Secret Slasha – The Buffy the Vampire Slayer & Angel Slash Fanfiction Secret Santa Project
Secret Slasha – The Buffy the Vampire Slayer & Angel Slash Fanfiction Secret Santa Project

Christmas Pot Of Gold
By Lianne
For Twinkledru J.

Xander whistled lightly to himself as he wandered along the canals of Amsterdam. It was hard to believe he was actually there, even after several months of wandering across Europe as part of the World Slayer Tour. Now that all the potential slayers were now Slayers, they had to be found, given explanations of what had happened to them, and given training so that when their instincts took them up against vampires and demons, they didn't get themselves killed. Willow had even set up an international hotline that the girls could call for help if they ran into something they couldn't recognize.

That was why they were supposed to all have Watchers, but between the spell and the explosion that had killed the Watchers Council, for the first time in history Slayers outnumbered Watchers in the world. Giles was working fast and furious, along with Willow, to rebuild the Watchers to correct that problem, but for now, they dealt.

And in Buffy's case, she dealt by shopping and sightseeing with her sister. Various insurance policies had been paid out after the destruction of Sunnydale, leaving them all more than comfortable, at least for a few years, so Buffy was indulging in a longtime dream. In fact, at one point Xander had heard her mutter to herself that all that was left was to track down Christian Slater, whatever that meant. He hoped she wasn't going to go all stalkerish on them.

Xander took a deep breath, enjoying the relative peace and quiet. Even though most of the Slayers who had made the stand in Sunnydale were scattered across the globe now -- Faith and her boytoy, Robin, had settled on New York, God only knew why -- the Watcher owned townhouse they were staying in at the edge of town was still too small. Buffy, Dawn, Willow, and Kennedy seemed to manage to take up all the space -- especially bathrooms. As a result, Xander had finally fled, just for the day. Besides, they were only going to be in town a couple more days for the holidays before moving on to Vienna, so he wanted to see a bit more of the city on his own.

And this was why he wanted to do it on his own, he thought as he looked up at the sign. From the outside, it looked like any other bar. But the tourist office he'd stopped at had said this was the best spot for an American looking for a little... relaxation. A distinctive smell came through the door as a group left, chattering among themselves in a language other than English, and for a moment, Xander almost turned to leave. One voice was telling him that this was illegal, immoral. The other voice told him to loosen up and have fun.

Which voice to listen to? Go in or just go?

Xander closed his eye, then nodded and pushed to door open.


Giles was in a foul mood when he got back to the house. A call from the slowly reforming council had had him on the ferry to England first thing the morning before, and he was just getting back, late the next day, and he hadn't had much rest in that time.

Why did Travers' brother have to be one of the survivors of the First's attack on the Watcher Council? The man was insistent that the Council be recreated exactly the way it had been. He refused to see that the fact that they now had many Slayers instead of one at a time meant that the techniques used to guide them should change as well.

Unfortunately, the few Council members who hadn't made it to the ill-fated last meeting seemed inclined to agree with Travers, and since he was currently living off Council funds, along with his charges, Giles didn't dare protest too strenuously.

Giles opened the front door of the townhouse, bracing himself for the flood of questions from the five young people still under his care.

And was answered with silence.

In fact, there was no one in sight. Giles frowned. The hall was decorated with a variety of Christmas decorations, as they prepared to celebrate their first holiday season since the destruction of Sunnydale. A single wall-sconce had been left lit. Nothing seemed out of place. Then he noticed two pieces of paper, almost hidden by evergreen garlands, tucked into the ornate frame of the mirror hanging in the hallway. Both were addressed to him.

The first informed him that Buffy and Dawn had gone out to a show, and would not be back until late. It included information on what theater they had gone to, and the promise that they were carrying their cell phones should he need to contact them. The second note had less information, simply stating that Willow and Kennedy would be gone overnight and would call if they had any trouble.

That just left the question of Xander's whereabouts. An off-key singing that started up somewhere inside the building provided a clue. Giles winced. He vaguely recognized the tune, but couldn't put a name to it, due in large part to just how badly it was being mangled. He dropped his bag and overcoat, then locked the front door behind him. You could never be too careful, after all. Then he followed the singing.

