Y'Goin' for a Pint ?
Chapter Two: In which Angel gets back to his Irish roots and Wesley finds himself in a tight place
By Cyberwulf
Rated 12s (PG-13)
Spoilers : None in this part.
Disclaimer : Buffy, Angel and related characters belong to Joss Whedon and various other people who aren't me. The song "Never Shove a Cracker" is property of Double Z Productions. The song "Elevation" belongs to U2. The . . . Christy Moore song (don't know the title, sorry) belongs to Christy Moore. Anto . . . eh, he's a stereotype, and is not meant to represent Dublin people in general. So don't get your knickers in a knot over it.
Author's Notes : Thank you for the reviews, I did read them all, I love feedback! Some people wanted me to continue, some wanted an explanation of why and how the gang ended up all together and drunk. I've put in a vague explanation - I might do a flashback, or a prologue at a later stage. It depends on the Demon Mews - it's extremely fickle.
The other thing - Angel is originally from Galway (that's the only reason I find him even vaguely interesting), so, being Irish myself, I have him get a bit Irish in this fic. As a result, some of the exchanges between Angel and Doyle (who I don't know very well, sorry if he's out of character) may not make sense to the vast majority of you who don't hail from the Emerald Isle. It's not that important and shouldn't interfere with your enjoyment of this chapter. Speaking of which . . .
"But officer, you've gotta let us bail them out!" Willow pleaded.
"Sorry," the desk sergeant replied. "Two of them refused to give their real names." He looked down at the report in front of him. " 'Angel' and 'Spike'."
"But Angel IS his real name!" Buffy told him. "Angel . . . Jones!"
"A-and Spike's real name is William!" Willow declared. "William . . . uh . . . Jones."
"He's his brother," Cordelia said, just as Buffy said, "He's his dad."
"Dad's cousins," Xander added quickly. The cop looked at them blankly. Xander squirmed, and shrugged his shoulders. "They were in a car crash together . . ."
The cop's watch beeped.
"It's not my problem any more," he declared. "As of now, I'm officially off- duty." He got up and left the room. A younger cop, who was sitting at a desk behind and to the left of him, casually swung back and forth on his swivel chair. He caught the gang looking at him in a mixture of hope and despair.
"Don't look ah' me," he declared in a very strong Dublin accent. "No'hin' I can do abour' ih'."
"Now what?" Cordelia growled.
"Trick or treatin', pumpkin eatin', scary witch's cat-" Doyle roared from the cells. The young Dublin cop sat up.
"Hould on a minute-"
"-better give us money missus or we'll DUMP on your doormat, bobbin' apples, SHAGGIN' cows, there's games for old and young, BUT DON'T STICK A FOREIGN OBJECT UP YER BUM!"
"Are they the ones yeh want ta post bail for?" the cop asked, with a look of disbelief. The Scoobies nodded. The cop got up, grabbed a bunch of keys and made for the cells, following the raucous singing.
"No you should never shove a CRACKER up your ARSE on Hallowe'en, it's not clever, IT'S not funny, some think it's quite obscene, no you should never shove a CRACKER up your ARSE on HALLOWE'EN, FOR YOU'LL ONLY BLOW YOUR HOLE TO SMITHEREENS!"
In the cell, Doyle came to the end of his song. Angel applauded enthusiastically. Wesley was in hysterics. Spike was still very off-colour, and the cuffs of his jeans were delicately encrusted with puke. Giles was lying on a bunk, staring at the ceiling and grinning madly. The cop stared at Doyle in disbelief.
"Franno!"
Doyle turned around, nearly fell, squinted at the cop, and recognised him. He staggered over to the bars.
"Anto!"
The two men shook hands.
"Story," Doyle asked.
"Ah, ya know, de usual," Anto replied. "Bleedin' typical, I come over to the States ta get away from de recession, and all of a sudden there's a boom back home. How's yerself?"
"Oh, deadly buzz," Doyle replied. "Look, you couldn't be a pal and let us outa here, could ya? We weren't doin' any harm and you can keep the car."
"Well . . ."
"Ah go on," Doyle said. "For Granny's sake."
"All right," Anto replied. "Here, give us the bail money," he said to Buffy. The Scoobies were standing there, collectively blinking in confusion and amazement.
"Here you go," Buffy replied, stunned.
"Lovely," Anto said, giving it a quick glance. "I hate this job," he remarked conspiratorially. "I'm tryin' ta get fired." He unlocked the cell door. Angel gave Giles a shove, and the Watcher stood up shakily. He pulled Wesley to his feet. Angel gave Spike a hand, and the group shuffled out.
