NC-17 this part

Xander got a few good weeks once the boys left to head to LA, slowly but heading that way.  Nothing unusual happened.  Mac had calmed down.  John texted reminder emails once a day reminding him to eat and sleep.  It was okay.  Adam was even in a goofy mood over some of his t-shirts.  Xander finally dropped that money off on Hillbourne.  With one money order set already made out.  The rest he could decide where it went.  The gay officer's union needed a kick-ass party this year.  The rest could go to widows and orphans, or the vest fun, wherever he wanted.

He walked the trolley from his trunk up there with the bags, putting the few money orders on his desk.  "The rest you decide," he told him, dropping the bags there.  "The one with the gold is *really* heavy but it has wheels."  He walked off happier.  He grinned at a few curious looking ones, including the one who knew about him.  "Someone wanted to buy me from Mac for their own personal use.  Hillbourne had to come discourage him and they left the money."  He shrugged.  "This way it goes to good charities."

He strolled out, going down to his car and then to his job.  "I gave that half to Hillbourne just now," he told Mac when he met him at the front desk.  "I only stipulated where a little bit should go.  He can decide on the rest since he wanted me to donate it."  He beamed at the sign-in girl, holding up his ID.  Mac gave him a funny look.  "She said my scrawl was unreadable so she signs me in."

"Uh-huh."  He shook his head but he was smiling.  "Button up shirt," he reminded him as he left to go to the courthouse.

Xander went up to his locker to pull one on over his happy shirt.  _People are worried about the voices in my head, but it doesn't bother me.  It's nice to have friends_ made Adam giggle madly and Aiden too.  So he had made others happy with him yet again.  And hey, another t-shirt he didn't have to worry about getting gunshot residue out of.  Halfway through his shift he got the bad call to come to the courthouse to testify, groaning.  "Damn it."  He walked out, finding Stella.  "I just got the 'you have an hour to appear in court' order.  My lab's clear, I locked the door.  I've gotta head home because I don't have a suit in my locker but I'll fix that tomorrow."  He blew a kiss.  "I'll try to be back before the end of my shift but you never know."  He walked into the locker room and checked then disappeared once he had his keys.  He came back twenty minutes later, putting a suitbag in his locker and shutting it, then heading out fussing with his hair.  Stella gaped.  He stopped in front of her.  "Not good enough?"

"That's a designer suit, Xander."

He looked down then at her.  "I know that."  She blinked a few times.  "I do have money, Stella."

She smiled.  "Good luck and remember not to bullshit too badly when they ask you how you afforded that."

He nodded.  "I won't."  He grinned.  "I look okay, right?  I don't need to change into the black suit?"

"No.  Go.  Shoo, before you're late.  Traffic is horrible going that way."

"Sure."  He made sure he had his wallet, ID, and gun, then walked out.  He nodded at the officer down there.  "By any chance you aren't heading to the courthouse, are you?"

"Lawyer?" he sneered.  "We're not cabs."

"CSI Elton, ballistics.  I've got court.  I just got called in off the list."  He pulled his ID out.

The sneer disappeared.  "That's a nice suit.  Discount place?"

"Graduation present to myself since I knew I'd get called to testify sometime, but not too bad.  End of the year sales at Ralph Lauren are nice."  The officer grinned and drove him that way, making him a happier boy since he got there early.  "Thank you, have a good shift, Officer."

"Have fun with the defense attorney."  He watched him head inside, shaking his head.  "CSIs must make a lot more than we do."

Xander presented himself at the guards.  "CSI Elton, ballistics."

"So you have gunpowder on you, sir?"

"Yup, and my service piece."  They locked that for him and did the hand-wand, letting him in once the lockbox had his dagger too.  He walked back to the courtroom they had called him to, nodding at the prosecutor pacing the halls.  "You called on me to appear?" he asked dryly.


"Elton, Ballistics."

"I did."  He handed him the file.  "This one.  You did the ballistics?"

He looked then nodded.  "I did.  My first week here."  He looked up.  "What's being challenged?"


"Ah.  The death threat thing?"  The prosecutor gave him a confused look.  He pulled him aside.  "It's a well-known fact among the PD that there is a death threat out on me.  A three-quarters of a million dollar contract because my best friend screwed up and a group in Britain wants to have me dead."  That got a slow nod.  "Which is why they'll probably ask why my training is under two different names.  They took some of my teachers in Chicago hostage and I had to switch identities but they told the new school so I wouldn't have problems."

"Okay, that's good to know.  Right now they're challenging that you can tell these things."

"Of course I can.  That's what I'm trained to do."  That got a nod.  "Can I keep this for now so I have my notes?  I didn't think to bring them."

"Go ahead."  He walked back inside.  "Your Honor, this is CSI Javier Elton, who the defense called as a sudden witness against my objections.  He has our file so he can refer back to the notes made."

"That's something a lot of CSI do."  He looked him over, seeing the casually tense way he was standing.  "Swear him in so we can get on with this."  Xander moved forward, taking his oath and sitting down.

The defense attorney walked over, looking at him.  "Nice suit."

