Maybe He's Canadian, 17: Disquieted
 

Dressed in combat gear he was marched through the village towards the main
guerilla guy's hut, hands tied behind his back.  Llamas scattered, scared.
Two  guerillas  on either side marched him in and forced him to kneel before
their leader.  A guinea pig crawled out from under the bed and stared at
him, trying to figure out if this guy wanted to eat him, then scampered away
under the bed.  Xander slowly looked up.   He saw the reclining figure, head
covered by a white towel.  The guerilla leader removed the towel, wiping
away the sweat from the tropical heat.

It was Ampata, his own Inca mummy girl.  Xander stared and swallowed hard.
He slowly shook his head.  He wanted to speak, but couldn't.

She spoke softly in her sweet Peruvian accent,
"I thought you were a cowboy, but you are suldadu-cha, a soldier-boy.  I
don't understand.  Have you come to kill me?"  There was real hurt in her
voice.  "I would die rather than hurt you, suldadu-cha.  And you have come
to kill me?  Why, suldadu-cha?"  Her voice faded away.

Jesse's voice continued, "I don't really care why you came, I'm just really
glad to see you."  Xander looked into what was now Jesse's face.

Jesse got up from the bed and walked over to him, lifting Xander to his
feet.  He smiled at Xander, and put his hands on his shoulders.  Xander
could feel his warm hands caressing his upper arms then his shoulders and
then his back.  Feeling that warm loving touch that he missed so badly,
needed so badly.  He looked into Jesse's eyes.  Jesse's eyes twinkled with
joy at seeing him, his mouth formed a smile,  and as he hugged him, pulled
him in, he whispered sweetly "Xander".

And Jesse burst into a cloud of dust.

Xander looked down in horror at the stake he was holding in front of him,
that has just pierced Jesse's heart.  He dropped the wooden stake on the
ground.  The other guerillas continued about their tasks like nothing had
happened, not paying the least bit of attention to him.

He ran out of the door of the hut . and into his basement.  He walked over
to the stairs.  The pounding began again at the door at the top of the
stairs.

Xander stood, immobilized.

"What are you two doing down there?"

Xander looked over his shoulder, Graham was sitting on the couch, playing
Nintendo, oblivious to the pounding.

"What the hell are you two doing down there!"

He looked back up the stairs.  The shouting became more clear.  "What's
going on down there!"

He turned around and saw Jesse on the couch instead of Graham, clutching the
Nintendo controls.

He pleaded desperately with Jesse.  "That's not the way out!"

Jesse seemed completely unconcerned.  He shrugged and explained, "Ça depend
ou est-ce-que tu veux aller,"

"What?" asked Xander, panicking. "I don't understand you!"

"Tu veux-tu me tuer encore?"  Asked Jesse, with an encouraging nod.  He
reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a stake and put on the arm of
the couch within Xander's reach, and went back to playing Nintendo.  The
pounding continued as Xander looked over and stared at the stake in horror.
There was blood on it.

"Jesse!"  Xander protested.

Jesse looked up at him, smiling.
"I loved you, and you killed me."

"I didn't kill *you*!"

"You killed me." Jesse shrugged his shoulders and went back to playing
Nintendo, engrossed in shooting down the commando hiding behind the fortress
wall.

"You were already dead."

Eyes focused on the Nintendo commando game, Jesse explained,
"I felt more alive than I'd ever felt before.'

"You were already dead"

"I felt alive," Jesse repeated wistfully.

Xander was close to tears.  He had to make Jesse understand, he repeated
more insistently,
"You were already dead!"

Jesse looked over at him, and shook his head, smiling sadly,
"No.  When I was with *you*,  I felt alive."

The door at the top of the stairs opened, and the older man angrily shouted
Xander's name.

Xander turned his head.  Giles sneered down at him with a look of disgust.

"You're no bloody soldier!"

Xander hung his head in shame.

"Did you really think I didn't know about you and *him*?"

Xander looked over at the couch,  Graham was playing Nintendo again, killing
cartoon vampires left and right on the TV screen.  He looked up Xander and
grinned, "I got him.  Did you see that?  I *got* him!"

He scoured the room frantically, searching for Jesse, ignoring Giles, who
was still scowling at him.

He finally knew what he wanted to say to Jesse, what he needed to say.  But
Jesse wasn't there anymore.  Jesse was gone.  Suddenly, Xander felt
completely panicked, with no idea what to do.

Graham stood up and headed towards the stairs.

"That's not the way out!"  Xander yelled at him

"Depends where you wanna go."  Graham said with a shrug, and just the hint
of a knowing smile.  He headed up the stairs.  Giles started to block his
path, but Graham just shook his head and said "No," and walked past him.  At
the top of the stairs, Graham turned to Xander and motioned with his arm and
said, "Come on!" and he went out.

