“I believe we should start by sitting down and sorting through everything we already know about the Altenalium,” Wesley suggested. “That seems considerably more logical than simply attempting to find out on our own through trial-and-error.”

“Safer, too,” Spike murmured. Xander nodded and flopped down on the sofa. The other two men joined him sitting shoulder-to-shoulder.

“Ah, cozy,” Xander said. “So I guess we…”

::Relax, close your eyes, and think about the Altenalium,:: Wesley ordered. He began at once and found that it wasn’t very difficult at all. As soon as he started to think about the thing, all sorts of images, information and warnings came to mind. It was as if everything all the other holders of the Altenalium had ever thought about had been amassed into one file, all for his benefit. He felt Spike and Xander in the corners of his mind, doing the same thing, playing through memories of successes and failures, trials and practices.

::Remind me to never, ever let you sing along to anything,:: Xander thought. ::’Cause Wes, man, you’ve got a hell of a voice.::

::I believe we’ve already established that,:: Wesley said. ::Remember, we’ve been through much of this information before.::

::But that was just to get enough so that we’d be left alone,:: Spike reminded the others. ::Don’t know about you, but I wasn’t exactly paying attention to all these hints about how to focus my hearing on the growth rate of Fyarl demon stomach cilia at nine hundred meters.::

::Not sure you should be paying attention to it now,:: Xander replied. ::Because that’s just gross.::

::You’re the one who gets to watch skin flaking off of people at ten miles,:: Spike shot back. ::And you think the Fyarl thing is disgusting?::

::Could you please focus on the task at hand?:: Wesley inquired. ::For a few minutes, at least? I think we’ve well-established our sensory abilities. What I am concerned about is learning to channel the raw energy.::

“Yes, dad,” Xander muttered, returning to his thoughts.

•••

::We’re out of milk,:: Xander thought as he realized his stomach was growling. ::And just about everything else too.:: His food supplies were plenty for one, but with three adult mouths to feed it just wasn’t enough.

“Then we shall go shopping,” Wesley stated. “I believe we can do that.”

“And look funny doing it, too,” Xander grumbled. “Three guys who never get further from each other than across the aisle?”

“I refuse to live on takeout,” Wesley insisted.

“Haven’t ever been grocery shopping,” Spike murmured. ::Why would anyone care that we shopped together anyway?::

Xander glared at the blonde. ::Just you wait.::

They somehow found shoes and cleanish clothes enough to be presentable and piled into Xander’s car. By mutual agreement they stopped by Spike’s place, buried underneath the school, and picked up some clothes for him. They also knew they’d have to pick up something for Wesley; the man hadn’t packed for an extended visit.

::How am I supposed to work?:: Xander asked the others. ::You two can’t just tag along all day. I’m supposed to be supervising all the time.::

“Do you have any personal time coming?” Wesley asked as they parked at the huge discount and grocery store on the outskirts of town.

::I can get maybe a week, two at the most,:: Xander thought. ::But this is a long term thing, and right now I’m the only one of us with an income. Spike’s broke, you’re permanently non-pensioned from both the Council and Angel…::

::I think we’ve found something that the others who’ve been the Altenalium haven’t had to deal with,:: Spike told Xander and Wesley. ::Can’t find one memory on this one.::

::How to find gainful employment for joined-at-the-hip triads,:: Wesley snorted. ::The ins and outs of group work.::

“Grab a cart,” Xander told Wesley as they passed the elderly greeter.

::Produce first,:: Wesley insisted. ::We are not living on frozen pizza and Swanson’s dinners.::

Xander shrugged. “Fine, whatever you guys want’s fine with me.” He followed Wesley down the aisles, watching as Spike retrieved bags and held them open for the ex-Watcher.

“Radishes are looking rather nice,” Wesley murmured. “But Xander hates them.”

::He likes parsnips fine,:: Spike said, picking up a bunch. ::And I remember them.::

“Yes, Xander, we can get a watermelon,” Wesley said over his shoulder. “But not the caramel sauce. Apples are just fine by themselves.”

“As if you’d eat tomatoes without salt,” Xander shot back. ::You can’t stand them without at least a little of the stuff. Look, peaches!::

::That is different,:: Wesley insisted. “And yes, peaches are fine as well.”

Spike peered into the lush garden that was the lettuce and cabbage display. He was wondering why anyone would eat something that looked like lichen.

“Because it tastes like weeds and has that classy, stringy look. It’s a fad thing, or one of those image issues,” Xander replied. He reached around Spike to grab a head of iceberg lettuce. ::Sort of the same reason why people buy that new glow-in-the-dark Gatorade.::

“Which is why we shall be buying milk,” Wesley stated. He took the iceberg lettuce from Xander and traded it for Romaine. ::I would rather eat the radicchio than this flavorless plant.::

“Says you who eats porridge,” Xander retorted.