"Thank you, it was a graduation present to myself since I knew I'd be testifying sometime.  The teachers said I needed a good one."  He grinned.  "You needed to know what about the ballistics on the case?"

He sneered.  "You're trying to be pushy."

"Sorry but I do have more hours to work today."  He crossed his legs and got comfortable.  This guy wasn't any worse than a vampire or a demon.  Hell, he wasn't even as good at trying to be threatening as Spike.  There was no way he was scared of this guy.  One of the voices shouted to pay attention.  "Sorry, what was that?  I was mentally going over the case again."

"I asked how you afforded that suit."

"End of the year clearance."


"Dallas and Louisiana.  Where I finished my training."


"I had to leave my first school because someone took some of my teachers hostage to get to me."  He gaped.  "It's well known among the PD."  He shifted some and put on his close-work and reading glasses.

"You wear glasses?"

"For close detail work and it can help with reading.  I figured you had pictures somewhere for me to look at."

"I do.  How did you afford it?"

"I have money."

"You're a first year CSI."

"I have at least fifty mil in the bank," he said dryly.  "I work because I want to work.  I like working with guns.  I can even go into fits of joy at gun shows," he said blandly, staring at him over the rim of his glasses.  "Yes, I could afford it when it's not on sale.  I don't tend to touch any of it.  I live off my paychecks for the most part, except for a dinner out now and then."

"I see.  So you're part of the local rich elite?"


"You're not in society?"

"Why would I want to be?  It looks awfully boring.  I have almost nothing in common with them.  I'm more happy with a pizza and a hockey match on tv."  The defense attorney slumped at that as he walked back to his table.  He came back with a picture.  He looked at it.  "A Smith and Wesson forty-five," he said, handing it back.  "What of it?"

"You can tell that by the picture?"

"There's some that have the same rifling but the size of the bullet gives it away.  Only they make that rifling in that caliber."

He gaped.  "You can do that?"

"I can identify some of them in the dark by feel, sir.  I learned my craft very well.  Including taking identification trips to the local pawn shops and working at a gun range one summer to make sure I knew which one came from which.  Some of the people that have trained me to protect myself from that death threat have been retired military as well.  Of course I can identify most of them.  When there's a common rifling pattern it can be more tricky but usually the size of the bullet and the way it shaped in flight will give me most of what I need to know.  In this case all I had to do was compare it to the test fires I did on the guns that were brought to me.  That's putting them on a dual eye microscope and looking at them next to each other."

"What about these common riflings?"

"Each gun wears itself down differently.  Like shoe patterns do.  The way it's fired, taken care of, kept, and how old it is creates an individual wear pattern. That's what we match them against and in the various databases that have guns listed in them from crimes."

He blinked. "There's no way it can be identical?"

"Out of over three thousand bullets I've done, I've seen one be almost identical once.  In that case there was a faint line on one that only came up under higher light than the microscope I was using had.  It was at most a ninety-five percent match."

"One of the guns in this group was that close."

He looked in the folder.  "That was a case of reload density."

"What?" the judge asked.

"If we fire the gun with one type of bullet and then a different brand of bullet, there can be inconsistencies.  Yes, a forty-five is still a forty-five but it's a forty-five with a few grains of weight difference, a few more grains of gunpowder by company specs, or possibly even a few extra microns of length.  Each company has their own molds and specs for their bullets," he told the judge.  "Like there's all these four-door sedans that get the same gas mileage," he said at the still confused look.

That got a nod.  "Most of them look the same, and the ones in the same class you really can't tell apart except by the hood or trunk decals."  That got a bigger nod.  "But each company builds theirs slightly different using their own specs and their own plans.  Bullets are made the same way.  So are guns.  Each company has to fit it within the general definition of 'forty-five' or whatever caliber.  That's a more narrow definition but there's still some difference from company to company.  That's why I always include that in the report if it was reloaded in the lab for the test fire and if there was a difference in that case."

"That makes sense to me," he agreed.  "Proceed, Counselor."

"So in that case it was a different brand of bullet than he had been originally firing?"

Xander looked at the notes.  "Yes."  He pointed at his report.  "The original bullets looked to be from this company, but I can't exactly match that.  The ones we use for lab reloads are this company.  This was the density of that original bullet, the density, length, and specs for this bullet that we reloaded with.  With that much wiggle room in the density it allows the bullet to flatten out a bit more in the test fire chamber, which is a formula that's input on my computer.  Plugging in this difference in density gave me the ratio that was acceptable for it to spread more."  He looked at him.  "Which was more than the one it spread by.  Therefore the difference in the bullet was the density of the lab reload and that's why it's still a match, within ninety-seven percent when you don't take that density difference into account or a hundred percent when you do."  He leaned back, looking at him.

He shook his head quickly.  "Can the court reporter repeat that back for me to make sure I understood it?"  The judge nodded for the court reporter to do so.  He looked at him.  "So the only difference in that one bullet is the reload?"

"Yes.  The original was found..."  He looked it up.  "Inside the officer they shot."  He held up that part of the report.  "We know it was fired from that particular gun because we matched it to the test fire."

"Could that smaller than the average difference by that formula mean it was a different gun?"