The sound -- which had finally resolved into something that vaguely resembled 'The Time Warp' -- led him up the stairs, down the hallway, to... his own bedroom door. Giles frowned at the well-oiled wood, tempted to just turn around, go back downstairs, and pour himself a good, stiff drink. But the volume picked up even more, so he squared his shoulders and pushed the door open.

Xander was lying on Giles' bed, arms and legs spread out to the side. He was wearing a pair of earphones that connected to a portable CD player, and he was rolling his head from side to side as he sang along. Loudly. Badly. It was no longer 'The Time Warp.' He'd moved on to 'Sweet Transvestite.' Giles winced. It was bringing back memories he preferred not to revisit. He really should have destroyed that CD years ago.

There was also a faint odor in the air that brought back other buried memories. Giles closed his eyes and sighed. He should have known.

"Hey, Giles!" Xander said brightly, finally opening his remaining eye. "You're back!" He pulled off the headphones and tried to sit up, something that seemed to require a great deal of effort and more coordination than he seemed capable of. He finally gave up and flopped back down on the mattress.

"Yes, I'm back," Giles said, frowning at the grinning man. "What are you doing in my bed?"

"Huh? Oh! I wanted to listen to some music. Something different. You've got some pretty funky CDs for..."

"A stodgy old man?" Giles suggested, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly.

"For a watcher," Xander corrected him. "I thought they starched that sort of thing out of you while still in tweed diapers."

Giles snorted. "They tried," he said. He could hear the faint refrain of Tim Curry promising to make him a man coming from the discarded headphones, and shook his head. What would Xander think if he knew about some of the things he'd done back in his teens, he wondered.

Xander rolled over and promptly fell off the edge of the bed. Giles couldn't hold back a laugh as he moved around the side of the bed to help Xander up. Xander came to his feet easily enough, but the moment Giles let go of him, his legs seemed to collapse under him, so he latched onto Giles again.

"Wow," Xander said. "It didn't feel like this when I came back."

From where, Giles didn't have to ask. "Pot affects different people differently," he said. "Here, sit down before you fall down again."

Xander collapsed backwards on demand, landing on the bed with a thump. Somehow, he managed to hang onto Giles' coat the entire time. Giles tried to extract himself gracefully, but Xander's grip was too tight.

"You know," Xander said in a slightly dreamy tone. "I never knew that tweed felt so nice."

Giles rolled his eyes as he realized that Xander was actually stroking his jacket sleeve with one hand while the other kept a tight enough grip on it that Giles couldn't even slip out of the jacket to get away. A pity he didn't have a pair of scissors handy. "Of course it feels nice," he said patiently. "People wouldn't wear it if it didn't."

"Oh." Xander frowned. "What about hair shirts and stuff?"

"The people who wear those are insane. That's why they think they feel good."

"Oh. That makes sense. I think."

Xander's one eye was slowly slipping towards shut, and Giles started to hope that he might be able to get out of this with his dignity intact. Those hopes were dashed as Xander started to sing along with the CD again. "Toucha, toucha, touch me. I wanna feel dirty."

This was unfortunate. Past history meant that Giles had an almost Pavlovian response to that song, and the fact that Xander was now rubbing his face against the front of Giles' jacket wasn't helping either.

"Xander," he said, perhaps a touch desperately.


"Please let go of me."


It was never that easy. "Why not?"

"You're comfy. You smell good."

Oh dear lord. "I could let you keep the jacket," he suggested.

"But then you wouldn't be in it," Xander said. Then he tugged with surprising strength, and Giles found himself sprawled, half on the bed, half on top of an obviously pleased Xander.

Giles tried to push away, but Xander wasn't having any of that. Then Giles felt the pressure of an obvious erection against his leg -- which also didn't help him in getting his own urges back under control -- and froze. "Xander?"

Xander's face was now pressed against his shirt. "Hmmm. Nice."

Xander's hands were working their way under his jacket and seemed to be looking for a way under his shirt as well, and Giles knew that he was going to have to stop this now before something more happened. "Xander, this is not appropriate," he said sternly.

"Why not?"

The blunt question caught him off guard. "Because I am responsible for you."

Xander snorted, and Giles shivered as a set of fingers got too close to a sensitive area. He was no longer quite trying to get away, but one of them had to be strong. Xander would regret this.