Spike saw a movement in the corner of his eye and turned to see an older couple staring at the three of them. The lady was frowning and shaking her head. When she saw Spike watching her, she grabbed her husband and trotted off, talking in a low hiss. “Move, Henry! It’s those psychotic homosexual-types. Did you hear them? Completely crazy!”

“What on earth were they talking about? What does radicchio have to do with milk?” Henry asked his wife as they rounded the corner. Spike frowned and let his hearing go back to normal, his impromptu test of his abilities over.

“Spike?” Xander murmured. “Don’t let them bother you.”

::They didn’t hear most of the conversation anyway,:: Wesley added. ::Besides, people expect to see odd strangers in places like this.::

“Right. We’re out of bread,” Spike replied, starting to push the cart again. Xander and Wesley followed along, content to weird out the other customers as they argued, both mentally and verbally.

::Do we need anything besides food and clothes for Wes?:: Xander asked. ::I think I might need to get more soap and stuff, if we’re gonna keep using my place.::

::Yes, that is a good idea,:: Wesley replied as they headed for menswear. There was a brief struggle when Xander and Spike disagreed on whether Wesley should wear bright orange or solid black shirts. Wesley simply grabbed three of the garments in blue, maroon and green, ignoring his bickering companions.

“Personal hygiene, here we come!” Xander cried as they wheeled towards the toiletries. They started down the first aisle, Xander tossing in things as the three men thought of what they needed.

::I need deodorant?:: Spike asked as Xander picked out a stick of the stuff for the blonde.

::You sweat now, Spike. Deodorant is a must.::

“As is a toothbrush and paste,” Wesley murmured.

::What kind of razor?:: Xander asked the older man. ::I’m thinking he’s got more sensitive skin than we do.::

::Very true,:: Wesley said. ::Here,:: He tossed in a rather nice razor and a package of blades. Xander got a can of shaving gel.

::Dental floss?:: Spike asked. ::You’ve got that. I saw it.::

“Mine’s grape flavored,” Xander warned.

“Right. Mint for me, if you will.”

Wesley grabbed a box of mint floss as they turned the corner. Xander restocked the shampoo and conditioner while Spike found a tube of hair gel—something he did know a bit about. ::Dove, Zest, Dial, Lever, or what?:: Xander asked when they hit the body soap.

::Dove,:: Wesley replied instantly.

::That’s nancy-girl soap,:: Spike protested.

“We’ll get unscented,” Xander assured him.

“Still girl soap,” Spike muttered.

::Spike, Xander’s usual soap is why your skin itched this morning. You’ve got very sensitive skin now; apparently becoming whatever we are brought back some of your human tendencies,:: Wesley explained. ::We may not be truly human now, but you at least are far closer to what you were before you were turned.::

::Bloody hell,:: Spike groused. He’d been a sensitive mess in more ways than one; soft, delicate skin and hair, tender eyes, and an easily upset stomach.

“I’m sure we can swing a bottle of Pepto Bismol,” Xander assured the former vampire.

The next aisle turned out to be hair dye. “You need a touch up, blondie?” Xander asked, looking pointedly at Spike’s varicolored locks.

Spike tugged self-consciously at an overlong curl. ::Need more than that,:: He muttered silently. ::Put that back, Xander.::

Wesley grinned. ::Oh, I don’t know. It might look very nice on you.::

“No,” Spike said out loud, drawing the attention of other shoppers. “I’ll just get it cut and let it grow out or something.”

“Oh, it’s a great color for you,” A young lady said, butting into their admittedly odd conversation. “With your skin tones? You’ll be beating them off with a stick.”

Xander frowned fiercely, not liking the idea of people hanging off Spike like that. Then he straightened, wondering why he would care about that at all. ::It’s natural to,:: Wesley told Xander. ::You’re supposed to.::

::Oh, the Altenalium gets to decide who I care about now? I don’t even get a choice; I’m gonna have to feel this way about Spike from now on?::

::You know that isn’t true,:: Wesley countered. ::It simply makes your preexisting emotions more salient.::

“I don’t think the color’s right,” Spike said, pointedly ignoring the silent conversation going on next to him.

“Try this one,” The girl said, picking up another box. “A bit more dramatic, but better, I think.”

Spike frowned. “It’s very…there.”

She grinned. “That’s the point. I’d say you should streak it, but with the blonde-and-dark thing you’ve got right now, it’s gonna streak a lot on its own.”

