Rated: NC-17
E-mail: uberaeryn@gmail.com
Pairing: Spike/Giles
Summary: Giles discovers things about Spike and himself that lead them down a 
broken road.
Disclaimer: The characters are the property of Joss Whedon, 20th Century Fox, and 
Mutant Enemy.  No copyright infringement is intended, and no financial profit is 
anticipated.
Notes:  Buffy Season 4 through Post-Not Fade Away. M/M, angst, humor, more angst, 
more humor. AU, timeline is different, some things that did happen haven't in this 
version, and some things that didn't happen have, so basically it's all wonky but 
still following the storylines, very loosely. 



This One Does
By uberaeryn
Copyright © 2005



Part One


***

"You don't . . . dammit, I keep tellin' you, you don't have to do this! I got this 
soddin' thing in my head, right?" Spike writhed again as Giles tightened the bonds 
around his hands and ankles.

"I don't know that, Spike. I don't know that anything that you've told us is 
true," Giles said. He sighed and stood, walking over to the counter dividing the 
kitchen and the living area and pouring himself a drink.

"The redhead told you!"

"Oh, that's right, she did, didn't she? Said you couldn't 'perform,' correct? A 
shame, that. Happens to a lot of men, or so I've heard." Giles bit back a smile as 
he took a sip of his whiskey and sat on the couch with a grateful sigh.

"YOU KNOW BLOODY WELL THAT'S NOT WHAT SHE MEANT!" Spike bellowed, and 
Giles turned his face away and put a hand over his mouth to cover a grin.

"Listen here, *Rupert!* I can't bite anyone, can't hurt anyone! Bloody soldier 
boys took right care of that, didn't they? So just untie me and give me a fuckin' 
drink!"

Giles leaned back into the sofa and rubbed at his forehead wearily. "I'm not 
wasting good whiskey on the likes of you, Spike."

"Likes of me, yeah, right. I am what I am, Rupert. Or was," Spike muttered 
bitterly. He clenched his teeth and the muscles in his jaw bunched and then he 
lurched back violently, causing the chair to slam against the wall. "Oh, fuck all! 
Can't eat, can't fight, tied to a fuckin' chair or in your fuckin' 
bath, constantly surrounded by the Slayer and her little friends, all of you 
pokin' at the caged lion and laughin', and I can't even get a bleedin' *drink?*" 
He slumped in his chair suddenly, his fury evaporating. "Just do it, Watcher," he 
said wearily, his eyes closing and his head falling forward. "Please."

Giles studied him carefully, wondering if the despair he heard in Spike's voice 
was real or simply more posturing. "Do what?"

"You *know* what," Spike mumbled, jerking his head in the direction of the trunk 
where Giles stored his weapons.

Giles leaned forward, frowning. "You're serious."

Spike met his eyes. "Well, yeah. What's the fuckin' point? I've no intention of 
spendin' eternity tied to a chair, drinkin' pig's blood from a coffee mug. You 
know, Watcher, I'd thought I'd lost everything when I lost Dru, but no, there was 
more to lose. It's gone, all of it, everything that made me who I was, and all 
that's left is this shell." He looked down at himself. "A rather good-lookin' 
shell, I must admit, but . . ."

"Oh, for Christ's sake," Giles sighed in disgust. "Stop it, Spike. Trying to get 
me to feel sorry for you isn't going to work," he said, hurriedly tossing back 
what was left of his whiskey. "I'm off to bed."

***

"Eric Clapton is not better than Jimmy Page, you stupid git!"

"Bloody *hell*, Spike, do shut up!" Giles bellowed and turned up _Disraeli Gears_ 
as loud as it would go.

***

"Watcher. Watcher. Watcher. WATCHER!"

Giles finally popped his head around the door and glared at Spike in silence.

"Feelin' a bit peckish, help us out, would you, love?"

Giles rolled his eyes and sighed a long-suffering sigh and disappeared, returning 
a few minutes later with blood in mug and a straw, sitting on the floor by the tub 
and holding it up just out of Spike's reach.

"Funny," Spike said. "Slayer learned that trick from you, eh? You gonna make me 
beg?"

"The thought had occurred to me, yes," Giles said, moving the mug back and forth 
under Spike's nose.

"Bastard. Please?" Spike said, rolling his eyes.

Deciding that was all he was going to get, Giles acquiesced and held the mug 
closer to Spike's mouth, his fingers brushing against Spike's chin as he placed 
the straw between his lips. Giles' eyes narrowed as he felt Spike jump at this 
accidental touch, and they locked eyes as Spike began to drink, sucking on the 
straw with long, frantic pulls.

Giles wondered what Spike was thinking, his eyes dark and unreadable while he 
stared at Giles as he fed, and then the mug was empty and Spike yanked away, 
sighing, a bit of blood trickling slowly down the side of his mouth.

His head fell back. "Thank you," he sighed, and Giles reached out to wipe the 
blood away just as Spike swiped out his tongue to do the same thing, and his 
tongue slid over Giles' fingers.

Now Giles jumped and yanked his hand away and again they locked eyes.

"Nice," Spike finally murmured.

"Quite," Giles said, and slowly got to his feet and left the bathroom.

***

"Tea?"

"Tea? Right and proper? Thank the bloody gods!"

"Of course it's properly made, *I'm* the one making it."

"And you're a right and proper twit what knows how to make a good cuppa. Oh, and 
channel 7, Watcher, time for 'Passions.'"

Giles sighed.

***

He tried to wait it out, but after suffering through five very loud and 
deliberately off-key renditions of _London Calling_, Giles threw back the 
bedclothes, grabbed a handkerchief out of his dresser and stomped down the stairs 
to the bathroom.

"Well, well, what've we got here? Rupert sleeps in the nude?" Spike said, 
smirking.

"No, Spike, I stripped off my nightclothes before coming down here just to give 
you a bit of a thrill," Giles muttered, twisting the handkerchief into a 
serviceable gag.

"Well, if that was your plan, it ain't workin'," Spike said, snorting. Then he 
regarded Giles for a moment. "Well, maybe a little. Anyway, just gimme a drink, 
all right? Set it here on the side of the tub, long bendy straw thingy and I'll 
shut it."

"You'll most certainly shut it," Giles muttered, still fumbling with the 
handkerchief.

"You know," Spike said, suddenly coy, his eyes traveling up and down the length of 
Giles' body. "There are other things you could stick in my mouth. Ever been sucked 
off by a vampire?"

Giles sighed in exasperation, pretending that the brief thrill that shot through 
him hadn't happened. "No, but I've buggered a few in my time."

There was a moment of shocked silence. "You're joking," Spike said.

"No, I most certainly am not," Giles said, hiding a smirk of satisfaction at the 
look on Spike's face.

"What is it with you lot? First you got the Slayer beddin' down with bleedin' 
Angel, and now you? How in the hell did that come about, a Watcher shagging 
vampires?" Spike's eyes narrowed. "You didn't fuck *Angel*, did you?" he asked 
disgustedly.

"I did *not* and nor ever shall I, fuck Angel. I was young, it was a . . . thing," 
Giles mumbled, the lack of sleep decimating his vocabulary to the point where he 
had to resort to Xander-speak.

"A 'thing.' Right. And did you enjoy the . . . 'thing?'" Spike murmured, his eyes 
now focused on Giles' cock.

Giles forced the gag into Spike's mouth and tied it a little too tightly, and then 
grabbed him by the jaw, forcing him to meet his eyes. "Yes, I enjoyed it. Quite a 
lot, actually. And so did they, until I got off. Because after that I killed 
them." His grip on Spike's jaw tightened and his voice hardened. "Listen to me, 
Spike. You're here not here because of my good graces, but because you 
might prove useful. And if you don't, I *will* kill you. You'd best take care to 
remember that."

Something flared in Spike's eyes, either fury or desire or both, Giles couldn't 
tell, but he turned on his heel and trudged back up to bed, falling asleep finally 
and dreaming of cool skin rubbing silkily against warm.

***

Giles had his face buried in the area rug in front of the fireplace, laughing so 
hard he couldn't speak. Spike was behind him, doing the same. Giles wondered 
fuzzily if getting high with Spike first thing in the morning and then listening 
to tales about Angel so ridiculous that they had to be true had been a good idea, 
and then decided he didn't care.

He sighed heavily and hauled himself up on the couch, wiping away tears.

"Oh, oh, Giles! 'Passions!'" Spike nudged him with his bare feet.

"Dear Lord, Spike, please," Giles moaned.

"Come on, what else have I got to do? What else have you got to do? Channel 7, 
Watcher, now!" Spike demanded and then fell over sideways with his head in Giles' 
lap.

"What in the hell are you doing?" Giles asked, after staring at him in shock for 
what felt like an eternity.

"It was an accident. Shut up and channel 7, you git!"

Giles continued to stare at the back of Spike's head even after he'd changed the 
channel, knowing that he could shove him away if he wanted.

He wondered why he didn't.

***

"Don't do that, Watcher. Either gimme or get 'em away from me, even you ain't that 
cruel."

"Why, Spike, I've absolutely no idea what you're talking about," Giles said, mouth 
full of Jaffa Cake.

"You right bastard!"

"So I've been told. Mostly within the past three weeks," Giles said, stuffing 
another Jaffa Cake in his mouth.

"WATCHER!"

"Oh, bloody hell, very well. You do realize you're going to get me evicted going 
on and on like that." Giles proffered a Jaffa Cake, holding it between his fingers 
until Spike had finished and pointedly ignoring the teasing touch of Spike's 
tongue against his fingers and the sly look in his eye as he fed Spike one after 
another.

"That's it. They're all gone. Except for this one," Giles said, holding the last 
one up teasingly before popping it into his mouth and brushing the crumbs off his 
hands.

"Bastard," Spike muttered.

"So I've been told."

***

Giles tried to fight it, to distract himself with his books and his music, but day 
after day of it and it soon it became unbearable, an addiction, a battle he was no 
longer able to win.

With a sigh he gave in and got up from his desk and plopped down on the sofa next 
to still-bound Spike.

"Bout time," Spike smirked. "It's about to start." Then he deliberately toppled 
over until his head was resting on Giles' thigh. "Oops. Sorry 'bout that. 
Accident. 'Passions,' channel 7, please and fuckyouverymuch."

Sigh. "Why do you insist on doing that? Lying in my lap like that?"

"Why do you insist on letting me?"

Good question, Giles thought, and one he didn't really have an answer to.

"Channel 7, hurry, you ponce!"

Giles changed the channel and then clapped a hand over his eyes in embarrassment 
as he actually watched 'Passions' through parted fingers, while his other hand 
moved to rest on the back of Spike's neck, who rubbed his cheek against Giles' 
thigh with a contented sigh.

***

"The Beatles."

"Oh, sod off! The Stones!"

"The Beatles!"

"Stones!"

"Jesus Christ," Giles said wearily. "This is the third time in as many days that 
we've had this discussion, if you could actually call it that, and I refuse to 
talk about it anymore."

"Fine. Gimme a drink and play your bloody Beatles."

Giles looked at him speculatively. "Will you be quiet?"

Spike sighed and rolled his eyes and nodded.

"Will you answer my questions?"

Again Spike sighed. "Now how in the hell am I supposed to be quiet *and* answer 
your stupid questions?"

"You know perfectly well what I mean."

"Why do you even wanna know? What's the point?"

"A Watcher's curiosity. Will you or not?"

Spike huffed and squirmed against the ropes. "Oh, bloody hell. Fine. But it better 
be the _White Album_ and an entire bottle of whiskey. Two bottles of whiskey."

"_Abbey Road_."

"Ponce. Fine, whatever, as long as there's whiskey."

Giles knelt down in front of his record collection, flipping through them until he 
found _Abbey Road_ which he then put on the turntable, then he lodged a cheap 
bottle of whiskey in the crook of Spike's elbow, complete with straw.

"Now," he said, lying back on the sofa with his own drink and regarding Spike with 
narrowed eyes. "Tell me about Angelus and Drusilla."

***

Several hours and several drinks later, Spike had finally finished his story, and 
Giles regarded him appraisingly. "It actually sounds as if you loved them. Angelus 
and Drusilla."

Spike frowned, confused. "Course I did. Dru, I still do."

"Vampires don't feel love."

"This one does, and if you tell anyone I said that, I'll kill you, even if it 
makes my head explode. And how the hell would you know anyway, you a vampire? Or 
did all your musty old books tell you that?"

Giles looked at him curiously. "What else do you feel?"

"Thirsty. We done playing psychiatrist and patient? Little help, here?" Spike 
asked, indicating the two inches of whiskey still in the bottle that the straw 
couldn't reach.

Giles sighed and got up and moved to stand beside him, tossing the straw aside and 
holding the bottle to Spike's lips. "What would Angel say?" he asked as Spike 
drank. "About how he felt, about the three of you, when he was Angelus?"

Spike wrenched his mouth away from the bottle, coughing, whiskey spilling down his 
chin and throat and glared up at Giles with furious eyes. "I don't fucking know 
and I don't fucking care," he snarled, voice low and hard.

Giles pulled his handkerchief from his back pocket and started wiping away the 
whiskey dripping from Spike's chin and down his neck, noting that Spike's hard 
gaze never left his face. "Why do you hate him so much?" Giles asked quietly.

"Because he *left* me," Spike spat.

Giles stared at him, eyes narrowed, then brought one hand up to cup Spike's chin, 
running his thumb across Spike's lips, marveling at how his expression softened 
from one of pain and fury to one of vulnerability. Absurd, the notion that this 
loud, childish, beautiful, attention-seeking creature was still nursing a wound 
left by Angel over 100 years ago. Ridiculous, he thought, vampires can't feel, not 
in the manner that humans do.

. . .*this one does* . . .

He continued the slow strokes of his thumb over Spike's mouth and watched as if 
from a distance the way Spike's eyes darkened and his mouth softened, and then he 
was physically jolted when Spike's tongue darted out and moved along his thumb in 
a wet, cool slide. Giles froze, hand and body, and stared as Spike tugged his 
thumb into his mouth and started sucking on it, his eyes closing, his tongue 
whirling around it and then the whole of his mouth pulling on it hard.

Giles shuddered and pulled his hand away, then knelt beside Spike for a moment, 
staring up at him with eyes that spoke volumes, and then stood.

"I'm going to bed," he murmured.

"You do that, then," Spike said, eyes dark and knowing.

Spike watched as Giles' walked slowly up the stairs and his fingers clenched 
tightly around the handle of the knife that was now in his hand.

***

He didn't say anything when he felt the dip of the mattress as Spike climbed into 
bed with him, he simply rolled over and pulled Spike to him, their mouths hard and 
hungry against one another. Spike groaned and thrust up against him, already naked 
and already hard, and Giles rolled him over on to his back and pulled Spike's legs 
up high and rammed himself up between them.

"*Jesus*," Spike hissed, fingers tight on Giles' shoulders.

"Ropes didn't hold?" Giles whispered, planting a hand on the mattress on either 
side of Spike's chest. Spike reached up and kissed him again, mouth softer this 
time, and Giles moaned and met the cool wet thrusts of Spike's tongue with his 
own.

"Got loose somehow," Spike whispered, reaching down to stroke him. Giles gasped 
and pulled away.

"Wonder how that ever could have happened," Giles said hoarsely and then thrust 
into Spike roughly.

"*God!*" Spike muttered through clenched teeth, head falling back. "Fuck me, 
Watcher, long and hard."

"Only way I know," Giles said, breathlessly, and started pounding into Spike, 
long, hard, fast strokes that rattled the bed frame and rammed the headboard 
against the wall. Spike clawed at him, cursed him, bit and sucked and licked at 
him, and Giles groaned loudly, head swimming at the feel of Spike so tight around 
him and at the thought of this beautiful yet ancient boy in his bed. 

"*Fuck*," Giles groaned, moving faster. "So long . . ."

"Harder, always harder," Spike whispered, eyes closed and hands wrapped around 
Giles neck.

"If I fuck you any harder I'll send us both through the goddamned wall," Giles 
muttered, fucking him harder anyway, panting heavily, both bodies rocking 
frantically at the rhythm he was setting.

"God, yes," Spike murmured, and reached down to stroke himself. Giles moaned as he 
felt it start to build and then he came, suddenly, a white hot wave of sensation 
slamming through him and he shuddered, crying out loudly against Spike's neck, and 
gradually his thrusts slowed and then stopped, and he lay across Spike trying to 
catch his breath.

"This is where you kill me, then?" Spike whispered, running his fingers through 
Giles' hair.

"In a manner of speaking," Giles murmured, sliding down the length of Spike's body 
to take Spike's cock in his mouth, and soon Spike was groaning, fingers tight 
around Giles' neck as he fucked Giles' mouth, hips pumping furiously as Giles 
played him with his tongue, and then he arched high off the bed and thrust deeply 
into Giles' throat, and Giles moaned in satisfaction and swallowed as Spike came, 
cold fluid fire on his tongue and down his throat.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," Spike whispered, reaching down to haul Giles on top of 
him. They stared at one another for a long while. 

"What in the hell are we doin'?" Spike murmured, the softness and vulnerability 
back, his eyes searching Giles' face.

"I have no fucking idea," Giles whispered, his fingers running lightly over 
Spike's mouth.

"So am I the first vampire you ever shagged that you didn't dust? At least not 
yet?"

Giles smiled slightly in spite of himself. "Yes," he whispered. "At least not 
yet."

"Good, then. Makes me feel special," Spike said smugly, rolling over on to his 
side and pulling and tugging until Giles was wrapped around him completely, and 
then he fell asleep.

Giles stared at him a long time. Spike 'felt special.' Impossible, in spite of all 
of Spike's insistence and evidence to the contrary. Vampires do not *feel*.

. . .*this one does* . . .

Giles sighed and pushed all thoughts away and nuzzled against the back of Spike's 
neck. He'd fucked up, he knew, but right now he didn't care. Right now was all 
touch and scent and taste in a bed that had been too cold and too lonely for too 
long and a bed that was now, oddly, warmed nicely by a vampire whose skin was cool 
to the touch.

. . .*this one does* . . .

The refrain echoed through his mind as Giles drifted off to sleep.

***

Part Two


"TURN THAT BLOODY NOISE OFF!" Giles bellowed from the shower.

Spike peeked into the bathroom and grinned suggestively as his eyes slid over 
Giles' body. "And what if I don't?" he asked.

"I've told you time and again, the Clash, yes, the Sex Pistols, bloody fucking 
*no!*" Giles said, glaring.

Spike disappeared and the Pistols became even louder.

Giles gritted his teeth and tried to think of a suitable punishment.

***

"*Harder*, Watcher," Spike groaned.

"No," Giles whispered against the skin of Spike's back, thrusting inside him with 
long, slow strokes and reaching around to touch him lightly, teasingly.

"*Fuck*," Spike hissed in frustration, rocking back against him hard, trying to 
spur him on.

"Yes," Giles murmured, grinning, wrapping his arms around Spike's waist and biting 
and licking lightly at the back of his neck. "But slowly."

"Jesus fuck, it'll take forever at this rate," Spike moaned.

Giles ran one hand over Spike's back, looking at him in wonder. "*Fuck*, Spike, 
but you're beautiful."

"I am, aren't I?"

Giles smacked him hard on the ass and Spike snickered, and then he moaned as Giles 
rammed into him hard and fast for a few seconds before slowing down again.

"Jesus Christ, Watcher, *please*," Spike groaned.

"Slowly," Giles panted. "It will be worth it."

The volume of Spike's bellow when he finally came proved Giles' words to be true.

***

"You're bleedin', I can smell it," Spike said, stepping out of the darkness as 
Giles fumbled with the lock on his front door.

"Yes, someone or . . . something caught me in the side when we were in the 
Initiative," Giles said, wincing and dropping his keys.

"Here, now," Spike said, putting one hand to the small of Giles' back to steady 
him and bending down to pick up the keys and unlock the door. "You all right?" he 
asked as he ushered Giles into the flat.

"I'm fine," Giles grumbled, collapsing on the couch.

"Lemme see," Spike said, hiking up Giles' sweater to reveal a long, deep gash in 
his side. "Bloody hell."

"It's just a flesh wound." 

Spike snorted. "You know, that was bloody fuckin' funny the first five hundred 
times I ever heard it," he said, frowning and running his fingers gently along the 
gash. He stared at the wound and the blood seeping from it, and then up at Giles, 
and suddenly there was a thrum in the air that was almost electrical that made the 
hair on the back of Giles' neck stand on end.

Spike started to pull away, looking somewhat frightened, but Giles caught him by 
the back of the neck. "You want to . . ."

"No! No, I don't!" Spike said.

"You do." Giles stared at Spike, eyes dark. "Go on."

"No, I can't, I don't know if . . ."

"Do it," Giles whispered, tugging Spike closer. Spike's nostrils flared and he 
stared at Giles.

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"Why?" Spike asked, frowning.

"Watcher's curiosity," he said, smiling slightly.

"You know what they say about curiosity," Spike murmured and then leaned in. At 
the first touch of his tongue on jagged flesh Giles jumped, the thrum vibrating 
through the air now singing through his body, and as Spike licked and sucked and 
made muffled noises of satisfaction Giles found himself, in spite of his 
exhaustion, wanting him, wanting him hard and wanting him now.

Suddenly Spike's mouth was on his, the coppery tang of his own blood coming back 
to him. "Jesus," he whispered against Spike's mouth. "What does it feel like when 
you actually *bite*?"

"Very, very, good," Spike whispered, sliding his hand down the front of Giles' 
jeans. "And then you die."

Giles laughed in spite of himself.

That night he dreamed, crimson-tinted images of death.

***

"Hang on, where the hell you goin'?" Spike mumbled, grabbing Giles' arm as he 
started to slide out of bed.

"'Passions,'" Giles said, rolling his eyes at himself even as he said it.

"Oh, fuckin' hell, you're right," Spike said and leapt over the railing and 
bounded on to the couch.

Giles shook his head and took the more usual route down the stairs, and wondered 
how it had ever come about that he would have a naked vampire leaping with such 
athletic grace about his flat. He sighed and sat down on the sofa and they 
both took up their regular positions, Giles with his feet propped on the coffee 
table and Spike's head resting against his thigh, Giles' hand on the back of 
Spike's neck.

Giles propped his head against his other and ran his thumb lightly across the 
short hair on the back of Spike's neck. It had been over two months since Spike 
had first crawled into his bed, and he'd very rarely been out of it since. What 
he'd been doing and why had been weighing on his mind for a long while now. Giles 
wondered at his own motivations; was he doing this because Spike could help, had 
helped? Had he used Spike as a weapon against Adam and the Initiative? Did he 
actually *care* for Spike, was it even *possible* to care for a vampire? 

