Title: An Experiment
Author: Velvetandlace
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Giles finds something unexpected... Season Four, sometime after A New Man.

'It has the same consistency of the blood of a Kangir demon', Giles thought, but the colour was usually a much darker brown. 'Definitely not a Fyarl, or a Mahkesh'.

He stepped carefully over the congealed mess on his carpet, skirting around it in case it proved to be as toxic as it looked. He didn't fancy becoming a demon ever again, thank you very much.

At that thought, he suspiciously glanced through the windows, half-expecting to see Ethan's satisfied smirk leering back at him. 'Sodding Initiative, bet they can't control him' but was met only by his wary reflection and the vague grayness of twilight Sunnydale.

Giles was moving with caution; whatever had left behind that fluid could very well still be in his house, and it was best to be alert, aware, ready to fight any one species of demon that could very well be leaping out of the cobwebbed shadows of the home he tended to neglect - not that he was never there - 'I never leave the ruddy place', just that he'd grown lax with the upkeep, had grown apathetic, as the shadow of a beard on his chin would attest.

He was still stealthy, though; a Watcher and young hoodlum through and through, and he scooped a quarter-staff from its perch on the wall without making a sound, moving it predatory strides, no longer a victim, but a hunter.

He found more of it, just outside the kitchen door. He lowered carefully, catching its scent, and was surprised to notice it was sweet, reminding him of sugary milk. He frowned, straightening up and tensing his muscles. This was something he had not expected.

A clang - the pans in the top kitchen shelf, hitting the stove - reverberated through the house, and Giles couldn't stop the slow, dangerous smile settling over his lips. His assailant, his trespasser, his punching bag, appeared to be cornered in the kitchen.

It was to his advantage.

With a surge of adrenalin, Giles burst through the kitchen doorway, quarter staff in attack stance, letting forth a cry, primal, savage, aggressive as he swung -

- And stopped just in time, with obvious effort, the staff hovering less than an inch from Xander's cowering face.

Giles looked around, puzzled. The substance - demon flesh? - was all over the kitchen - walls, floors, Xander himself, and yet the young man didn't appear in the least alarmed (at least, not alarmed about the residue; he looked quite concerned about the staff that almost caused him serious brain damage).

"Xander, what - ?"

Xander stood, straightened, revealing a badly spattered apron, a spatula firmly clasped in his right hand, shaking slightly from his startled state.

He smiled sheepishly, thrusting a plate under Giles' nose.

"Pancake?"