Title: Retrograde - Chapter 13 Revised
Author: Guardian
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Don't own the characters, I just play.
Summary: Entering the GalenVerse again. Post-Chosen Buffy and friends have moved to LA when they meet a troubled man who appears to be the deceased Spike. Now they're trying to figure out what's going on and who's responsible.
Notes: Yes, I did this chapter before. This is completely different because the last one I had to destroy because my beta informed me it was basically turning into a crack fic. Took a while posting as well because I had written mostly everything excpet for the very opening. >.<


Previous parts




Television was a rare allowance; only a few hours a day in the midst of stimulating coping methods, like exciting journal-keeping, playing cards or coloring pictures. Group work had waned out, and only Eamon and Addison found real pleasure in playing cards.

The station was tuned to a horror movie that had been edited enough to pass as PG-13, except for the bloodshed. It wasn't so much scary as it was funny to watch the actors run around screaming. Obviously, Galen was the only one who couldn't find much pleasure in that. So when he came out from his shower with his hair still soft and damp, and settled on the couch between Eamon and Rachel, at Rachel's insistence, he was only able to keep a mild interest in the unusual sounds he was hearing.

The shift was so gradual that Eamon didn't notice until Galen's full weight sank against him, abusing their friendship to use him as some sort of overstuffed pillow. A few moments later and the pale, slender man had fallen asleep to the sound of gunfire and selectively edited dialogue.

Addison did not comment on this, just shared a look of amusement with Eamon, bemused by how Galen had managed to fall asleep at all, folded into such a strange position on the couch. Rachel could not tell if she was more envious over Galen falling asleep on Eamon's shoulder and not hers or that Eamon was letting Galen get away with it.

She testingly extended her arm and rubbed her fingers across Galen's firm stomach, covered by a thin layer of cotton. She felt his muscles shift as he stretched. He gave a small, whining sound that set her insides to Jell-O and made her want to do things that would surely set back months of 'progress'. But damn, he was too irresistible. He couldn't possibly be sleeping, and yet, knowing how damn innocent Galen was, he probably was fast asleep. It only made her want to get him in bed even more. He would be a mass of quivering nerves, responsive to the touch, and eager for her to guide him. He would feel so damn good; ivory-colored skin that would be so soft and smooth, covering muscles and bones underneath that were like liquid steel. He would be too thin and pale, but she didn't care about any of that. He would not be able to reserve himself, making those delicious noises when he came.

The werewolves were clearly winning on screen, and Eamon was a bit irritated to be disturbed by Dunstan's presence. The man was so vapid, like Addison, but at least the kid could play a good game of cards and didn't act like a stuck-up bitch. He didn't even care that Dunstan was there – after all, all of their rooms connected to the living room, and it couldn't be helped – but the man just stood there, staring. Staring at….

"What in God's name are you doing?"

Eamon dropped his hand from Galen's hair, feeling like he was fourteen years old, getting caught by his father again. He thought he knew what Dunstan meant, simultaneously turning to make sure Galen was still sleeping while ready to tell Dunstan to bite him, when he stopped. He was wrong. Rachel was leaning towards Galen slightly, her hand disappearing under Galen's scrunched-up shirt, and, please, don't let it be….

Her eyes snatch up to look at Eamon guiltily, still radiating lust. Her psychosis might have somehow short-circuited her ability to feel ashamed, because she didn't even blink as she carefully removed her hand. Eamon stared at her, hoping that her hand had only been under his shirt, or had at least appeared that way, because clearly she'd been trying to sneak her paws somewhere they didn't belong.

Galen shuddered beside Eamon, but didn't wake.

"How does a guy who only eats pudding and never works out keep tight abs?" Rachel asked, trying to change the subject.

"Leave his abs alone," Eamon warned her firmly.

"I can't help that your boyfriend is so hot," Rachel said, as if it were really all his fault.

"No good can come out of this kind of this sinful behavior," Dunstan left the room, undoubtedly to tell tales to Brenda about love triangles.

"See what you did?" Eamon hissed. "We could get canned."

"I'm sorry," Rachel emphasized. "It's not like I can help it. I don't usually not in a situation of having to resist."

"This isn't right," Eamon said, referring to taking advantage of Galen. "He isn't some twenty-three year old young buck, up for a one-night stand. He's probably got a wife or a girl missing him."

"What if he's got a boyfriend?"

"Then he'd have a boyfriend worried for him. The point is you don't even stop to consider it."

"I don't stop to consider a lot of things; that's why it's called an addiction," Rachel said fiercely, eyes burning.

Galen shifted between them with a mumble, causing them both to fall completely silent. "Dunn… don't you do that. Hmm?" Brenda came into the living room, a flutter of activity, scanning for any defects. Galen shoved on Eamon when he sensed the commotion, blue eyes roaming aimlessly.