He thought about Buffy and Angel and decided that must be different, Angel was 
ensouled, after all. Spike was simply muzzled, and despite the time they'd spent 
together since Spike had escaped the Initiative, Giles was troubled to realize 
that he still didn't trust Spike, at least not completely, and had no idea what 
might happen if the chip were removed.

Then he remembered that Spike had tasted him, licked at his blood, but had 
attempted nothing more.

And then again, there was the chip.

He stared down at Spike for a long time, thinking too much, confused and worried, 
wavering about what he needed to do, and the entire time he kept his hand on 
Spike, his thumb brushing across Spike's neck and smiling slightly every time 
Spike shivered.

Absurd. Affection without trust? Yet here it was. He was dancing with the 
darkness, and he was enjoying it, and he was terribly afraid it was going to 
swallow him whole. It had tried before, when he was young, and he'd had to pay the 
price.

He hauled Spike across his lap suddenly and leaned down to kiss him hard.

"Hey, now," Spike murmured, smiling up at him lazily. "What's got into you?"

"You, I hope," Giles whispered, kissing him again and deciding as he did so that 
he had to end this, and was startled to realize that just the thought of it hurt 
down to the very marrow of his bones.

***

"Olivia, my dear. Just wondering when you were arriving."

***

"Why're you pawnin' me off on Harris, eh? Gettin' rid of me? Company comin'? Some 
bird?" Spike spat, pacing angrily in front of Giles where he leaned up against the 
wall, arms crossed.

"Yes, Spike, she's an old friend of . . ."

"You gonna fuck her?" Spike demanded, shoving his face into Giles.

Giles' eyes hardened. "None of your goddamned business. Our little interlude is 
over, Spike."

"*Interlude?* What's this all about, then? Provin' your *manhood*?"

"This has nothing to do with my sexuality, Spike. It has everything to do with my 
*humanity*," Giles said, voice low and hard.

Spike stumbled back a bit, looking hurt and angry and confused. "So that's it, 
then? I'm soilin' your precious, fuckin' *humanity*? You sure as fuck didn't seem 
to have a problem with it when you had me on all fours, now, did you?"

"Spike . . ."

"Shut up! This was never even about me, was it? Not *me*," he shouted, pounding 
one fist against his own chest. "You were fuckin' *usin'* me, keepin' the vampire 
happy on the leash until the good guys won. Well, good on you, *Rupert*, 
worked real well, had me fooled but good." Spike grabbed the small bag with his 
meager belongings and started to storm out the door.

"Spike!"

"Tell Harris I'm makin' other arrangements," Spike yelled over his shoulder and 
disappeared into the night.

Giles almost ran after him. Almost.

Then he sighed and scrubbed at his face and looked around the flat. Too quiet. Too 
grey. All the color gone.

The right thing, he told himself. He'd done the right thing, no matter how much it 
hurt. No matter how much it hurt the both of them.

 *. . .  vampires can't feel . . .*

*. . . this one does . . .* 

***

He enjoyed Olivia's visit. She stayed for three weeks and they laughed and drank 
and reminisced and slid into his bed every night, and he tried his damnedest to 
hide inside her.

But after he'd bid her an affectionate goodbye, he realized nothing had changed. 
His thoughts were still elsewhere, somewhere out there in the dark and the dank.

Finally, after too many nights when the bed seemed too big and the flat seemed too 
quiet, he slid into his clothes and went out hunting in the darkness, for the 
darkness.

***

Spike sat in the blackness of the crypt, slouched down low in the single chair, 
cigarette in his hand and bottle of whiskey by his side. He didn't look up when 
Giles entered, instead staring at the ground.

"What the fuck are you doin' here?" he muttered, flicking his still-burning 
cigarette at Giles' feet. "Come for a roll in the dirt, muck up your precious 
humanity?"

Giles stubbed out the cigarette with his toe, trying to fight down a wave of 
frustration and longing at the sight of him. "I owe you," he said, tossing a wad 
of cash into Spike's lap.

Spike snorted. "Well, if that doesn't make me feel the whore, I don't know what 
will," he said bitterly, flinging the money back in Giles' face.

"That's not my intention," Giles said through clenched teeth.

"What the fuck *is* your intention, Watcher?" Spike mumbled, lighting another 
cigarette.

"I owe you. For your help, with Ethan."

"Ah, yes. Demon Watcher. Coulda killed you then, now I wish I would've."

Giles was surprised at how much that stung. "You don't mean that."

Finally Spike looked at him. "Don't I?"

They stared at one another for a long while in silence, each studying the other 
carefully.

"Join us," Giles said finally. "Help us. You could prove an invaluable asset . . 
."

"And here we go again, talkin' about me like I'm some kind of *thing*."

Giles sighed, frustrated, and rubbed at his brow. He was going about this all 
wrong. "Spike, I didn't mean . . ."

"You say lots of things you don't mean, now don't you? Quite the accomplished 
liar, a bit like myself, hats off and all that rot."

"Spike . . ."

"You want me, don't you?" Spike asked suddenly, voice low and sultry.

Giles pulled up, surprised and struggling with himself over what to say. "Yes," he 
whispered finally. "But that's not the point."

Spike laughed, an ugly sound. "Course it is. Sorry, old man, can't have me."

"Spike, for Christ's sake . . ."

"Get the fuck outta here, Watcher, I can smell her all over you. And take your 
bleedin' money with you."

"Spike . . ."

"GO!" Spike bellowed, suddenly in Giles' face. "Take your fuckin' money and go!" 
He flashed the wad of cash in Giles' face and then stuffed it down Giles' pants 
pocket, deliberately sliding his fingers alongside Giles' cock as he did 
so. Giles gasped and stumbled a bit at the rush of sensation and reached out to 
steady himself against Spike, but Spike shoved him away.

"Get out, *Rupert*," he mumbled, turning and stalking with cat-like grace back to 
his chair. "Ain't nothin' for you here. Not anymore."

Giles turned on his heel and stormed out.

***

For three nights he drank too much and thought too much, and then on the fourth 
night as he sat on the sofa he felt a surge in his blood and was on his feet and 
striding toward the door even as it slammed open, and he met Spike more than 
halfway, arms open and mouth hungry, and they struggled angrily against one 
another, fighting for more, more touch, more taste, more scent, and Spike slammed 
him up against the wall, ramming himself up between his thighs and he grunted in 
pain and in pleasure.

"Never again, Watcher," Spike hissed, humping up against him frantically. "You'll 
*never* do that to me again, never make me feel less than . . ."

"No," Giles whispered, arms tight around Spike's waist. "Never." He slid one hand 
around Spike's neck and pulled him close, running his mouth over Spike's face and 
tasting tears, and something broke inside himself and he was mindless, 
hands and mouth running furiously over Spike in a delirium of lust and something 
else, something stronger, and Spike growled and responded in kind, and they fell 
into a graceless, frantic pile on the floor, lost in one another.

The thought came to Giles, unbidden and fleeting, as he struggled with his body to 
take all of Spike that he could take, that yes, this one does.

***

Part Three



"PAY ATTENTION TO ME!" Spike bellowed and wormed his way onto Giles' lap, 
straddling him, forcing him away from his books and pinning him back against the 
sofa, running his mouth up and down Giles' neck.

Giles sighed. "Why are you still here? You've drunk all my liquor, including that 
20-year-old bottle of single malt that I *thought* I had hidden away properly, you 
made me suffer through not one but *two* episodes of 'Dawson's Creek,' and 
you've stolen at least two tins of Earl Grey, don't think I don't know about that, 
you thieving bastard!"

"Did not."

"You most certainly did!"

"Did not."

"Did too!

"Did not."

"And what, pray tell, has happened to all my Clapton albums?" Giles asked, eyes 
narrowed.

"Don't know what you're talkin' about," Spike smirked.

"You bloody well do!"

"Do not."

"Do too!"

"Do not."

"Oh, bloody hell," Giles muttered, infuriated at the level of immaturity Spike 
could reduce him to.

"And I'm here because of this," Spike murmured, thrusting his hand between them 
and massaging Giles' cock.

"You're bloody insatiable, it's all I can do to keep up with you. Spike, I'm 
sorry, but with the Magic Box and Buffy's new training schedule and this new 
horror called Glory, I simply don't have the time to spend that I did last year."

"So what the fuck am I supposed to do, get a hobby? Little toy trains all about 
the place?" Spike murmured, his tongue now in Giles' ear as he rocked against his 
crotch.

Giles shuddered and reached up to grab Spike by the chin. "That might not be such 
a bad idea. You could help us quite a lot, you know. Your contacts, your strength 
Ð you could help Buffy with her training."

"Can I kill her?" Spike asked hopefully.

"Is your chip still working?"

Sigh.

"Then, no, you can't. And you know what I'd do to you if you tried."

"Ain't you I'd be worried about; it'd be Joyce. Or Dawn." Spike made a face and 
gave an exaggerated shudder.

"That's the smartest thing you've said all day. Perhaps the smartest thing you've 
said in your entire lifetime, which is saying quite a lot."

"You should respect your elders, whelp. Now shut up and fuckin' kiss me."

Giles sat back, arms crossed. "No. Not until you promise to help us. This is 
serious, Spike, Glory is unlike anything we've ever faced before."

Spike sighed and hauled himself off Giles' lap, holding out his hand. "Bloody 
hell, fine, you got my muscle and my contacts and I'll be hittin' the streets 
tomorrow. NOW FUCKIN' GET UPSTAIRS AND GET NAKED!"

"I do *so* enjoy being swept off my feet in such a romantic manner," Giles said, 
rolling his eyes.

"Ponce!"

"Prat!"

"Twit!"

"Bastard!"

"Right, then. Enough with the foreplay. We fuckin' or what?"

Giles sighed an exaggerated sigh. "Oh, I suppose if we must, we must. And you'll 
be paying for that scotch."

Spike grinned. "Can't wait."

***

It was late the next morning and Spike had begun a slow, lazy slide with his mouth 
down Giles' chest when they heard the front door open.

"Giles? Giles?" Willow called.

Giles froze and his eyes widened, and Spike slid back up and clapped a hand over 
his mouth. "Not a word, Watcher," he whispered, voice so low Giles himself could 
barely hear it.

"I guess he's not here. I'll just grab those books and leave him a note."

"Not here? Oh, goody, time for some good, old-fashioned snoopin'!" Xander said 
cheerily, and Giles writhed within Spike's steel grip.

"Oh, stop it, Watcher," Spike whispered. "I hate that one, he's a stupid git. If I 
was gonna kill any of you, he'd be first." Giles eyes widened further and then his 
chest started heaving. "Why, Watcher, are you laughing?" Giles nodded, giggling 
helplessly. "Well, stop it! You'll set me off and we'll both be in trouble!"

"I d-don't think snooping is such a good idea, Xander. I mean, would you want 
someone going through your personal, private, you know, stuff?" Tara asked.

There was a long moment of silence. "Uh, that'd be a big huge honkin' no, 
aaaaaaaaaaaaand let'stalkaboutsomethingelseshallwe?" Xander said.

"Cause of all that gay porn he's got stashed away, you *know* he's got that demon 
girl givin' it to him with a strap-on," Spike whispered and Giles shook harder, 
tears streaming. "Stop that!" Spike hissed, starting to lose it himself, and Giles 
clapped his own hand over Spike's mouth. Spike's eyes gleamed and he positioned 
himself between Giles thighs and started rubbing up against him lightly, causing a 
muffled moan amidst all the giggling.

"Hey, Spike's coat is here," Xander said and they heard the slap of leather 
against leather as Xander put the coat on. "Hey, look at me, I'm the big, old, 
fangless bad! GRRR!"

Spike started to leap off the bed in fury but Giles held him fast, hand sliding 
down between them and stroking Spike's cock, still giggling silently. Spike's eyes 
closed and he started thrusting against Giles' hand, tongue flicking out to tease 
Giles' palm.

"Very funny, Xander. Hello, Glory research to do?"

"Guys, I really think we should g-go," Tara said. "I'm not sure Mr. Giles would 
like it if we were here without him knowing."

"That one I like," Spike whispered. "There's somethin' about her . . ." Giles 
nodded his silent agreement.

"Take me just a second, baby," Willow said absently.

"Why would Spike's coat be here?" Xander asked.

"Oh, they're probably off at all the demon haunts lookin' for Glory info, maybe he 
just forgot it."

"Hope Giles took something big and pointy to poke him with, just in case."

Spike and Giles locked eyes and then they both lost it, laughing silently and so 
hard that the bed frame shook, and Spike buried his face in Giles' neck while 
Giles' wrapped both hands around their cocks. "Big and pointy, indeed," Spike 
whispered and started thrusting. "Big, warm hands, Watcher," he murmured, biting 
at Giles' neck as Giles started thrusting back in counterpoint to Spike's 
movements. "Nice . . ."

"Willow? Sorry to rush you, but I really think we n-need to go . . ."

"Okay, got what I need, note in place, let's motor on back to the Magic Box."

Giles groaned softly, no longer giggling, and when they finally heard the front 
door slam Spike propped himself up on his hands, thrusting hard and fast.

"*Jesus*, Spike," Giles groaned.

"Like it, love?" Spike whispered, licking at Giles mouth with teasing strokes of 
his tongue.

"Fuck, yes," Giles growled, eyes hard.

"Then come for me. All over me, make me slick with it . . ."

"*God*!" Giles muttered, thrusting up against Spike hard.

"Yeah, like that, nice and hard, love . . ." Spike moaned against Giles' mouth 
before plunging his tongue deep inside, and Giles groaned and arched up against 
him, coming, shuddering with release, then smearing the wetness of it over Spike's 
cock and stroking him hard in time to his thrusts.

"*Fuck*, Watcher, so hot and wet, Jesus fuckin' Christ," Spike hissed, hips 
pistoning furiously and then he gasped and bit down hard on Giles' shoulder, 
coming all over Giles' belly before collapsing atop him.

Giles wiped his hands on the sheets and reached up to frame Spike's face. 
"Beautiful boy," he murmured.

"Hundred years older than you, love," Spike said, smiling sleepily. 

Then he frowned suddenly.

"HOW IN THE HELL AM I GONNA GET HARRIS STINK OUT OF THAT GODDAMNED COAT??" he 
yelled, infuriated.

Giles laughed and then grumbled when he was forced to spend the next two weeks 
using Spike's coat as a blanket.

***

"Figured you'd be here," Spike said quietly, stepping out of the shadows and 
moving to stand next to Giles and staring down at Joyce's grave.

"How did you know?" Giles asked, taking off his glasses and wiping angrily at his 
eyes.

"You were together, the two of you."

Giles sighed. "Yes. Briefly."

"No, not briefly. Not mystically, not the thing everyone knows about with the 
soddin' candy."

Giles stared at him, shocked. "How did you . . ."

Spike shrugged and returned his gaze to her grave. "She told me."

"She *told* you?"

"Yeah. We talked a lot, actually. Dunno why, but she was always nice to me, except 
for, you know, that whole bashin' me on the head thing when I first tried to kill 
the Slayer."

Giles bit back a smile.

"And toward the end there, after the Slayer brought her and Dawn to the crypt, she 
started comin' to see me almost every day. She liked 'Passions,' too, you know."

Giles smiled in spite of himself. "Did she? So that's where you started 
disappearing to, you had a daily date with Joyce to watch 'Passions?'"

"Yep."

Giles sighed again and stared off into the night. "Over two years."

"What happened?"

"Life happened."

"Been known to happen, I suppose."

"Yes," Giles sighed. "We remained close, however, because of Buffy."

"Would've even if it weren't for the Slayer. Just the kind of people you are. 
Were."

"Perhaps. I'll never know, now," Giles said, looking down again at her grave. "I 
seem to keep burying the people I love."

Spike was quiet for a long time, thinking, and then he tossed the flowers he was 
carrying near the base of the grave marker, sighing.

"Whenever you need me, Watcher," Spike murmured, slipping back into the shadows, 
and it wasn't long before Giles followed.

***

*"Your doubts. They eat at you."*

*"Yes. Constantly."*

*"He loves."*

*"He's a *vampire*."*

*"Yet still he loves. He is capable of loving completely and devotedly, for 
centuries."*

*"He's a killer."*

*"He is a victim, as well. He is a child, he is lonely, he is frightened. He has 
lost everything that was ever important to him, and now he is crippled, as well."*

*"I'm a *Watcher*; this goes against everything I've ever been taught."*

*"You've been rebelling against all that you've been taught your entire life. 
Think, Watcher, try to understand. Why has so much of his humanity remained while 
others embrace the darkness fully, without love, without tenderness, only the 
bond of the blood rape tying them together . . ."*

*"Vampires cannot feel love."*

*"So you keep saying. But still it echoes through your mind, that . . ."*

*" . . . this one does."*

*"Yes. Ask the right questions, Watcher. Ask, instead of assuming. He is 
different, there are things ahead of him that you cannot even imagine now . . ."*

***

Giles awoke with a start, rubbing at his eyes as Buffy trudged wearily through the 
sand to where he was sitting by the remnants of the fire.

She plopped down beside him with a heavy sigh.

"Well?" he asked quietly.

She looked up at him with tired eyes. "Death is my gift," she whispered, and a 
fear so sharp it hurt sliced through him. He stared at her for a long time with a 
disconnected sense of foreboding, and then he hauled her into his lap and held her 
tightly. She wrapped her arms around his waist and started crying, and he rocked 
her slightly and for a very long time, whispering words of comfort into her hair.

***

Giles looked up from his books to see Tara smiling bashfully and toying with a 
rather tattered-looking yellow daisy. He smiled slightly. "A gift from Willow?" he 
asked.

"What? Oh, no," she said, blushing. "Spike g-gave it to me."

Giles sat back, crossing his arms. "Did he, now?" he asked curiously.

"Yeah," she said, setting it aside and returning to her research. "Sorry, Mr. 
Giles, I just thought it was nice. . ."

"No, no, my dear, that's quite all right." She smiled and ducked her head. "Do you 
mind if I ask why he gave it to you?"

"Oh, well, he said that the colors reminded him of me, the green and the gold," 
she said, picking up the flower again and twirling it in her fingers.

Giles eyebrows rose. "He actually said all that?"

"Well, no, not at first. He just walked in here and kind of threw it at me and 
then started to leave," she said, smiling slightly.

"And then?"

Her eyes rose to meet his full on, possibly for the first time since he'd met her, 
a steady gaze full of strength and serenity and wisdom.

"And then," she said firmly, "I asked the right questions."

***

"Spike, why is it that you never sired another?" Giles whispered.

Spike shrugged, burrowing more deeply underneath the blankets. "Dunno. Never 
really needed to, had all I wanted with Angelus and Dru," he murmured, his eyes 
closing. "Could've lived with Dru forever, would've been enough for me, if 
she'd just stayed . . ."

Giles watched Spike for a long time as he slept, wondering.

***

"Lie back, careful now," Giles ordered, before hurrying to find the first aid kit.

"'M fine," Spike mumbled.

"You most certainly are not," Giles snapped. "Now just shut the fuck up."

"Bloody nice bedside manner."

"What did I just say? Shut up and let me do this!" Giles gingerly cleaned and 
bandaged all the wounds on Spike's face, then cut away his t-shirt and winced at 
the vicious-looking injuries there before cleaning and bandaging those as well.

"Be all right," Spike said.

"Humor me," Giles said shortly before finishing his work, and then he sat back and 
sighed. "I can't get you upstairs, will you be all right here?"

Spike nodded weakly and something in Giles' head clicked and before he could think 
twice he'd pulled the switchblade from his back pocket and had cut three long 
slashes along his forearm and was trying to force Spike to drink.

"Can't . . ."

"Do it, you stupid bastard!" Giles ordered, angry, and finally Spike did, feeding 
greedily, and Giles braced himself with his other hand against the surge of 
feeling, both physical and emotional, that this brought on, and then Spike shoved 
his arm away and they both fell back, gasping, Giles sitting with his head between 
his knees, trying to regain his bearings. When his head finally cleared, Giles 
sighed and looked at Spike speculatively.

"Extraordinary. What you did today, for Dawn and Buffy."

"Surprises you?" Spike mumbled.

"You never fail to surprise me, Spike."

***

"How's the witch? Golden?"

Giles sighed. "Not good."

"I'll kill that fuckin' bitch, hellgod or not, I'll fuckin' *kill* her."

Giles closed his eyes and wished it were that easy.

***

She was smiling.

She'd soared off the tower, arms wide, and time had slowed to a crawl, and he'd 
watched in disbelief as she plunged through the portal and then, just for a 
moment, he'd been sure, he'd been *positive*, that she'd actually take flight.

But here she was, lying in front of him, a crumpled mass of broken bone and hardly 
any blood.

Why wasn't there more blood?

And she was smiling.

His vision greyed and he was dimly aware that his knees were buckling, and he was 
caught from behind and lowered gently to the ground, and he sat there and stared 
at her through a misty haze as Spike barked orders, telling Willow to help 
Dawn and forcing Tara to sit down beside Giles and take his hand, then Spike swept 
Buffy up in his arms, ignoring his own tears, and then somehow, together he and 
Tara helped Giles to his feet and then they were walking, somewhere, Giles 
didn't remember much after that.

***

"We need Giles, we can't do this by ourselves," Xander said, pacing, and trying 
not to look at Buffy's broken body laid out on her bed.

"I know, Harris, but give him a bit, all right? Just a few hours."

Xander stared at him for a long time. "Right. A few hours. Guess there's no rush 
now," he said, voice breaking.

Spike started to leave, and then stopped. "For what it's worth, Harris, I *am* 
sorry."

Xander nodded, wiping at his eyes with his sleeve. "I know. I get that now. After 
everything that's happened the past few months, I get it."

"We'll be along soon as he wakes up, right?"

Xander sighed wearily. "Right."

***

They buried her almost immediately, Spike and Giles and Xander digging her grave 
in silence, and then they'd put her in the ground, all of them staring at her 
grave in disbelief.

The next two weeks were a blur, frantic planning and re-planning, making decisions 
and re-thinking them, and all of them clung to Giles, demanding comfort and 
reassurance and, in the unintentionally selfish manner of those who've lost 
someone they loved, not giving any back, except for Tara, who would occasionally 
touch his shoulder or hold his hand, and in the end it was she who finally came up 
with the plan they could all agree on.