Xander started to follow him out.  Giles was halfway up the stairs, blocking
his way.
"And where do you think you're going?"

"Out."

Giles sneered at him.

Xander got angry.   He got ready to push him aside, but Giles was now behind
him at the foot of the stairs.

Xander looked down the stairs at him, puzzled.

Giles shrugged and smiled at him, "I was never really in your way."
 
 

Xander woke up with a start.  Not scared to death like after the First
Slayer nightmare,  but disquieted.  The first thing he did was to make sure
Graham was still there.  He was,  breathing, warm, alive, sleeping there on
his side, facing away from Xander.

He stared up at the ceiling, and heaved a sigh.  He found himself thinking
about Jesse.  About going to the memorial service, and standing there,
surrounded by neighbors and friends, all of them expressing their
condolences to the family and then looking to him for the jokey comment to
break their grief.  Not one person there had asked him how he was doing, how
he was holding up under the loss of his best friend.  Xander could remember
clearly how he felt completely alone in the world.

And then going with Jesse's family as the priest blessed the grave, knowing
that the grave was really empty. That Jesse's remains were a pile of dust
that some janitor had swept up at the Bronze one morning.  Jesse's parents
needed that funeral.  They needed closure, needed to believe he was in his
place in the family plot.  Jesse's mom could barely look at him, like she
couldn't help wondering why it hadn't been Xander who had suddenly
disappeared from her life instead of her son, like she blamed Xander for it
all.  And Xander felt the sting of that blame.  He had held the stake that
had killed Jesse.  No! That had killed the vampire, Jesse had been dead long
before that.  The real Jesse.

There was so much he would tell Jesse now if he could.  So much he knew now
that he didn't know then.  So much he knew he could do, that he knew how to
do, now.  So much he wished he could share with him.  So much he wished he
could show him.

And, maybe, just maybe he could answer the question that Jesse put to him
the one time Jesse did talk about what they were doing. the question that
Xander blew off, didn't answer, didn't respond to, and Jesse stormed off,
too mad, too shamed to stay.

But, maybe he could answer it now .  just maybe.  Yeah, he missed Jesse.
Part of him was always gonna miss Jesse.   He blinked.  Because part of him
was always gonna love Jesse.

OK, morbid much.  Dude was dead.

He felt a frisson of guilt.  Here he was in bed with Graham, and his
thoughts were on Jesse.  But Graham didn't seem jealous when he brought
Jesse up . Well, maybe there was a little bit of jealousy, a really cute
kind, for what he had shared with Jesse.

He looked over at the sleeping commando guy.  He reached over and touched
him gently, not wanting to wake him.    Graham mumbled something
unintelligible as Xander gently ran his hand along his side, feeling his
warm living flesh, reassuring himself that Graham really was there, still at
his side.

He grinned.  He guessed he'd have to make do with the hunk lying next to
him, the one who was ready to do anything Xander wanted, and who had taught
Xander more about just being with someone else than anyone else ever had.
The one who looked at him with real longing, real desire.  in a way that no
one else ever had.

Xander wished Jesse could see this.  See just how nice it could be with
another guy.  How it didn't have to be shame-filled or guilt-ridden, how it
could just be . fun.  OK, fun and intense and exciting, and like nothing
he'd ever felt before.

He sighed and whispered to the ether, "Yeah, I loved you too, Jesse."  He
looked over at the sleeping form beside him.  Xander rolled onto his side,
put an arm across Graham's chest and snuggled up against him, pressing his
body against his.  Graham didn't respond except to keep breathing, which
Xander thought was just about the best thing Graham could possibly do.
 
 

<< Stay tuned for part 18, In which Xander learns that Riley likes Speed
Racer cartoons, and Riley does something with Xander that Xander hasn't done
in quite a while .; same Graham-Time! Same Graham-Channel!>>
 

Comparative Linguistics 101.

When writing slash in Portuguese, it is important to distinguish the version
spoken in Portugal (P) from that spoken in Brazil (B).  The following
examples should suffice to demonstrate the striking differences:

Graham is buff             P: Graham es mutalão.
                           B: Graham es gatão.

He's a hottie!             P: Es quente!
                           B: Es fogoso!
 

Xander is cuddly guy.      P: Xander es um tipo acariciavel
                           B: Xander es um cara fofo

He's got a nice ass!       P: Tem um rico cu!
                           B: Tem uma bunda bonita!
 
 

Mind if I suck your cock?  P: Posso mamar a tua tranca?
                           B: Posso chupar o teo pinto?

I'm coming!                P: Estou-me a vir!
                           B: Estou gozando!

(I love the sound of the (P) for 'he's a hottie', it's pronounced something
like 'esh-KEN-chuh')