"Good luck now!" Anto called as they left the station.
Once outside, Buffy really let rip.
"I'm shocked and disgusted by all of you!" she roared. She glared at her ex- Watcher. He just stared back blankly. "But ESPECIALLY you! How DARE you go and blurt that out on national TV?! What the HELL did you think you were doing?!"
"Well . . . it . . . it's Friday night," Giles hiccupped, getting tearful. Buffy rolled her eyes. "And the guys asked me out . . . and it's not like I've got anything ELSE to do . . . I don't even have a girlfriend . . ." He stumbled and ended up leaning heavily against Willow. "Why don't I have a girlfriend? I'd look great with a girlfriend . . ."
"Sure you would," Willow soothed, shooting an anguished glance at Buffy, Cordelia and Xander.
"LOOOOW, LIEEEE, THE EEEEAAAAT, THE SHAGGIN' JELLY," Doyle bawled, pulling another packet of jelly out of his pocket. He ripped it open. "EEEV'RYBODYYY, EEEAAAAT THE JELLYYY, NOOOW!" He tried to shove a handful into Cordelia's mouth. Cordelia gave a shriek and pushed him roughly into Angel. Wesley fell off the path and rolled into the gutter, and began to laugh again.
"I canNOT believe you guys!" Cordelia exclaimed. "We leave you alone for an evening and you - how did this even HAPPEN anyway??"
Angel blinked a couple of times, and had a really good think. This wasn't easy because his brain was swimming in whiskey, vodka, Guinness, meths, lighter fuel and Malibu, not to mention the fact that there were several Thin Lizzie tracks running around in his head, too, but finally he managed to come up with some sort of coherent sentence . . .
"Uh . . .'s Doyle's fault, he said I should get back to my Irish roots," he slurred.
"Are you sayin' we're a nation a' DRUNKS?" Doyle asked fiercely, grabbing Angel by the shirt. " Are ya startin' some'in? Are ya?!"
"Fuck off," Angel hiccupped, putting one hand on Doyle's forehead and pushing him off. Doyle fell over Wesley and almost joined him on the ground.
"I never said ya should go out and get locked," he growled. "I just meant sing a few songs, like."
"IT'S A LONG WAAAYY, TO TIPPERARRYYYY, IT'S A LONG WAAAAY, TO GOOO . . ." Spike yelled.
"NO!" Doyle roared. "I shaggin' well HATE Tipp! Smug bastards! Up the Sky- Blues!"
Angel snorted in disgust.
"Dubs, you're RUBBISH!" he sneered. "On the Tribesmen!"
"We'll see who gets to Croke Park this year!" Doyle yelled.
Buffy tapped her foot impatiently.
"I don't CARE!" she shouted. "Now someone tell me how the HELL all this happened!"
"Well," Giles slurred, unable to keep the stupid grin off his face, "I distinctly remember jumping into Spike's car with Wesley, only Angel was driving, and we went to some bars but we didn't have a lot of money, so first we tried drink and dash, but there's a problem with drink and dash . . ."
"What's that?" Willow asked. Doyle obligingly ran up the street, but didn't get more than a couple of feet before collapsing in a heap.
"Then - then we got kicked out of someplace, I don't know why, and the car went through the window of an off license . . ."
". . . and I did one of my hobbies . . ." Wesley giggled.
". . . which is SHOPLIFTING!" the five finished in unison.
"Then Spike did dine and dash at a chipper," Giles declared, "and he was so hungry so he ordered two of everything . . ."
Spike promptly puked again, narrowly missing Xander.
". . . because he'd been smoking grass with me . . ."
"You're HIGH?!" Buffy yelled.
"Not as high as Wesley," Giles giggled. "He ate most of my stash!"
"WHAT?!" Cordelia exclaimed. She rushed over to Wesley.
"Oh, so the cops wouldn't find it?" Xander asked.
Giles looked at him, puzzled. "Eh?"
Cordelia was struggling to get Wesley to his feet.
"I wet myself!" he yelled gleefully. Cordelia leaned away in disgust.
"You're gonna be so hung over tomorrow," she growled, "and I'm gonna laugh so hard -"
Buffy grabbed Angel by his shirt, struggling not to throttle him. "Why ?" she yelled. "Why with the drinking? Why with the stealing? Why with SPIKE?"
Angel looked at her as if she'd gone mad.
