3

Alex found the bedroom easily by following the voices and soft laughter. When he appeared in the doorway, all three fell silent while Giles rose and went to him, questioning the young man with his eyes, not reaching out for the gym bag until Alex nodded slowly. As he entered the room warily and dropped to the air-bed, Giles reclaimed his space on the king-size and caught Alex up.

"Take a minute and relax, Alex. We're still talking. Nothing's happening yet."

"I see that."

"As I said earlier, William and I have gotten into the habit of using our true names. If you feel comfortable with being called Alex in an... intimate context, that's fine, but if not..."

"No. Alex will be fine. Am I allowed to use yours too?"

"Of course. Why not?"

"I've always had this picture of the day I finally got pissed enough to call him William. It always ended with my head being separated from my shoulders; violently and with lots of spurting and gushing of blood."

"No worries, mate. There's much better uses for that pretty face. Be a cryin' shame to rip it up 'stead of usin' it in all the ways ya should."

Wesley's quiet ahem broke into Spike's reverie and halted an impromptu advance on Alex's person.

"Wesley?"

"No, actually. I suppose, since truth in advertising seems to be the order of the day... God in his heaven, I swore I'd never speak this name again. Gentlemen, may I introduce... Michael Adams."

William sat stunned for a moment, then collapsed backwards on the bed, laughing wildly, followed swiftly by Alex. Only Rupert was able to maintain any semblance of composure, in deference to the indignation he saw blossoming in his friend's expression.

"Why the change? Michael Adams is a nice, perfectly serviceable name."

"Not for a watcher! That was my thinking at the time, at least. I didn't want nice or serviceable. I wanted... elegant and superior... and worthy of respect."

"Pouffy!" Will roared out between gasping laughs.

"I always... thought it... sounded like a... Sesame Street Muppet!" Alex added, finding it hard to catch his breath. Both went on guffawing until Rupert admonished them.

"That's enough, you two. So. Shall it be Michael for this weekend?"

"Yes, but no mention of the last name, if you don't mind. Not unless bitterness, recriminations and black depression are really the mood you're looking to foster."

This statement rapidly sobered the rest, prompting Alex to speak up to lighten the mood again.

"Agreed. So, what were you all discussing when I came in?"

"Oh. Yes. I was about to tell Rupert and William about my experience in this area, which is very little. I... I have been touched once or twice. You know how it goes; thirty twelve year olds in an all-male summer camp, stuck with only each other for eight weeks during the initial flush of puberty. One gets curious... and rather desperate."

"Anythin' else? Like, more recent, maybe?"

"Nothing... significant. A brief encounter in my twenties. My college flat mate got stoned out of his gourd one night and confessed he was gay. I suspect only God and my frightful judgment will ever know why I did it, but... I allowed him to..."

"Ya gave in to a blow-job."

"Crudely put, but accurate."

"Yeah, well, sweet romantic words don't seem to be the style 'round here. Rupert prefers soft hands and cathouse language, don't ya ducks?"

Blushing furiously, Rupert closed his eyes as Spike caressed his cheek quickly, then began to stroke a thumb along his jawline.

"Yes. That combination has proved... quite effective... more so the fangs."

This statement brought the other two to swift attention.

"Relax. No bitin'. That's the rules. I nibble the neck a little, scratch maybe, but bitin' is strictly forbidden. To break that rule would be to break our trust an' I won't ever do that."

"Fangs have other, much more... pleasurable purposes, that don't involve... the need for hydrogen peroxide or band-aids." Rupert sighed, leaning into the hand that was sliding up and down his neck and over his scalp, pushing his thick hair into unruly curves and angles.

"If I'd known we fit together like that, I woulda been after you long ago, sweets."

After watching for a few more seconds, Alex felt it was his turn to ahem.

"Excuse me. It's a little unfair of you two to start without us." he laughed gently.

"What? Oh. Yeah, sorry. We're still in the early stages of whatever this is gonna turn out t'be, so we get a little... intense, I guess you'd call it. I have a hunch teams are already set, at least for tonight. Rupert and Alex are joined at the hip, so that leaves me an' Michael to discover how much he remembers. You two mind if we take the big bed this time?"

"No. No, I don't. Alex?"

"I'd rather be down here, I think. Feels a little more... private."

Slipping off the higher bed and down onto the air mattress, Rupert maneuvered himself into a cross-legged position facing Alex and gently grasped the others hands.

"Alright. Tell me what you can about this dream."

"There isn't much to it, really, but what there is..." Alex hesitated, lowering his eyes and shaking his head. "Wow. I'm not so sure I want to do this anymore. If this is really a memory..."

"Alex, it's alright. Tell me."

"I only see it in freeze frames, like still pictures. I'm little, four or five maybe. I'm in the sandbox at a playground... then I'm walking towards the woods behind the see-saw, holding someone's hand... the next picture... I can't. Please. I've never told anyone about this. It's too much... I don't want this to be real. Nothing has ever scared me like this..."

Reaching out, Rupert took Alex's face in both hands.