"No, it means it was fired from a lesser distance.  Bullets spread out more over a distance.  Like when you throw water from a bucket," he said at the confused look coming back.  "It comes out in a column and spreads out," he said, showing him with his hands.  That got a faster nod.  "Bullets do the same thing thanks to gravity and air friction. The longer the distance the bigger the squishing."

"That makes sense," the defense attorney said.  "Usually I get technical speak."

Xander grinned.  "I don't mind speaking normal human as long as you don't piss me off.  If you annoy me too much, all you get it technical speak."  He grinned sweetly.  "So far you're doing okay."

"Thank you, I think."  He scowled.  "So there's no way it came from a different gun?"


"Thank you."  He went back to his chair and had some water.

The prosecutor stood up.  "You tested all the guns in that lot?"

He checked.  "My supervisor checked one when I was at lunch and he wanted to look over my shoulder since this was my first week in the lab.  He wrote his own report for that gun."  He held it up for him.  "The rest were done by me."  He put it back down, looking at him.  "Technically there is a night-shift Ballistics tech but he's been out on sick leave due to a broken leg.  If I had to stop in the middle of a testing case, he could take over the guns I had not done and do those to compare.  If there was any cross-matching to be done we'd probably do it together.  In the one Detective Taylor did, it was a straight look at and match then I ran it through the system when I got back from lunch to see if it matched any other cases."

"That's good to know."  He smiled.  "I have no further questions."

"Me either," the defense attorney said.

"Then CSI Elton is free to go back to work."  Xander nodded at him and handed the prosecutor the file before leaving.


Xander came back to the lab, letting Aiden whistle at his suit.  "Nice look," she teased with a grin.

"It's almost comfortable too," he taunted back with a grin.  "I had to explain things to a defense attorney."  She giggled.  "And he liked the suit too."  She burst out cackling.  "Let me change and go back to work."  He headed for the locker room, running into Danny, Mac, and Don.  "Hey, guys.  Mac, the defense attorney has a headache but I put it in good analogy format for him when he wanted to know."

"The prosecutor called and said you were a bit wordy but decent up there for your first time."  Xander grinned at that compliment.  "He also said the attorney noted the suit."

"And I noted I do have money and I can afford a nice suit now and then."  Don nodded that it was.  He grinned.  "Clearance at the end of the season."

"That's still not cheap."

"Ralph Lauren.  Not the most expensive place.  It was only three hundred."

"I need to look there," he decided.  "Thanks, kid."

"Not a problem.  Am I still clear?"  Mac nodded.  "Want me to clean or help Adam?"

"Help Adam if you want," he agreed.  Xander nodded, going to change and then hit the trace lab.

Danny grinned.  "He'll get more calm as he gets called again."

"The prosecutor said he did have to be jogged from his thoughts," Mac admitted quietly.  They nodded, Danny going to talk to him about that.

"I know I got lost," he said as Danny walked in.  "I was thinking how very unthreatening he was."  He looked back.  "I excused it as I was mentally going over the case."

"Next time don't do that until afterward."

"I won't."

"Good.  Mac's getting the transcripts so he can go over it with you in case you need some polishing for the next time.  The prosecutor agreed that was fine.  He thought you were more experienced on the stand."

"No I'm more used to being interrogated by women.  They're worse."  Adam nodded at that.  "And more evil."

"Only the ones you date," Adam reminded him.  "I've found some very nice not-evil ones."

"Introduce me?" he asked.

"They won't play on the first date.  You just need laid, Javier."

"I know."  He got back to work.  "Can I have the saline solution?"

Adam frowned.  "Why?"  He looked.  "That's not from this case."

"It was in the envelope and marked," he said with a shrug, letting him see it.  "I was going to do a wet mount since I know what it is."

It got handed over.  "It's nice that this is your minor."

"I don't get many hours in it but I try to at least keep up with the journal stuff."

"Speaking of, there's a convention in six weeks," Danny said dryly.

"Not enough leave time yet," Xander moaned, looking at him.  "Pity but sorry.  Have fun and tell me what you remember about the parties?"

"Ah, you went to the intern one," Adam said dryly.

"Yes and John nearly kicked my ass for going to the bar with my fellow students.  Yelled about how bosses would see that as a bad thing."  He prepared the slide and looked under it.  "Freaky glow bulb on here, Adam?"

"No.  Why?"  He let him see it.  "It's purple."

"I noticed.  All I did was take a small smear from an edge of the sample and then put two drops of saline on top of it."

Danny came over to look then at the case.  "That guy was doing some chemo for colon cancer."

"So it's the radioactive chemicals?" Xander suggested, taking that swab to put into the right bottle for the testing machine.  It came back a few minutes later.  "No it's not.  It's an algae."  He let them see.

"That makes no damn sense," Danny complained.  He went to look on the case notes to see where that sample had come from.  He came back five minutes later with the file.  "It came from the kitchen counter."

"Eww," Xander said.

"Some people don't clean," Adam reminded him.  "I nearly went OCD when we did the germ spotting lectures and had to test our houses."

Xander shuddered.  "John made me clean with lysol.  Twice."  Adam grinned at that.  "He's still a bit OCD about keeping the house clean but he spent most of the boys' youths in motel rooms."