He'd stayed at Buffy's house the entire time, at their insistence, exhausted and 
grieving and claustrophobic, until one evening he went out on to the front porch 
to get some air and found Tara and Spike talking quietly. They stopped when the 
saw him, and Tara smiled and came toward him, Spike following her, and she grabbed 
his hand.

"We can handle this, Mr. Giles. You should go home, get some rest," she murmured 
and then transferred his hand from hers to Spike's. He looked at her in weary 
astonishment. "We'll call you if we need anything," she said, and reached up 
to kiss him on the cheek, then did the same to Spike who smiled and held her 
tightly for a moment, and then she disappeared into the house.

Giles looked at their clasped hands. "She knows?" he asked, not knowing what else 
to say.

"Has from the start, apparently. That okay with you?"

Giles was still staring blankly at their hands. "Yes. Of course it is. It's Tara," 
he said, as if that explained everything.

"Right. Come home."

***

"I was up there, Watcher, I tried to . . ."

Giles slid automatically into comfort mode. "Spike, there's nothing you could have 
done . . ."

"No, no, no, listen to me, Giles." His head jerked up at the sound of his proper 
name. "What I'm sayin' is there's nothin' *you* could've done. I know you're 
blamin' yourself, and right now you're probably thinkin' ugly thoughts 
about Dawn which you'd best keep to yourself, cause I know later on you'll regret 
even thinkin' 'em, and you're runnin' the whole thing over and over in your mind, 
tryin' to figure out how you could've kept her alive."

Giles looked down at his hands and noted that they were trembling.

"My point bein', she was a hero. Died a hero's death, saved the world, saved the 
things she loved most in the world, Dawn, you, her friends. Nothin' you could have 
done, it had to happen like this, it was what she wanted."

"Death was her gift."

"One of 'em, yeah," Spike said softly.

"Now what?" Giles whispered.

"Now you sleep."

"And then?"

"And then you'll cry, for her, and then, I'll try to help you forget, if only for 
a bit."

"Help me?" Giles asked, voice breaking.

"However I can," Spike whispered and took him by the hand and led him up the 
stairs to bed.

***

Part Four



***

He found himself thinking constantly of Buffy's father.

How could he not *know*? How could a man's daughter *die* and he not know, 
somehow? Wouldn't a father know, wasn't there some kind of connection between 
father and child, a link, wouldn't you fucking *know* that the light had 
gone out?

He would sit and drink and stare and think with obsessive rage of the man who had 
abandoned his wife and two daughters, off somewhere on the other side of the 
world, and not fucking *knowing* that his child was dead and rotting away in a 
makeshift grave on top of the Hellmouth.

He didn't sleep often, but when he did he dreamt of killing him, of killing 
Buffy's father.

***

"You can't keep doin' this. I'm all for a good drunk, but this has been goin' on 
for weeks."

"I've nothing else to do. Not anymore"

"Oh, fuck all, quit feelin' sorry for yourself! There's plenty to do, you git, you 
can get off that bloody sofa and *help*. They're lookin' to *me*, Watcher, waitin' 
for me to tell 'em what to do and how to do it - *me*. Somethin' a bit off 
about that, don't you think? I'm no leader, no fuckin' hero, and they keep askin' 
*me* what they should do!"

"Has Buffy's father called?"

"Jesus fuckin' Christ!" Spike yelled, knocking the glass out of Giles' hand, and 
he watched blearily as the scotch soaked into the carpet. "Buffy's *father* is 
doin' her memory right proud by sittin' in his flat day and night, stinkin' drunk, 
and leavin' her friends out there to die. We had to put Harris in hospital the 
other night, you do remember that, don't you? Concussion, knife to the gut? He 
kept askin' for you, at least when he was awake enough to, and I called, Red 
called, and you were here, drunk and outta your head and droolin' all over 
yourself, leavin' him, leavin' all of 'em, alone and scared out of their minds. 
*That's* what Buffy's fuckin' *father* has been doin' Ð reckon that's just what 
she would have wanted." Spike shrugged into his duster. "I've gotta take the lot 
of 'em on patrol; you just sit here and keep tryin' to forget they even exist, 
right?"

Spike stormed out of the flat and slammed the door behind him, and after a long 
moment Giles reached with a shaking hand for the glass on the floor and refilled 
it.

How could a father not *know*?

***

He jerked awake when the door slammed opened and groaned at the pounding in his 
head.

"Spike, please, not now," he whispered.

"It's me, Mr. Giles," Tara said, kneeling beside him and grabbing the half-empty 
bottle of scotch and then storming into the kitchen.

"Tara?" he said, wincing at the bright light coming through the windows.

"Yes," she said, slamming around in the kitchen and he turned to see her scooping 
up all the bottles of liquor off the counter and then pouring them one by one down 
the drain.

"Tara, what on earth . . ."

"Enough," she said firmly. "We need you." When all the bottles were empty she 
tossed them into the trash and started a pot of coffee, and then moved to sit in 
front of him, perching on the coffee table and taking his hands.

"What . . ."

"Shut up," she ordered and he blinked in surprise. "Uh, p-please," she added, and 
then she closed her eyes and there was a shimmer of gold green light and his own 
eyes closed and his head fell forward and he moaned as it slid through him, 
dulling slightly the edges of all his pain, both emotional and physical, and then 
he sat up straight with a jolt, staring at her.

She opened her eyes slowly. "I can't fix this, Mr. Giles, I can't take the pain 
away. But I give comfort where I can."

"And clarity," he whispered. "Jesus, what in the hell have I been doing?"

"Hurting. Like the rest of us. And grieving, like the rest of us. But hiding, and 
you can't do that anymore."

"God, Tara, I'm so sorry . . ."

She flung herself forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. "It's all right. 
Just come back to us," she whispered, and he clung to her tightly for a moment 
before she pulled away.

***

He came out of the bathroom, hair still damp from the shower, and watched for a 
moment as Tara and Spike teased one another quietly as she hovered over the stove 
where she was making breakfast.

Spike looked up and stared at him for long time before smiling slightly, and then 
he turned to back Tara and swept her in his arms and hugged her tightly as she 
giggled.

They ate in companionable silence as Tara bustled around the flat, straightening 
and cleaning.

"I like this one," Spike said finally, grabbing her around the waist as she 
brushed past him and pulling her into his lap. "A witch, a maid *and* a cook. We 
should keep her." He suffered a hard elbow to the gut and scowled at her and Giles 
laughed, for the first time since Buffy died.

"Sorry, Spike, but the maid service is a one-shot thing," she said haughtily.

"I know," Spike said, grabbing her by the chin and looking her in the eye. "Thank 
you, love."

"Yes, Tara," Giles said quietly. "Thank you."

She smiled at both of them before going on about her work.

***

He finally gathered them all at the Magic Box and they all stared at him, looking 
in turns grateful, angry, relieved and scared.

He cursed himself for his weeks of self-indulgence and sighed, pacing.

"So," he said finally. "Tell me what's been happening."

They all started talking at once.

***

Their efforts quickly became coordinated and efficient, inasmuch as that was 
possible, and it wasn't long before he was confident enough to let them patrol 
alone when the need arose. They settled into a routine, Tara and Anya taking turns 
staying at home with Dawn as the rest of them went out, and, as impossible as it 
seemed and as much as it still hurt, life went on.

Dawn, after days of resentful silence, finally broke down, weeping and crawling 
into his lap and he would hold her and they would talk about Buffy, sometimes 
laughing and sometimes crying, and they would go together every day to visit her 
grave, and sometimes she would ask him why her father hadn't called.

He still didn't have an answer to that question.

***

"What's wrong, Watcher?" Spike whispered against the skin of his neck.

Giles stared into the darkness. "Something's happening. They're avoiding me, and 
when I do see them they won't look me in the eye."

"I've noticed."

"Tara?"

"Won't tell me anythin'," Spike murmured. "Been hidin' from me, where before she . 
. . do you think I should . . ."

"Yes," Giles said firmly. "Start with Willow's and Tara's dorm room, see if 
they've been working on something, anything, books, ingredients for spells, 
anything that looks out of place."

"Red's gettin' a little happy with the magic," Spike said.

"I know. That's what concerns me."

***

Giles stared at the book Spike handed him, dumbfounded, and then rushed over to 
the calendar, his fingers running over the dates hurriedly.

"*GODDAMMIT*," he bellowed, then stiffened and put a hand over his mouth when 
Spike frowned and jerked his head in the direction of the stairs, reminding him 
that Dawn was up in her room.

"What is it?" Spike asked.

"All four of them, they're all gone tonight, correct?" he muttered.

"Yeah, patrollin' . . . or not, what in the hell is goin' on, Watcher?"

Giles slammed the book down on the countertop. "This is a resurrection spell, 
Spike," he said, voice low and hard. "They're going to try to bring her back."

Spike stared at him. "*What*? After all this time?"

"It can work, when done properly, and Willow *is* powerful, but I don't know that 
she's capable of *this*," Giles hissed, shrugging into his coat. "The risks are 
just too . . . I cannot *believe* they're attempting this, there are so many 
things that could go wrong . . . I swear to God, if she comes back wrong, I'll 
fucking kill the lot of them . . ."

Spike was silent for a moment. "You sound like you actually mean that."

"I damn well do! Take Dawn to Janice's and meet me at Buffy's grave," he muttered 
and stormed out of the house.

Spike stared after him for a long time before running up the stairs to Dawn's 
room.

***

"Demons everywhere."

"I know," Giles muttered, staring at Buffy's grave and the broken shards of the 
urn. "Is Dawn all right?"

"Yeah, she and the girl are havin' a grand old time, watchin' the chaos, like 
they're at a bloody movie or somethin'," Spike said. He looked around. "Where are 
they?"

"I don't know, they were gone when I got here." His voice and his posture were 
brittle, tight with rage.

"You gotta calm it down, Watcher," Spike murmured. "They're kids, they don't know 
any better . . ."

"Willow does," Giles snapped.

Spike sighed. "Maybe. Any idea if it worked?"

"No."

"So what, we wait?"

"I've no idea," Giles said, sighing. He rubbed wearily at his face. "I don't know 
if . . ."

"Wait, Watcher, hush," Spike said and tilted his head, listening. Giles watched 
with growing dread as Spike fell to all fours and put his ear to the dirt of 
Buffy's grave. "Fuck all," he whispered and looked up at Giles with wide eyes. 
"She's diggin' her way out."

***

She cringed and clung to Giles tightly, filthy and hands bloodied and the stink of 
rotting flesh still on her clothes, and when the three of them got back to her 
house they found the rest of them there, talking frantically in the living room.

Willow leapt to her feet when she saw them. "Oh, my God! Buffy! It worked, oh, 
God, Buffy!" she said, running toward them. Buffy flinched and hid her face in 
Giles' chest and he gritted his teeth and shoved Willow away with a hard hand to 
the chest and she stared at him, shocked. "Giles?"

"Shut up, Willow!" he muttered and then turned and handed Buffy over to Spike. 
"Take her upstairs and get her cleaned up." 

Spike nodded, casting a glance at Xander, Anya and Tara, who were staring in turns 
at Buffy and at Giles, fidgeting nervously, and then he looked back at Giles.

"Take it easy, Watcher," he murmured.

"Just take her," Giles hissed and watched as Spike slowly escorted Buffy up the 
stairs. As soon as they were out of sight he rounded on Willow, furious and 
frightened. "How could you have done something so utterly *stupid?*"

"What? Well, her death was, you know, mystical, and we didn't know if maybe she 
hadn't ended up in, like, a hell dimension," Willow said, wringing her hands.

Giles advanced on her, shoving his face into hers. "'We?' Or *you*?"

"Well, yeah, it was my idea, I found the spell . . . Giles, what's wrong with you? 
Aren't you glad she's back?" she asked, confused.

"That's the bloody point, Willow, we don't *know* that she's back! Her body is 
here but we don't know if *she* is and don't you dare tell me you didn't know that 
was one of the risks!" he shouted.

"Wait, hang on," Xander said, wiping one hand across his mouth. "What are you 
saying, exactly?"

"What I'm saying," Giles muttered, never taking his eyes off Willow. "Is that if 
she's come back wrong, that if I have to do the unspeakable, that there will be a 
price to be paid."

"What do you mean, unspeakable?" Willow asked, voice trembling and eyes now 
filling with tears.

"I mean," Giles said through clenched teeth, eyes hard and body trembling. "That 
if you've fucked this up, if she's not all right, then I will have to *kill* her, 
Willow. She'll die, *again*."

"Oh, God," Willow whispered, stumbling back against the sofa.

"I'm taking her home with me. Not a word of this to Dawn until we know how Buffy 
is, and I want the lot of you to stay the hell away until I contact you, am I 
understood?"

They all nodded, staring at the floor, and he stormed up the stairs.

***

"Thank you for coming, Wesley, and on such short notice . . ." Giles said wearily, 
sitting in one of the chairs in the courtyard.

"Giles, what on earth possessed them to do such a thing?" Wesley asked, eyes 
narrowed.

Giles sighed. "They love her. They missed her. And they thought they were doing 
the right thing," he mumbled, his earlier rage having dissipated as Buffy had 
slowly begun to seem her old self again.

"Perhaps they have. Done the right thing, I mean, but they were taking such a 
tremendous risk, Giles . . . I had no idea Willow had become so strong," Wesley 
said.

"Neither had I. I haven't been paying as much attention as I should have."

"Well, they were hiding it from you; you couldn't have known."

"No, I should have. I should have known."

"I suppose it's too late to concern yourself with that. The mystic says she's 
fine, physically, only minor changes on the molecular level. It's remarkable, 
really, resurrection spells so rarely work, and considering the fact that this one 
was interrupted . . . amazing. At any rate, your main concern will be any 
psychological fallout," Wesley said.

Giles nodded, his face grim.

"And Giles," Wesley said, leaning forward. "Angel's been out of the country and 
I've been unable to contact him, but when he finds out . . ."

"Yes, I understand. But can you ask that he call me first? To be certain she's all 
right before they see one another?"

"Of course."

They both looked up to see Buffy walking out of Giles' flat, Spike watching from 
behind her in the shadows.

"Well," she said, sighing. "I'm back from the dead, my insides are working but my 
nails are *totally* shot, somebody *so* owes me a manicure, and, wow, Wesley, 
you've changed!"

Wesley smiled wryly.

"Anyway, I'm ready to get to work."

Giles stared at her, watching her closely. Her eyes and her voice seemed empty in 
spite of her cheerful tone, he thought, and then wondered if that was simply his 
fear talking. "Are you certain? There's nothing wrong with taking some more 
time."

"I'm certain. Back for a reason, right? Let's get on with the Slayage."

***

"There's something you're not telling me."

"You keep saying that. Stop saying that. I'm fine, look, see?" Buffy said, 
executing a perfect back flip.

"You're sure everything is all right?"

"And again with all the saying. I'm fine, Giles, I swear."

He frowned at her but let it go.

***

Giles sighed in exasperation and flung the mail on to the coffee table.

"Buffy, you do realize this house is about to go into foreclosure?"

"What? That can't be right! Is there anything you can do about it?"

***

"Mr. Giles, I appreciate your coming, but I really should be meeting with Dawn's 
legal guardian . . . her sister, Buffy Summers, isn't that correct?"

***

"Tired, Watcher?" Spike whispered against the bare skin of his shoulder.

"Exhausted," Giles sighed, and closed his eyes as Spike ran his hands over his 
body.

"Tense, too," Spike murmured, kneading at the knotted muscles of Giles' shoulders 
before rolling him over on his back. "Maybe I can help a little with that, love." 
His tongue trailed slowly down Giles' chest and belly and by the time Spike 
took him in his mouth he was already hard.

"*Jesus*," he whispered, his hands in Spike's hair and hips already thrusting. 
"How do you always manage to do that to me?"

Spike stopped for a moment and looked up at him. "Love you," he said, matter-of-
factly and for the first time, before resuming his work with lips and tongue.

*. . . this one does . . .*

Giles blinked in surprise, feeling the weight lodged in his chest become even 
heavier, and then he closed his eyes and groaned. "Goddammit," he whispered. "Love 
you, too."

***

"What is it, Tara?" Giles asked, watching her as she paced frantically back and 
forth in his living room.

"It's . . . I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Giles, but it's Willow. The magick, it's, 
well, it's kind of getting out of hand. I'm worried about her."

He sighed and closed his eyes. He'd assumed as much.

"I'll talk to her, Tara."

She smiled, tears in her eyes. "Thank you."

***

"Buffy, I *know* there's something wrong," Giles said, plowing through her overdue 
bills with his own checkbook and a great deal of irritation. "Why won't you talk 
to me?"

"Giles, please. I'm fine! Couldn't be any finer! Thanks for all this, by the way, 
I know I owe you . . . listen, could you pick up Dawn from school?" she said, and 
then swept out the front door.

The pen in his fingers shattered.

***

"Love you, God, love you so much, tell me, say it," Spike whispered, thrusting 
against him frantically.

"Love you, love you, love you, God, yes," Giles murmured.

***

"Willow . . ."

"It's none of your damned business, Giles."

***

"I know you've been spending a lot of time with Buffy. Has she said anything?"

Spike was quiet for a long time, staring at the ceiling. "Yeah. But don't ask me 
what, I promised I wouldn't say anythin'."

"Spike! If it's serious I need to know! I can't help her if I don't know!"

"I know that, Watcher. I've tried to get her to talk to you."

"Then why won't she?" Giles demanded, worried and hurt and confused.

"I think she just ain't ready. Give her time."

Giles buried his head in his hands, while Spike reached out and ran one hand 
soothingly up and down his back.

*** 

"Buffy, about Halloween . . ."

She frowned. "What about Halloween?"

His jaw clenched. "Dawn."

"Oh, yeah. Did you yell at her or ground her or something?"

***

"Golden's gone, moved out."

"What? Why?"

"Red's gone all barmy with the magick, Tara thinks she's headed off the deep end."

"Fuck," Giles muttered.

***

"Giles, don't even start. I know what I'm doing and I don't need *you*, of all 
people, telling me what to do!" Willow yelled before storming out of Buffy's 
kitchen.

***

"Giles, do you mind if I talk to you about this whole, you know, gettin' married 
thing?"

He bit back a weary sigh. "Of course not, Xander."

***

"Where have you been all day?"

"Tara's."

"How is she?"

"Not good. Think she did the right thing, though, movin' out, don't you?" Spike 
said, grabbing Giles' glass of scotch out of his hand and downing it.

"You'll get up and get me more of that," Giles ordered. 

"Right bossy, ain't we?" Spike said, arching an eyebrow but getting up anyway.

"I do think Tara did the right thing, although this means we won't be seeing her 
as much now," Giles said, sighing with regret.

"Well, now, Red won't be seein' her, but *we* will."

"We will?"

"I made puppy dog eyes and talked her into comin' around tonight and makin' 
dinner. That all right?"

Giles sighed and sat back. "Sounds delightful, in fact."

Spike grinned. "And maybe then, you know, we could get her . . ." he said, and 
jerked his head in the direction of the bedroom.

Giles stared at him in shock. "You filthy-minded bastard! You'll do no such 
thing!"

Spike snorted. "Course I won't. Got all I can handle with you, love," he said. 
Then he pointed at Giles accusingly. "But don't tell me you haven't at least 
wondered about it, you're a dirty old man, just like me."

Giles flushed and Spike snickered and Giles was unable to look Tara in the eye for 
the greater part of the evening.

***

The minute he had her alone he pulled her into his arms and held her tightly.

"*That's* what all this has been about, Buffy? You were in *heaven?*"

"Yeah. At least, I think so. That's what it felt like, anyway."

"For God's sake, why didn't you *tell* me?"

She shrugged.

"But you told Spike."

She nodded and he turned away, hurt, and wondering how in the hell he was ever 
going to help her if she kept putting so much distance between them.

"Giles, listen, Dawn's been . . ."

He grabbed his coat and stormed out before she could finish.

***

"*Fuck*, Watcher," Spike groaned as Giles thrust into him roughly and began 
fucking him frantically, hungry for him, needing him. "God, love you," Spike 
whispered.

"Love you, too," Giles moaned against his neck, and he meant it, and he knew that 
it was going to make what he was about to do that much harder, but for now he 
pushed all that aside and lost himself inside the cool, safe haven that Spike 
had become.

"Love you, too," he murmured again, his eyes closing at the rush of sensation. 
"More than anything."

***

Part Five


He told Buffy first, and was startled by the way she reacted, screaming and crying 
and asking over and over how he could do this to her. It baffled him, the way 
could she push him away with one hand and suddenly try to pull him close with the 
other. And just as suddenly he was angry, the pressure that had been building for 
months now exploding, and he told her she was a self-centered child and that she 
only wanted him there to do her dirty work, and she responded by accusing him 
of being just like her father and abandoning her, and they railed at one another 
for over half an hour before he finally held up his hands in surrender.

"Buffy, please," he said. "Let's not do this, I'm sorry."

"Stay," she demanded, tears streaming down her face.

"No," he said, still convinced that he was doing the right thing despite the fact 
that breaking her heart was breaking his.

She turned on her heel and started to leave.

"Buffy, please, wait," he called. "I'm leaving in the morning."

"So leave, then," she spat, stalking away. "Everyone else does. Dad did."

He wiped his hand over his mouth. He was not Buffy's father, he told himself, and 
this was not the same thing.

"I love you," he murmured, but he was speaking to an empty room.

***

He sat in the courtyard outside his flat for half an hour, on the verge of simply 
running and hiding, getting a room for the night and leaving first thing the next 
morning, when the door opened and Spike stood there, staring at him. "You been 
sittin' there forever," he said, frowning. "What's goin' on? You comin' in or 
what?"

Giles sighed and got to his feet, sliding past Spike through the doorway and 
moving to sit on the couch.

"I know somethin's wrong," Spike said. "You gonna let me in on it?"

Giles scrubbed at his face wearily. "Spike, I'm leaving tomorrow morning for 
England."

 "*What?* Kinda short notice, don't you think? When you comin' back?"

Giles stared at his hands in silence.

"Bloody hell. You ain't comin' back, are you." A statement, not a question, 
Spike's voice quiet but full of hurt and confusion.

"No. I don't plan on returning, except perhaps to visit. And even then, it won't 
be for a very long time."

 "*Why?*"

Giles sighed. "Buffy. All of them, really, but Buffy, mostly. She's become too 
dependent on me and I can't keep cleaning up the messes she and Dawn insist on 
making."

"Watcher, you just bleedin' found out what she's been goin' through, and you 
decide to leave *now*? I never figured you to be that kind of utter prick," Spike 
muttered, disgust evident in his voice.

