A little something I wrote for my friend MehScrewIt who was heart-broken at the lack of Sexter in this world. =) Enjoy!

ooOoOoo

"I am hungry", Saracen whined, putting on an expression of utter dismay. "And my back hurts."

Dexter shot him a glance from where he was sitting comfortably in the driver's seat. "Why did you not buy anything at the gas station we passed some hour earlier when we had to stop because you needed to pee?", he sighed.

"Wasn't hungry back then", Saracen mumbled and slouched in the passenger seat of the black Ford Mustang Dexter had 'organized', although he suspected him of having nicked it off some parking lot.

Vex pointed over his shoulder. "I still have some sandwiches in my rucksack. Go, fetch those if you want."

Half-turning in his seat, Saracen fished for the strap of the leather bag and angled it towards himself before picking it up and started rummaging through it. With a cry of triumph he produced two slightly mushy and squished pieces of bread with an unintelligible topping wrapped in cling-foil. Sniffing at them suspiciously, Saracen turned to Dexter. "You sure these are still good?"

Vex didn't even bother to steal a glance at the food; he was far more concerned deciphering a dusty street-sign that carved out a miserable existence on the soft shoulders of the road. "Yeah. Anyway, pass me the road map. I think I might need it."

"What road map?" Saracen asked, having chosen starvation over food poisoning (or worse) and was currently stuffing the slices of bread back into the rucksack, not daring to wonder what else Dexter kept in there.

"The one you packed."

"I didn't pack any road map."

There was a silence. Then. "You didn't pack the road map?! Why, because you usually just know the way?"

"That is not how my powers work."

Dexter snorted. "Yeah, like they work at all at the moment."

"You are being unfair!" Saracen cried offended. "How was I supposed to know the amulet would drain my magic upon touching it?"

Vex put on an expression of utter concentration, as though he were thinking about something really intently. "I'm not sure … maybe by studying the dramatic sign that read something along the lines of 'DO NOT TOUCH OR YOUR MAGIC WILL BE ABSORBED'?"

"Yeah, yeah, I get the point", Saracen grumbled and silence enveloped them. "Thank you, though."

Dexter glanced at the dark-haired man in curious surprise. "What for?"

"Aiding me getting the stolen amulet back."

"Don't mention it." Dexter smiled across at Saracen. "That's what friends are for, right? To help each other out. To hunt after the very same gang of thieves who managed to nick the amulet from right under your nose. To think that we only go after them because you have to paw everything all the time."

Saracen smirked devilishly as he reached over to run a finger along the inside of Dexter's thigh before gently stroking his intimate area. "I never paw anything!"

"Jesus, Saracen! Not while I'm driving!" Dexter swatted his hand away but couldn't help the grin from spreading across his face. "I suppose the sign we just passed indicated a town two miles ahead. We are – admittedly – quite lost and it is getting dark already. What do you say, let's call it a day and find ourselves a nice hotel? I think the both of us deserve some rest."

"I don't know if I will let you sleep just yet", Saracen winked at his friend who in response shook his head laughing.

The town turned out to be not more than a bigger village harbouring close to five-hundred souls. As Dexter let the car slowly roll down the dusty main road which was already flooded by the orange light of the street-lamps in preparation for the swiftly advancing night, he noticed that there were little to no pedestrians at all and those who had ventured outside appeared to be in quite a hurry to get back into the safety of their own walls. Shrugging at this, Vex manoeuvred the Mustang into a vacant bay on the parking area in front of a vaguely flashy looking hotel running by the endearing name of Beech Hotel. "What do you say?" he asked as he leaned forward to give the façade of the building another examining look.

"Seems fine to me, although I find the name irritating: if you say it out loud it sounds like 'beach' which is downright fallacious! I would sue them were I ever promised a marvellous stay at a beach hotel only to be deceived like that."

Dexter shook his head. "You had better tell the manager before he drowns in complaints."