"Eww," Adam agreed.  "So, the algae is normal?"

"Maybe.  I'll go check on that again."  They nodded at that.  "Any other funky samples?"

"Not yet," Adam said.  "We'll page you if there is."  He nodded, heading to tell Aiden that since it was their case together.  "Still gross."

"Very."  They got back to work, grinning happily when they cleared the case out and cleaned the tables.  Xander checked his watch.  "It's dinner time."

"So it is."  They walked out together once their jackets were where they needed to go and their gloves were off.  "Hotdog?"

"Eww, no.  Deli on the corner?"

"I can do that.  Mac, heading to dinner," he called when he spotted him.

"Have your phones in case.  Danny's out on a new case, boys."  They nodded, heading down in the elevator.   They signed out and headed for their dinner sins of choice then ate on the way back.  They saw Flack chasing someone and Xander handed Adam his drink and sandwich then pounced the guy, knocking him down.

"Thanks," Flack said, hauling the guy up.  "See, you're so stupid you even piss off CSI!"  He walked him back to the building to have a talk with him.

Xander took back his food once he was dusted off, grinning.  "That was fun.  We should do that again."

"You need laid again," Adam said dryly, smirking back.

"Well, yeah, but the succuba from last time said I was too needy and made her too sore."  He shrugged.  "Pity.  They're fun to play with and a lot easier since they don't expect presents and shit."

Adam patted him on the back.  "You're a bit warped."

"I know but I'm fun," he finished with a grin.

"Yes you are."  Their phones went off so they finished eating on the way back to the lab, signing in and heading upstairs again.  They came off the elevator and Xander took the gun boxes from Danny's hands.  "How many do I have?" Adam asked.

"About sixty billion or so."

"Goody.  Overtime?"

"Possibly.  There's a missing kid.  The mom managed to save one but not the twin sister."

Xander nodded.  "Gotcha.  The others in my lab?"

"Yeah."  Xander went to glove and rejacket up then get to work.  He got a page a half-hour later.  "Already?"

"Yes and no.  You've got an issue.  Does she have any identifying features?"

"A mole on her shoulder."

"Which marks her as a potential slayer."  He handed over an address.  "Check there first."  Danny nodded, jogging out to do that while he finished up.  Mac walked in.  "She had the potential slayer mark," he said quietly.  "The first gun came up registered to Traver's brother-in-law."

"So they snatch them?"

"Most of the time they try reason.  But they're bottom-line folks, Mac.  Anything to get the cause done."  He looked at him.  "Including thinking the girls are expendable.  That's why I gave Danny their main hideout's address so he could check there first."

"Don went with him.  Let me know if they try to say something about you doing this."

"Make 'em beg for a deal, Mac.  She's not the first.  We'll be lucky if they're not taking her out of the country to train.  It's one watcher, one slayer until death do they part.  And they don't do mommy very well."

"I'll keep that in mind."  He went to check in with Flack since Danny wasn't answering his phone.  "Do you have her?"  He nodded.  "Good to know.  We'll alert all the airports?"  He smiled at the 'already done'.  "Elton thinks they'd be taking her out of the country."  He nodded, listening.  "She was definitely there?"  He nodded.  "That happens to the best of us, Flack.  You can't blame yourself for them losing you in traffic."  He listened.  "Okay."  He hung up, going to talk to their only local source.  "Would they fly her or drive her?"

"Whatever works at the moment.  A few of their guys are SIS or British military trained.  Very few and mostly the head guys."  They shared a look.  "They do have extraction teams but I've beaten a bag and tag team.  Faith did.  Buffy did."  That got a nod.  "So they could be on the ball or they might be the weak, idiot patrol.  Depends on which one they're using."

"They lost them in traffic."

"The council has funds to get a private flight."

"Don already warned all the airports, even the private airfields."

"Did we put out an Amber alert?"

"We did."

He looked at the guns, handing Mac one.  "Run the registered owner.  It might help."  He did that and Xander did the other one through a serial number search.  The Brits had a stricter set of gun laws.  "Here we go.  One guy isn't an extraction member."  He moved to his desk, pulling out his laptop.  Sam had found a council password somehow and handed it to him.  He looked up the names.  "One paratroooper trained leader, two man team otherwise.  One watcher, from...."  He pulled up his present assignment.  "They have the girl listed."  Mac came over to look.  "They're heading for the Bahamas."

Mac called that in to dispatch to alert all airports that the girl was headed for the Caribbean.  "Good thinking."

Xander grinned.  "Thank you.  I hate how they treat the girls."  He logged out and put the computer back once it was off.  He looked at him, handing over the password.  "In case you wanted to browse or something."

"Is this part of screwing with them?"

"I figure she's not the first stolen.  Their parents are probably worried."  Mac nodded, going to his office to look into that.  Xander got back to work making sure it was a solid case.   Why had they dropped their guns?  He texted that info to Flack because it made no sense to him unless they had more with them.


Mac came in two hours later.  "She's safe."  Xander relaxed.  "They're mostly begging for mercy.  Don had to shoot one when he threatened the girl's life."