Suddenly Giles was on his feet, shouting. "I don't give a bloody damn what she's 
been going through! She could have told me months ago, when I could have helped 
her, but she insisted on keeping it to herself, and whatever sort of trouble 
she gets into now is her own fault! Do you realize what I've had to put up with 
for the past six months? Cleaning up after her, paying her goddamned bills, 
chasing Dawn all over Sunnydale when she takes the whim to go truant, not to 
mention losing a girl as special as Willow to the magick and being completely 
helpless to do anything about, and God, Xander, that foolish, beautiful boy, with 
his utterly stupid plans to get married AND THERE'S NOT A GODDAMNED THING I 
CAN DO TO FIX ANY OF THAT! Do you hear me? I CAN'T FUCKING FIX IT! I love ALL of 
them but I can't fucking fix *any* of this! They've got to grow up, Spike, and 
they won't do it while I'm here, they'll just keep running to me and I'll just 
keep taking care of things and they'll never grow up and I'll never fucking 
SLEEP!"

Spike stared at him through narrowed eyes. "So this is all about *you*, then," he 
said.

"YES! It's about me wanting them safe and sound, all of them, and being utterly 
unable to make that happen, no matter what I do or say! They've *got* to do this 
alone, Spike, they're adults and it's goddamned time, and if I stay here I'll 
keep interfering and that cannot continue!"

He collapsed suddenly on to the couch, rage gone and now, simply tired down to his 
very bones.

"And what about me?" Spike asked quietly.

"What about you?" Giles asked tiredly

"You're not just leavin' them, you're leavin' me."

"I realize that," Giles said softly.

"You don't *care*?"

"Of course I care. But it's time we end this."

"Why?"

"Because of what you are. Because of what I am."

"We talkin' about your fuckin' *humanity* again?" Spike spat, voice brittle.

Giles rubbed at his face. "Partially. You're immortal, I am not, how could this 
have been anything but temporary, especially as far as you're concerned? At best 
I've got 30 years, but considering the kind of life I lead I'll be lucky to 
make it into next week. Don't tell me you haven't thought of that."

"No," Spike said, voice starting to shake. "All I've thought about is *you*."

"Spike, please . . ." Giles whispered, exhausted and hurting and hating every 
fucking moment of this.

"Please what? Say it's okay for you to fuckin' *leave* me, to leave us? You *said* 
that you loved me, more than once, and now I'm supposed to give you permission to 
leave, soothe your guilty fuckin' conscience? 'Cause I ain't doin' that, *Rupert*, 
you ain't leavin' for the greater good, for Buffy and the rest and for me, what 
you're doin' is fuckin' *runnin'*, things get too hot and you bloody well run, you 
goddamned coward!"

"Call it whatever you like," Giles snapped. "But I'm still leaving in the 
morning."

Spike stared at him for a long time, the whole of him trembling and eyes wide with 
hurt and a hint of hate, and then he slammed out of the flat.

"I love you," Giles whispered, once again speaking to an empty room.

***

* . . . "Why do you hate him so much?"

"Because he *left* me." . . .*

***

He lay awake and wide-eyed, restless and staring at the ceiling, having second 
thoughts and fighting in turn urges to seek out both Buffy and Spike, then 
remembering the insanity of the entire situation and his jaw would set and his 
resolve to leave would return, and when he heard the front door open quietly he 
tensed, waiting, unsure of what to expect.

Suddenly Spike was beside the bed, silent, and after a long moment he began to 
strip slowly and Giles watched with bittersweet pleasure as he did so. "Spike," he 
whispered when Spike was finally nude, running his eyes over the length of 
Spike's taut body.

"Shut up," Spike snarled and then flung himself at Giles hard, slamming him back 
into the mattress, pinning him down and kissing him brutally, a bruising attack of 
lips and teeth, and once again Giles felt his blood surge and his body scream 
and he responded in kind, biting and sucking at Spike's tongue and lips and 
leaving marks on his neck, grunting in frustration at his helplessness to do more 
with Spike keeping him pinned, then Spike slid astride his lap and he bucked up 
hard, gasping at the feel of Spike's cock against his, reveling in it, and he did 
it again and again, struggling all the while to free himself from Spike's iron 
grip, needing to touch him, run his hands and mouth over his body, and Spike 
groaned and lifted himself up, just out of reach of Giles' touch, pinning his 
wrists with his hands and his thighs with his knees.

"You want me?" he growled, teasing him with a slight thrust of his hips.

"Fuck, yes," Giles whispered, still struggling.

"Then say it," Spike ordered, voice hard. "Fuckin' *say* it!"

Giles' stared up at him, trying to read his eyes through the gloom. "I love you," 
he murmured.

Spike leaned in for another bruising kiss before pulling away again and Giles 
nearly screamed in frustration. "Say it again."

"I love you."

"Again!"

"I love you, love you, love you, *goddammit*, Spike, I . . ."

Suddenly Spike was draped all over him, his touch now gentle and his mouth on 
Giles' soft, cool skin sliding like silk over hot, damp flesh, and he released 
Giles' hands and Giles groaned, one hand going to the back of Spike's head to pull 
him closer so that he could kiss him more deeply, tongue thrusting into his mouth, 
his other hand roaming over Spike's back and ass, pulling him tight and rubbing up 
against him with quick jerks of his hips, and Spike moaned and pulled away 
slightly.

"I love you, too, Watcher," he whispered. "But I hate you even more for doin' this 
to me."

"Spike . . ."

"You'll fuckin' remember me," Spike murmured, licking his way down Giles'.

"Always, Spike, I . . ." Giles stopped suddenly when he heard the soft grind of 
bone against bone as Spike changed, and he stiffened when he felt Spike's teeth 
tease his neck.

"Well, Watcher?" Spike whispered and again Giles felt that scream, the rise in his 
blood, a dizzying sensation of desire, lust and something stronger, something 
ancient and darkly inviting, and he was overcome with the need for it, and he 
understood now why so many gave in to it, offered up their throats to the 
beautiful blackness. 

He closed his eyes.

"Yes," he said, tilting his neck, wanting it more than he had ever wanted 
anything, the stupidity of the act no longer mattering, he just wanted it, had 
always wanted it, and now wanted it more than anything from Spike.

"How do you know I won't turn you? Kill you?" Spike whispered, teeth starting to 
dig into the flesh in Giles' neck.

"Because I trust you," Giles whispered. "And because I love you."

Spike froze and Giles waited, running one hand slowly up and down the length of 
Spike's back. "Goddammit," Spike finally murmured brokenly. "Love you, too."

Then he bit, sharp and hard and deep, and Giles gasped and his vision blurred and 
he arched high up off the bed, pleasure slamming through him beyond anything he'd 
ever felt before, and he came and was hard again at once, and he was dimly 
aware of Spike's wet noises of satisfaction against his neck, and the remainder of 
the night was spent in a blurry crimson haze of blood and come and tears and 
sweat, nightmares and begging and broken goodbyes.

*** 

Giles sat on the edge of the bed, suit jacket draped over his arm, watching the 
clock, fingers at the wound in his neck.

"It'll never heal," Spike said bitterly. "It'll be with you forever, *I'll* be 
with you forever, you'll never fuckin' forget me, you'll always remember."

"I would have remembered anyway," Giles said softly.

"Don't *do* this, Watcher, don't leave." 

Spike's voice was naked and desperate, and Giles refused to look at him, knowing 
that the expression on his face would be the same. So he dropped his head and 
stared at the floor, silent, and when the time came he got up, grabbed his bags, 
and left without another word.

***

By the time he got to his flat in Bath he was exhausted, and he fell on to the 
sofa fully clothed, not even bothering to remove his tie, and again his fingers 
went to the mark on his neck, and as he fell into a troubled sleep he thought he 
could hear them, all of them: Anya, fighting back tears because she'd wanted him 
to walk her down the aisle; Xander, disappointed and frightened; Willow silent and 
resentful; Dawn, arms crossed and glaring before running to hide in her 
room; Tara, tears streaming down her face but smiling, whispering in his ear when 
she'd hugged him goodbye that she thought he was doing the right thing; and Buffy, 
oh, God, Buffy, calling for him in her sleep; and Spike, somewhere in the 
dark, slumped on his knees and weeping.

The mark on his neck throbbed, reminding him of all that he'd left behind.

***

After one bad night he was surprised to find he was sleeping rather well, and at 
the end of two weeks he felt better than he had in months, despite the resounding 
silence of the telephone. He started getting out and about, meeting up with old 
friends and occasionally and grudgingly doing various types of work for the 
Council, and it wasn't long until Olivia showed up on his doorstep with a bottle 
of wine.

He smiled and invited her in.

***

"This," she said as they lay in bed, her fingers brushing against the mark on his 
neck. He flinched and gently pulled her hand away. "Vampire?"

He bit back a sigh and then smiled slightly. "Yes. How did you know?"

"Well, Rupert, I've learned quite a lot in our time together." She touched it 
again and he winced. "It still hurts?"

He stared at the ceiling. "Yes."

"Did you kill it? The vampire?"

*'It.'* He pushed away the irrational anger that the word called forth, knowing 
full well that she didn't understand, and rolled on to his side away from her. "It 
felt as if I did," he murmured under his breath.

After she'd touched it one too many times, either by accident or out of curiosity, 
he'd asked her as politely as he could to leave.

***

"Giles? Hope I'm not waking you up, you know how horrible I am with math, are you 
in the future or the past?"

"What?" he mumbled, fumbling for the lamp on the night stand. "Buffy?"

"You've forgotten me already?"

"No, of course not, it's just that . . ."

"Dammit! You were asleep, weren't you? Stupid time zones!"

He found himself laughing. "How are you, my dear? Is everything all right? I tried 
to call on your birthday but the phones 
. . ."

She sighed. "Long story. *Really* long story. And things are okay, I guess. Weird 
without you around, but . . . Giles, listen. I'm sorry about the way I acted, 
about not saying goodbye. And about all those things I said, you know I didn't 
really mean any of that, right?"

"I know," he said softly. "I've missed you terribly."

"Me, too," she sighed. "Missed you, I mean. And I'm not begging you to come back 
and pay the mortgage or let me send Dawn over there to you, but it really sucks 
ass with you being gone. That's a compliment, by the way, the sucking ass 
thing, though now that I've said it I really wish I hadn't."

"Well, thank you, I suppose," he said, grinning. "What's been happening?"

"Tons. Hey, guess what! I was invisible!"

 "*What?*"

***

The next night the phone rang again, at a more reasonable hour.

"Mr. Giles?"

"Tara," he said, smiling broadly.

"Yeah," she said, and he imagined her smiling and blushing and ducking her head, 
then remembered what a different person she'd been when she'd been alone with him 
and Spike, confident, giving as good as she got with Spike, and something about 
her presence lighting up the room and lending it a sense of peace at the same 
time. Spike had marveled at her, gone on and on about her, drawn to her light and 
Giles could tell that he was grateful that she welcomed him into it, embraced him 
with it, in spite of who he was. Or maybe, Giles thought, *because* of who he was.

"I'm not bothering you, am I?" she asked.

"No, of course not. How are you?"

"Actually, really good. School's good, and Willow's even better," she said 
proudly.

"Yes, Buffy said she's doing well with the magick."

"Oh, she really, really is! You'd be proud, Mr. Giles."

"I already am," he said.

"Oh, good," she said, sounding relieved. "Because she really wants to talk to you 
but she's, you know, afraid that you might still be mad?"

"Of course not. Have her call me, please."

"I will," she said and he could hear the smile in her voice. "How's England?"

He peered out the window. "Rather dreary at the moment."

"I've always wanted to visit England," she said softly and he grinned.

"Yes, I've gotten that impression," he said and he was certain she blushed this 
time. "Perhaps someday?"

"Maybe," she said, and something in her tone made him frown but she hurried on, 
making him laugh with stories about Dawn and Willow, Xander and Anya, her 
description of Buffy's Doublemeat Palace uniform making him bite his lip hard 
to keep from howling.

"You know I'm not making fun of *Buffy*, Mr. Giles, right? Because I love her, you 
know? We've really gotten kind of close lately. But that hat . . . it's just . . . 
Mr. Giles, there's something really, really wrong there."

Again he put his hand over his mouth to keep from giggling, and when he'd 
recovered enough to speak, he finally worked up the nerve to ask about Spike.

"Oh, uh, well, he could be better. I know he'll be fine eventually."

"But he's not fine now."

"Well . . . did you think he would be?" she asked, no hint of accusation, just 
truth.

"I suppose not," he sighed.

"I still think you did the right thing. Great things can come from great pain, 
it's just the in-between part that's hard."

He sat in silence for a moment. "Tara, you're a very wise young woman. Thank you."

"No, Mr. Giles, thank *you*. Listen, I, uh . . . I know this might sound really 
weird, I haven't known you very long, but the reason that I called, besides, you 
know, all the catching up was to . . . well, to tell you that I love you."

His eyes widened in surprise.

"Mr. Giles? I'm sorry, it *is* weird, I shouldn't have said . . ."

"No! No, no, no, hush, Tara, that's lovely. I love you, as well, and you've done 
so much for all of us, and especially for Spike, you're family."

He could tell that she was crying now.

"Tara, are you all right?" he asked softly.

"Yes," she said, and he could hear the tears and the smile in her voice. "I'm very 
all right. But I guess I should go, Dawn's been giving me dirty looks, I think she 
wants to use the phone."

He smiled. "All right, then. Take care."

"Goodbye, Mr. Giles."

That night he dreamed of a brilliant red rose blooming on a young girl's blouse.

***

The next day he was going through his personal library, having been recruited by 
the Council to teach a course at the Academy, when the throbbing in the mark on 
his neck sharpened, and there was pain, suddenly, searing, slicing through his 
entire being and knocking him to his knees, and his vision blurred and he doubled 
over as it felt as if his insides were being ripped out, and then he was slammed 
by a wave of gold green light followed by a sickening shimmer of red blood 
haze, and he fell on all fours gasping.

"Oh, God," he whispered. "Tara."

***

He called first, half a dozen times and getting no answer, so he started packing 
frantically, phone cradled between ear and shoulder as he argued with the person 
on the other end of the line about getting an immediate flight to the states, and 
when he finally had the flight booked he hung up and grabbed what he could and 
started to run out the door when the phone rang.

He picked it up in dread.

"Rupert."

"Tessa? What . . ."

"You must get back to Sunnydale, something is happening."

"I know, Tara, do you know . . ."

"I'm sorry, Rupert. She's dead."

He exhaled heavily and bent forward, fighting off a wave of nausea. "How?"

"We've no time for the details, Rupert. The other, Willow, she is grieving."

"Of course she is, they were . . ."

"Rupert, she's calling for vengeance. Dark magicks of all sorts are making their 
way to her, inside her, and her power is such that she will kill, she is on the 
verge of doing such as we speak, and once she starts there may be no bringing her 
back. She'll fall and take the world with her."

"Jesus Christ," he whispered. "I've got a flight booked . . ."

"No time. Besides, we need to give you something before you go. Meet us as soon as 
possible." She hung up.

He stared at the phone for a long time, too long, he thought, when he finally 
shook off his daze, and then he ran like hell.

***

He and Buffy and Anya eyed Willow warily as she hovered, bound and snarling and 
full of rage, in the center of the Magic Box. "Buffy, that should hold her for a 
while," he said softly, arms still tight around both her and Anya, his eyes on 
Willow, shocked in spite of all the coven's warnings at what he would see when he 
finally got there. "We should talk."

He felt her shoulders heave as she sighed heavily. "Yeah, we should. You sure 
she's okay like that?"

"Yes," he said, not sure at all. "Come along."

***

" . . . and besides all that," she said, pacing. "I was, uh . . . shit, Giles, I 
don't know how to say it except to say it Ð I was sleeping with Spike."

He leaned back heavily against the wall, one hand over his eyes, dumbfounded, and 
utterly unsure how he felt about that.

"Listen, Giles, I wouldn't have . . . I didn't *know* about the two of you."

He looked at her in shock. "How did you find out?"

"Well, that's kind of what's got me worried, see, I broke it off a while ago and 
for a while he seemed fine, you know, fine for Spike, anyway, but then I started 
catching him out at night, raging and wild and kind of scary, actually, even to 
me, and it was like he was hunting, demon, human, it didn't seem to matter . . ."

"Human? What about the chip?"

"Well, when he was making any sense at all, he said that sometimes it worked and 
sometimes it didn't."

"Did he *kill* anyone?"

"Not that he remembered, and not that we could find, but something seriously weird 
is going on with him."

"Bloody hell," Giles said wearily. "Where is he?"

"That's the other thing. Giles, he was there, at the house, when Tara was killed."

 "*What*?" And then he remembered the pain, slicing through him like a blade.

"We didn't find out until later, until Willow went all uberwicca and Xander and I 
went back to the house and he was in their room, he had her in his arms and was 
rocking her back and forth and mumbling, he kept saying 'golden' over and 
over and then . . ." She sighed and took a deep breath. "Then he threw me up 
against the wall and started yelling at me to 'get the Watcher, I need the 
Watcher' and that this was all my fault. And so, you know, then I finally started 
getting a clue. About him and you." She looked at him. "You should have told me."

He stared at her. "And what would you have said?"

"That you were a gigantic idiot. But that was before . . . something was changing 
about him before he went all caveman, even after I broke it off it was like . . . 
like he was becoming more human, somehow. And he was spending so much time with 
Tara . . ."

"Why was he there? With her and Willow?"

"Well, Dawn, you know, eavesdropper that she is, said that he'd come to see if 
Tara could help him find out why he'd done what he did to m-. . ." She stopped 
suddenly and dropped her eyes. "To find out why he'd been doing the things 
he'd been doing. And then, well, Warren . . ."

"And now?"

"He's gone. But after we take care of Willow, *if* we take care of Willow, we 
really need to find him. He's dangerous, whether he means to be or not."

Giles slouched and scrubbed at his face.

She sighed and moved to stand beside him. "Do you hate me?"

"Hate you? What on earth for?"

"Well, for, you know, Spike."

He covered his mouth to hide a small smile. "Would you hate me if I told you I 
slept with Angel?"

Her eyes widened.  "*WHAT?* Dammit, Giles, that'd better be a joke or I swear to 
God I'll kill you . . ." Her manner changed suddenly. "But, see, *you* are a much 
more mature person than I am, a man who forgives easily and who would *never* hate 
his Slayer no matter how much she screwed up." She looked up at him pleadingly. 
"Right?"

"Right," he said, pulling her into his arms and smiling into her hair.

"Thank God," she said, sighing. Then she looked up at him. "You . . .*were* 
kidding about Angel, right?"

He started laughing.

***

He and Anya waited outside the Magic Box, Anya going on and on about how glad she 
was that he wasn't dead, that she wasn't dead, but that, and it might be wrong, 
she was plenty glad Warren was dead, and he sighed and smiled and rolled 
his eyes and clung to her tightly. Buffy and Dawn arrived first, both of them 
wrapping their arms around he and Anya, and then Willow and Xander staggered into 
view, Willow still weeping, and all four of them moved to hold her, trying to 
reassure her by touch and soft words that they still loved her.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry . . ." she kept saying, and Buffy stroked her hair and 
Dawn held her tightly and Giles stepped away and hauled Xander into his arms. 

"You're a wonderful, strong young man, Xander, I'm quite proud of you, you know, I 
haven't told you that nearly enough," Giles murmured and Xander stiffened, 
resisting it for a moment before wrapping his arms around Giles and crying 
silently. Giles held him for a long time, running one hand soothingly up 
and down his back, and then he stepped away.

"Willow?" he said, holding out his hand, and she took it, stepping close to him 
and burying her face in his chest.

"Come back soon, Will," Buffy said.

Willow looked up at Giles. "I don't if I can," she whispered brokenly.

"You can and you will," he said firmly as the world began to tilt and they closed 
their eyes against the sensation of it and when it stopped they opened their eyes 
to find themselves in a meadow.

Willow fell to her knees, retching, and Giles knelt beside her, sweeping back her 
hair and running a hand over her shoulders until she stopped finally, shuddering. 
"I'm going to die," she whispered.

"No," he said. "I'm afraid you won't get out of this one so easily. You'll have to 
go on living like the rest of us."

"I can't."

"You can," he whispered and brought her to her feet, hugging her one last time 
before handing her over to Tessa, who had appeared as if out of nowhere to stand 
beside them.

"I love you, Willow," he said. "And I'll see you soon."

She nodded, eyes still somewhat vacant, and began following Tessa through the 
green grass of the meadow. He sighed, relieved but also worried, Tessa had told 
him they wouldn't know until after spending a great deal of time with Willow 
whether they would be able to bring her back from the darkness.

Out of habit his fingers went to the mark on his neck, and suddenly there was pain 
again, different this time, white hot and shot through with joy and misery and 
confusion, and when he opened his eyes and caught his breath, he looked to see 
Tessa staring down at him.

"The vampire," she said, eyes black. "Something has happened."

"What? What's happened?" he whispered weakly.

"You must find him," she said. "Before the Other gets him, takes him completely. 
Prepare yourself, Rupert, there are many things coming and much to be done."

"I . . . I've no idea where to look, Tessa, can you help me?" he asked.

"He'll go home," she said. "To the place where he least needs to be."

Then she was gone.

***

"Sorry, Giles, but Clem says he's skipped town," Buffy said. "Anya's tried all her 
demon contacts but we can't find anything."

He sighed. "All right, then. Keep me informed."

"We will. How's Willow?"

He smiled at that; good news on one front, at least. "Much improved. I hope to 
send her home soon."

"Oh, good! Tell her we're waiting and we miss her."

***

"I'm scared, Giles," Willow said.

"I know. But you'll be fine, they're waiting for you."

"Waiting to kill me," she mumbled.

"Of course not, don't be absurd," he said, hugging her briefly. "Go on, now. I'll 
be there soon."

She looked at him and smiled slightly. "Thank you, Giles."

***

The phone rang and he answered. "Yes?"

"Giles?"

He frowned. "Pryce?"

"Something's happened at the Council."

***

Again he found himself packing frantically when the phone rang again.

"Giles, it's me."

"Buffy, I'm in a tremendous hurry, something's happening . . ."

"Tell me about it Ð look we've found Spike."

He sagged in relief. "Thank God. Is he all right?"

"No, not really, he's kind of . . . crazy acting."

He frowned. "Where is he?"

"He's been hiding in the basement of the new high school."

"On top of the bloody Hellmouth?" he shouted.