"We HAD to bring Spike!" he exclaimed. "If we didn't bring SPIKE, there wouldn't be five of us." He staggered away from her and helped Doyle up. Buffy threw up her hands. Doyle and Angel looked at each other for a couple of seconds, and then, at the same instant, yelled,
"EL-E-VAY-TION!"
There came the sound of glass being broken. Xander, Willow, Cordelia and Buffy turned around. Spike was smashing up a telephone box.
"We don't need no education," he chanted demonically. "We don't need no thought control."
Buffy ran over to try and drag him away. Fortunately it wasn't too difficult, as the bleach blonde vampire was very unsteady on his feet. He took a few last swings as she pulled him back over to the other side of the street.
"I HATE THOSE THINGS!" he bawled. "Poxy little blue FLOWERS!" His stomach made an ominous gurgling sound and Buffy got out of his way very quickly.
"Okay," Cordelia said, "it's REALLY time you guys -"
"Look everyone, look!" Wesley called. He was holding a small wooden garden gate with some of the bars missing. He stuck his head through one of the holes and danced around a bit. "I feel like veal tonight, like veal tonight."
"Take that off!" Cordelia hissed, looking around. "You'll get in trouble!"
Wesley pushed at the gate a few times. It didn't budge.
"I'm stuck!" he cackled.
" A MOLE, DIGGIN' IN A HOLE, DIGGIN' UP MY SOUL NOW GOIN' DOWN EXCAVATION . . ." Angel bellowed in his best Bono voice. Wesley laughed even harder and fell in a heap again. Xander and Cordelia crouched down and tried to pull the gate off him.
"Hole, hole, hole hole hole," Wesley giggled gleefully, now mentally back to being a six-year-old. Xander broke off some more of the wood and he and Cordelia managed to lift the gate off Wesley. They hauled him to his feet just in time to see Spike stagger straight into an open manhole. Wesley tried, but he couldn't help himself and collapsed into hysterics for the umpteenth time.
"Man, you just can't control that face tonight, can you?" Xander remarked. Angel staggered to the edge of the manhole and shouted down at his grandchilde.
"Y'okay?"
"Yeah," came the shout. "It's out of the sun, and I needed to take a crap anyway."
"We better get these guys to bed before anything else happens," Willow declared.
"I'll take Doyle and Angel back to the mansion," Cordelia declared.
"I'll help," Xander added.
The girls looked at him.
"Hey, this might be the only time Mr. 'Chicks-love-me-cos-I'm-all-dark-and- broody' makes an ass of himself," Xander explained. He grinned. "And I'm seeing it through to the very end."
"I'll take Wesley," Willow announced. She let go of Giles, leaving him to Buffy, and put an arm around Wesley's waist. "He's crashing at Giles' place, right?"
"Uh-huh," Cordelia replied. "Come on, guys," she said to Angel and Doyle. "Time to go home . . ." She steered them towards the mansion. The girls heard Angel's voice ring through the night.
"And as I looked up at the Guinness ad, I could never figure out,
How your man stayed up on the surfboard after forty pints o' stout . . ."
"Let's go," Buffy snarled. Willow kept quiet as they headed for Giles' apartment. Her friend was in a foul mood. They managed to get down the steps without anyone falling and splitting their skulls open, even though Buffy looked like she was just about ready to hurl her former Watcher (or maybe both of them) down a staircase. She managed to get the front door open. Giles was barely across the threshold when he fell against her and slid to the floor.
"Great," Buffy growled. She put him in the fireman's lift and carried him upstairs, swearing under her breath. Willow helped Wesley into the lounge and made him lie on the sofa. He watched disinterestedly as she took off his tie and glasses and undid the first two buttons on his shirt.
"Wha's happening?" he slurred.
"It's time for bed!" Willow replied, in a perky babysitter voice, which she instantly regretted.
"Okay," Wesley sighed. Willow bit her lip to keep from smiling. He actually looked kind of cute, flushed from alcohol with his hair plastered against his forehead. Wesley closed his eyes. Willow went upstairs to find a blanket.
Buffy angrily heaved Giles onto his bed. He opened his eyes.
"You're mad with me," he murmured in surprise. Buffy clenched her fists.
"I have NEVER," she hissed, "been so EMBARRASSED in my ENTIRE LIFE!"
"Oh don't worry, love," Giles slurred. "Whatever you did, they'll all have forgotten about it in a few weeks . . ."
He passed out again and started to snore, and if Willow hadn't come into the room right then, Buffy the Vampire Slayer would have become Buffy the Murderer.
