![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Rating: Teen? Sex, kinky but not explicit
Word Count: 216
Note: Written for the last-line-first-line challenge at Giles Shorts.
Ripper was lost. Blindfolded and spread across the bed, not bound but not allowed to move that was the game, as hands and lips touched him, touched him everywhere all at once – a feather stroking up his thigh, a flash of hotcold resolving to cold as icy water splashed across his chest – until he could no longer tell which way was up.
Giles was lost. The comforting landscape, the familiar bookshelves, nine stacks by three, had given way to a maze of books, piled high and towering over him, until he couldn't find his way. It was small, he knew the library was small damn it, and yet he had no clue which way to turn.
Rupert was lost. Buffy's body had been buried in the cold, dark ground as he stood above, alone even with all the children about, alone in a day that seemed chill and gray despite the California sunshine.
In the darkened room, he heardfelt more than saw as he poured the Scotch into the glass. The phone rang and he sank deeper into the chair as Xander's voice, stifled by the distance, stretched across the room but not quite touching him. Out of the whole spiel, he heard only two words: Buffy's back. He booked the next flight out to Sunnydale.