"I'll see if he needs a hug in a minute."  He handed over his report.  "Solid, including registration information.  If they had more, I'll do them too."

"They're begging for deportation," Mac admitted.  Xander shrugged.  He clapped him on the back.  "Good thinking."  He left, going to put that with the other information.

Xander went to find Don where he was watching the interrogation.  He gave him a hug.  "I'm sorry you had to do that."

"It's cool.  Get off?"  Xander got off him.  He grinned.  "Thanks, kid."

"Welcome."  He wrote down a name and number.  "That is Buffy's watcher," he said quietly.  "She was not council trained and he was fired for giving a damn.  She'll still need trained, just in case she's called, but he might be able to find someone who can do it reasonably and locally.  He'd know who to talk to."

"I'll give it to the mom.  They've already showed up to nag her."

"Pity but their people shouldn't snatch kids."  That got a nod.  "I hate how they treat the girls, Don, even if I know it's important that they get training."

"Good point."  He patted him on the back, going in to talk to the mother.  "Hey."  He sat down next to her.  "We can shoo them off if you want."

"They'll just come back.  What sort of future is that for her?"

Don handed over the paper.  "That is the name and address of one of them that got fired for giving too much of a damn about his girl.  She's the active one but she was not trained by them.  They didn't find her before she was called.  You might ask him about that and about home training so she lasts as long as she can if she's called.  Or maybe he'll know a local contact who isn't one of the bastard patrol who can do that."  She nodded, clutching her daughter tighter.  "I agree, it sucks.  The one that gave me that name agrees that it sucks but he's known a few of the girls.  One's nearly twenty-five and she got called at sixteen because she had help and training according to him."  She perked up at that.  "The best you can do is probably have her trained as much as she can.  That way if she's called, she can handle it.  Don't let them run you over either."

"I won't.  He'd know someone?"

"If anyone would he would.  If he doesn't know immediately he'll call a few friends.  See, from the backstory I've heard, he treated her like his daughter.  That got him fired."  She grimaced.  "She's still going and he's still advising her and training her.  My contact said that she stood up to the council many times.  Her mom too."

"That could be helpful.  Do you think she could talk to me?"

"I think you can ask her through that same number probably."  She nodded at that.  "Let's get you home and set a uniform on your house, just in case they get terminally stupid and come back."  He helped her up and out to a squad car, nodding at the officer.  "You or someone else watches her in case more come back."

"Yes, Detective.  Were they captured?"

"The ones doing it.  There might be others who have the same idea."  That got a nod and he got in to drive them home.  He turned and found the kid watching.  "She'll be fine."

"There's an eighty percent chance of her being called," he admitted.  "Because some of the ones they train don't last that long.  I'm going to get drunk and not think about that.  Want to join me?"

"Nah.  Danny's taking me to the bar later.  You can come."

"I'll have nightmares and possibly flashbacks.  I shouldn't be around people tonight, but thanks."

"Thanks for getting her help."

"I hate to see them have anyone."  He walked over to his car, then decided to cab home.  He was too scattered to not crash.  Plus it'd be safer.  He made it home with the short stop at the liquor store, and it was better.  Until he heard the message on his machine.

"Javier, it's Mac," his voice came out.  "Since you left your car in the lot we checked it over for you.  Good instincts to leave it.  They knew that the ballistics tech found out who they were by their guns.  They have no idea that you're you but someone let slip that was your car.  The bomb is gone but your undercarriage is nearly destroyed.  I sent it to the police garage to be looked over for evidence.  Call me when you get this."

Xander sighed and called.  "You know, I cabbed so I could stop at the liquor store and not have an accident with how scattered my mind was."  He smiled.  "That's fine.  If they can't fix it, I'll get a new car."  He laughed.  "Thanks, Mac.  Yeah, getting drunk.  That way I don't have to think.  Be safe."  He hung up and went to make himself a drink, doing his weekly emailing to Bobby, John, and Dean and Sam before he started to drink.  If he did it afterward he'd be thinking while typing and he didn't think they wanted to hear that from him.  Someone knocked a bit later, making him get up to answer it.  "Ahn?"

"Yes, it's me.  You inconsiderate ox, you didn't tell me where you went."

"That's because they'd find out and kill me." He pulled her inside, looking her over.  "Back at work?"

"Yes."  She stroked his cheek.  "I'm not going to tell them.  I like you alive too much."  She smiled and took a kiss.  "One of the girls said you had played with them and wore them out.  I miss your tongue so I'm here to play with it."

"And the rest of me too I assume?" he taunted with a smirk.

"Well, yes, if you're sober enough."

He snorted.  "I've only had two, Ahn."

"You used to hate drinking."

"I still do, but it's better than the almost visions I was getting about the potential they kidnaped from the city today that I had to help find."  She slumped, nodding.  "So, just my tongue?"

She moved closer to kiss him.  "No, not just your tongue, idiot."  He grinned and pulled her into his bedroom to have some fun with her.  She could get all the squeaky, squealy noises she wanted and he could have some sleep, because she could knock him out with sex so he wouldn't have nightmares.  She had in the past.  Besides, she had been missing his tongue and the orgasms it gave her.