The hotel room itself was spacious yet not luxurious. There was a large double bed with lovely white and beige covers and cosy-looking pillows that had tiny hearts stitched onto them. The slender-legged bedside tables on either side bore reading lamps casting a comfortable yellowish light as well as thin pads and sharpened pencils. Across from the bed, in a corner next to a window leading out on the town, a huge dark-wooded closet clung to the kitschy rosy wallpapers that sported some sort of flowery decoration. Next to it and right in front of the double bed, a fashionable table invited to sit down and have a cup of tea. A vase of fake roses and other flowers rumoured to be romantic was set in the middle of the glass surface of the table.

"I knew this guy was up to something!" Saracen remarked dryly upon seeing their room. "Damn receptionist! He was way too smiley with us. How he smirked when we asked for a double bed."

"Leave him be", Dexter sighed wearily and dropped his rucksack on a chair standing at the table before collapsing on the bed face-first with a groan. "I love beds."

"Will you get out of there!" Saracen slapped Dexter on the butt. "You reek! Go, take a shower!"

Groaning in frustration, the blond propped himself up on his elbow and shook his boots off of his aching feet. "Alright, alright." He got up and grabbed Saracen by the wrist smiling slyly down at him. "But you are coming with me."

Saracen smirked and let himself be dragged in the direction of the bathroom. "As you wish, beloved."

After an hour of childish splashing in an enormous bathtub they had discovered in the surprisingly spacious bathroom, that involved playing with rubber ducks and foam, not to mention sensual kisses, both men were cosily wrapped in the fragrant covers of the bed. They had already turned out the lights and were now cuddling comfortably in the darkness.

Dexter had put his muscled arm around Saracen who lay snuggled up against him, head in the nook between shoulder and chest. He felt a cheeky finger trail on his breast before inching downwards and grabbed the insulting hand. "Not tonight, I am afraid I am too tired", Vex said gently and pressed a kiss to Saracen's forehead who grumbled sleepily. "My, my, you are desperately in need of a lengthy rest."

Saracen smiled and closed his eyes, stretching an arm over Dexter's bare torso, holding him close and it was in this position the couple fell asleep.

"Did you sleep well last night?" the waiter winked at Saracen and Dexter with barely concealed enthusiasm. It had turned out that the grinning receptionist also played the role of an annoying waiter during breakfast, apparently aspiring to read every wish from their eyes. Funnily enough, he almost completely ignored the handful of other guests peacefully sipping their tea and buttering their toasts. His black uniform had razor-sharp ironed creases and the brightly polished name badge he flaunted on his chest had the single word Noah stamped on it.

"Yeah, it was okay", Saracen answered with a polite smile while Dexter still tried to pry his eyes open long enough to locate his cup of coffee on the richly laid table: the white tablecloth was nearly invisible beneath the heap of plates, glasses and bowls the Dead Men had balanced on a tray across from the buffet.

"Will you be on your way today again?" Noah fiddled with a damp cleaning rag and his dark brown eyes darted about the room as though he expected something to happen. He replaced the peculiar curl around his mouth with the well-known flashy smile that showed a lot of teeth, although it seemed kind of forced.

"Probably. We have some business to attend to."

"Good! I mean … shame. Uh … anyway … was everything according to your expectations? Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Dude, what the hell is your problem?" Dexter drew his eyebrows together to give his face a what-the-fuck-expression whilst half-turning in his seat and raised his hand in an exasperated gesture. "Right now I would find it fantastic if I could just eat my toast and drink my coffee without a beaming rainbow prancing about my table."

The waiter's smile wrinkled and his eager air somehow deflated as he nodded courtly and retreated into the kitchen.

Saracen crunched down on his slice of buttered toast and inspected the muesli, picking out the raisins before drowning it in milk. "Come, Dex, don't give the man such a hard time. He is just friendly, is all." He snickered at Dexter's glare and his dishevelled look: the blond mob of tousled hair was standing up in all directions and his shirt had a dark stain from where he had already spilled his coffee over himself. There was no doubt about Vex being a complete morning grouch and it was better to leave him in peace before he had had anything decent to eat.

"I hate friendly people", Dexter growled and took a sip of coffee. "Especially in the morning. Ew, mornings. People."