"Yep," she sighed.

"Well, get him out of there, to your house, chain him up if you have to; I've got 
other things to worry about right now but I hope to be there in about a week, 
maybe more."

She sighed again. "We'll be here. Hopefully."

***

Giles stared unseeing at the Potentials gathered in the kitchen, and Xander took 
in his clenched jaw and hard eyes and cursed under his breath.

"She didn't tell you, did she?" he asked.

"No, she bloody well didn't," Giles muttered.

"Shit! Listen, Giles, there's a lot goin' on now, and we think it may have started 
back then, before Willow went all veiny on us, I don't think that you should do 
anything or say anything until you talk to Buffy about this and *why* am I talking 
to an empty chair?" Xander said, cringing as the door to the basement slammed. 

***

"Well, well. Look who's here. Long time, no see, Rupert."

Giles stood in front of Spike where he was shackled to the wall in Buffy's 
basement.

"You *hurt* her," he growled, face and eyes hard, fists clenching.

Spike looked away, staring at the floor. "Yeah. I did. I . . ."

Suddenly Giles was atop him, hitting him, punching him hard in the face again and 
again. "I'll kill you, I'll fucking *kill* you, you son of a bitch, don't you 
*ever* fucking touch her again . . ."

"Giles! Giles, stop it!"

Buffy hauled him away from Spike and flung him against the wall. "God, Spike, are 
you all right?" she asked, kneeling in front of him. He sighed, wiping away the 
blood streaming from his nose. He cast a tired glance at Giles, and through the 
red haze of fury Giles was startled to realize that something was different, his 
eyes were different.

"No," Spike mumbled. "I'm not all right. Never have been, have I? Quite the 
reunion, Watcher, lovely to see you again, pet."

Buffy whirled on Giles. "Upstairs, now. We've got to talk."

***

"Why didn't you tell me about this before? When you told me you were sleeping with 
him?"

"Because I knew you'd go all crazy vengeful commando Rambo Watcher father guy, 
like you did just now! How did you find out, anyway?"

"Xander."

She sighed. "Giles, it's not as cut and dried as Xander might have made it seem."

"Buffy, you can't possibly be justifying what he did to you," Giles said wearily.

"Of course I'm not," she said, pacing. "But there were . . . things going on, it 
was all, you know . . . twisted, really twisted, I was nuts from the whole Lazarus 
thing and he was all crazy because you left and then I was *using* him, Giles, 
something I am *not* proud of, and then I dumped him, and then when Tara died Ð 
Giles, I had no idea how close they were, I mean, I knew that they spent a lot of 
time together but he really loved her, she was his only friend in the world, 
*literally*. And I think that even then the First was messing with him, he barely 
even remembers how he got to my house that night, much less what happened after he 
got there. And all that, you, me, Tara Ð I think that's what the whole soul thing 
was about."

Giles looked at her sharply. "What 'soul thing?'"

She sat down beside him on the bed. "He's gotten his soul back," she said softly.

Giles stared at her, remembering the pain he'd felt, the difference he'd seen in 
Spike's eyes.  "*What?* How on earth . . ."

"I'm not sure exactly. Something about going through some demon trials."

"Bloody hell," Giles sighed, burying his face in his hands.

Buffy put her hand on his shoulder. "You never really told me before, why you 
didn't say anything. About the two of you."

"For God's sake, Buffy, he's a *vampire*. Not exactly the ideal candidate for a 
healthy relationship. At least, that's what I thought at the time."

"Well, you don't have to tell *me* that. You were ashamed?"

He sighed and rubbed at his eyes. "A little, yes. And confused."

"Well, it's not like I wouldn't have understood, Giles, I haven't exactly been the 
poster girl for not having relationships with vampires, I mean, first Angel and 
then Spike and . . ." She paused, eyes widening. " *OH MY GOD, GILES, WE'VE SLEPT 
WITH THE SAME VAMPIRE!*" she ended with a shriek, shoving him away and leaping off 
the bed. "*EWWW!*"

He rolled his eyes. "Bloody hell, Buffy, that's just *now* occurring to you? And 
that's vampires, plural, don't you forget about Angel and me!" he said, pointing a 
finger at her.

She stared at him in shock, and then she started laughing, and once she started 
she couldn't stop, and soon he was laughing, too, and she sat back down on the bed 
and wrapped her arms around him and they laughed and rocked back and forth, wiping 
away tears.

"Oh, God," she said finally, breathless. "Seriously, quit it about Angel, not 
funny, I've got enough to worry about."

"Fine, I'll quit bringing up my torrid affair with Angel," he said quite 
seriously.

She poked him hard and he grumbled and she settled back in his arms. "Could our 
lives possibly get any weirder?"

"I believe they most certainly will," he whispered into her hair, smiling.

She looked up at him. "He's different, now. I mean, he was always different, the 
way he, you know, just *felt* things so deeply, but now, with the soul . . ."

"Do you love him?" he asked, not jealous, but curious.

She thought for a moment. "Yeah, I guess, in a way. He's one of us, now. But I 
think the more important question is, do you? Love him? Because I think that's 
what really matters to him, how *you* feel."

He stared at his hands and didn't answer.

***

"Why're you doin' this?" Spike muttered, pulling away from Giles' touch. "Why 
aren't you poundin' the shit outta me?"

"Because," Giles said, again grabbing gently at Spike's jaw. "Buffy believes there 
was more going on. And she forgives you. And if she forgives you, then I suppose I 
must as well."

"May be just that I'm fuckin' evil, you know."

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm sorry about earlier," Giles said quietly, wiping gently 
at Spike's face with a wet washcloth. "It's just that I love her so much and the 
thought of anyone hurting her . . ."

Spike shrugged. "I deserved it. Still do. Like I said, don't understand why you 
aren't finishin' what you started."

Giles sat back and regarded Spike closely. "You're tired."

"Understatement of the fuckin' year. Haven't slept right since you left."

Giles winced. "And you're hurting. And it's more than just what happened with 
Buffy and Tara, isn't it? More than what I did. It's your soul."

Spike looked away, silent.

"It's tearing you apart."

Spike closed his eyes and Giles watched as he started to cry silently.

"Great things can come from great pain," Giles murmured and Spike looked at him 
sharply.

"That's what Golden kept tellin' me," he mumbled.

"She told me the same thing."

Spike sighed. "What do you want, Watcher? I ain't got much left to give."

"I want you to shut up and get some rest."

"Can't, not by myself . . ."

"Ask me to stay."

Spike stared at him, eyes hard. "I will *never* ask you that again. Never."

"And if I stay anyway?"

Spike sighed and laid down on his side, facing the wall. "Then maybe I'll sleep. 
Maybe, so much in my head, Jesus . . ."

Giles stood and stripped off his coat and climbed on to the cot which was almost 
too narrow for the both of them, and wrapped himself around Spike as tightly as he 
could, doing his best to avoid the chains and burying his face in Spike's neck. 
Spike shuddered.

"Cold," he mumbled.

"I know, I can feel it," Giles murmured, running one hand up and down Spike's arm. 
"Do you want me to say it?"

"I'll never ask for that again, either."

"And if I say it anyway?" Giles whispered against the skin of his neck.

"Then," Spike sighed, "Maybe I can sleep . . ."

"Love you," Giles whispered and suddenly Spike relaxed, almost melting into him, 
and Giles watched for a long time as he slept.

***

Part Six

***

"Giles," she whispered, eyes wide and face drawn from lack of sleep. "I don't 
think I can do this, I can't . . ."

He bent down and grabbed her by the chin and forced her to look at him. "You 
*can*, Buffy, I know that you can."

"How?" she said, starting to cry. "How can you know?"

"Because I know *you*."

She threw herself into his arms and wept.

***

"How's it goin' up there?" Spike asked, passing the bottle of scotch back to 
Giles.

Giles took a long swig and passed it back, sighing. "Not well. Buffy's terrified 
and the girls are completely demoralized and we still have no idea what we're 
dealing with. I've no absolutely no clue as to what . . ." He stopped suddenly at 
the sound of glass shattering and looked to see Spike writhing on the floor, hands 
to his head. "Goddammit," he muttered, sinking to his knees and trying to hold 
Spike steady until it passed.

"*Fuck all*, Watcher," Spike bit out, burying his head in Giles' lap. "Can't take 
much more of this . . ."

Giles' hand moved to the back of Spike's neck, kneading lightly, and Spike 
groaned.

"We'll think of something," he whispered, hoping that it was true.

***

"Oh! Riley!" Buffy said, snapping her fingers and pointing at Giles as the idea 
occurred to her.

"Riley?" Giles asked. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah," she said, pacing the length of the basement, thinking.

"Soldier boy? Yippee," Spike muttered, rolling his eyes.

"Last time he was here, he gave me a number; maybe I can contact him, see if he 
can do anything," she said, glaring at Spike.

"But would he, pet, even if he could?" Spike asked. "The bastard hates me."

"I don't know," she said, frowning. "Even though he *does* kinda owe me after 
showing up here with super-wife . . . Never mind. It's our only shot as far as I 
can tell. Giles?"

"Contact him, if you can."

***

Giles cell rang. "Yes?"

"Giles, Riley sent a team here, to the Initiative Ð we can either fix the chip or 
. . ."

"Or what, Buffy?"

"Or take it out," she said quietly.

He sighed heavily, thinking.

"Giles?"

He sighed again, hoping he wasn't making a tremendous mistake. "Take it out."

"I was hoping you'd say that."

***

 "*Assface?*"

"Yep. Assface."

 "*Assface?* I always did like Riley," Giles said, turning away from Spike to hide 
a grin.

Buffy didn't bother to hide her amusement. "Yep. Assface. Guess that's Riley's 
code name for him, like Eagle One or Captain Peroxide," she said, smirking at 
Spike, a gleam in her eye. "Or, maybe it's a pet name? Like sweetie or 
schnookums?"

Giles snickered and Spike cursed. "Oh, very fuckin' funny, gang up on the vampire 
that's just had his head cut open! Bastards! No offense, Slayer."

"Plenty taken," she said, still grinning.

"Oh, yes, that's right, your head," Giles said. "Did you see anything in there, 
Buffy?"

"In his head? Nope. Just a black, howling void. Echoed a lot."

"BLOODY HELL!" Spike bellowed as Giles and Buffy fell all over each other 
laughing. "And speaking of peroxide, *love*, I seem to have run out, do you mind 
if I borrow *yours?* Oh, wait, my mistake, *you* seem to have run out as well."

 "*WHAT?*" Buffy gasped, hands going to her hair. "Oh, my God! Giles, I haven't 
had my hair done in *weeks*, are my *roots* showing?"

"You look lovely as ever," Giles said, skirting the question as well as he could.

"Carpets don't match the drapes, you know," Spike said, smirking.

Buffy gasped in outrage and Giles pointed at Spike warningly. "Watch it. A little 
respect. Besides, I'd already assumed as much."

Again Buffy gasped and glared at Giles. "You've been assuming about my *carpets* 
and my *drapes?*" she bit out through clenched teeth. "You guys are totally 
disgusting!"

"Of course I haven't, Buffy," Giles said, trying not to laugh, a task made that 
much more difficult because Spike was now giggling insanely. "I just meant that I 
knew you colored your hair, and it just stands to reason that your-"

"STOP IT! Ugh! Spike's been a bad influence on you, I forbid you to see each other 
anymore!"

"GIMME A DRINK!" Spike shouted.

"God, *I* could sure use one now. You guys are just gross, it's like you're twelve 
or something," Buffy grumbled.

Giles sighed and wiped away tears and moved to sit beside Spike on the cot, Buffy 
sitting on the other side and burrowing underneath it for Spike's stash of 
whiskey.

"Seriously, Spike, how do you feel?" Giles asked, leaning back against the wall.

"Awful. On my deathbed. Die any minute now," Spike mumbled, pouting.

"Drama queen."

"Prat."

"Bastard."

"Prick."

"Jeez, you guys do this a lot?" Buffy asked, swigging Spike's whiskey. "Where's 
all the love and support and crap?"

"It's . . . a unique state of affairs, Buffy," Giles said, grabbing the bottle out 
of her hand and taking a long drink himself.

"No kiddin'," she said, rolling her eyes and leaning back.

"Am *I* gonna get a bit of that?" Spike grumbled. "It *is* mine, after all, I 
stole it myself."

Giles rolled his eyes and shoved the bottle into Spike's hand. "Spike, you do 
realize that we're going to have to keep you chained now, at least until we 
understand the trigger, disable it."

"Yeah, right," Spike sneered at him, squirming against the shackles suggestively. 
"You just like the idea of havin' me all tied up, my pretty self helpless against 
your big, strong-"

"And, whoa, here's where I leave," Buffy said, getting up quickly and hurrying up 
the stairs. "Goodnight, you perverts, with your stupid bondage and . . . stupid 
carpets and drapes!" she yelled over her shoulder before slamming the basement 
door shut.

"That was just lovely, Spike," Giles grumbled, casting his gaze toward heaven.

"I don't get it," Spike said, staring up the stairs after Buffy.

"And you're not going to, either, not after that little stunt," Giles muttered, 
grabbing the bottle out of Spike's hand and taking a drink.

"Shut up, ponce. I mean Buffy. She's helped me, time after time, and after what I 
did, after *everything* I've done . . . why?"

"That's just the kind of girl she is. Or, woman, I suppose I should be saying 
now," Giles said thoughtfully. "She believes in you."

Spike stared at him. "And you. Why'd you do this, the chip thing, when you know I 
could still go off, lose it and hurt someone?"

"Because," Giles said quietly. "I believe in you, as well. And I love you."

"You keep sayin' that, I'm gonna start to believe it," Spike murmured, the 
expression on his face softening. "Why?"

"Why? Damned if I know."

Spike scowled and turned away.

Giles smiled. "Why? Because you're soft. Soft places, inside and out, your body 
and your eyes and your mouth. Because you're infuriating, because you're loud, 
because you never let me forget I'm alive, which I'm prone to do. Because you 
know Shakespeare and Thomas Wolfe and Blind Faith and Bruce Springsteen. Because 
you frighten me, because you surrender yourself so completely, because you're 
beautiful. Because you've fought, against all the odds, to keep your humanity. 
Because you're capable of loving for eternity, literally, because I know 
now that hundreds of years from this day you'll remember me, remember everything 
about me, giving me my own sort of immortality. Because you know me like no one 
else has, does or ever will. Because you touch me when it's right and touch me 
when it's wrong. Because you've saved my life, saved the lives of the people I 
love. Because, after Buffy died, you carried her when I could not. Because of the 
way you look when you're with Dawn, because you gave Tara flowers. Because you 
forced me to sleep in that filthy coat for two weeks. Because you need me, because 
I want you, because you're mine."

Spike stared at him, eyes wide. "Jesus Christ, Watcher," he whispered.

"Well, you did ask," Giles said, watching his face closely.

"Please . . ." Spike whispered, straining against the chains.

"Yes," Giles murmured, leaning in to kiss him. "Always yes."

***

"Giles," Buffy said, as she slid on to the stool next to him at the counter in the 
kitchen. "Why is Spike's cot broken? *Again?*"

"I've no idea," he said nonchalantly while reaching under the counter to pinch her 
hard on the thigh. "A nightmare, perhaps? Lots of flailing, writhing, grunting, 
groaning, sweating, that sort of thing?"

"Vampires don't sweat," she said, popping a grape into her mouth and then pinching 
him back even harder. He didn't flinch.

"Oh, right, sorry, the sweating part, that was me," he said, and she shrieked in 
faux disgust and leapt off of the barstool. He grinned and grabbed her around the 
waist and pulled her close. "In this time of utter misery and chaos, the only bit 
of fun you're having is teasing me about Spike, isn't it?" he whispered.

"Well, yeah," she said, one hand over her mouth to cover a grin. "So keep on 
givin' me stuff to tease with."

"Right then," he said, standing. "You know I'll do whatever I can to make you 
happy. Perhaps right now? You could come along if you'd like, watch or, join in, 
maybe?" he said, jerking his head in the direction of the basement door.

She shrieked again and ran like hell.

***

"Buffy, what's your opinion of Robin Wood?" Giles asked as they strolled slowly 
through the darkness under the pretense of patrolling, but in reality escaping the 
overwhelming presence of too many girls in a house that was becoming entirely too 
small.

"Well, he's hot," she said, grinning when Giles sighed in exasperation. "He's one 
of the good guys, a fighter. Dusts vamps like a champ."

"Do you trust him?"

"Well, yeah, I guess. Why?"

"He came to me with an idea about disabling Spike's trigger," Giles said. "He 
wouldn't give me the details, however."

"Really?" Buffy frowned. "No details? That's weird."

"Do you know anything else about him?"

"His mother was a Slayer, she was killed by a vampire when he was little."

Giles stopped in his tracks. "His *mother?*" He paused, thinking quickly. "Buffy, 
I know of only one Slayer in recent memory who had a child, Nicki Wood."

She stared at him. "New York?"

"Yes," Giles muttered, rubbing at his forehead.

"Oh, shit!" she hissed. 

"Run," he ordered, and she did, and he followed as quickly as he could.

***

When Giles arrived Buffy was fussing over Spike, who was bruised and bloodied, 
while Wood stood in the corner, bruised and bloodied himself and staring fixedly 
at Spike, his eyes full of hate.

He didn't remember moving, didn't remember much really, except slamming Wood up 
against the wall and pounding his fist into his face, over and over again, until 
Spike pulled him away.

"Enough, Watcher," Spike said. "He's had his fill for one night."

"What in the hell happened here?" Giles shouted.

Spike sighed. "He set off the trigger, set *me* off, and then he tried to kill 
me," he said tiredly, shrugging into his duster which had been lying on the desk 
next to the computer.

"Bloody hell," Giles spat. "It's still working then? The trigger?"

"No," Spike said, running his hands over his hair. "The fine principal actually 
did me a bit of a favor." He clicked the mouse and the song began to play and he 
stood there for a while with his head hanging, listening, before looking up at 
Giles and Buffy who were watching him closely. He held his hands out wide. 
"Nothin'," he said, and started to leave.

"Wait, Spike . . ."

"No, Watcher. You and the Slayer have a little conversation with Mr. Wood. I can't 
and I won't apologize for what I did to him, because it will never be enough, for 
me or for him, but with everything that's comin', we're gonna need him on our 
side. He's a fighter, he's strong. He's a fuckin' *bastard*, but we need him," 
Spike said and disappeared out into the night.

Giles and Buffy turned to Robin, looked at one another and sighed, and then helped 
him into his house, cleaned him up and bandaged him, and talked to him for the 
greater part of the night.

***

"How's Wood?"

"In a great deal of pain," Giles said with the barest hint of satisfaction.

"Well, good, but I meant is he on board? Do you trust him, Watcher?"

He looked at Spike. "Yes. I do. And I think that you can as well, now."

"Good enough for me."

***

"Xander, oh, God, Giles, I really fucked this up," Buffy whispered, fighting back 
tears.

"Buffy, it was a mistake, yes, but mistakes are made in battle. Xander won't blame 
you for what happened to him, you know that, that's not the kind of man that he 
is. But he *will* be hurt and angry if you keep avoiding him. He needs you, now 
more than ever, *go* to him."

She was silent for a moment, arms wrapped around herself tightly as she stared at 
the floor, then she nodded and left without another word.

***

"Good work, Dawn," Giles said, handing the picture and magnifying glass back to 
her and getting up to grab his jacket. She beamed and he ruffled her hair and then 
she scowled, so he did it again. She scowled even harder so he did it once 
more and she moved to attack him and he leapt away, smiling at her.

"Whatever, Giles!" she said, slouching down in her chair and pouting.

"Really, Dawn, excellent work."

"Whatever," she said, her pout lessening a bit.

"Please continue the research. Spike?"

"What?" Spike said, looking up from the book he was reading.

"We're leaving."

"Thank God!"

***

"Oh, for God's sake, Spike, this will take forever on your little *scooter*," 
Giles sneered.

"IT'S NOT A BLOODY SCOOTER, YOU BASTARD!"

"Moped, then."

"It's not a fucking Moped, either!"

"Vespa?"

"SHUT UP!"

"Turn here, I have a better idea."

Spike scowled but turned anyway.

***

"You know something big is coming when some fool leaves these things lying about 
for the taking. Harley-Davidson FLST Fat Boy," Giles said. "Engine, rigid mount, 
1450cc Twin Cam 88B. Fast, hard, loud. A lot like you, actually. And much better 
than your little *scooter*."

"SHUT UP ABOUT THE FUCKIN' SCOOTER! I MEAN, IT'S *NOT* A SCOOTER! GOD, I HATE YOU! 
And I'm drivin'," Spike said, leaping atop the Harley.

"You bloody well are not!" Giles shouted, shoving Spike backward and sliding 
astride the bike. They struggled with each other for a while, cursing and calling 
each other names and deliberately groping one another before Giles managed to get 
the bike started, revving the engine loudly, and then he roared out of parking lot 
of the Harley dealership, Spike hanging onto him for his dear, undead life.

***

It was impossible to speak over the roar of the engine and the wind, so Spike 
wrapped himself around Giles tightly and buried his face between Giles' shoulders, 
closing his eyes and taking in the scent of him, the myriad smells on the night 
air, the hard vibration of the bike underneath him. Spike sighed and let his hands 
roam, sliding them underneath Giles' shirt and across his chest, fingernails 
scraping roughly against nipples. He smiled to himself, his eyes still closed, as 
he felt Giles' skin warm under his touch, and his hand moved lower, cupping Giles' 
crotch, stroking him through his jeans, and he smiled again when he found him 
already hard, and he moved up on the seat so that he was touching every inch of 
Giles that he could reach, still stroking him and thrusting up against him with 
his hard-on. He grinned when he heard a muffled curse, and then they were swerving 
into a roadside rest stop.

"We don't have time for this, you stupid bastard!" Giles bellowed, switching off 
the bike and hauling Spike off of it and tossing him to the ground, his actions 
belying his words. Spike grinned up at him, toeing off his boots and then working 
on his belt and jeans.

"Won't take long," he said, leering as Giles rolled his eyes and began unfastening 
his jeans. Spike lifted up his hips and squirmed out of his jeans and then Giles 
was between his thighs.

"Legs up, boy," Giles ordered, eyes hard.

"Quit callin' me that, *old man*," Spike whispered, smirking, but hiking his legs 
up high against Giles' shoulders.

"I'll show you 'old man,'" Giles whispered, thrusting into him slowly, and Spike 
closed his eyes and groaned. 