Xander came in the next day wearing sunglasses and a dark shirt.

"Turned?" Danny joked when he ran into him.  The kid shook his head.  "Hangover?"

"Nope.  My ex showed up to get some of me."  He took off his sunglasses and winced.  "Headache from her squealing this morning before she left."  He put them back on.  "I'm going to ballistics.  It's darker in there."  He walked that way, letting Danny snicker behind him.

"You know better to drink on work nights," Stella said loudly next to him.

"I don't get hangovers, Stella," he said, glaring at her.  "I had an ex show up for sex last night and this morning.  Her squealing in joy gave me a headache.  You mind?"  She backed off at that.  "Thank you."  He walked into ballistics, turned o the music very quietly, and shut the door with the delivery chute open.

Mac came in a few minutes later.  "You don't get hangovers?"

"I had two drunk parents, Mac.  Nope."

He looked over him. "Are you in good enough shape to work?"

"My head's throbbing but otherwise I'm fine."  He looked at him.  "Not like tylenol works on me.  I tried."  He went back to his current work.  "I'm fine as long as I don't have to hear more squealing or loud noises."

Mac patted him on the back.  "Try to rest for lunch or you break."  He left, finding Flack carrying coffee.  "It's not a hangover.  He told Stella his ex showed up last night and squealed."

"Is she going to get him in trouble?"

Xander walked out and took the coffee, giving him a one-armed hug in thanks.  "Only if she wants me to hunt down her boss and end him since she's back to her calling."  He went back to his lab and shut the door again.

"I'm wondering which ex this was."

"According to the dossier Adam found online, only one of his was more than slightly evil when she was working and squealed.  His last one.  Over women scorned," he finished quietly.  Don had read that file too.

"That's...  wow.  Why did she show up?"

"She decided she missed me," Xander called.

"Okay then.  So it's the squealing sort of headache?"  Mac nodded.  "Tylenol?  I have some in my locker."

"He said it doesn't work too well.  He'll be fine, let him recuperate in peace, Don.  Though I think the coffee was appreciated."

"He hugs nicer than some girls I've met."  He shook his head.  "Okay, now that I need another coffee," Mac laughed at that. "What's up on my other case?"

"Which one?"  Don held up the folder.  "Danny's in lab one."  Don walked that way.  He went to check on Xander.  "You're scowling at the gun?"

"It's not a gun."  He held it up.  Mac shook his head, walking off.  He found the CSI noted and went to find them.  "Stella, I may love you, but are you blind?" he asked her when he found her.  She gave him a dirty look.  "Seriously?  Do you need my glasses, dear?"

"Why would I?"

"Because you gave me a plastic gun."

"They make them."

"This one squirts water, Stella."  She moaned.  "Unless it holy water'd someone to death?"

"No.  It was dark.  I'm sorry."  He handed it over.  "Fingerprints?"

"Not my field," he reminded her.  "Danny's field.  I'm only at base standards for that one."

"I'll do it," Danny called from across the hall, looking very amused.

Xander walled over there and put one in front of him.  "I know you were trying to cheer me up by giving me the derringer shaped lighter, but still not as cute as Ahn was."  He walked off at Don's snicker.  "Thank you for the coffee, Don."

"Welcome, kid."  He smirked at Danny then at Stella.  "Both of you?  Experienced CSIs gave him fake guns?"

"I was hoping he'd find what was in the thing," Danny admitted.  He saw the note.  "Bubble gum, okay then."  He took it to DNA.  "If I've got gum and this is a lighter, think you can get DNA?"

She looked at him.  "Possibly.  Depending on how old it is."  She took it and smirked.  "Gave it to Elton first?" she asked in her gentle British accent.

"Yup.  Stella gave him a squirt gun so I'm not the only one."  He heard giggling and walked out, finding Stella leaning on Don's arm.  "Another one?"

"He walked up to Mac and offered to shoot him with the paintball pistol," Don said with a grin.  "Mac said they hurt nearly as much so he probably shouldn't unless he wanted a few unpaid days off.  Xander handed him a card for a paintball range to go play because he needed it by the scowl and the uptight, stick up the butt, thing he had going according to him."  Danny burst out laughing too.

"Enough or work unpaid overtime," Mac called.

"Since you worked it with Aiden, can he get her, Mac?" Danny called.

"No.  That's unprofessional."

"But fun when you used blessed ones on certain people to make them shriek," Xander called before shutting his lab door.

"Should we be worried that the violent instincts come out after sex?" Don asked Stella.

"Not with his exes," Danny muttered, walking off shaking his head to go back to DNA.  "You think you can?"

"I think it's incredibly old but I can try," she offered.  He grinned and left it to her.  Sometimes she worried about her coworkers and their sanity levels.  She really did.


Xander looked around the apartment.  He was bored.  He was uptight thanks to his day earlier - the last week really.  He had no idea how to get rid of it.  All he knew was that he *seriously* needed to do something to get his stress levels down before John got the urge to smack him from the west coast.  Which he didn't want.  He respected John too much to make him handle him if he went even the slightest bit evil.  A memory surfaced and he groaned.  "Mac won't like that," he muttered at the voices bothering him.  "It'll get me in trouble at work."  They continued so he had to deal with it.  Or not.