Saracen laughed and amiably patted his arm as he stared at the closed kitchen door. "Although, he did seem nervous about something."

Dexter frowned, the coffee having revived his senses. "Yeah, he seemed rather fidgety. To think he said it was good we would be on our way today. Isn't that something odd to say for an employee of a hotel? Shouldn't he be urging us to stay?"

"Your brain already figured that out? Such a straining deduction before eight in the morning! I am impressed!"

"Shut up."

"Maybe we freak him out because we are a gay couple?"

"Do you remember the pathetic amount of grinning and hyperventilating he did when we checked in yesterday? I think you recall the ridiculous room he has given us or do I have to remind you of that cute heart-shaped imprint on your cheek you woke up with because you have been cuddling that pillow with the silly stitchings?" Dexter huffed with a smile and continued his breakfast.

Saracen gasped in mock offence. "I never cuddle anything apart from you!"

Dexter took the hint and draped his hand over his eyes. "The imprint stands proof of your sinful love towards the fluffy pillow. Am I nothing to you? A fleeting affair that had to end with me on the other side of the bed, drowning in tears of rejection, cold and lonely."

Their warm laughter carried across the room and the other guests smiled at the two friends.

Suddenly the swing doors leading into the fancy hall opened and a group of grim-looking men entered. They were in five, the leader taking in the room with one sweeping gaze before starting towards the two Dead Men. Their approach was not even half as dramatic as they probably were expecting because they had to wriggle their way through the strategically arranged tables. Murmurs grew louder as the sudden appearance of the men was discussed by the other guests.

Almost at the same time, the kitchen door opened and the waiter appeared, smile sliding off his face as he spotted the intruders. He quickly set the tray he had been carrying aside, pushing over a glass of orange juice but paying it no heed and hastened towards them. He intersected them halfway between the door and the Dead Men's table and with a hushed voice immediately started to insistently talk to the arrogant-looking leader. Neither Saracen nor Dexter could make out the words.

Noah apparently had come to an arrangement with the strangers and motioned them to remain where they were as he hurriedly approached the Dead Men with an ashen face while his fingers were kneading the brim of his shiny black waistcoat. "I am so sorry, Gentlemen", he mumbled. "These men … I … please leave."

Dexter frowned. "You want to kick us out?"

Noah wore a desperate expression as he clasped his hands together in a pleading gesture. "Please, they want a word with you but I know, they will hurt you – badly."

"Is that so? How come?" Saracen asked, stealing an unimpressed glance at the fear-instilling wedge-shaped formation the men had taken up as they slowly approached the table in a menacing manner. No worries there.

"Well … it is because … uh, how do I say this politely … you … you are …" Noah jumped when the leader of the men tapped him on the shoulder and ushered him out of the way. The waiter clutched his waistcoat even tighter as he worriedly looked at Saracen and Dexter who were still comfortably slouched in the cushioned chairs, a relaxed air about them.

The men formed a threatening semi-circle before the two mages who were expectantly looking up at them with raised eyebrows. "Yes? Can we help you? Perhaps point out the nearest barber?" Saracen smirked and nodded at the grisly beard sprouting on most of the men's cheeks and chins.

Noah gasped in horror, his pale face twisting in fear and the tip of his knobbly nose trembled visibly.

"Funny." The leader of the group, a man in his beginning thirties, chuckled. He was the only one with a clean-shaven face and his blue eyes sparkled hatefully as he stared down at them. His entire composure radiated violence, reinforced by the obvious bulge of a pistol under his washed-out black leather jacket. Muscled arms were folded before his chest and his stance was broad as he clearly emitted self-control and authority. With four club-carrying hairy lumberjack-bouncers backing him up, that really was not that much of an accomplishment. His brown hair was falling in bangs over his brow but was otherwise relatively short-trimmed. With a sneer he looked Saracen and Dexter up and down. "My name is Spencer Brooks and I hear we have some new poofs in town."

