Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or their worlds. Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.

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Chapter 8

Xander stared down at the blank sheet of paper in front of him. Gerard had snatched a broom out of the closet in the back and was sweeping up the wood splinters, ordering Xander to focus and list anyone he knew that might want him dead and would be able to accomplish such a smooth and precise attack.

Next to him the industrial fridge was humming, and a whiff of cinnamon from the large ovens drifted through the room.

The adrenaline had worn off, leaving both men starving, so Gerard threw a batch of cinnamon rolls into the oven, and Xander's attention was torn between his stomach and his life.

Closing his eyes, he tried to focus on the attack. Their office was small and not widely known as they kept a lot of their more dangerous work secluded from the main part of the business. Most of Paris just thought they were rather eccentric detectives and they advertised as such, doing some legitimate private detective work on the side, chasing down cheating spouses and stolen identities. None of which was enough to warrant a well-planned attack with heavy violence in mind, if not outright murder.

The phone rang, startling Xander out of his reverie, and he heard Gerard's rough voice answer.

"Chevalier Investigations. We'll keep you safe."

Xander smiled. The name for their agency had been Giles's idea, but the greeting was Gerard.

In honor of Cordy and the team in LA, Xander had wanted to use, 'We help the hopeless,' but Gerard thought that might give people the impression they were a homeless shelter and shot him down.

The oven 'dinged' and Xander grabbed the sturdy pot holders from their spot on the counter, pulling out the pan of rolls and laying it on a wooden board with the ease born of long practice.

Using a butter knife to spread light sugar frosting over the golden brown pastries, Xander hummed a little happy food song to himself, dancing around the counter.

"Should I tuck a dollar into your apron pocket, Lex? Or do you have to take your shirt off first?"

Startled at Gerard's voice, Xander dropped the knife, cringing at the loud metallic ding it made on the linoleum floor.

The red-headed man smiled briefly, and then his expression took on the seriousness Xander had learned meant something very very bad was going on.

Xander abandoned the knife on the floor and the rolls on the counter and followed, at Gerard's sharp gesture, to the downstairs office.

Heavily warded against magic and technology, the downstairs offices and studios were for practice and planning. Taking seats in the small conference room, Xander waited for Gerard to begin.

"That was LeClerc at the Gendarmes office. He says a boy matching the description of the blond-killer's victims turned up in the gutter in front of the Dames de Mercy Hospital. He was heavily injured and there's evidence of rape."

"Like the others," Xander muttered under his breath.

A small smile haunting the corners of his eyes, Gerard went on, "Except he's alive."

Xander sucked in a sharp gasp. "None of these men have ever been found alive. And they were always hours dead when they were discovered. This isn't a dump. He escaped."

Gerard nodded, "And he may be able to find his way back. Come," he said, rising, "We'll take my car."

As Gerard drove, Xander's head swam with questions, and images of Spike.

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When Draco woke up he was staring into a pair of pale blue eyes. Dazed, he reached out towards them, "Mother?" His throat was sore and his voice hoarse and ragged. Was he sick?

A soft accented voice replied, but his head was spinning and he couldn't focus. "I'm tired mother. Can this wait? Just a few more minutes…"

Draco felt himself drifting off when there were hands on him. Unfamiliar hands and in a rush everything came back. Sucking in a harsh breath, he screamed and pushed them away, absently noticing he wasn't tied down. He pushed away from the stranger and fell off of the bed he was on. The tiled floor was cold, but he curled up into a ball and tucked himself into the gap between the bed and the wall next to it, his hands over his head.

His breath was coming in pants, and tears built up in the corner of his eyes. He was shivering, and from what he could see his clothes had been taken, replaced with some kind of paper

gown.

On the other side of the bed he heard voices muttering together. Most of them sounded like women, and Draco wanted to look, but before he had the chance he saw dark colored shoes move around the edge of the bed.

With a soft sob he clenched his eyes shut, waiting for it to start all over again. Trembling from the cold and fear he didn't even notice the sharp pinch of a needle in his arm.

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Note: So there you have it, Draco didn't die and he's in a hospital. Things might be looking up a bit for our blond, yeah?

Okay, review and tell me what you thought. While reviews don't make me update any faster, they do provide that jolt of pure guilt that makes me feel like a better Catholic.