Title: An Alternative Reality: A Fairly Simple Seduction, part 1
Author: Sigrina
Fandom: B:TVS AU
Pairings: Giles/Oz, Jenny/Willow
Sequel to: In The Pale Moonlight (Spike/Ethan)
Archive: if you wish

Email: Storm9632@aol.com 

Comments: This universe is different to the original Buffyverse in a number 
of ways. No Faith, Jenny Calendar is still alive, Angel has not become 
Angelus, Spike was never in a wheelchair and Dru is still weak. Nothing is 
exactly the same as in the series. 

A Fairly Simple Seduction, part 1

by Sigrina

Willow and Jenny were cuddling and smooching as they conducted searches using 
the library's computer and an assortment of occult reference books. Normally 
they avoided touchy-feely stuff in school, frightened of discovery. But this 
was the library, a relatively safe place, and it was Sunday morning. And, as 
Willow pointed out, most people in Sunnydale have a life - or at least an 

Mrs. Summers had gone on a week-long buying trip, so Buffy had been packed 
off to her father until Wednesday. After the incident with Eygon, things were 
pretty quiet. The vampires had felt the death of the demon and were keeping 
their heads in their lairs for a while. Giles had gone off to do the things 
he did on those ultra-rare occasions when he wasn't Watching Buffy. Cordelia 
and Xander had been partying at the Bronze, Willow knew, and were probably 
both still snug in their respective beds. Angel was either asleep or brooding 
in his basement. 

Which just left Oz. Who had been conspicuous by his absence for a time now. 
Ever since Cordelia had been inspired by the love displayed by Jenny and 
Willow into expressing her own desire for Xander. Who had promptly 
reciprocated. Oz hadn't seemed particularly phased by his girlfriend's 
desertion, but then, Oz seemed rarely phased by anything. He'd wished a 
nervous Xander and defiant Cordelia 'Good luck', then ambled from the library.

Willow wondered if she should ring Giles and ask him to organise a search for 
Oz. After all, tomorrow night was the full moon. Just then, the library door 
opened and the object of her worries strolled in, carrying a large paper 
bag. Willow and Jenny pulled apart. The 'no PDAs in front of Buffy and Angel' 
rule had been extended to include Oz. 

As Oz drew nearer Willow's eyes widened. Jenny gasped behind her. 

'Nice look, Oz,' she heard Jenny say. Willow herself was doing the 
goldfish-impersonation that was becoming all too familiar around the library 
these days.

'Thanks, felt like a change. Giles about?' 

'No, he's at home I think.'

'Okay, see ya.'

And Oz walked out of the room, leaving two stunned females behind him.

'That was Oz?'

'It certainly sounded like Oz.'

'It was about the right size.'


'Double wow. With bells on it.'


Giles opened the crate with all the reverence it deserved. Good, everything 
seemed intact. He pulled the smooth dark objects out one by one from the 
crate, letting packaging material fall heedlessly to the floor. He placed 
them carefully on the low coffee table, inspecting each one in minute detail. 
When all forty-eight identical objects had been withdrawn from the crate and 
displayed to his satisfaction, he sank to his knees in trembling awe.

Forty-eight bottles of Young's Chocolate Stout, sent to him by an old friend. 
A very good old friend. A saint. The best of fellows. He'd been waiting for 
this for weeks. And now here it was. He could barely believe it.

Giles stood up, wiping sweaty hands on the tight jeans and then smoothing 
down the ragged white t-shirt. Ripper clothes. Complemented by the soft, 
ancient, leather jacket slung over the back of a chair, the jacket he'd taken 
off just ten minutes ago. It had hung off him when he was sixteen. A gift 
from Ethan, who'd undoubtedly stolen it. Now it fitted snugly, emphasising 
the muscles that few ageing British librarians possessed. Since the return 
of Ethan and Eygon, Ripper had been very close to the surface. In the few 
stolen moments of free time he had, he'd taken to letting Ripper out just a 
little. The clothes, music and cigarettes were a safety valve of sorts. The 
admiring glances he'd received when out shopping yesterday had done a lot to 
relieve the ego-bruising he'd suffered when Jenny had chosen Willow over him. 
He'd even been propositioned three times. Admittedly, one of his 'suitors' 
had been a woman at least ten years older than him and raddled besides. The 
other two, though, had positively been jail bait: a nymphet with a dress that 
left nothing to the imagination; and a slender doe-eyed young man with 'sub' 
written all over him. Ripper had been *so* tempted. Giles had managed to 
stifle Ripper's base response and escape, but only at the cost of having to 
listen to his alter-ego's mocking laughter and comments all night. He was 
going to have to do something more positive than mere damage control. And do 
it soon. Ripper wanted to play. And when Ripper wanted to play, very little 
could get in his way. 

But now the ambrosia of the gods lay before him. He fished out the pocket 
knife from the recesses of the jacket, pulled out the bottle opener and took 
a long swallow. He wasn't going to think of anything negative for the rest of 
the day. Not Ripper, not Eygon, and most certainly not Ethan Raynes.

Two hours later he was sprawled in front of the fire, shoes and socks off, 
felling pleasantly buzzed. 

A knock on the door caused him to swear softly and climb to his feet 
unsteadily. He was tempted to yell 'Fuck off', but some degree of sanity 
still remained. He staggered to the door, wrenching it open, ready to 
verbally blast whichever salesperson, religious nut or irritating teenager 
had dared to disturb his precious downtime...

Lavender spikes framed an elfin face. More than a suspicion of eyeliner 
emphasised softly glowing eyes. A tight black T shirt stretched revealingly 
across a slender chest. Faded jeans that looked as if they had been 
spray-painted on left nothing to the imagination. Nothing at all, not if that 
tempting bulge was any indication. 

Ripper was positively salivating. He could almost *feel* the drool dribbling 
from his mouth. 

And other places.

'Oz.' Oh, God, was that his voice? 

'Hey, Giles, mind if I come in?'

Mind? Well, it saved dragging the child in, he supposed. There was no way he 
was going to let *this* delicious morsel walk away without a taste of the 
delights the packaging was so clearly offering. His outfit and expression 
just screamed an invitation. The only way the boy could have been more 
blatant was if he'd put a sign announcing 'Fuck Me' round his neck. 

Some degree of self-preservation made him double-check that the sun was still 
out before motioning the young man into his lair.

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