 "*Fuck*,"  Spike moaned. "Faster."

"No," Giles said, breathless, torturing Spike and himself with slow, deep slides 
of his cock.

"Please," Spike said, stroking himself. "God, faster, harder, Watcher."

"*No*!"

"Fuck, thought you were in a bleedin' hurry!" Spike growled, rocking his hips and 
clenching down tight around him.

Giles gasped.  "*Jesus!*" he hissed. 

"Fuck me, Watcher, harder, faster, NOW!" Spike demanded, scratching and clawing at 
Giles' back and shoulders.

"Not unless you say it," Giles groaned, straining now to hold himself back.

Spike smiled and looked up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. "Love you,' he 
whispered and then his head fell back and his eyes closed as Giles began ramming 
into him with hard, deep thrusts. "God, yes, Jesus fuckin' Christ, *yes* . . ."

"Love you," Giles panted, now fucking him frantically. "Oh, God, Spike . . ."

"Never enough, Watcher, can never get enough . . ."

"No, never . . ."

***

"See? Told you that wouldn't take long," Spike said, two hours later. "Can I drive 
now, you ponce?"

"Please do, you bastard. I'm exhausted," Giles sighed.

And so Spike drove the next leg of the trip until they were forced to make another 
stop due to Giles' wandering hands.

***

Spike screeched to a stop in front of Buffy's house and leapt off the bike.

"Y'know, we make it outta this, we're keepin' that thing," he said, lighting a 
cigarette.

"Damn right we are," Giles said, wincing and walking rather gingerly. "I told you 
it was better than your little scooter. What in the hell is going on here?"

The Potentials were gathered in small groups on the lawn and on the porch, arguing 
loudly amongst themselves.

"Dunno," Spike said, squinting. "Where the hell is Buffy, she's usually ridin' 
herd on those little monsters."

"I'll find out."

***

Giles was gone for half an hour before returning to where Spike was leaning 
against the bike.

Spike frowned and straightened. "You're lookin' right fierce," Spike said. "What 
the hell happened?"

"Mutiny, of a sort. They threw Buffy out of the house, the ungrateful little . . 
."

"Hold up, don't say somethin' you'll regret."

Giles sighed and looked about helplessly. "I've no idea where she might be," he 
said, worried and angry.

"I do," Spike said, jerking his head to the east.

"Thank God, I knew you were good for something," Giles said.

Spike glowered and then pulled Giles close and kissed him hard. "I'm good for lots 
of things. We goin' or what?"

"We're going."

***

"Buffy?" Giles slid on to the bed next to her and touched her shoulder as Spike 
lounged against the doorframe, watching. "Buffy."

She shrugged off his touch. "Don't, Giles. I'm out of it, they want me out of it."

He sighed and forced her to roll over to face him. "They don't, Buffy, they're 
just tired and scared . . ."

She propped herself up on her hands, hurt and infuriated. "They kicked me out of 
my own house! *Dawn* kicked me out!"

"She had her reasons, Buffy, one of them being that she thought you needed to get 
out of there, get some distance, some quiet, maybe even a little sleep," Giles 
said softly.

"Well, why didn't she just *tell* me that?"

"Would you have left if she had?"

She stared at him for a long time, eyes filled with tears, before falling back on 
to the bed. "No," she whispered. "Probably not. But Faith . . ."

"Buffy, Faith was right. Those girls did need to blow off a little steam, you've 
made than more than aware that they're likely to die any day. They needed a bit of 
fun and Faith gave that to them. But she wasn't playing good cop intentionally, 
Buffy, the last thing she wanted was to hurt you again."

"You don't know that!"

"I *do* know that, she told me. Buffy," Giles said, grabbing her chin and forcing 
her to look at him. "Faith has changed, she really has changed. Don't you dare 
tell me you haven't felt it. Buffy, you can't continue to let Faith's past hold 
her back; despite what she may say or the way she may act, what you feel about her 
is very important to her. *All* of us hold some responsibility for what happened 
to her; she came to us lost and lonely and broken and all of us pushed her away, 
why do you think she was such as easy mark for the Mayor? He made her feel loved, 
Buffy, and none of us can same the same thing, except, perhaps, for Angel."

"Your *boyfriend*," she grumbled, wiping her face against the pillow.

 "*What?*" Spike hissed, and Giles sighed and waved at him to be silent and then 
cast his eyes toward heaven in supplication.

"Buffy. Faith doesn't want a position of leadership, she knows she's not ready for 
it. She said to tell you she'll do her best until you get back."

"She did?"

"Yes."

She was quiet for a long time and then she sat up suddenly, tears streaming. "Oh, 
God, Giles, I *hit* her, at the Bronze, Giles . . ."

"Do you want to speak with her?"

"Yes. I do, I really do, can you get her here?"

***

"Listen, B, that whole thing . . ."

"Shut up, Faith. Sit down."

Giles and Spike watched from the shadows as Faith and Buffy sat on the bed, facing 
each other.

"B, I'm really sorry . . ."

"Faith, I said shut up! Now you listen to me. *I'm* sorry. I'm sorry I hit you, 
I'm sorry, God, I'm so sorry I stabbed you, I'm sorry I treated you as less than a 
person, I'm sorry for everything, Faith, everything, do you hear me?"

Faith stared at her in shock.

"I'm sorry I haven't given you credit for what you've done, for giving yourself 
up, for going to jail and staying there when you didn't have to, for paying your 
dues, for taking care of Angel, for coming here when you didn't have to, to help 
us. Thank you, Faith, and you can do this, you can lead those girls and you can 
win this, I've seen it in you, Faith, I believe in you, do you hear me? I believe 
in you."

Faith drew back, her eyes wide. "Goddammit, B, don't you fuckin' do this to me, 
all right? I don't cry, right? I don't cry and you're not gonna fuckin' make me 
cry, I swear to God, I'll fuckin' beat the shit outta you if you make me cry, I'm 
nobody's hero, you know that, and don't you fuckin' make me CRY. . ."

"Damn you, Faith," Buffy whispered, flinging herself forward and wrapping her arms 
around Faith's neck. "I . . . love you, all right? There, I said it, don't you 
dare make me ever say it again, you stupid bitch!"

Faith stiffened in Buffy's arms, and then her shoulders hitched, and Giles 
couldn't tell whether she was laughing or crying, he suspected it was some 
combination of both, and then she relaxed into Buffy's arms, sobbing into her 
shoulder, both of them crying now, and then Faith shoved her away abruptly and 
punched Buffy hard on the shoulder.

"OW! Leave it to you to ruin a Hallmark moment!" Buffy muttered before punching 
her back.

Faith stood, rubbing at her arm where Buffy had hit her. "Hey. I told you I don't 
cry, fair warning, right?"

Buffy smiled tiredly, wiping at her eyes. "Right."

"Listen, I'm gonna go beat those girls asses and hold down the fort, but only 
until you come back, okay?"

"Okay," Buffy sighed.

"Good. 'Cause the pay for this gig sucks *total* ass," Faith grumbled as she 
turned on her heel, punching both Giles and Spike on her way out. Buffy giggled, 
hand over her mouth, at their expressions of pain and shock.

***

Giles drifted up out of a deep and peaceful sleep at some point during the night, 
feeling Buffy plastered up against him on one side and Spike curled against him on 
the other and their hands entwined across his chest, and he thought absently as 
sleep again overtook him that as last nights on earth went, there was no way in 
hell it could get better than this.

***

"Where is she?"

"Gone," Spike said, staring out the window, smoking. He tossed the note on to the 
bed and Giles picked it up and read it.

***Dear Pervs,

I think I've figured something out, there's something I have to do. If it works, 
and I think it will, I'll meet you back at the house later.

If it doesn't work, well, I love you guys. Tell Dawn and everyone else the same 
thing. Be careful. Have some perverted fun and live happily ever after for me, 
please? About time somebody did.

Buffy***

Giles sighed and fell back on the bed.

"You want me to go after her?"

Giles was quiet for a long time. "Spike, does something feel different to you?"

"How do you mean, Watcher?"

"I mean . . . the feel in the air. Different, lighter. Maybe a sense of hope?"

"You're feelin' *her*."

Giles looked at him curiously. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Spike said, sitting down on the bed and brushing his fingers lightly 
against the bite mark on Giles' neck, causing him to shiver. "With *this*, you 
feel me. But with her, you're connected, really connected, deep down, Watcher, 
Slayer, father, daughter, friends, brothers in arms Ð you're feelin' her, what 
she's feelin'. She really believes that she's figured this out, she really 
believes now that she's gonna win this thing, and *you* really believe in her. 
That's what you're feelin'."

Giles stared at him. "You're so goddamned smart. Why you pretend otherwise is 
beyond me."

Spike smiled lazily. "Keeps me from havin' to do any work."

Giles snorted. "And how are you feeling?"

Spike slid atop him, nuzzling at the mark on his neck. "I'm feelin' we oughta do 
what the Slayer said, have a bit of fun . . 
."

Giles shuddered and wrapped his arms around him. "Do it again," he whispered.

Spike's head snapped up and he stared at Giles, searching his face, his eyes. "You 
sure?"

"Yes . . ." and already Spike was struggling with Giles' clothes, and his own, and 
when they were finally skin to skin Spike slid along the length of Giles' body, to 
his neck, changed, and bit, and the universe exploded.

***

 "*Jesus Christ!*" Giles groaned, panting, sated and sore and bloodied. "My God. 
It was different that time, better."

"Better?" Spike whispered, still lapping at the blood trickling down Giles neck.

"Yes. Your soul, I think," Giles murmured, eyes closing.

"Yeah, guess it would be different," Spike said, settling against Giles' side with 
a sigh. "Nap?"

"Quick one, yes," Giles whispered, already falling asleep.

***

"Fuckin' brilliant," Spike said.

"I think so, yes. I knew she'd come through," Giles said proudly. Then he tossed 
something into Spike's lap.

Spike stared. "Flowers? For *me*? How very sweet of you, Watcher, so *terribly* 
romantic, I would have preferred whiskey, but these are simply lovely . . ."

Giles rolled his eyes and snatched the yellow daisies away. "Bastard. They're not 
for you. Come along."

***

Spike stared down at Tara's grave, holding the flowers in his hand. "I've never 
been up here," he whispered, sinking to the ground slowly.

Giles settled beside him. "No, I didn't think you had."

"You know, I think she was the only person I ever knew who didn't want nothin' 
from me. Not my strength, not my contacts, not sex, nothin'. She just wanted *me*, 
liked me for who I was," Spike said, wiping at his eyes. "She told me she loved 
me, all the time. For no reason, just to say it, and she really *meant* it."

"She was incredibly special."

"Damn right. I would have killed for her," Spike whispered. He turned suddenly and 
looked at Giles. "Watcher, with the soul now, I feel, more and more, like the 
person I used to be. And I dream about the people I've killed and I howl in my 
sleep over what I've done . . . so *why* am I so glad about what Red did to 
fuckin' Warren? You know full well that if she hadn't done it, I'd have done it 
myself and I wouldn't have regretted it, not one bit."

"Well," Giles said, sighing. "That's human nature, I suppose. I can't say with any 
certainty that if it hadn't been for the risk of losing Willow, that I wouldn't 
have let her kill all three of them."

Spike was staring again at Tara's grave. "She wouldn't have wanted that, though. 
Not another stain on all our souls. She was gentle, about love and light and 
tenderness . . ."

"Golden," Giles whispered.

"Yeah," Spike said, and they sat there for a long time in silence, each communing 
with her in his own way. Then finally Spike laid the flowers at the foot of the 
grave marker, they told her goodbye, and they slowly walked away.

***

"Jesus, Watcher, our last night on earth," Spike groaned, writhing against him.

"I know. Make it count," Giles whispered.

"Love you, God, love you so much, Watcher . . ."

"Love you, more than anything, Spike, love you . . ."

***

"Lovely necklace. Rather large and shiny. It suits you."

"Shut it, Watcher. Supposed to be worn by a hero, Buffy says."

"Then the right person is wearing it."

Spike stared at him and then flung his arms around him kissed him hard. "No matter 
what happens, remember me, please, I love you," he whispered.

"Always. Always, always," Giles murmured, holding him tightly.

***

Wood had been wounded and fell into Giles' arms when the burning sensation in the 
mark on his neck started, causing him to stagger, and then the girls came running, 
and he struggled under Woods' weight to make it outside to the bus as the 
searing light disintegrated the vampires and the earth began to shake, and then 
Faith was there, taking most of Woods' weight and dragging Giles with her and 
barking orders, and then it felt as if he were on fire, white hot light of a 
thousand suns, and he fell, blinded, and then was overtaken by a feeling of 
rapturous joy, freedom and flight, flung into the very center of the universe.

And then it all went black and the constant throb in the mark on his neck gone, 
and he knew.

***

He stared down into the pit that had been Sunnydale. "Buffy?"

"Spike," she said softly.

He put a hand over his mouth and walked to the far side of the bus, and she stared 
after him for a moment before following, wrapping her arms around him. "Great 
things can come from great pain, that's what Tara always used to tell me," she 
said, burying her face in his chest. "He saved the world, Giles We'll remember."

"Always," he whispered into her hair.

She looked up at him, tears in her eyes. "Doesn't make it hurt any less, though, 
does it?"

"No."

They stood there for a long time, holding one another tightly.

It was the last moment they had for the next two months to breathe, much less 
grieve.

***

A couple of weeks later he had managed to get the majority of the girls on flights 
to England, and he and Buffy and Xander and Faith had partially formed a plan on 
what they were going to do when they all finally got there, and he was slogging 
through paperwork and answering entirely too many phone calls from the Council 
when he felt a cool, faint slide against the mark on his neck.

"Giles? You all right?" Buffy asked, frowning.

"I'm fine," he said. "Ghosts."

***

Two months later and suddenly the mark on his neck was pounding, and he wondered, 
touching it constantly, and he even found himself staring at the phone, waiting 
for it to ring, but after weeks went by of nothing but silence, he marked it up to 
grief and trudged on.

***

"Well," Giles sighed, hanging up the phone. "That's an interesting bit of 
information."

"What?" Buffy asked, frowning.

"Angel."

"Angel? Your *boyfriend* Angel?" she said, smirking. He glared. "Hey, *you* 
started it, it's your own fault. What about Angel?"

"Apparently, he's the new CEO of Wolfram & Hart, the branch in Los Angeles. 
Actually, he has been, for several weeks," Giles said, rubbing at his forehead.

 "*What?*" Faith said. "You gotta be kiddin' me, Giles! What in the hell would 
Angel be doin' at Wolfram and fucking Hart?"

"I've no idea," he said.

"Fuck me," Faith mumbled.

"Wait a minute, Angel's taken over the big creepy evil law firm he's been fighting 
all this time?" Buffy asked, staring.

"Apparently so."

"Well, he's got to have a reason for doing that, right? I mean, I saw him right 
before we blew up Sunnydale, he hadn't gone all Angelus on us."

"Maybe not, B, but Wolfram & Hart Ð that place is completely fucked up, 
completely. Serious, wicked bad vibes all over, seems like he'd go all Angelus 
just walking through the front door," Faith said, frowning. "I'm sure he's got his 
reasons and I trust him more than I trust anyone, but I sure as shit don't trust 
Wolfram & Hart."

"Neither do I," Giles said, sighing.

"I should talk to him, then," Buffy said, looking back and forth between Giles and 
Faith.

"I don't think so," Giles said. "I'd rather keep a low profile, as low as possible 
anyway, especially if Wolfram & Hart is involved."

"I'm with Giles, B. You know I dig Angel, do anything for him, but I've been in 
that place, I know what it's like. I say we wait it out, watch him, see what he's 
got goin' on."

"Or, we could just call him and ask," Buffy said, scowling.

"And if he's Angelus, what would he tell you? And even if he isn't, he's still 
vulnerable, it's quite possible that with the kind of tremendous power Wolfram & 
Hart has, he could already be under their influence," Giles said quietly.

Buffy sighed. "Fine. No Angel while this evil law firm thing is going on. I don't 
like it but you guys know more about it than I do."

Faith grinned. "That's right, bitch, and don't you forget it," she said, nudging 
Buffy with her toe.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "You are such a skank, Faith, if I weren't so much more 
mature than you, not to mention prettier, I'd kick your ass."

"Hey!" Faith yelled, kicking her hard.

"Ow!" Buffy screeched and reached over to punch her, and soon they were rolling 
all over the floor of Giles' office, wrestling and cursing and giggling, and he 
grinned and watched with quite a bit of interest before calling a halt.

"Fine," Buffy said, standing and smoothing her hair and kicking Faith one last 
time before leaping out of her reach. "I've got to pack, my plane leaves tomorrow. 
Hey, guess what, I've got a date!"

"Really? With whom?" Giles asked.

"He's *so* . . . he's just *so*," Buffy said, wide-eyed and dreamy.

"You gotta date with some dude named 'So?'" Faith asked from where she was still 
lounging on the floor.

"No, no, his name is . . ." Buffy frowned. "I'm sure he must've told me."

Giles rolled his eyes. "Dear Lord, Buffy, do be careful. Going out with someone's 
whose name you don't even know?"

"What's he look like?" Faith asked.

Again Buffy frowned. "Tall?"

"Bloody hell," Giles muttered.

"Well, whatever, B. Have fun with this tall, So guy," Faith said, hopping to her 
feet. "Later," she said, grabbing Buffy's ass on her way out of Giles' office.

Buffy scowled. "What is her deal? Every time I see her she's feeling me up!"

"You're not the only one," Giles sighed.

Buffy stared at him and then giggled. "Xander needs to get back soon and take care 
of her, you know, needs."

"He most certainly does," Giles said absently, trailing his fingers along the top 
of his desk.

"Hey," Buffy said, moving around the desk to kneel beside him. "You okay?"

He smiled sadly. "No. Not really."

She sighed. "Giles, I'm sorry."

"I know. Thank you," he murmured, hauling her into his lap and squeezing her 
tightly, before shoving her to her feet. "Run along now. Have fun. But for God's 
sake, Buffy, be careful."

"I will, I will. When I see him I'll write down his name, full description, 
everything."

"Good," Giles said, smiling tiredly.

"Try to rest, Giles, okay?"

"I'll try," he promised, though it felt like he'd never sleep again.

***

"Giles, I totally understand that this is totally none of my total business, but I 
have totally got to know," Xander said, pacing nervously in front of Giles' desk.

"What?" Giles asked, frowning.

"You didn't *really* sleep with Angel, did you?"

"Oh, bloody hell."

***

"Andrew."

"Hey, Mr. Giles! I just flew in from L.A. and boy, are my arms tired! Heh, I've 
always wanted to use that joke and I thought it was particularly appropriate 
considering all the flying I've been doing lately, because you know, me being a 
*Watcher* now, well, kinda, anyway, and you know what? That Wolfram & Hart place 
is all kinds of creepy, I was super glad to be out of there, let me tell you, but 
we've got Dana, put her in the hospital in London just like you said, just wish I 
could've gotten there before she cut off Spike's hands, and can I just say *icky* 
and *ow*?  Poor Spike, dude, that's gotta hurt, but he was like *so* brave, you 
know, like he always is, but as creepy as Wolfram & Hart is their medical 
facilities are really outstanding. . ."

Giles' breath caught in shock.

"Hold on, Andrew. Did you say *Spike*?"

"Well, yeah, didn't you read all my e-mails? I sent like twenty, some from the 
plane, even, more super coolness there and yeah, he's all like alive and stuff, 
like I told him, like Gandalf returned from the battle with the Balrog, and did I 
mention that that Angel guy thinks he's the boss of everyone? Not *me*, though, I 
grabbed Dana right out from under his uptight vampire nose. Well, the girls helped 
a little, but that girl Fred? She's *really* cute. DON'T TELL HER I SAID THAT!"

Giles turned away from Andrew, leaning heavily against his desk with both hands. 
Spike, alive, and in Los Angeles with Angel. He closed his eyes for a moment, hand 
going to the mark in his neck and remembering the return of the pain, cursing 
himself, he should have known by now what the pain meant, and he sighed 
and waited for the room to stop spinning, trying to catch his breath before 
turning to face Andrew again.

". . . and it's *so* weird, Harmony was there, she's like Angel's secretary or 
something? And she had to bring me Sprite which I thought was funny because she 
was like so mean to me in high school and now she's like bringing me Sprite? 
LOL as we say in cyberspace! That's what she gets for being so mean and then 
getting turned into a vampire, don't feel sorry for her, not one bit, but she 
*was* wearing Prada, Wolfram & Hart must pay really well . . ."

Giles held up one hand. "Just a moment, Andrew," he said, moving on shaky legs to 
sit behind his desk. "Sit down," he said, "And tell me more about Spike."

Andrew shrugged and flopped down on one of the chairs in front of Giles' desk and 
began his tale.

***

Spike felt it as he strode toward the apartment building but refused to believe 
it, absolutely refused, until he actually opened the door and could really feel 
him, could smell him, and before he knew it he was running, rounding the corner to 
see Giles leaning back against the wall in front of the door to his apartment, and 
he staggered slightly, then froze.

Giles' head jerked up and his eyes widened and Spike's heart ached at the hope and 
fear and love that he saw there. "Jesus," Giles whispered. "God, Spike, Andrew 
said that you were alive but . . ."

Again Spike ran, throwing his arms around Giles' neck and kissing him hungrily, 
reaching around him with one leg to kick the door open and then shoving him 
through it.

"Spike . . ."

"Don't talk, Watcher, don't talk, just touch me, please," Spike whispered 
desperately, kicking the door closed behind them.

***

Part Seven


They were sprawled all over one another on a makeshift pallet on the floor in 
Spike's apartment, Giles lying on his side, his head propped on one hand and the 
other running across Spike's chest and arms, Spike's eyes fluttering shut under 
his 
touch.

"I still can't believe it," Giles whispered. "Why didn't you *call* me? Do you 
realize what I've been going through the past few months?"

Spike flinched at the hurt in Giles' voice. "I dunno. Lots of reasons. I've missed 
you, all of you, awful lonely here without you . . ."

"Then *why*?"

Spike sighed. "It was . . . I was here for so long, bloody  *incorporeal*, stuck 
here, you know? *Couldn't* leave. And then Angel . . . even before what happened 
in Sunnydale I was startin' to get an idea of what he'd been goin' through, all 
these years, the whole soul thing, the guilt, the not sleepin', the needin' to 
make up for what he'd done . . . and I watched him, watched his team, the good 
they been tryin' to do, especially that Fred. She reminds me so much of you and 
Buffy, the way she treats me, like a real person, right? And she especially 
reminds me of Tara, did you know that she told me that she thought I was worth 
savin'?" Spike said, rolling his head and looking at Giles. 