Dexter and Saracen glanced at each other, eyebrows almost disappearing into their hairlines, before they burst out laughing, drawing concerned looks from all around the room. It probably came as a surprise for most that the reaction to such a menacing statement was bubbling laughter. Especially since the offenders were obviously armed and heavily outnumbered the two Dead Men.

Saracen nudged Dexter in the ribs but never taking his eye off the growling men in whose demeanour there was now a hint of doubt detectable. "Poofs, huh?"

"How much money do we have?" Dexter asked undeterred as though he were just out window-shopping and had stumbled upon an unexpected must-have.

Saracen smirked. "Enough, rest assured."

"You intend to bribe us, fag?" Spencer laughed incredulously. "Do you really think you are going to get off the hook so easily?"

"We are merely calculating how much damage to you and the hotel our wallets can bear but it seems we have it covered", Dexter informed him with a grin.

"Our friends here honestly want to pick a fight with us thinking they can take us on. If they weren't so disgustingly gay I would pity them." Spencer pulled the corners of his mouth into a sneer, expecting complimentary grunts from his beardy clique for his outstanding wit which followed suite.

"Saracen, remind me again, why have I been putting up with jerks like these for over two centuries now?" Dexter sighed.

"Because you love me." The dark-haired mage looked at him sweetly and smiled.

"Right. Then let's get this over with before my boiled egg gets cold. Stay behind me, darling!" Grinning he gestured dramatically in Saracen's direction, imitating a cliché action hero protecting his inevitable inapt love-interest who was not more than eye-candy in courtesy of the audience. None of them approved of the way the mortals had chosen to represent women in films and so they had taken delight in slipping into the roles of the sparkling hero and the is-just-there-to-be-rescued-while-looking-good-female now and then to mock the concept. When Vex stood the arrogant lad had to look up at him to meet his eye since the blond was half a head taller.

Saracen pushed himself up from the table as well and joined Dexter in towering over Spencer. The situation had changed: it was them who radiated steel-cold authority now as they faced the group of offenders who looked at one another, unsure what to do next. While it was not exactly a novelty that their chosen victims talked back and refused to be submitted simply by threatening looks, it was kind of unsettling that Saracen and Dexter smirked confidently and it was unusual that they appeared to be looking forward to the inevitable brawl.

"You sure about this, son?" Dexter asked patronizingly, knowing he would hit a nerve.

Raging black thunder-clouds drew together above Spencer's head and his face flushed a deep bordeaux-red as he turned to his friends brandishing baseball bats and short knives. He himself swung his arm back for a mighty punch. "Take them out!"

About a minute later Dexter and Saracen were again comfortably sitting at their table, happily continuing their breakfast as though nothing had happened. The other guests had fled the breakfast hall as soon as the mages had stood confrontationally and the air had begun to thicken and tense.

Noah was staring wide-eyed at the five unconscious men lying scattered about the room, splintered tables and amazing amounts of shattered dish-ware; clearly if they had wanted to smash this much, they would not have succeeded. He had followed the entire fight with unbelief peeking out from behind a serving-trolley that was piled high with dirty cups and bowls. Now he was scrambling to his feet again and approached Spencer who was lying face-down in the midst of the rubble, arms squeezed under his body. Tentatively, Noah poked the man with the tip of his sharply polished pointy black shoe and when there came no reaction he kicked him.

"No, no, you have to do that while he is still conscious", Saracen lectured wisely but with a smirk spreading across his face as he invited the waiter with a gesture to take a seat at their table. He poured the waiter a steaming cup of tea and handed it to him. "Here, calms the nerves."

Noah stared at Dexter inspecting Saracen's muesli before claiming it as his own and crunching down on the crispy bits. "I … you", he stuttered and looked down at his neatly folded hands. "Thank you."

Saracen laughed. "What for? Smashing your hotel to pieces? Don't worry, we will pay for the damage."

"Nobody ever dared to stand up against them", Noah said quietly kneading his waistcoat again.

"And with 'nobody' you mean the entire town … not taking on five men. I don't mean to insult you but that is kind of lame", Dexter pointed out.