Chapter Two: In which Angel gets back to his Irish roots and Wesley finds himself in a tight place
By Cyberwulf
Rated 12s (PG-13)
Spoilers : None in this part.
Disclaimer : Buffy, Angel and related characters belong to Joss Whedon and various other people who aren't me. The song "Never Shove a Cracker" is property of Double Z Productions. The song "Elevation" belongs to U2. The . . . Christy Moore song (don't know the title, sorry) belongs to Christy Moore. Anto . . . eh, he's a stereotype, and is not meant to represent Dublin people in general. So don't get your knickers in a knot over it.
Author's Notes : Thank you for the reviews, I did read them all, I love feedback! Some people wanted me to continue, some wanted an explanation of why and how the gang ended up all together and drunk. I've put in a vague explanation - I might do a flashback, or a prologue at a later stage. It depends on the Demon Mews - it's extremely fickle.
The other thing - Angel is originally from Galway (that's the only reason I find him even vaguely interesting), so, being Irish myself, I have him get a bit Irish in this fic. As a result, some of the exchanges between Angel and Doyle (who I don't know very well, sorry if he's out of character) may not make sense to the vast majority of you who don't hail from the Emerald Isle. It's not that important and shouldn't interfere with your enjoyment of this chapter. Speaking of which . . .
"But officer, you've gotta let us bail them out!" Willow pleaded.
"Sorry," the desk sergeant replied. "Two of them refused to give their real names." He looked down at the report in front of him. " 'Angel' and 'Spike'."
"But Angel IS his real name!" Buffy told him. "Angel . . . Jones!"
"A-and Spike's real name is William!" Willow declared. "William . . . uh . . . Jones."
"He's his brother," Cordelia said, just as Buffy said, "He's his dad."
"Dad's cousins," Xander added quickly. The cop looked at them blankly. Xander squirmed, and shrugged his shoulders. "They were in a car crash together . . ."
The cop's watch beeped.
"It's not my problem any more," he declared. "As of now, I'm officially off- duty." He got up and left the room. A younger cop, who was sitting at a desk behind and to the left of him, casually swung back and forth on his swivel chair. He caught the gang looking at him in a mixture of hope and despair.
"Don't look ah' me," he declared in a very strong Dublin accent. "No'hin' I can do abour' ih'."
"Now what?" Cordelia growled.
"Trick or treatin', pumpkin eatin', scary witch's cat-" Doyle roared from the cells. The young Dublin cop sat up.
"Hould on a minute-"
"-better give us money missus or we'll DUMP on your doormat, bobbin' apples, SHAGGIN' cows, there's games for old and young, BUT DON'T STICK A FOREIGN OBJECT UP YER BUM!"
"Are they the ones yeh want ta post bail for?" the cop asked, with a look of disbelief. The Scoobies nodded. The cop got up, grabbed a bunch of keys and made for the cells, following the raucous singing.
"No you should never shove a CRACKER up your ARSE on Hallowe'en, it's not clever, IT'S not funny, some think it's quite obscene, no you should never shove a CRACKER up your ARSE on HALLOWE'EN, FOR YOU'LL ONLY BLOW YOUR HOLE TO SMITHEREENS!"
In the cell, Doyle came to the end of his song. Angel applauded enthusiastically. Wesley was in hysterics. Spike was still very off-colour, and the cuffs of his jeans were delicately encrusted with puke. Giles was lying on a bunk, staring at the ceiling and grinning madly. The cop stared at Doyle in disbelief.
"Franno!"
Doyle turned around, nearly fell, squinted at the cop, and recognised him. He staggered over to the bars.
"Anto!"
The two men shook hands.
"Story," Doyle asked.
"Ah, ya know, de usual," Anto replied. "Bleedin' typical, I come over to the States ta get away from de recession, and all of a sudden there's a boom back home. How's yerself?"
"Oh, deadly buzz," Doyle replied. "Look, you couldn't be a pal and let us outa here, could ya? We weren't doin' any harm and you can keep the car."
"Well . . ."
"Ah go on," Doyle said. "For Granny's sake."
"All right," Anto replied. "Here, give us the bail money," he said to Buffy. The Scoobies were standing there, collectively blinking in confusion and amazement.
"Here you go," Buffy replied, stunned.
"Lovely," Anto said, giving it a quick glance. "I hate this job," he remarked conspiratorially. "I'm tryin' ta get fired." He unlocked the cell door. Angel gave Giles a shove, and the Watcher stood up shakily. He pulled Wesley to his feet. Angel gave Spike a hand, and the group shuffled out.