"Hands to yourselves," Brenda chided, and Eamon slid further into the corner of the couch so that his body was no longer pressed against Galen's. Galen shivered from the loss of Eamon's nice, warm body heat. It was nice to snuggle into, and no, that did not make him gay ––

"And this," Brenda tsked, picking up the remote as she watched the TV for a moment, full of God-knows what. Galen could make out snarling and gunfire and yelling and a lot of what could be the sound of blood spraying everywhere. "You really shouldn't be watching things like this. You don't really want to lose the TV altogether, do you?"

"The movie's almost over," Eamon pointed out calmly.

"There are better things to watch on TV than this," Brenda remained resolved, flipping to the Lifetime channel. Tranquility washed over her and she smiled resolutely at what was deemed "better" TV in her mind.

"Hey," Galen protested as the chaotic noise shifted to near-silence with some sort of dramatic confrontation going on. "I was watching that."

"No, you were sleeping," Brenda replied.

"Yeah, well, it soothed me."

"You should sleep in your own bed, as well," Brenda said. "That's rule number seven."

"You just made up that rule, didn't you?" Addison said doubtfully.

"Look, I doubt that a werewolf movie is going to trigger anyone," Rachel said. "Lifetime, on the other hand, really gets me going. The movies are all about domestic violence, orphans, drug abuse, and rape. The last time I watched this channel I had to have stitches."

"I wanna find out who dies," Galen added.

Brenda looked extremely displeased, but grudgingly gave the remote to Eamon. "When the movie's over, please choose something that isn't violent."

Eamon nodded and flipped the channel over to the movie again, much to Rachel's very real relief.

Galen settled against the couch, listening to the ongoing slaughter with an appreciative ear. "What's she got against violence, anyway? This is extremely educational."

"Better than chick flicks," Addison put in.

"Hell, anything's better than a chick flick," Rachel stated. She pretended to hold an interest in the film, but when she snuck a glance at Galen, Eamon was glaring at her, silently warning her to never try anything like that again.

~~

Seated on the couch in the lobby of the Hyperion, Willow typed rapidly into her laptop, windows and encrypted files flickering by.

Kennedy quietly observed the progress over her girlfriend's shoulder. She was stupefied by the insane amounts of jumbled letters and numbers passing by. "I can't believe you understand all of that computer jargon."

"Jargon?" Dawn repeated. "Like 'lol'?"

"That's slang. This is more like HTML," Fred corrected. "Programming languages. But that's just basic stuff."

"Could you get into those files?" Angel asked Fred quietly.

Fred gave him a look that told him he was being ridiculous. "I'm a scientist, not a computer hacker. Willow is light-years beyond my mojo. But if you need to figure out a physics problem, let me know."

"You're also quite good at mechanics," Wesley pointed out.

Fred shrugged, trying to suppress a blushing smile. "Well, I did take engineering courses. But only for a couple years."

"I can't find it," Willow said allowed, sounding a little frustrated. She didn't lose focus on the screen, however.

"It's not there?" Buffy questioned.

"It might be," Willow furrowed her brow in concentration. "My theory was, I'd know it if I found it. But I didn't run into anything that looked promising. I don't think I will."

"And the plot thickens," Xander proclaimed in a dramatic tone. "I always wonder; how could one thicken a plot? After all, a plot is just a concept. It's not like it's a delicious stew or anything."

"It's a figure of speech, Xander, let it go," Cordelia suggested.

Buffy moved closer to Willow's computer, hoping to get some insight, but it was just meaningless garbage to her as well. She couldn't begin to figure out how people managed to work with the things, and so she hoped her exposure to the technology would be minimal in life. Willow was really a godsend. Or a goddess-send…. Whatever.

"That's not magic, is it?" Buffy questioned, watching Willow's fingers flying across the keyboard.

"No," Willow's voice was shaky. "Although I might need magic to make this work. I'm kind of unsure about zapping myself into their server, although I'm sorely tempted to either do that or blast this thing to bits."

"Mm, dark Willow," Kennedy said approvingly, not really helping.

Willow half-smiled despite herself and defeatedly shut windows down. "This isn't working. But I'm curious and I have an idea, so I just want to go ahead and test that. It might take a while. I'm sorry I can't just get this done. It must be frustrating for you too."

"It's okay," Buffy assured her. "We get to see him in person, so it can wait. Speaking of which, guess who I saw on grounds patrol today?"

"Tom Petty?" Cordelia guessed.

"Ummm…no." Buffy frowned deeply at Cordelia. "It was Spike. He was just getting out of an appointment or something."

"Really?" Willow paused. "Did he mention any details?"

"Not really. He had to get a shot," Buffy recalled. "He said it was a regular thing."

"Okay," Willow said excitedly. "I can work with that. There has to be a patient chart."

"But that'll just show his fake name," Fred reminded her.

"Well, it might help," Willow pouted. "It's worth a shot."

"Oh! And he mentioned a name, too. Dr… Sullivan? No… Sutton, I think."

"What else did he say?" Willow questioned, typing quickly.

"Not much," Buffy shrugged. "Except…" a grin played across her lips… "He said that tough girls are hot. And something about being naked. I didn't really pay attention to anything after that."

Part 2 of Chapter 13 revised