"As if! They are but underlings for the dirty work. The wire-pullers are a group of people who have taken over the town about half a year ago. They arrived, had the then mayor, Mr. Andrews, disappear without a trace and claimed his position, taking up residence in the town hall. But I shouldn't be telling you all of this or you will get mixed up in this mess even more than you already have. Those men are dangerous, people who stand in their way vanish or worse things happen to them."

"What is this, The Godfather?" Saracen laughed, biting into a red juicy apple.

Noah smiled wearily and took a sip of fruity tea only to wince at the bitterness and poured half of the sugar bowl into the cup. "Things have changed around here – dramatically if I may say so. Spencer and his little gang are but the tip of the iceberg for there are about a dozen other groups terrorizing the inhabitants of this town. Personally, I don't think the big bosses care about that trifle but they let those who stand under their protection go rampant throughout the city."

"And what do they care about?" Saracen's coffee had gone cold but he paid it no heed as he leaned forward, eager to learn more about this matter. His brown eyes were shining with excitement and Dexter had to stop himself from smiling lovingly; Saracen was always so inquisitive and curious upon encountering a riddle or a something that did not add up so that he later could claim to have known it all along."

"I really shouldn't say", Noah hesitated, visibly at war with himself whether to drag these strangers into something they might not be able to get out of alive. "I would not want to endanger you even further …"

Dexter smiled comfortingly at the waiter. "Tell us, we might be able to help."

Noah snorted unhappily. "We cannot be helped and especially not by just two men – no offence; they have turned this entire area into a smuggler-nest. Every time we tried to contact the police and they ventured out here to investigate or interrogate the persons in question, they exit the town hall completely dazed and don't remember what exactly they had been wanting in this place. We think they are bribed with horrendous amounts of money or simply hypnotized like in those documentaries they show you on television."

"So, this is The Godfather!"

"At night black trucks roll through the streets, laden with stolen goods to be transported to an abandoned ware-house at the outskirts of the town where they do God only knows what with them. Sometimes the land about is flooded with a strange light and weird sounds fill the night."

"Those people – what are they like?" Dexter asked.

"They are normal men and women if you don't take their … strange look into account, like they don't really fit in here, they dress in antiquated garments and seem … old or rather wise, even though none of them looks older than forty. We call them The Old Ones."

"How many are there?"

"About eight or nine."

"Not more?" Saracen sounded surprised.

Noah blushed and looked down bashfully. "There is no need, they do a pretty good job in converting decent town's people into thugs who in turn restrain the rest of us. Threats, beatings, imprisonments and so forth. It has got to be hypnosis!"

"Can you tell me the big boss's name?" Dexter wanted to know. A steep crease had appeared on his brow as he began to fathom who those mysterious Old Ones might be.

"Uhm … one of them I think is called Leontion Drawn. He is the one Spencer gets his orders from when he is not up and about to terrorize gay people."

Saracen smiled and looked at Dexter knowingly. "My, my, if that is not an unusual name."

Noah nodded in agreement. "Now that you mention it, all their names are peculiar."

Dexter looked at Saracen questioningly who nodded in return. "Noah, I am delighted to announce that this town is of such lovely quality that me and my dear friend have decided to stay a few more days."

The waiter's eyes widened and he sat up straight in his chair as he gestured wildly with his hands. "No! You cannot! They will kill you … please … Mr. Vex, we can handle this ourselves. I beg of you to leave."

Dexter leaned forward and placed a comforting hand on Noah's shoulder. "I am afraid you won't be able to do anything against them but we do. Saracen and me, we … uh, are trained in confronting people like the Old Ones."

"Military?"

"Sort of. Special division for anti-Mafia … combat. We are the ones standing up for justice and for those who cannot protect themselves, who have never seen battle and do not dare to fight the evil forces at hand. Basically, we burn out those kind of Mafia-clans which are using … mortal, I mean, innocent people like you for their own skulduggery." He ignored Saracen's deadpan look as well as the face-palm that followed and continued to smile encouragingly at the waiter and finally the corners of Noah's mouth twitched into the shadow of a hopeful smile.