"Even if this is a memory, it isn't real now. It's in the past where it can't hurt you. Close your eyes... and tell me the rest."

"The next thing I remember... is laying down on my back...looking up at something... no, someone. Whoever it is, I'm terrified. The pictures stop there... but the feelings are so clear... I'm crying... and my legs are cold... all of me is cold and numb... all I can feel... all I *wanna* feel are the pine needles sticking into me..."

"Alright. Stop, now. You don't have to go any further. I understand well enough." the older man soothed, pulling a sobbing Alex into his arms and holding him until the younger man seemed ready to separate. "Did your parents never tell you anything like this happened to you as a child?"

"No. I never asked." Alex confessed, working to steady his voice and calm his nerves. "I figured they'd just tell me I had some kind of incredibly freaky wet dream and suggest I go find a girl or a copy of Playboy and chill out."

"What do you feel now?"

Drawing and expelling a shaky breath, Alex gave Rupert a resigned look.

"It's true. As much as I want it not to be, I think it's real."

"The images are always the same? The setting, the pattern and order never change?"

"Never."

"That's a good sign, then. Perhaps it only happened that one time. Give me a moment..."

Rupert took several minutes, body still and quiet, mind sunk deep in thought. "I may have an idea, if you still want to go forward with this, of course. Knowing what I do now, I would never ask it. It would have to be your decision."

"I do want to." Alex responded immediately. "I've never been able to move past this. Even with Anya, there have been times that I just tense up and pull away. I've never been able to tell her why... or tell her anything about the nightmares."

"Understandable. I think, perhaps I can... take the fear out of the experience for you, break the connection. If you trust me enough to allow me to try."

"If I didn't trust you I would have walked out when you gave me the chance."

"True. Well, then. The first step, I suppose, is to approximate the image in your memory as closely as we can. If you'll..."

"What? Oh. You mean... the pants. Oh."

"As I said, you aren't committed to anything..."

"No. It... it's alright."

Working quickly, as if speed would keep him from having to think about what he was doing, Alex unfastened and stripped out of his khakis and briefs and lay back on the air-bed.

"Good. Now, grab onto my hands and close your eyes tightly. I want you to understand that all the control here is yours. You'll know where my hands are every second. I won't touch you until and unless you give me permission, and the very moment you say wait or stop, my hands will be right back in yours again. The power over what happens tonight is yours alone. Understood?"

"Yeah. I understand."

"Excellent. Whenever you're ready, you just say so. I won't act, only react to your commands."

Several minutes passed while Alex fought to ease his breathing and calm his racing heart, anticipating an unwanted touch that didn't come. Eventually, he calmed enough to speak the words that would allow Rupert to begin.

"O... okay. You can... touch me."

"You're terribly brave, Alex. I'm letting go of your hands, now. Good..."

Alex let the stroking continue for almost five minutes before the fear threatened to overwhelm him and he told Rupert to stop. The gentle fingers left his genitals immediately and returned to grasp his hands.

"You... you did it. I said stop... and you stopped."

"I told you I would. You are in control, here, I told you that as well."

"But... it's just me. Noone ever listens to me."

"True of Xander perhaps, not of the man whose hands I'm holding right now. I'm listening, Alex. Tell me what you want from me."

Lost in a moment of wonder over the idea that a three letter shift in his name could change how the world saw him, or expand what he was allowed to ask for and receive from that world, Alex shook himself, then spoke quietly, amazed to find his terror receding.

"Touch me... please, touch me."

"As you wish." Rupert answered, resuming his ministrations. "You can want this and be afraid of it at the same time, Alex. That's perfectly normal. You're doing very well. Keep being strong... that's fantastic. Are you getting close to your orgasm?"

"Ye... yes... soon..."

"Do you want me to take you through it or would you rather finish on your own?"

"Please... you... you do it... don't stop... "

Silent now, Rupert sped up the touches he was using until Alex came in his hands, slowing gradually to a stop as the flow dropped to a trickle.

"Are you alright, Alex?"

"Yeah. Give me a minute... and a little space."

"I understand. Did any more of the memory return?"

"No and I think I'm grateful. Hey... man, I am so sorry about your clothes. They're really a mess..."

"I do have a washer and dryer, you know. It will be fine."

"Well, look... I mean, if you swear not to get hot and bothered and all wiggy on me, you could... I wouldn't squawk if you..."

"No. Not tonight. I've been splattered and soaked with blood, demon slime and every other bodily fluid known to man... or whatever. I can live with this."

"Really. It's okay."

"No, it isn't. Are you ready yet to go again?"

The fear resurfaced in Alex's expression just for a moment, but was quickly replaced by trust and curiosity.

"Just touching?"

"Unless you think you might be ready for more."

"No! I mean... I guess not."

"Right. We've got until Monday. As badly as I want... Let's just say I could very easily be talked into pushing you too hard... so don't talk me into it. There's plenty of time to bring you on slowly."

"Okay. Go for it. I'm ready to start again."

As Rupert began to stroke Alex to orgasm for the second time, he tuned one ear to the voices coming from the bed above him.

TBC...