He mentally swore at them but a few others told him it might be a good idea.  He could pop around to somewhere outside the city that Mac wouldn't hear about.  He'd be okay as long as Mac didn't hear or he confessed first.  Because Mac had bee a very understanding boss about all this.  He might understand this urge too.  Maybe he even had it now and then.  Xander decided to deal with it that way just so they'd leave him alone, ignoring all the smug noises they were making.

Some even sent smug looks at him, how he had no idea but he could clearly see them in his mind.  He found an outfit he wanted and headed to a club he had traveled past on the way to the sanctuary the last time he had been there by driving.  It was a cheezy little club.  Not a happy place but it did have male dancers. He appeared outside, heading inside without looking around.  The manager saw him.  "I need to blow off some stress from work," he said bluntly.  "I'm not great but I'd love to be able to tease someone into begging."

"Can you even dance?"

"I'm not horrible."  He got led to a back room to show off.  He wasn't bad.  He wasn't great but the manager looked slightly impressed.  "All I need is to blow off some work stress."
"What do you do?"

"I'm a criminalist.  I deal with shitbags all day and their guns."

The guy gave him an odd look.  "You're a cop?"  Xander pulled out his wallet with his ID, showing it to him.  "I'll be damned."  He handed it back.   "Go for it.  We'll put you on as a temp guy.  How did you get here from New York?"

"Long story," he sighed, shaking his head.  "Very long story."  That got a nod.  "I don't even need the cash."   He went where the bouncer showed him, waving at a few of the guys.  "I need to blow off work stress."

"Open pole night is tomorrow."

"Doug said he could temp tonight," the bouncer said.  The kid moved against a wall to stretch, getting a nod for that.  "Music choice?  I can let the DJ know."  Xander wrote down three songs he remembered liking, getting a nod.  "A bit hard for the local club, kid."  Xander amended it to three country songs he liked, getting a grin and a nod.  "I'll let him know.  You're up next."  He went to the DJ, finding him where he should be.  "Kid who needs to blow off work stress."  He handed over the slip.  "He's next."  That got a nod.

The bouncer settled down to watch how the new kid handled himself on the stage.  He came out a bit shy but that was fine.  He saw one set of boys in the corner do a spit take but that was fine too.  They apparently knew him.  The kid was playing up there but he got into the groove as the first song hit its first chorus.  Then the moving got better.  He was clearly letting it go.  He was cute enough.  Well built.  Tight and well muscled.  Had a dick by the way his pants clung to his hips.  And he could move at least a little bit.

The two who had done the spit take were staring in awe.  The kid, well...  yeah he could handle himself.   By the end of the second song he was down to his pants, which were open.  It was clear someone had trained him at least a little bit in how to strip.  No one was that natural their first time on the pole or the stage.  The kid kicked off his pants and moved closer to the end of the stage, tempting the guys to try to touch. A few tossed tips, staring at how his hips swayed and rocked for them with the music.

Then the last song came off and the boy grinned, walking off with a wink at the guys, taking the tips.  They all got put into the jar in the back for the other dancers and the kid got dressed, heading out the back door.  The Bouncer smiled.  That was a classy kid.  Blow off his stress and leave it at the tease.  He noticed one of the guys that had done the spit take had snuck out too but the other one didn't seem too concerned, just stunned stupid.  He nudged one of the dancers on the floor selling drinks to go hit on him, shocking him out of it.  The guy was charming but clearly not into guys.  He had come in for the beer but the dancer did get a drink sale.

Xander turned when he felt a hand on his arm, turning to find Sam there.  "This is freaky luck.  What are you doing here, Sam?"

"What are you doing here?" he asked back.

"Work stress," he said simply.  Sam growled, moving closer.  "I needed to blow it off so I was."  He shrugged.  "There's no other good ways to do it at home.  Either I'd pick up one of the freaky, dangerous chicks or we'd have this problem where they'd find me and hunt me down while I was asleep post orgasm.  This was safer."

"So you came to a gay bar in the middle of nowhere to blow off stress?"

"I remembered it from the last drive to the sanctuary."

Sam moaned, pulling Xander into the shadows.  "No.  There's ways around that stress, Xander."

"Not that I have available to me, Sam.  You know your dad won't let me date in case I pull in something dangerous and have to act.  He doesn't even like me to do bar pickups."

"He's being even more controlling than he was with us," Sam said in awe.  Xander nodded.
"I guess he has reason but still."  Xander leaned on the hood of the Impala, letting him look him over.  "Where did you learn that?"

"Roadtrip.  I ended up on the pole to fix the car that blew up."

"Oh."  He moved closer.  "What do you really need, Xander?"

He stared at Sam.  "You like girls," he said bluntly.

"Not always."  He pulled him closer to kiss him, making him hiss and shift closer.  "You teased but it didn't get it out of you, did it?" he asked, moving down to his throat.

"No.  It helped."  He moved closer.  "We've had lab anomalies and a serial rapist reappear."

Sam nodded, nipping him gently on the same spot that Xander had bit him before.  "I can understand that."  He flipped him around, shoving him down onto the hood.  "We need to make this really fast."

