal of protest, but she didn’t fight her sister as the slayer began pushing her toward the broken doorway once again. Tara and Anya immediately fell into step right behind the pair, as did Xander once his fiancé administered an insistent nudge to get him started. Spike continued to tarry, reluctant to leave until he had gotten every last moment he could out of the rapidly heating exhibition. But it was Willow that refused to give any ground, and who chewed anxiously at her lip as she threw a longing eye toward the demon trio.
“But...what about Giles?” the red head asked, waving toward the area where the Watcher had last been seen beneath the writhing flesh of his partners. “Aren’t we going to take him with us? I mean, that is why we came, isn’t it?”
“Somehow I don’t think Giles is in any mood to go out and kick ass with demons,” Buffy sagely reproached her wiccan friend. “In fact, I feel it’s pretty safe to say his motto has changed to a more ‘make love, not war’ approach. Come on, Will,” she said, beckoning to the witch. “We can come back and pick up Giles later. Maybe by then he’ll have found his sanity.”
The muffled voice came from somewhere behind the sofa. A curious head suddenly popped up in the midst of the female demon triad, and looking around, spotted the slayer, and immediately broke into a delighted grin.
“Buffy!” Giles staggered to his feet, his presence forcing a temporary wedge between the three groping women. “I thought I’d heard your voice. Whatever are you doing here?”
“Well,” the chagrined blonde huffily replied. “Originally, I was looking for another pair of willing hands to help out with this big demon problem that suddenly came up, but right now I’d settle for an explanation as to what it is you think you’re doing.”
The Englishman gave the younger woman a blank, innocent “who, me?” stare. “I’m sure that I don’t know what you mean,” he replied, giving his slayer a petulant pout. “I was simply...” Giles voice trailed slowly off as he considered for a moment how to best particularize the event in which he was currently engaged. A quick mental review, however, told him that the less said the better, and closing his mouth, he blinked, regarding the accusing glare of his companions with a sheepish half-grin as a blush of warmth quickly colored his cheeks.
Groaning inwardly, Giles chastised himself for a rash of incidents that could only be described as abominable. What could have possibly have possessed him to consume that much liquor? And had he really done all those things? With these women? Perhaps it had only been a dream, a very naughty, depraved dream brought on by too much drink and an overly lascivious imagination. Unfortunately, the heavy ache and acute sensitivity within his loins told him otherwise. It would seem that he had done at least some of the things he remembered.<
Contrite with guilt, Giles nevertheless made an concerted effort to compose himself before her straightened and faced Buffy.
“You, erm, mentioned something about a big demon problem?” the Brit hopefully ventured. A quick change in topic might save him some immediate embarrassment, though he realized that eventually it would all come back to haunt him again at some later time. With any luck, he’d be better prepared to deal with it then.
“Got us an ugly pack of giant wriggly-type grub monsters eating their way right into the heart of our fair city,” Spike quipped as he swung the weapon in his hand with a casual grace. “Slayer and her pals thought you might be up for a little fun.” his blue eyes sparkled devilishly, his grin saying more than his words as he gave the older man’s partially hidden groin a nodding acknowledgment. “Guess they didn’t realize how right they were.”<
“Damn!” Spike swore, momentarily taken aback by the size of the Watcher’s wing. He couldn’t help but stare, his mouth gaping in respect at the sheer impressiveness of the feathered limb. “The bloody thing’s absolutely huge!”
An awkward silence greeted his observation, and the vampire sighed, rolling his eyes in exasperation.
“I was talkin’ about the wing,” he said, directing an annoyed glower toward the circle of shocked Scooby faces. “Although, gotta say, Rupes,” he chortled, swinging easily back into a tone of teasing amusement. “As I seem to recall, the rest of your bits don’t exactly fail to measure up, neither.”
“Yeesh, Spike,” Xander grimaced, his shoulder unconsciously cringing in tight revulsion. “We could have spared us that piece of Gilesean imagery, and...” The younger man frowned, his gaze shifting curiously from one Englishman to the other. “Wait a minute. You’ve seen Giles naked? When did this happen? Forget it!” he immediately countered, throwing up his hands before the vampire had a chance to speak. “I don’t think I want to know.”
“I do,” Anya said, jumping in with a perky, expectant grin. “Especially if it involved sweating bodies and the imaginative use of lubricants and various food products.”
Xander shuddered. “You are one seriously twisted sister,” he muttered with a shake of his head.
“Actually, I’m an only child,” Anya informed him.
“Okay, while I like a good digression as much as the next person,” Buffy pouted. “The fact remains that we’ve still got a pack of demons about to rampage their way through downtown at any given moment. I say we hop to it before the seven o-clock crowd lets out at the Sun Cinema, and we find ourselves in a remake of ‘The Crawling People Eaters’. And you...” she snapped, waving a disdainful hand at her naked Watcher. “I’m givin’ you two minutes to find something to wear, and then you can meet us down in the lobby. That means your little demon harem there can just forget about any long, sloppy good-bye kisses. It’s time we hauled ass and got saving the world.”
While her speech may have been less than inspiring, it effectively got the slayer’s entourage into gear. Ushering her gang out through the broken door, Buffy could hear the disappointed melodies of the three demon sisters as Giles began dashing about the apartment, collecting his clothes together and mumbling vague apologies to his hosts. By the time it took them all to wait for the elevator, then ride it down to the main floor, the Watcher had managed to intercept them, bursting out of a nearby emergency fire stair hall, his shirt tails flying, and yanking on his trousers as he scurried across the open lobby to join up with their ranks.
Nothing more was said about the incident upstairs. Shouldering their various weapons, the intrepid gang moved out into the street, and marching off in formation, bravely went to meet the latest invasion of monsters with an appetite for California Hellmouth living.