"Good luck now!" Anto called as they left the station.
Once outside, Buffy really let rip.
"I'm shocked and disgusted by all of you!" she roared. She glared at her ex- Watcher. He just stared back blankly. "But ESPECIALLY you! How DARE you go and blurt that out on national TV?! What the HELL did you think you were doing?!"
"Well . . . it . . . it's Friday night," Giles hiccupped, getting tearful. Buffy rolled her eyes. "And the guys asked me out . . . and it's not like I've got anything ELSE to do . . . I don't even have a girlfriend . . ." He stumbled and ended up leaning heavily against Willow. "Why don't I have a girlfriend? I'd look great with a girlfriend . . ."
"Sure you would," Willow soothed, shooting an anguished glance at Buffy, Cordelia and Xander.
"LOOOOW, LIEEEE, THE EEEEAAAAT, THE SHAGGIN' JELLY," Doyle bawled, pulling another packet of jelly out of his pocket. He ripped it open. "EEEV'RYBODYYY, EEEAAAAT THE JELLYYY, NOOOW!" He tried to shove a handful into Cordelia's mouth. Cordelia gave a shriek and pushed him roughly into Angel. Wesley fell off the path and rolled into the gutter, and began to laugh again.
"I canNOT believe you guys!" Cordelia exclaimed. "We leave you alone for an evening and you - how did this even HAPPEN anyway??"
Angel blinked a couple of times, and had a really good think. This wasn't easy because his brain was swimming in whiskey, vodka, Guinness, meths, lighter fuel and Malibu, not to mention the fact that there were several Thin Lizzie tracks running around in his head, too, but finally he managed to come up with some sort of coherent sentence . . .
"Uh . . .'s Doyle's fault, he said I should get back to my Irish roots," he slurred.
"Are you sayin' we're a nation a' DRUNKS?" Doyle asked fiercely, grabbing Angel by the shirt. " Are ya startin' some'in? Are ya?!"
"Fuck off," Angel hiccupped, putting one hand on Doyle's forehead and pushing him off. Doyle fell over Wesley and almost joined him on the ground.
"I never said ya should go out and get locked," he growled. "I just meant sing a few songs, like."
"IT'S A LONG WAAAYY, TO TIPPERARRYYYY, IT'S A LONG WAAAAY, TO GOOO . . ." Spike yelled.
"NO!" Doyle roared. "I shaggin' well HATE Tipp! Smug bastards! Up the Sky- Blues!"
Angel snorted in disgust.
"Dubs, you're RUBBISH!" he sneered. "On the Tribesmen!"
"We'll see who gets to Croke Park this year!" Doyle yelled.
Buffy tapped her foot impatiently.
"I don't CARE!" she shouted. "Now someone tell me how the HELL all this happened!"
"Well," Giles slurred, unable to keep the stupid grin off his face, "I distinctly remember jumping into Spike's car with Wesley, only Angel was driving, and we went to some bars but we didn't have a lot of money, so first we tried drink and dash, but there's a problem with drink and dash . . ."
"What's that?" Willow asked. Doyle obligingly ran up the street, but didn't get more than a couple of feet before collapsing in a heap.
"Then - then we got kicked out of someplace, I don't know why, and the car went through the window of an off license . . ."
". . . and I did one of my hobbies . . ." Wesley giggled.
". . . which is SHOPLIFTING!" the five finished in unison.
"Then Spike did dine and dash at a chipper," Giles declared, "and he was so hungry so he ordered two of everything . . ."
Spike promptly puked again, narrowly missing Xander.
". . . because he'd been smoking grass with me . . ."
"You're HIGH?!" Buffy yelled.
"Not as high as Wesley," Giles giggled. "He ate most of my stash!"
"WHAT?!" Cordelia exclaimed. She rushed over to Wesley.
"Oh, so the cops wouldn't find it?" Xander asked.
Giles looked at him, puzzled. "Eh?"
Cordelia was struggling to get Wesley to his feet.
"I wet myself!" he yelled gleefully. Cordelia leaned away in disgust.
"You're gonna be so hung over tomorrow," she growled, "and I'm gonna laugh so hard -"
Buffy grabbed Angel by his shirt, struggling not to throttle him. "Why ?" she yelled. "Why with the drinking? Why with the stealing? Why with SPIKE?"
Angel looked at her as if she'd gone mad.