“Maybe I should stick to blonde,” He murmured. “This is rather…” ::I sound like a bleeding idiot.:: He scowled and tossed the box in the cart. “Damned twinkling nancy boy.”

The girl laughed and began to walk away. “Hey, if the shoe fits…”

::Can we go now?:: Xander asked. He was suddenly not having a bit of fun.

•••

“Alright, let me get this straight,” Xander said, ignoring Spike’s snigger at the word ‘straight.’ “You want me to channel energy to move things around the room? This is so Star Wars.”

Wesley sighed. “You know this is important, all science fiction references aside. We have access to an incredible amount of power, Xander. It is imperative we learn how to control it.”

“By moving furniture?” Xander said dubiously. “It’s the only couch I’ve got.”

“It’s lumpy,” Spike muttered.

“And what are you two going to be doing while *I* do this Karate Kid meets Luke Skywalker, wax on, move couch, these droids are not the ones you’re looking for thing?” Xander asked.

“Spike’s hair,” Wesley retorted with a smirk. “And Spike will work with you while he sits.” A sharp glare from the ex-Watcher prevented any verbal comment from the semi-blonde.

“Can we get on with this?” Spike asked irritatedly. He wanted to get his over with, get on with the practice, and maybe get in a—

“No, you are not masturbating in my shower!” Xander squawked. The sofa turned and flew sideways about five feet, stopping right alongside Wesley, with about an inch to spare.

“Very nice,” Wesley murmured. “Dare I ask what will happen if I consider—“

Xander glared. The sofa moved back towards the center of the room. “No, you dare not ask. I don’t appreciate being made fun of.” The sofa shifted again. “Spike, pick your own furniture.” He didn’t need pictures of a naked Spike dancing through his head. Now he had equally disturbing pictures of Wesley, in the shower, covered in soap and wet and… suddenly Spike and Wesley were together in the shower and so was he and that wasn’t *his* mind and…

“If you do not wish for us to make innuendos, perhaps you shouldn’t let your mind wander,” Wesley murmured. “You never know where it might end up.”

Xander shuddered. He tried to banish the image of them together like that, with limited success. He couldn’t even tell which other men had created it. And it kept coming back, glimpses of flesh and “Please stop?”

Wesley relented and thought about hair dye for a while.

::Wish this was just bloody telekinesis,:: Spike thought as he focused on the easy chair. If it was, he could’ve just focused on lifting or pushing the furniture. Instead, he had to learn how to push the energy he was channeling, like an invisible extension of himself. He could feel the chair, feel it slipping and unbalancing as he tried to lift it. ::Damn it!:: The chair hit the wall with a loud thump. ::Telekinetics don’t have to balance things. I read about it once. Why us?:: Wesley laughed at his failed attempts as he shook up a peroxide bottle.

“Hold still,” Wesley ordered. He’d mixed the dye and was poised over Spike’s head. The man stilled instantly.

“Reconsider?” Spike wasn’t sure about this hair thing, but he knew it wasn’t really about color. This was his way of letting the others play ‘build the human,’ even if he wasn’t entirely human. They got to explain the potentially embarrassing things like gas and belching and digestion, and body odor—things he’d forgotten about. Yeah, he knew they existed; as a vampire he smelled them much more acutely than a human did. However he wasn’t used to dealing with them.

The dye job was also some sort of odd bonding thing. He gave up a bit of who he was, letting Wesley and Xander change him a bit. The color was their mark on him, their ‘he’s with us’ signal. It was also the closest thing Xander would ever do to actually admitting that he looked at Spike, really *looked* at him. Which was odd, considering that Spike knew that already. There were some things they still needed to work on.

“Are you going to move the chair, or do I have to piss in the sink?” Xander growled. Spike jerked; he’d been woolgathering and had left the chair in front of the doorway. The chair slid aside and Xander stomped off to the bathroom. Spike and Wesley immediately stood and followed him.

::What’s gotten into him?:: Spike asked Wesley.

The ex-Watcher paused in his dyeing, which he’d managed to continue even as they relocated . ::What were you thinking about?::

“Fuck. Sorry,” Spike said. He felt Xander grunt some sort of incomprehensible mental reply. The young man returned, glowering but not as angry as before.

“S’ok,” Xander muttered. “Just try not to do that a lot?”

Spike nodded slowly, not disturbing Wesley’s ministrations. When the man was done, Spike leaned back and rested his spine against the chair. “I think Wes should work with the pole lamp.”

“Yup,” Xander agreed. They’d both get a kick out of Wesley struggling with the thing. After all, he’d been amused by their efforts. Why couldn’t they do the same?