"No, of course I didn't know. But between you and Andrew she sounds like a fine 
girl."

"She is, she really is. They're a good group, Wes, even" Spike said and Giles 
smiled.

"Wesley has come a long way," Giles said.

"Yeah, he has, considerin' he was Head Boy," Spike snorted and Giles drew up and 
glared.

"Now, hang on!" Giles said.  "*I* was Head Boy as well!"

"Bet you were," Spike murmured, rolling on to his side and plastering himself up 
against Giles. "Bet you were best Head boy ever."

"Stop that! Tell me why you haven't *called*," Giles grumbled.

Spike was silent for a long time, trying to find the right words. "Scared, for 
one, I guess. Wasn't sure what the lot of you would say, if maybe you were done 
with me once I'd done my bit." He brushed his fingers against the mark on Giles' 
neck. "And I knew you must've felt it, Watcher. And I waited, every day, for you 
and you never came. I thought you were done. With me. Watcher . . . why didn't you 
come?" he whispered, looking up at Giles with eyes that were, after all they'd 
been through, still full of doubt and hurt and fear. "I've been waitin' so long . 
. ."

Giles grabbed him by the jaw and kissed him hard. "Jesus . . . yes, I felt it, but 
Spike, I had *no* idea what it meant, had no idea where you were, or even *if* you 
were! I wondered and I waited but when there was no word I thought it must 
have been wishful thinking. But I was never done with you, Spike, I never will 
be," Giles whispered.

"You have been before," Spike said, staring at the ceiling. "Been done with me, I 
mean. Left me."

"That changed, Spike, *I* changed . . ." Giles said, voice soft with regret. "If 
I'd known what had happened, Spike, I would have been here in a heartbeat, taken 
you home."

Spike smiled slightly. "My white knight," he said, with just the barest hint of 
mockery.

"Oh, I suppose you could say that. If you must," Giles said, smiling. Then he 
became serious again. "But Spike, don't you ever doubt me again. I'll always be 
there, always."

Spike stared at him, eyes searching his face, and then he smiled. "I know that 
now, Watcher," Spike murmured, running his hand along Giles' jaw.

"Then come home with me," Giles said softly.

"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, but I can't," Spike said, staring at Giles intently. 
"I've gotta see this through."

"See *what* through?"

"Well, that's the bitch of it, Angel won't tell anyone what he's got planned, the 
stubborn bastard. But whatever it is, Watcher, I believe in it and I believe in 
him."

Giles sighed. "So odd to hear you talk about him this way." He paused for a 
moment. "You've taken up with him again, haven't you?"

Spike winced. "Yeah," he said quietly and then reached out to grab Giles when he 
felt him stiffen and pull away. "But it was different; it was habit, comfort, 
solace. It was a couple of times on a couple of really bad nights is all, right? 
You understand that, Watcher? I missed you, God, so much, and he misses Cordelia 
and he's *still* moonin' over Buffy, not to mention his son . . ."

"Wait, *what*?"

***

"Jesus Christ," Giles said after Spike had finished his story, falling on to his 
back and staring at the ceiling. "And where is this child?"

"That was part of the deal. Angel gave the kid over, new family, new life, and in 
return he took over Wolfram & Hart."

"Fuck," Giles muttered.

"Right," Spike sighed. "None of 'em remember it, so don't tell the rest."

"I won't," Giles whispered. "But Spike . . . Angel is incredibly vulnerable in 
this situation. And as much as I might trust his motives, I do *not* trust him 
under these circumstances, not while he's at Wolfram & Hart."

"Well, don't figure I would either, if I weren't on the inside, watchin'," Spike 
said. He sighed and suddenly rolled on top of Giles. "We done talkin'? We all made 
up? Say it!"

"I bloody well will *not*, not while you're involved with *Angel*," Giles muttered 
in disgust, turning away when Spike tried to kiss him.

Spike grinned. "Fine, no more Angel. I told you, it was just a couple times."

Giles glared. "Do you swear?"

"I swear, I swear, I bloody well swear! Say it! Say it, say, it say it! And then 
fuck me some more!" Spike ordered, and then leaned down to nip sharply at Giles' 
shoulder.

"God, you're insufferable."

"SAY IT! Please?"

"Fine. Love you," Giles said grudgingly. "But if I find out that he's touched you 
again, first I'll kill him and then I'll kill *you*. And I'm not staying in this 
dreary apartment one more moment, I'm only here for three days, and if you won't 
come home with me then at least come back to the hotel."

"Expensive?"

"Ridiculously."

"Minibar?"

"Of course."

"Room service?"

"Yes, for Christ's sake!"

"Bath?"

Giles sighed and rolled his eyes. "Huge. Jacuzzi."

"You're stickin' it to the Council, aren't you?"

Giles smiled slightly. "Perhaps."

"Whips and chains?"

Giles eyes darkened. "If you'd like."

"I'm your man, then," Spike said, grinning, and then leapt to his feet and started 
dressing. "And why're you so jealous? Is it because of me or because of *Angel*? 
'Cause you know, everybody knows you two had a thing . . ."

"OH, FOR GOD'S SAKE!"

***

"Angel, I'm outta here for the next couple of days, got my phone thingy if you 
need me but only if it's *really* important, like naked pictures of Buffy or 
somethin', got it?" Spike said, adding Buffy's name simply for the provocation 
factor.

Angel's head snapped up and his face hardened. "Giles."

"Yeah. Later, then."

Angel came around his desk and grabbed Spike by the lapels. "He's here."

Spike rolled his eyes. "No, Angel, he's in England, I fucked him metaphysically on 
an astral plane or some such rot."

"What in the fuck do you think you're *doing*?"

Spike smirked. "Havin' two days off, gettin' off, fuckin' a rather hot Englishman 
senseless."

"Goddammit, Spike!" Angel shouted, shaking him.

Spike pushed him away. "Oh, shove it with the jealousy, that ain't you talkin', 
that's Angelus, thought you were tryin' to get away from that whole bit."

Angel leaned back against his desk, arms crossed and glowering. "Why is he here?"

"For me."

Angel scowled. "You're not leaving, are you?"

"Why, Angel, didn't know you cared. Wait, actually I did. And for the record, no."

"Good," Angel said grudgingly. "We'll need you."

"I know. Bye now," Spike said, turning to leave.

"Spike, wait . . . what does he think of all this? We may need his help down the 
road."

Spike sighed and turned back. "Let's see; he thinks you're an idiot for bein' 
here, doesn't understand *why* you're here, doesn't trust you, hates your hair and 
thinks you're fat. Oh, and he thinks you dress like a male prostitute. NOW 
GOODBYE ALREADY!" Spike bellowed and stormed out. Then he popped back in. "He did, 
though, think you were precious as a wee puppet man, I showed him the pictures. 
Ta!" And he was gone again.

Angel groaned in frustration and buried his face in his hands.

"He thinks I'm *fat*?" he whispered to himself.

***

 "*God*, Watcher," Spike sighed, draping himself across Giles' chest. "I've missed 
you."

"At least you haven't been moping around for weeks thinking I was fucking *dead*," 
Giles grumbled, ruffling his fingers through Spike's hair.

"You gonna let that go any time soon?"

"Not bloody likely," Giles muttered.

Spike smiled and closed his eyes, running one hand over Giles' body. "Leaner. 
Harder. Nice."

"Hundreds of girls to train and very few people to train them, that's what 
happens."

"Like it," Spike murmured, then he froze suddenly. "Oh, *bloody* hell," he 
mumbled.

Giles frowned. "What?"

"Wait for it . . ." Spike sighed.

Suddenly the door was kicked open and Giles looked up to see Angel standing there, 
scowling. 

"Oh, for God's sake! Are the two of you utterly incapable of opening a door 
properly?" Giles spat, looking from Spike to Angel.

"Wasn't sure you'd let me in, what with you not trusting me and hating my hair and 
all!" Angel shouted, throwing his arms out wide. Spike snorted and hid his face in 
Giles' chest.

 "*What*?" Giles said.

"Never mind! I need to talk to you, Giles," Angel said, moving to stand at the 
foot of the bed.

Giles sighed and leaned back against the pillow, putting one arm behind his head 
while reaching for Spike's cigarettes with the other hand, pulling one out and 
lighting it, his eyes on Angel all the while. "I don't believe there's anything we 
need to discuss, Angel," he said, squinting at Angel through the smoke. "I'll have 
nothing to do with you while you're at Wolfram & Hart."

"Well, you sure don't seem to have a problem showing up here and fucking an 
obnoxious, pain in the ass vampire who *also* happens to be at Wolfram & Hart!" 
Angel snarled.

Giles sat up suddenly, grabbing Angel by the shirt collar and yanking him down so 
that they were face to face. "You'll watch the way you speak about Spike, and the 
way you speak about me, Angel, I'm perfectly capable of killing you just for 
the hell of it and you'd do well to remember that," Giles hissed, his face and 
eyes hard.

"Well, well, a cat fight over little ol' me," Spike said smugly, rolling on to his 
side and propping his head in his hand. "Do go on."

"Shut up, Spike!" Giles and Angel said simultaneously. 

Angel yanked himself free of Giles' grip, sighed, and started pacing along the 
foot of the bed. "Listen, Giles, I'm not here to start a fight, I'm here because 
we might need your help."

"You won't get it. Not under these circumstances."

"Giles, I've got a plan . . ."

"That you won't share with anyone. No, Angel."

Spike sighed and rolled his eyes. "Gods, the two of you can be such complete 
idiots . . ."

"Shut up, Spike!" Giles and Angel again said in unison, and Spike leapt off the 
bed and began dressing.

"Know what? I'm bloody well sick and fuckin' tired of bein' told to shut up! You!" 
he yelled, pointing at Angel. "You can't ask him for help if he doesn't know what 
in the hell you need it for! And you!" he said, turning to Giles. "You've known 
him long enough, why don't you trust him? You could at least hear him out!" He 
shrugged into his duster. "I'm gettin' the hell outta here, have fun buttin' heads 
and gettin' absolutely NOTHIN' FUCKIN' DONE!" The door to the hotel room slammed 
and Angel and Giles stared after him.

"Good God," Giles said finally. "He's really coming into his own."

"Yeah," Angel said grudgingly. "He is."

Giles turned to stare at him. "Don't you dare hurt him, Angel. I *will* kill you."

"For God's sake, Giles! I'd never hurt him, not now, at least not intentionally. 
He's here because of the connection, the blood, you've got some idea about that, 
now," Angel said, nodding at the mark on Giles' neck. "He'll always be there 
when I need him, and I'll always be there when he needs me, that's why he's still 
here! But *I'm* not the one who can hurt him, not in the way you mean. *You've* 
got the power now to hurt him like that, not me. So let me reverse that threat, 
don't *you* hurt him or *I'll* kill you!"

They glared at one another for a long time before Giles finished his cigarette and 
stubbed it out on his bare heel and then flicked the butt at Angel.

"Pfft!" Angel said, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms. "Was that supposed to 
impress me?"

"Did it?" Giles asked, voice hard.

"Pshh! No! Well, yeah, kinda," Angel admitted, grumbling, and sat down on the love 
seat across from the bed. "All right, listen, Giles, please. I *am* working on 
something and no, I haven't told anybody what it is, partially to keep them all 
safe and partially because I don't have all the details yet."

Giles regarded him in silence before finally speaking. "So what is it you think 
you need from me?"

"I have no idea, I don't know that we'll need *anything* from you, but it'd be 
nice to know you guys were there for us if we call."

"I won't commit to anything, Angel, not until I know all the details. And even 
then I might not be willing to render any assistance, especially if it involves 
putting any of mine in any more danger than they already are."

Angel sighed. "Well, are you willing, as things progress and I feel safer about 
letting everyone in on what's going on, to at least consider helping us? On some 
fronts, at least?"

Giles stared at him for a long time through narrowed eyes. "Depending upon what 
type of help you may need and how dangerous it might be, yes, I'll consider it."

Angel rubbed at his forehead. "Guess that's all I can ask for now."

"And that's all I can offer, for now."

Angel heaved a heavy sigh and fell back on the love seat, all trace of animosity 
gone, and began picking at the upholstery. "So. How's things? You look good. 
How's, you know . . . Buffy?"

Giles sighed. "She's fine."

"Giles, you don't . . . really think I'm fat do you?"

 "*What*?"

"And, Giles," Angel said, lowering his voice to a whisper and leaning forward and 
fidgeting with embarrassment. "Why is everybody suddenly asking me if we, you 
know,  *slept together*?"

Giles clapped a hand over his eyes and fell back on the bed with a groan.

***

"Please, please, stay, Watcher, just a little longer, so afraid I'll lose you 
again," Spike whispered against the skin of Giles' neck.

"I'll see what I can do, two more days, perhaps," Giles said. "But you can still 
come back with me, you know."

"Can't," Spike sighed, and wrapped himself around Giles as if he would never let 
go.

***

"I suppose there's no point in asking you again?" Giles said, arms around Spike's 
waist, his forehead resting against Spike's. "I just got you back."

"No," Spike sighed. "You could stay here, you know."

"I can't."

"DON'T LEAVE, YOU UTTER BASTARD!"

"DON'T YOU BLOODY STAY!"

Spike buried his face in Giles' neck and brushed his lips lightly against the 
mark, smiling a bit when Giles shuddered. "We're fucked. And not in a fun, dirty 
way," Spike said mournfully. "I'll miss you, Watcher, will you come back?"

"I'll try." Giles smiled and kissed him.  "*Call* me," he whispered.

"I will, if I can figure out how this fuckin' phone thingy works. Don't forget 
me!"

Giles laughed, and then sighed and held Spike tightly. "How could I possibly 
forget you?" he asked, bring Spike's fingers to the mark on his neck. "You'll 
always be here."

"AND DON'T YOU BLOODY WELL FORGET IT!"

Giles sighed and rolled his eyes. "Be careful, Spike, that place is goddamned 
dangerous, if you die again, I'll kill you. And stay the fuck away from Angel."

"Jealous," Spike whispered, smiling.

"Damn right. Say it."

"Love you," Spike murmured, reaching up to kiss him.

Giles closed his eyes and sighed again. "Goddammit, Spike. Love you, too," he 
whispered.

***

"Watcher."

"Spike," Giles said, putting a hand to his mouth as he smiled. "I see you've 
mastered the art of the cell phone."

Spike sighed. "Nope. Fred dialed it for me. Listen, Watcher, I called for a 
reason, I need somethin'."

Giles frowned. "Is everything all right?"

"No."

"What is it? What do you need?"

"I need to know what you're wearin'. And then I need you to take it off."

Giles froze and only his eyes moved to take in the crowd around his desk, Willow, 
Faith, Xander; and Buffy, who was grinning maniacally.

"Spike," he said calmly. "Perhaps I should let you know that you're on 
speakerphone? And that I'm in a room full of people who can *hear* you?"

"That right? Hey, all! NOW GET THE HELL OUT OF THERE SO I CAN HAVE A GOOD PHONE 
FUCK WITH THE WATCHER!"

Giles groaned and buried his head in his hands as Buffy and Faith fell all over 
each other, laughing and hooting and herding a giggling Willow and a shell-shocked 
Xander out of Giles' office.

Giles sighed and picked up the receiver. "I'll never live that down, you know, you 
utter bastard."

"They gone?"

"Yes," Giles bit out through clenched teeth.

"Good. What're you wearin'?"

***

"Giles? Just listen to me Ð what? Dammit!" Angel bellowed and hurled the phone as 
hard as he could at Spike's head. Spike snatched it out of the air.

"I *told* you to let *me* call him, you idiot!" Spike hissed before putting the 
phone to his ear.

Angel sighed and paced in front of his desk while Spike talked softly into the 
phone. "Hey, Angelkins," Lorne whispered, leaning forward and grabbing Angel's 
arm. "Why is Spike our contact with this Giles cat? I thought it'd be Wesley, or 
you, didn't the two of you have, you know, a little of the forbidden 
Vampire/Watcher love that dare not speak its name, although I guess I *did* just 
speak its name, but didn't you? Back in the day?"

Angel groaned and clapped a hand over his eyes.

***

"Watcher? It's Fred. Please."

Giles looked at Willow, who nodded frantically and leapt up and ran from the room.

He sighed. "Fine, Spike, I'll allow her to come, but you're to be with her at all 
times, am I understood? Never leave her alone, with anyone, it could be terribly 
dangerous for her at Wolfram & Hart, considering how powerful she's become."

"She'll be safe, Watcher, I swear to God."

"Right, then. She has to meet with the coven in order to be there as quickly as 
possible Ð and the teleportation makes her ill, be ready for that as well, and 
Spike, *please* . . ."

"Got my word."

Giles sighed. "That's good enough for me, then."

Spike was silent for a moment. "Thank you, Watcher. Love you."

"Love you, too, Spike, and for God's sake take care of yourself as well."

"I will."

***

Giles waited, fingers drumming on the desk top, then he winced as the mark on his 
neck flared and he picked up the phone and dialed immediately. "Spike," he 
whispered. "I'm so sorry. I know how much she meant to you."

He listened for a long time as the grief poured down the telephone line, and when 
Willow appeared in the doorway, face drawn and tearstained, he motioned her 
forward and pulled her onto his lap and she cried on his shoulder, and he 
comforted her with touch and comforted Spike with soft words until they were all 
too tired to cry anymore.

***

"Watcher. Warm up the bed."

 "*What*?"

"Angel's got a thing in Rome, I've convinced him to drop me at your place."

Giles could hear Angel bellowing in the background and put a hand over his mouth 
to cover a grin. "Don't tell me, you . . ."

"Knocked him around for an hour and when that didn't work I threatened blackmail."

"Blackmail?"

"Those wee puppet man pictures."

Giles started giggling uncontrollably, tears streaming down his face. "You mean he 
doesn't know about Dawn's website, AngelPuppet.com?"

"Shut it, Watcher, he'll hear you! Well, he would if he'd quit all that bloody 
screamin'. ANGEL! We goin' or what?" Spike shouted. Giles heard more grumbling in 
the background. "Good then, you twit. Watcher?" he said, speaking to Giles again. 
"We're on our way."

Giles closed his eyes and sighed as a thrill shot through him. "How long?"

"Four hours."

"Thank God," Giles muttered, hanging up and then rushing around, banishing 
everyone from the house for the next 24 hours.

***

 "*Fuck*,  Watcher, so good," Spike bit out through clenched teeth, bracing 
himself against the headboard. "Good and hard, Jesus fuckin' *Christ*, so good . . 
."

 "*God*,"  Giles groaned. "Oh, *God*!"

"Love you, Watcher, *Christ*, love the way you *fuck* me . . ."

"Love you, so goddamned beautiful . . ."

***

"So, Giles," Faith said, leaning against his desk. "Getting' a new bed, huh? Hmm, 
wonder why that could be?"

He flushed and hid his face in his hands.

***

"Buffy!" Giles said, pulling her into his arms. "How have you been? You've been 
gone too long."

"Been great," she said, grinning up at him.

Giles rolled his eyes. "The Immortal?"

"Oh, yeah. Big yeah. And hey, you know what? Neither Dawn nor I have been inclined 
to kill Andrew. Weird, huh?"

"Quite, actually," Giles said, taking a seat behind his desk.

"Oh, and you know what else? Angel put a tail on me!"

"Angel did *what*?"

"He's had some guy following me all around Rome."

"What in the bloody hell for?"

She propped her elbows on his desk and fluttered her eyelashes. "Because he 
*loves* me. In a really weird, stalkery kind of way. Jealous?"

Giles glared and she smirked.

"Seriously, though," she said, sighing. "I'm having tons of fun with the Immortal, 
but I really kind of miss Angel. I mean, *really* miss him. I thought the tail 
thing was kind of sweet, if, you know, stalkery."

Giles looked at her thoughtfully. "You really still love him. After all this 
time."

"Yeah," she said, picking up a pen from Giles' desk and toying with it. "I think I 
always will. Giles, you've had lots of contact with both him and Spike, 
*especially* Spike, with all your perverted phone sex," she said, grinning at his 
put-upon sigh. "Surely you have a better idea now of what's going on there. Are 
you absolutely sure we can't help them? Whatever they need? Giles, I understand 
it's Wolfram & Hart, but I also understand *Angel*, I *know* him. Can we, you 
know, reconsider the boycott?"

"It hasn't exactly been a complete boycott," he said quietly.

"I know. But we haven't helped them as much as we could, either." She looked at 
him. "Will you at least think about it? For Angel's sake? For mine? For Spike?"

He stared at her for a long time, thinking.

***

"Angel, enough, you gotta tell us what's goin' on!" Spike yelled.

"Nothing is going on, nothing that I can *tell* you."

"What, you're gonna hold off to the eleventh hour?"

"Of course not!"

"You're a bloody awful liar," Spike muttered and stormed out of Angel's office.

***

"Well?" Spike said, looking at Wesley and Gunn in turn. "What do you think?"

Wesley and Gunn looked at one another and then Wesley sighed, sinking wearily into 
the chair behind his desk. "I think we should try it," he said, rubbing at his 
face.

"Me, too," said Gunn. "I'm in."

"Good. Four days. One of you talk to Lorne. Wes, what about Blue? I think she 
should be involved."

Wesley looked up at him with tired eyes. "I think she should, as well."

"Right," Spike said.

***

Wesley, Gunn, Lorne, Illyria and Spike entered Angel's office four days later and 
stood as a group in front of his desk.

Angel sighed. "What?"

"I'm calling a meeting," Wesley said.

"A meeting? What for?"

"There's something we need to discuss, Angel."

"There's *nothing* we need to discuss, Wes," Angel muttered, scowling.

"I believe otherwise. Do you care to come along?

Angel glared. "Come along *where*?"

"As I've said, I'm calling a meeting. Off-site." Wesley glanced at Spike. "Death 
Valley."

"Jesus Christ, Wes, I don't have time for this shit!"

They locked eyes, saying nothing while saying quite a lot.

"Fuck," Angel muttered, finally. "Fine."

***

"I think we're clear," Wesley said. "We haven't been followed and I haven't been 
able to detect any sort of listening devices, either on the SUV or any of us, and 
certainly not in here." He glanced around, peering through the gloom of the 
abandoned opera house. "So, Angel, please. Tell us what's going on."

Angel paced, one hand over his mouth. "I *can't* tell you! There's too much risk 
involved, I can't afford to lose any more of you!"

