Disclaimer: Don't own or claim rights to Buffy or Bones
A/N: Follow Up to 'Never Did', which I apparently didn't post anywhere when I wrote it back in May. Ah, well... Enjoy!
It had been months, now, since Buffy could look him in the eye. She'd try, no doubt about that, but almost as soon as she'd make eye contact, she'd get stiff, and her eyes would slide off to the side, and she'd clear her throat, and have to be somewhere that was else. Occasionally, Willow would glance at him, make eye contact with Dawn, and snicker. Then Dawn would smirk, and run her eyes over his body, which was always unnerving. Andrew would squeak, and run away, and Xander… Actually, he hadn't seen Xander in ages. He wasn't quite sure what he'd done to deserve that.
"You must be Angel," an unfamiliar voice greeted, and he could almost hear the smirk.
Angel turned to find … himself. Or what he imagined he looked like. If he was older, and, God, what was that belt buckle? "Who are you?" he demanded.
The not-Angel grinned, and stuck out his hand. "Seely Booth," he greeted.
Angel shook the proffered hand gingerly, and tried to work out what was going on. "So, uh, you're a Watcher?" he tried.
"Watcher," Seely frowned thoughtfully. "That's what Xander is, isn't it?"
Angel blinked. "Uh, I think so. I know the Council's been short of proper Watchers since the bombing, and it's not like he doesn't know at least as much as anyone else."
Seely tilted his head, still smiling. "Bombing, huh? Xander didn't mention that. Actually, I'm a federal agent. FBI."
Angel froze, eyes wide, unsure how to proceed. "So … you're here for something?"
"I'm here for Xander, actually," Seely smiled, and Angel recognised it as something Spike had picked up from him. "Is there anything you can tell me about him?"
"As if I would let you hear any stories from the Broodmeister," Xander mocked as he slid his arms around Seely's waist. "Hey, Angel," Xander smirked.
It was times like this that Angel truly appreciated his vampiric constitution. An absence of the need to breathe was handy when shock prevented you from doing just that. "Xander?" he tried finally.
"Angel," Xander grinned, resting his chin on Seely's shoulder.
"Can we talk?" Angel tried again.
"I thought that's just what we were doing," Xander offered, patently enjoying himself way too much.
Angel grit his teeth. "I need to talk to you privately, Xander. Away from your friend," he added before the boy could say anything.
Xander pouted at the lost opportunity. He then whispered in his lover's ear and kissed his cheek before untangling himself, and following the vampire. When they were far enough away, he stopped, and folded his arms. "You wanted something, Deadboy?"
"What the hell is going on, Harris?" Angel demanded.
Xander shook his head. "Believe it or not, this has absolutely nothing to do with you. I know everyone thinks Seely's my substitute Angel, and – believe me – the thought did lurk in the back of my brain for a while," he paused and shuddered, "but then I discovered that I really, truly did not have the hots for you."
Angel frowned at the man before him, considered, and did not pout. "So … what? He just happens to look like me?"
"Please," Xander snorted. "The universe knows you're hot. Unfortunately for you – or fortunately, if that's your preference – you brood way too much for me to ever be interested in you. Seely, on the other hand, is constitutionally opposed to brooding. He's smart, and funny, and loyal, and brave. He has served his country, both as a soldier, and as an FBI agent. He's …" Xander trailed off, thinking about his lover. "He's just … everything I didn't know I wanted," he added, smiling softly.
"He's not me," Angel summarised.
Xander chuckled. "That is a plus," he teased.
Angel looked back towards his doppelganger. "So how much does he know?"
Xander glanced back down the hall. "Not much. I don't talk about work much, but then, neither does he. I know he works with a group out of the Jeffersonian. Forensic Anthropologists, I think." When Angel looked at him blankly, he shrugged. "Geeks," he explained simply. He grinned suddenly. "He's Irish Catholic."
Angel perked up, and began formulating possible bloodlines. He then frowned. "I, uh, may have mentioned you being a Watcher," he confessed.
Xander rolled his eye. "Yeah. Should have known I could trust you to spill the beans."
