The Guy Thing 13/18: Buffy

Riley stood under the shower, reveling in the torrent of hot water. He took
his time. At least his apartment complex never seemed to run out of hot
water. There would be enough left for Xander, if he ever woke up. He
looked so cute sleeping in just his boxers, that Riley hadn't had the heart
to wake him, even if a shower with Xander sounded like an awfully nice way
to start a Saturday morning . . . well, afternoon.

Riley was dried off, towel wrapped round his waist, starting to shave when
he heard the door open.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?"

Fuck. Buffy. The fact that Riley didn't have a heart attack right then and
there at least proved that the Doc's operation had been a total success. He
took a deep breath and stepped out of the bathroom, to see Buffy standing
over a very hung-over Xander, sitting on the couch in what Riley knew to be
hastily pulled-on khakis and T-shirt, head in his hands.

"I can't believe you, Xander!"

"Buffy, it's not . . . " Xander stopped. Shit, it *was* what it looked
like.

"Buffy." Riley got out.

Buffy turned on her heel and stared at Riley. "What the hell have you too
been up to?" Buffy surveyed the empty bottles on the table and the floor.
"Jesus, you guys have been going all lost weekend, haven't you?"

She turned back to Xander. "Anya's been going crazy. She spent the night
over at Tara and Willow's crying her eyes out. We've been calling
hospitals, and police stations and I kicked Spike's butt, just because I
didn't believe him when he said he hadn't heard anything."

Xander looked down at the floor shame-faced. He glanced up quickly and saw
that Buffy had turned her attention to Riley. He kicked the used condom
under the couch as quickly as possible.

"We just went for a few beers, and then. . . " Riley shrugged.

"And then came back and drank up the liquor store!"

"This isn't all from last night, Buffy. I haven't exactly been cleaning up
regularly."

"OK, so it's more a week-long jag rather than a one-night drunk. THAT makes
it so much better."

Riley hung his head.

Buffy shook her head, walked over to the phone and picked it up and dialed.
Taking advantage of the diversion, Xander scrambled up, and darted into
the bathroom.

"Hey, Willow. Yeah they're both here. Along with their good friend Jack
Daniels. . . . Yeah, they're both OK. How's Anya? . . . OK, good. . . .
No, I don't think she oughta talk to Xander just now."

Xander stood in the bathroom and washed his face and listened to Buffy's
voice as she read Riley the riot act about his drinking problem. He sighed
and turned off the water and dried off. Time to face the music. He pulled
his tee-shirt back on, and stepped back out.

Riley was staring at the floor. Buffy seemed to have run out of words. But
her face had lost none of its anger.

"It was my fault, Buffy. I . . . "

"This would so be the time for you to not talk, Xander."

"Right."

Buffy glared at him. "This would be the time for you to go home, take a
shower, change your clothes and go see Anya."

"Right." Xander nodded, grabbed his shirt, socks and shoes and stepped out
the door, leaning against the wall to pull on shoes and socks. He suddenly
realized he had to get the message to Graham to do a little more tape
erasing.

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