"In case you hadn't noticed," Xander said, tickling Giles lightly, while also suddenly sounding remarkably sober, "I turned twenty-three last month. Remember the party? I'm not a high school student anymore and the only person responsible for me is me."

Giles opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Intellectually he knew that it had been nearly eight years since he had arrived in Sunnydale to find and train a Slayer, but in his mind, he was still seeing Buffy and her friends as those eager teenagers trying to survive high school and vampires.

And yet, by the time Sunnydale had been destroyed, Xander had worked his way up to successful construction foreman, and was even talking about going to college to study architecture, now that he had the money. As well, he'd almost been married. Giles rolled to the side and took a long, critical look at the young man who seemed to be trying to burrow under his clothes. No, Xander was definitely an adult. A tall, handsome man, and nothing like the last male lover he'd had.

The world seemed to tilt under him, and Giles was a little surprised that he didn't slide right off the bed in shock. Xander wasn't off-limits anymore. "Xander."


Giles sighed. It looked as though his personal epiphany had come at the wrong moment. He was aroused, but Xander, it seemed, was now sleeping off the effects of his visit to the hash bar.

Xander's grip had loosened, so Giles could escape if he wanted to, but it had been a long day, the bed was comfortable -- not to mention his bed -- and having someone to share it with him was... nice. Even if he was snoring.

Giles shifted slightly so that he could toe off his shoes, then turned to his side so that he was no longer in danger of squashing Xander. The younger man followed him until he was spooned up against Giles' back, snoring directly into his ear.

A very nice feeling, Giles decided. Then he fell asleep himself.


Moving slowly enough not to set of the creaky door hinges, Buffy pushed open the front door of the townhouse. Dawn giggled loudly behind her, and Buffy shushed her. It was nearly four in the morning -- way past when her note had said they would be back -- and the last thing she wanted was to wake everyone up. Especially considering how tipsy her underage sister was.

Of course, knowing Giles he would be up and waiting for them with a paternal frown on his face. Buffy loved the man dearly -- he was the closest thing she had to a father since her own had been MIA for several years -- but she did wish that he would realize that she was a big girl and could take care of herself.

Okay, she thought as Dawn burst into giggles again, taking care of her sister might be a different matter. Still...

But amazingly enough there was no Giles waiting. No Giles, no Xander, No Willow. She wouldn't have expected Kennedy, mind you, but she had pretty much expected someone to be waiting up. Instead, there was simply a single light illuminating the entry hall and the holiday decorations that they had set up just a few days earlier.

And Giles' travel bag and coat left in a heap next to the console table. That was out of character. Giles was usually quite insistent on putting everything away, not leaving things out to be tripped over.

Buffy hung up her own coat on a hook and headed for the stairs. She couldn't hear anything moving around on the ground floor, other than herself and Dawn, so she assumed that her missing Watcher was upstairs in bed and just too tired to clean up after himself. At least that was what she hoped, although less pleasant alternatives insisted on running through her head.

At the top of the stairs she was relieved to hear the sound of very loud snoring coming from the bedroom at the end of the hall. She nudged Dawn into the room that they were sharing, confident that her sister would crash as soon as she reached the bed, then tiptoed down the hall to the open door.

The snoring was almost obscenely loud now, and Buffy snickered as she considered how much teasing she would be able to get out of this. Perhaps she should go look for a tape recorder so that she would have proof. Then she peeked through the doorway and changed that thought to a camera, because it wasn't Giles who was snoring.

It was Xander.

Xander and Giles were curled up together on the bed -- on top of the covers and fully dressed, she noted -- like a couple of puppies. Buffy leaned against the doorframe with an urge to say 'aw,' and no doubt a silly expression on her face. Then the snoring stopped.

Xander glared at her over Giles' shoulder and mouthed "shhh" at her. Buffy just grinned at him. A glance around the room found a blanket folded up on a chair, so she picked it up and shook it out, then spread it out over the two men, pausing only long enough to kiss Xander on the forehead before tiptoeing back out of the room.

Almost immediately the snoring started up again, and she couldn't help giggling. But the giggles turned to a grimace as she realized that not all of the snoring was coming from the room behind her. In fact, if anything the snoring coming from her room was worse.

She quickly changed directions to head for Xander's currently empty room. Maybe if Xander and Giles were sleeping together now she would be able to have her own room again. That would be a nice Christmas present.