"Yeah, well maybe you should have mentioned that you were … bedding my doppelganger," Angel retaliated, thankful as ever that he couldn't blush, "and not to say anything to him about our stuff."
"So it's my fault," Xander offered sardonically.
Angel tightened his lips on the obvious 'yes'. "So what are you going to tell him? He seems like a smart man," he added, lifting his chin with pride.
Xander laughed. "You've already claimed him, haven't you? You always did need to have your family at your feet, didn't you?" he taunted.
"Back away, Xander," Buffy hissed, hurrying into the room, "before Willow has to do magic with your boyfriend in the next room."
"What?" Xander demanded.
"Admit it," Buffy scowled. "You were trying to get Angel to lose his temper."
Xander wasn't too proud to pout. "But it's fun," he protested.
It was Buffy's turn to roll her eyes. "God, Xan. Just go back to your boyfriend and leave Angel alone. And you, buster," she went on, turning on Angel," should know better than to let him get to you. I mean, how old are you? And he's been at you for how many years, now? God! Grow a brain, or something," she muttered, stalking off.
Angel scowled after the blonde, deciding that he preferred her when she was a pliable teenager. This maturity of hers was no fun. Still, he had bloodlines to investigate.
"So," Seely began, having greeted his lover appropriately, "what is a Watcher, and what do they do?"
Xander sighed. "It's an old term for the support staff in the Council. The old Council was around for hundreds of years, and can trace it's heritage even further. They pretty much ended back in 2003 when a terrorist bombed their headquarters in London. What we have now is the New Council, which keeps as few of the old traditions as we can get away with. Using the term Watcher was considered to be the lesser of two evils, so that's my job title. I travel around the world, poking into archaeological digs we fund, scouting girls for our schools, liaising with various groups, and picking up artefacts as they become available.
"Giles is another Watcher, and he runs the Council, with all the bureaucratic shit that comes with it. Robin's another Watcher, and he runs the school in Cleveland," Xander shrugged. "Andrew and Dawn are researchers, as are a number of others, and they're all Watchers, too. As a job title, it's pretty useless, but it keeps the remnants of the Old Council happy, and has occasional meaning to the people I deal with outside the Council."
Seely sighed. "Tell me you're not doing anything illegal."
"I'm not doing anything illegal," Xander confirmed dutifully. "There may be places I don't want to go back to, but there's nowhere that I've been banned from. And I haven't been charged for anything since the incident in Liverpool, but I swear I thought I was using the right currency. In my defence, I hadn't slept since Malawi, and just used whatever was in my wallet, and walked out. It all worked out, and Sergeant Peters smiled last time he saw me, I swear."
Seely shook his head, and smiled. "Okay, Xan, I won't poke too hard at your secrets. Just … try not to make life too hard for me, okay?"
Xander wrapped his arms around his lover. "I will do my best, Seely, I promise."
"You seem distracted," Dr Brennan observed.
Seely frowned, gnawing on his lip. "You've travelled a lot," he began. "Seen a lot of things, know a lot of different people."
"Yes," Bones nodded. "I believe I've travelled to every continent other than Antarctica. Was there something you wanted to know?"
"You ever hear of Watchers?" Seely asked. "They work for the Council."
Brennan scowled. "I have. They can be self-righteous and obstructive. Usually English, though I can't blame the population in general for the failings of individuals. Although they have changed recently," she added thoughtfully. "I met one last time I was in Africa. American, young. Much more respectful of my dig," she nodded.
"Uh, what did he look like?" Seely asked, suddenly nervous.
"A little shorter than you, I think," Bones considered. "Dark hair, young. Wore an eye-patch on his left eye. Apparently it's missing due to an industrial accident."
Seely shook his head. "I know him," he chuckled.
"Well," Bones tilted her head in thought, "if you ever want to try sex with a man, I understand Mr Harris is very skilled, and bisexual. One of the other anthropologists on the dig, Gerard, was chasing him, but he said he had better taste than that."
Seely opened his mouth, but couldn't figure out what to say, so closed it again. Instead, he just nodded and smiled. "Okay," he said finally. "Well, I'll, uh, keep that in mind. So… About the case."