"We HAD to bring Spike!" he exclaimed. "If we didn't bring SPIKE, there wouldn't be five of us." He staggered away from her and helped Doyle up. Buffy threw up her hands. Doyle and Angel looked at each other for a couple of seconds, and then, at the same instant, yelled,
"EL-E-VAY-TION!"
There came the sound of glass being broken. Xander, Willow, Cordelia and Buffy turned around. Spike was smashing up a telephone box.
"We don't need no education," he chanted demonically. "We don't need no thought control."
Buffy ran over to try and drag him away. Fortunately it wasn't too difficult, as the bleach blonde vampire was very unsteady on his feet. He took a few last swings as she pulled him back over to the other side of the street.
"I HATE THOSE THINGS!" he bawled. "Poxy little blue FLOWERS!" His stomach made an ominous gurgling sound and Buffy got out of his way very quickly.
"Okay," Cordelia said, "it's REALLY time you guys -"
"Look everyone, look!" Wesley called. He was holding a small wooden garden gate with some of the bars missing. He stuck his head through one of the holes and danced around a bit. "I feel like veal tonight, like veal tonight."
"Take that off!" Cordelia hissed, looking around. "You'll get in trouble!"
Wesley pushed at the gate a few times. It didn't budge.
"I'm stuck!" he cackled.
" A MOLE, DIGGIN' IN A HOLE, DIGGIN' UP MY SOUL NOW GOIN' DOWN EXCAVATION . . ." Angel bellowed in his best Bono voice. Wesley laughed even harder and fell in a heap again. Xander and Cordelia crouched down and tried to pull the gate off him.
"Hole, hole, hole hole hole," Wesley giggled gleefully, now mentally back to being a six-year-old. Xander broke off some more of the wood and he and Cordelia managed to lift the gate off Wesley. They hauled him to his feet just in time to see Spike stagger straight into an open manhole. Wesley tried, but he couldn't help himself and collapsed into hysterics for the umpteenth time.
"Man, you just can't control that face tonight, can you?" Xander remarked. Angel staggered to the edge of the manhole and shouted down at his grandchilde.
"Y'okay?"
"Yeah," came the shout. "It's out of the sun, and I needed to take a crap anyway."
"We better get these guys to bed before anything else happens," Willow declared.
"I'll take Doyle and Angel back to the mansion," Cordelia declared.
"I'll help," Xander added.
The girls looked at him.
"Hey, this might be the only time Mr. 'Chicks-love-me-cos-I'm-all-dark-and- broody' makes an ass of himself," Xander explained. He grinned. "And I'm seeing it through to the very end."
"I'll take Wesley," Willow announced. She let go of Giles, leaving him to Buffy, and put an arm around Wesley's waist. "He's crashing at Giles' place, right?"
"Uh-huh," Cordelia replied. "Come on, guys," she said to Angel and Doyle. "Time to go home . . ." She steered them towards the mansion. The girls heard Angel's voice ring through the night.
"And as I looked up at the Guinness ad, I could never figure out,
How your man stayed up on the surfboard after forty pints o' stout . . ."
"Let's go," Buffy snarled. Willow kept quiet as they headed for Giles' apartment. Her friend was in a foul mood. They managed to get down the steps without anyone falling and splitting their skulls open, even though Buffy looked like she was just about ready to hurl her former Watcher (or maybe both of them) down a staircase. She managed to get the front door open. Giles was barely across the threshold when he fell against her and slid to the floor.
"Great," Buffy growled. She put him in the fireman's lift and carried him upstairs, swearing under her breath. Willow helped Wesley into the lounge and made him lie on the sofa. He watched disinterestedly as she took off his tie and glasses and undid the first two buttons on his shirt.
"Wha's happening?" he slurred.
"It's time for bed!" Willow replied, in a perky babysitter voice, which she instantly regretted.
"Okay," Wesley sighed. Willow bit her lip to keep from smiling. He actually looked kind of cute, flushed from alcohol with his hair plastered against his forehead. Wesley closed his eyes. Willow went upstairs to find a blanket.
Buffy angrily heaved Giles onto his bed. He opened his eyes.
"You're mad with me," he murmured in surprise. Buffy clenched her fists.
"I have NEVER," she hissed, "been so EMBARRASSED in my ENTIRE LIFE!"
"Oh don't worry, love," Giles slurred. "Whatever you did, they'll all have forgotten about it in a few weeks . . ."
He passed out again and started to snore, and if Willow hadn't come into the room right then, Buffy the Vampire Slayer would have become Buffy the Murderer.