A bouncer came over.  "Boyfriend?"

"Our dad's watching over him.  If I knew he was that stressed I would've offered before."  Sam grinned.  "Give us ten?"  He stroked up Xander's back, getting a small moan.

"Take it to the motel, boys."  He walked off shaking his head.  "He didn't realize his boyfriend was here," he told the bouncer inside.  "They said they were on a roadtrip earlier."

"No wonder he was holding so much stress."  He saw the dark car pull out of the lot and smirked.  "Looks like he stranded his brother."  He went to talk to him.  "Your car and brother just left together," he said quietly, looking down at him.

"I figured he was taking him home or something."  He took another drink.

"The guy who was on stage said it was job stress.  Apparently he didn't realize his boyfriend was here with you."  He walked off to talk to the boss.  "We'll get him a ride to the motel."


"Apparently.  He was about to have him on the hood of the car."

"Interesting."  He shrugged.  The kid had been odd but he knew about work stress.  The dancers stressed him out all the time.


Sam walked Xander through the door, kicking it shut as he pulled Xander's shirt off him.  He kissed him then pushed him onto the bed.  "You need softness or cuddling?"

"Cuddling is nice afterward."

"That'll work.  I'm about to bop Dean on the head."  He laid down once he was naked, finishing his pulling off of Xander's clothes.   He dove in, making him a happy boy.  Xander was moaning into his mouth on his nipple and trying to get him to move.  Sam shifted to lay on top of him, letting him do whatever he wanted to do.  He was seriously horny and he had no idea why.  He hadn't been this way earlier.  He looked up, panting some.  "Hormones?"


"You sure?"


"Okay."  He kissed him and moved so they could rub against each other.  "How do you feel about moaning and screaming, Xander?"  Xander shivered.  "You miss being called by your own name?" he teased, kissing him again.  He flipped Xander over and found the lube and a condom, using it on him.  "Relax for me and I'll make it good enough to make you happier again, Xander."  Xander went limp for him and it was good.  Sam didn't have to do too much work.  Xander opened readily under his fingers.  He slid in and moaned at the tightness.  This was going to be a good ride.  He started slowly then built up until Xander was holding on for dear life.  He was babbling and begging.  "Come on, Xander," he said, panting into the back of his head.  "Come on.  You can go over, Xander."  He screamed in pleasure at one hard thrust and went over, letting Sam follow.  Sam calmed himself down, holding Xander against his chest.  "Shh, I've got you."

Xander gulped air, trying to look back at him.  "That was good."

"It was but I wasn't this horny before."  Xander wiggled free of him and flipped over to cuddle him, making Sam happier since he was back.  Xander gave him a kiss before curling up on his shoulder.  "You okay?  I didn't hurt you?"

"It was great, Sam.  Thank you."

"Welcome."  He took another kiss and grinned.  "Dean's going to throw a fit."

"I'm not the Winchester family sex toy or pet."

"I know that."  He gave him a cuddle, making him a happy boy again.  "We're due in LA in a week.  We had to stop to do something first.  He smoothed over his hair.  "Then we'll see what happens after the invasion."

"I shouldn't be there."

"I know.  If you do, we'll protect you."  Xander nodded, snuggling in better.  They were lightly dozing when Dean came in.

"Damn, it smells like evil rutting stink," he said dryly, closing the door.  "By the way, guys.  Killed the incubus at the club."  They both groaned.  He smirked at them.  "It good, Sammy?"

"Yes I am," Xander told him weakly.

"Good.  You can play with him all you want, Xander.  If he agrees, it won't matter to me.  We'll hide it from Dad."  Xander gave him an evil smirk over Sam's shoulder.  "As long as he's not too tired to hunt now and then."

"He won't be."  He looked at Sam, who shrugged, so he kissed him, making him moan.

"I don't need to see that," Dean said impatiently.

"Then go sleep in the car," Sam said as he moved lower to tease Xander some.  "Do you want more, Xander?"  Xander nodded, arching up into him.  "That's a good boy."

"Still not a pet," he panted.

"Pity.  I can pet and cuddle the family pet," he teased with a grin.  Xander flipped him over and got what he wanted by climbing on top, making Sam hiss and moan as he slid down his cock.  "Damn," he said, pushing up.  Xander set his own rhythm.  Sam could keep up with it.  Dean fled to the bathroom for a few minutes.  "I think we embarrassed him."

Xander shrugged.  "I'm sure he's seen it before."  He took a kiss and went back to it, making Sam very happy.  Happy enough to help him stroke himself off to another orgasm and then a much needed nap for both of them.  He flopped down, letting Sam hold him.  "Damn you're good," he said in his ear.

Sam smirked.  "Of course I am."

"That's because I taught him.  He was pathetic before," Dean called.  "You two done now?"

"Yeah, for now," Sam agreed.  Dean came out shaking his head but ready for bed.  He climbed into his bed and faced away from them, making Sam smirk.  "See, it's cool."  He took a kiss and Xander finished drifting off with him.  Sam was quickly asleep too but it was a restful, nightmare sleep for both of them.


to part 8

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