"Angel," Wesley said. "All of us already know that loss is an inevitable part of 
what we do. Tell us what you're planning."

"You know, Angel, it might just be possible that we could, oh, I don't know, 
*help*?" Gunn said pointedly, glaring.

"I can't believe you guys are ganging up on me," Angel muttered.

"Angel, we're not ganging . . . well, actually, I suppose we are," Wesley said, 
smiling slightly. "But I've known you for years, Angel, and when the stakes are 
high you tend to go off on your own and take up the burden by yourself. Don't do 
that this time."

"Angel," Spike said quietly. "Tell us."

Angel sighed and sat down. "Fine. But don't come crying to me when you all end up 
dead."

***

"So. That's it. Happy, now?" Angel said, scowling.

Gunn and Wesley stared at each other for a long time and then looked back at 
Angel.

"Sign me up," Gunn said, sighing and leaning against a wooden grate.

"I'm on board, as well," Wesley said.

"I will kill whomever you please," Illyria said, "As long as it pleases me."

Angel's head jerked up. "You're kidding. You actually think this will work?"

"What, you didn't?" Wesley asked, smiling.

"Well, I wasn't sure, I'm *still* not sure . . . do you really think it's a good 
idea?" he asked, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

"I think it's bloody brilliant," Spike said. "Watcher?"

Giles stepped out of the shadows and Angel's eyes widened. "I think it's suicidal 
at best, especially in its current configuration," Giles said, moving to stand in 
front of Angel and crossing his arms. "But I also think it's incredibly brave. 
Heroic, even."

"What the hell are *you* doing here?" Angel shouted, glaring. "Why didn't I sense 
you, why . . ."

"Oh, that'd be me," Willow said, grinning, and moving to stand beside Giles. 
"Mystical shields, you know, that kind of stuff."

Angel stared at both of them, dumbfounded, and then turned again to Giles. "Don't 
tell me you're here to *help*," he grumbled, glowering.

"Well, no, I hadn't intended to until I knew what you were planning, and now that 
I know, you have our support. Well, *my* support, at any rate, there are others 
who are involved in making the final decision," Giles said.

Angel's head dropped. "Buffy," he whispered.

"Yep, that'd be me," she said, she and Faith suddenly standing at Giles' side. 
"And whatever you need, Angel, you got it."

They stared at one another for a long time, and then she smiled, and before she 
could blink she was swept up in his arms and he was kissing her, deeply and for a 
very long time.

"Whoa, kids, slow down," Faith said, grinning. "I'd tell you to get a room, but we 
all know what might happen if you did."

Buffy and Angel glared at her and then Angel slung out one arm to pull her close, 
and then he looked at Giles. "You sure about this? It's gonna be big, Giles, 
really big, and if we fuck it up all of us are screwed."

"Then we'd best not fuck it up, then," Giles said. "Angel, you should work with 
Buffy and Faith, get things coordinated, and I'll see about bringing the girls 
over in shifts, we wouldn't want to attract attention by bringing the whole lot at 
once. And tell me," he said, walking over to Lorne and staring at the gun Lorne 
was holding with a great deal of distaste. "This Lindsey, he's the one who brought 
Faith into this mess, correct?"

"Yeah, one of 'em," Faith said, frowning.

"Then he's mine," Giles said, holding out his hand to Lorne. "That is, if you 
don't mind, Lorne?"

 "Mind?" Lorne said, handing the gun over carefully. "Of course I don't mind, I 
could just kiss you, you long tall pint of British ale, Angelbuns, I can see why 
you fell for this guy, I mean come on, look at him!" Lorne said, beaming.

Spike and Buffy giggled while Angel and Giles sighed in unison.

Faith walked over to Giles and wrapped her arms around him. "Thank you. Nice to 
know you got my back," she said quietly, and he smiled and kissed her on the 
cheek.

***

"Another last night on earth," Giles panted against the skin of Spike's back.

"Yeah, Watcher, make it count, make it count," Spike groaned.

***

"Don't say it," Giles whispered.

 "*Don't*?" 

"No. Because it would feel like goodbye."

Spike slid his arms around Giles' neck and kissed him. "I'll be back."

"You damn well better."

***

"Good sword play, English," Lindsey said, smirking. "Not as good as mine, of 
course, but good."

"Years of training," Giles said, reaching into his pocket. "Tell me, Lindsey, do 
you remember Faith?"

Lindsey frowned. "That's a weird question, what's she got to do with anything?"

"Just answer it, please. Do you remember her?"

"Faith? The Slayer bitch? Yeah, she was hard core, we had high hopes for her. 
Heard she's busted out, maybe I'll track her down . . ."

Giles raised the gun and fired six times.

***

"BLOODY HELL ANGEL, YOU'VE SLAIN THE FUCKIN' *DRAGON*!" Spike bellowed over the 
sound of the battle.

"I know," Angel said, grinning like a madman.

***

"Dammit, Eve, quit shifting it into neutral!"

"Stop yelling at me Lindsey, I'm nervous enough as it is!"

"I can't believe that fuckin' Englishman shot me six fuckin' times and didn't kill 
me! It's like he did on purpose or something! Godammit, I'm bleedin' all over the 
seat, I just got it restored, original!"

"Where are we going?"

"Oklahoma."

"What about the senior partners?"

"You think the senior partners are gonna look for us in fuckin' *Oklahoma*?"

"Are we coming back?"

"Fuck yeah, we're comin' back," Lindsey snarled. "Just not, you know, for a while. 
Couple years, maybe. And then, I swear to God . . ."

"You're going to kill Angel," Eve finished for him, sighing and rolling her eyes 
and grinding the gears.

***

The battle raged on four fronts, Angel, Spike, Wesley, Gunn and Illyria in the 
alley outside the Hyperion, Willow hiding in the shadows and throwing up wards 
when necessary; Faith and Xander leading an attack from the west and Kennedy from 
the east, and Buffy coming at the demon hordes from the rear, and all of the 
Slayers having the time of their lives.

***

Suddenly all was quiet, most of the demon army either dead or dying or fleeing, 
and the AI team stared at one another, stunned.

"We did it," Gunn said finally, grinning slowly. "We fuckin' did it!"

"I'll be damned," Wesley said, slumping up against the wall and staring at Angel. 
"Congratulations, Angel, that was incredible Ð Angel?"

"Guys," he mumbled as he fell to his knees. "I don't feel so good."

"God, are you hurt?" Gunn asked, running to his side.

"Little bit," Angel said, wrapping his arms across his belly.

"Oh, my God," Willow whispered, coming out of the shadows. "Angel. Don't you feel 
it?"

"Feel what, like shit? Yeah, I feel it," he said, wincing.

Spike's eyes widened and he ran over to where Angel was kneeling. "No, you stupid 
git, she means do you *feel* it, THIS!" he shouted, taking Angel's hand and then 
stopping, wincing in pain and doubling over. "Oh, *bloody* hell," he bit out 
before collapsing.

***

Giles was making his way as quickly as he could to the Hyperion when the throb in 
the mark on his neck stopped. He staggered, putting one hand up against a wall for 
support. "God, no," he whispered, and then he ran.

***

What he saw when he got there shocked him.

It was a celebration, Angel on his knees and smiling a pained smile while the rest 
laughed and cried and shouted, and Spike, God, he thought, knees buckling, Spike 
*was* there, yelling and flinging his arms around everyone's necks and grinning 
maniacally, and Giles smiled through his daze to think that a vampire could feel 
that much crazy, wild, loud love for so very many people.

* "You've known all along, Watcher, that . . ."*

*"This one does, yes."*

*"And Mr. Giles," she whispered, smile in her voice. "It's 'former' vampire now."*

Spike's head whipped around and he pinned Giles with his gaze, and then ran and 
pinned him with his arms. "God, Watcher, I heard her . . ."

"So did I," Giles whispered, reaching up to cup Spike's face and then sliding his 
hands down to his neck. "Jesus, Spike," he said, stunned.

"I know, I know, it's horrible," Spike muttered, and Giles shook his head in 
exasperated disbelief at the thought Spike would find his reward horrible, and 
then Spike wrapped his arms around Giles' neck and kissed him hard. "Where's the 
Slayer, Angel needs her, God, there'll be no stoppin' 'em now, it'll actually 
probably get quite disgustin' . . ."

Giles laughed. "Spike. Shut up, kiss me one more time," Spike did. "Keep your arms 
around me," Spike did. "And watch," he said, nodding his head, and Spike turned to 
look as Buffy elbowed her way through the crowd of Slayers to stand in front of 
Angel, staring down at him with wide eyes.

"Is it true?" she whispered.

"Yeah," he said, looking up at her, still not really believing. "I don't know how, 
I signed it away . . ."

"WHAT?" Wesley bellowed but Gunn waved him off, rolling his eyes.

"Angel. One thing I've learned this past year? Contracts are meant to be broken," 
Gunn said, grinning.

"God," Angel said, eyes wide. "It's for real?"

"It's for real, man," Gunn said, clapping him on the back and making Angel wince.

Angel turned back to Buffy, who was crying now, and started to struggle to his 
feet but she tackled him, arms around his neck, kissing him. "God, I love you, 
Angel," she said, crying and laughing. "Love you, love you, love you, always have 
and always will."

He smiled. "I love you, too, Buffy," he whispered. "But, uh, ouch."

"Oh, sorry! Sorry!" she said, sliding off him and helping him to his feet, and 
Giles looked around, the wide smiles on the faces of everyone on Angel's team, 
Willow grinning and crying at the same time and giving high fives to a laughing 
Faith, and he found himself crying as well and he wiped at his eyes, then noticed 
that Spike was doing the same.

"Why, Spike," he said. "Are you crying?"

"NO I BLOODY WELL AM NOT!"

"It's quite understandable, it *is* very romantic . . ."

"SHUT UP! I AM *NOT* CRYING!"

"We all weep in situations like this . . ."

"STOP IT, YOU BASTARD!" Spike bellowed, shoving at him, and Giles shoved back, 
laughing, and then both sets of eyes widened in surprise at the ease with which 
Giles pushed him away.

Giles grinned. "Oh, yes, I think I'm really going to enjoy this new set of 
circumstances . . ."

"Ponce," Spike grumbled, burying his face in Giles' chest.

"Giles!" He looked up to see Buffy running toward him. "Look out!"

The last thing he remembered was a searing pain slicing through his gut.

***

"Well, Slayer?" Spike whispered, sitting at Giles' bedside.

"It *is* serious, Spike," she said, tears in her eyes. "He's in critical 
condition. I'm so sorry, Spike, I should have been watching, I thought we'd gotten 
them all . . ."

"Not your fault, Slayer," Spike said, turning his gaze back to Giles. "If I hadn't 
been *human* I'd have seen it comin', stopped it . . ."

"Guys, don't," Angel said quietly. "It's nobody's fault. All we can do now is 
wait."

And so they did, the three of them, everyone else in and out for short visits, for 
the next two weeks.

***

"Look who's awake finally!"

Giles struggled to focus. "Buffy?" he said, voice hoarse.

"Yep," she said, grabbing his hand. "How you feel?"

"Like . . . like I've been run through with a sword," he whispered.

"Well, that's good then, I guess, 'cause that's what happened. Giles, I'm so 
sorry, I tried to get there in time . . ."

"No," he said, squeezing her hand weakly. "Not your fault."

She started fussing with the bedclothes. "Do you need anything? Water, balloons, 
stuffed animals?"

He smiled slightly. "No, I don't think so. Where is Spike?"

"Oh, he's around," she said. "The doctors are saying you'll be fine, but you 
should really get some rest."

"Spike . . ." he whispered, already falling back asleep.

"He'll be here when you wake up," she said, and something in her voice made him 
frown as the blackness overtook him.

***

"There's something you're not telling me," Giles said, finally sitting up in bed 
and staring accusingly in turn at Angel and Buffy. They looked at one another and 
Angel nodded, and Buffy sighed, running her hands over her hair, fidgeting, and 
looked at Giles.

"He took off, Giles," she said.

"Took *off*? Took off where?"

"We don't know. Giles, I'm so sorry, I don't understand it either, he was here day 
and night, right by your side, holding your hand, and then when the doctors gave 
you the all-clear he just disappeared. We have no idea where he went or when 
he's coming back."

"You mean, *if* he's coming back, don't you," he said, the realization of it 
settling in his chest like a weight, hurting more than the wound to his abdomen.

"Yeah," she said, grabbing his hand. "Like I said, I don't get it, we couldn't get 
him to leave or rest or eat for two weeks and then he was just gone, took Angel's 
wallet and car and left."

"I don't understand . . ." Giles whispered.

"I think I do, Giles," Angel said quietly, and Giles stared at him. "He's scared. 
We were so strong for so long and then suddenly we're human and much more 
vulnerable, and I think it scared the shit out of him to see you like this, in 
fact, I *know* it did, he wouldn't eat or sleep, he'd just sit there and stare at 
you."

"Well, if he was so bloody *concerned*," Giles spat. "Then why in the hell did he 
leave?"

"Mortality," Angel said. "He almost lost you. I think that he believes that he was 
leaving you before you left him, left him by dying."

"I'm not dying!"

"But you were. And you will, someday. Time lasts forever when you're immortal, but 
then humanity hits you and it suddenly feels like there will never be enough time, 
never." Angel sighed and grabbed Buffy's hand and squeezed it tightly. "I think he 
just couldn't handle the fact that one day, you'll die, and no matter what he says 
or does now he's powerless against it, and he thinks he took the easy way out, by 
not being there when it finally happens."

Giles was quiet for a long time, staring into space. "When can I leave?" he asked 
finally, his voice brittle.

"The doctors say you can fly in about two weeks."

"Fine, make the preparations, please, Buffy. And if the two of you don't mind, I'd 
like to be alone for a bit."

Buffy and Angel looked at one another, then at Giles, and then they left in 
silence, and Giles lay back against the pillow, put one hand to the now-dead mark 
on his neck, and refused to weep, refused, refused, refused.

***

Three months later and it was summer in England, an unusually warm and sunny day, 
a Sunday, and Giles was tending to the horses, mucking out stalls and doling out 
feed, when he heard a voice behind him, tentative and trembling.

"Watcher?"

Giles stiffened, his blood freezing, and then slowly turned to look. He was too 
thin and his skin was dark and his hair was a mess, grown out and curly, the 
blonde tipping the ends, and he was wearing filthy blue jeans and a stained white 
t-shirt, and the look on his face was one almost of terror, and Giles thought he 
was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, so he walked up to him and punched 
him as hard as he could in the face and stalked off.

"OW! Bloody hell!" Spike muttered, sprawled in the dirt of the paddock, then he 
leapt to his feet and started chasing after Giles who was stomping off through 
fields of green in the direction of a wooded area north of the house.

"Watcher! Wait, please!"

"Get the fuck out of here, Spike!"

"Watcher, please, listen to me, I'm sorry!" Spike yelled, grabbing Giles by the 
elbow. Giles shook him off with ease and kept walking.

"GODDAMMIT, WATCHER!" Spike bellowed, and ran as hard as he could, tackling Giles 
low and from behind, sending him face first into the grass.

"Get off me, you bastard!" Giles shouted as they struggled. "Get off me and get 
the fuck out of here, I want absolutely nothing to do with you anymore, you filthy 
fucking coward, GET OUT!"

"NO! No, listen to me, goddammit, *please*, Watcher!" Spike wheezed, grunting when 
Giles flipped him onto his back and pinned him to the ground. He shoved his face 
into Spike's.

"Listen to what, Spike? Your pitiful little excuses for leaving like you did? 
About how much it *hurts* to be human? How now you're frightened of death? Well, 
join the goddamned club! Poor, poor Spike, let's all feel sorry for him, shall we, 
gets his reward for being a hero and then fucking runs? Is *that* what you want me 
to listen to?" Giles sneered.

Spike stared up at him, eyes wide and tired and full of tears. "No," he whispered. 
"Just wanted . . ."

"Wanted WHAT, Spike? WHAT DO YOU FUCKING *WANT*?"

"To . . . tell you I love you," Spike whispered, tears streaming now. "Missed you. 
Almost died without you, need you back, please . . ."

Giles reared back, letting go of Spike's arms. "What in the bloody hell am I 
supposed to say to that, Spike? Is that supposed to fucking *fix* it?"

"God, Watcher, I don't *know*! I don't fucking know, *does* it?" Spike said, 
scrubbing at his eyes, and Giles stared at him, watched him, saw again the 
softness in his eyes and remembered the softness of his mouth and the softness 
inside him. He sighed and his eyes closed. "Watcher?" Spike said hesitantly, 
gently touching Giles' arm. "Please?" he whispered, desperate, so desperate, and 
the walls Giles had been building for the past three months crumbled.

"You stupid, beautiful boy," he whispered and then leaned down to kiss him, and 
Spike flung his arms around Giles' neck and kissed him back hungrily, still 
crying, then they were both struggling with their clothes and Giles was between 
Spike's thighs, and Spike groaned and wrapped both hands around their cocks.

"So long, Watcher, *God*, please, love you, please, please . . ." he whispered.

"Love you, God, so different, Spike, *fuck*," Giles muttered, thrusting 
frantically, the new heat of Spike's body making his head spin, and Spike bucked 
up against him, almost howling with need, and they writhed against one another, 
fevered and cursing and calling names of love, Spike shouting when he came, hot 
and slick against Giles' cock, and then Giles fell over the edge as well.

***

"You look awful and you smell even worse," Giles said, clothed again and looking 
at Spike closely.

"I know," Spike muttered, staring at the sky and still wiping at his eyes.

"Spike, come back to the house. Get cleaned up, something to eat."

"Can I . . . can I stay? I really am sorry, I was just so . . ."

"I know," Giles said softly, having seen the terror in Spike's eyes. "Of course 
you can stay."

"I mean . . . forever, Watcher. I need forever."

"I can't give you forever, Spike. But I'll give you every thing and every day I 
have left on this earth."

Again the tears started and Giles held him as he wept.

***

Giles lounged in the tub and watched as Spike fussed with his hair, cursing.

"You could use the mirror, you know," Giles said.

Spike's eyes widened. "Fuckin' hell, I keep forgettin'," he muttered, moving to 
stand in front of the mirror. "Don't know why, me bein' as pretty as I am."

Giles rolled his eyes. "What are you going to do with it? Your hair?"

Spike sighed and stared at himself. "Dunno. Let it go dark, I think."

"Keep it curly."

Spike arched an eyebrow. "Like it like that, then?"

"Yes," Giles said, hint of a leer on his face.

Spike scowled. "Curly it is then, I suppose," he said, sighing.

***

Giles watched and listened as Spike strained to see and identify the Slayers 
currently on the training field, and he put one hand over his mouth and turned 
Spike to face him.

"Spike, I'm afraid I have some bad news," he said.

Spike frowned. "What?"

"You need glasses."

"WHAT?"

***

"Oh, for God's sake!" Giles shouted and started yanking off his tie, struggling 
out of his suit and into jeans and a t-shirt.

"Where the hell are you goin', we ain't done here!"

"I'm going to tend the horses, I feel the need to do something a bit more 
masculine than continue to argue with you for another two hours about the color of 
the goddamned pillow shams, we sound like a couple of old queens!" Giles yelled 
and stomped off.

"Speak for yourself!" Spike yelled after him. "I'm a *young* queen and it's not my 
fault YOU HAVE BLOODY AWFUL TASTE!"

***

It was winter, and there was a fire blazing in the fireplace in the living area of 
Giles' bedroom, and he was sprawled along the just long enough sofa that it had 
taken him weeks to find, Spike laying atop him, making it a bit difficult to 
breathe but Giles didn't particularly care, it had become a weekly ritual since 
the weather had worsened.

Giles was holding up a book with one hand and had the other wrapped lightly around 
Spike's neck, while Spike rested his head on Giles' chest, his eyes, now with 
glasses, glued to the book he had spread open on the floor.

Giles watched him out of the corner of his eye. He was still loud, still 
infuriating, but there were more and more moments like this, of quiet, 
conversation about literature and music and politics and philosophy, and Giles 
felt as if he were getting to know a new person, the person he'd only glimpsed 
before.

Spike was, however, still quite beautiful, as well.

Giles suddenly flung his book over the back of the sofa and Spike's head jerked 
up. Giles looked at him pointedly "Bout time, Watcher," Spike whispered, grinning, 
and squirmed against Giles while kissing him teasingly.

***

Springtime, and Spike sat on the window seat in Giles' office, head pressed to 
glass, taking in the rare sunny day, green all over, and he sighed heavily.

"Something wrong?" Giles asked.

"It's just . . . all this color, the green and the gold . . ." He turned suddenly 
to face Giles. "Do you think there's anyway we could bring her here? I hate the 
thought of her bein' buried underneath where all that dark came from. Bring her, 
and Joyce, too, do you think Buffy and Dawn would like that?"

***

As it turned out, several families who had relatives buried in Sunnydale had 
demanded excavation of its many cemeteries, and Buffy and Dawn added their names 
to the waiting list, as did Willow, and two months later they were able to bring 
both Joyce and Tara home.

A memorial service and reunion was scheduled, all those who had known Joyce or 
Tara pulled in for the service and the celebration of the lives of two women who 
had done so much, so quietly, to make all of this happen.

***

"Giles?"

"Angel! Come in. Where's Buffy?"

"With Willow."

"Of course she is. How've you been?"

"Fine. Great, really," Angel said, smiling, and moving to stand in front of Giles 
where he leaned against the front of his desk.

"Enjoying your reward then?"

"Yeah. It's . . . weird, after all this time, to feel like this, but good."

"Well, I'd imagine it would take a bit of getting used to. Spike has his bad 
moments Ð too much maintenance, he says," Giles said, grinning.

"He's right," Angel said, and then leaned in closer. "Giles, how in the hell did 
everyone start talking about . . . you and me?"

Giles sighed. "Angel, as to how that rumor got started, you *really* do not want 
to know."

Angel sighed as well. "I was thinking, maybe, something like the mindwipe I used 
after Connor . . ."

"Don't you dare!"

"Don't I?"

"Angel, the whole lot of them have been going on about it for months now, but none 
of them really believe it. Let them have their fun. Besides, it's none of their 
concern, anyway, and I rather like keeping them on their toes."

Angel frowned. "But what if they get pissed?"

"Pissed at *what*? A rumor? Just let it lie."

"Right," Angel said, sighing and poked Giles hard in the chest. "Take care of 
him."

Giles eyes narrowed and he poked Angel back even harder. "You take care of *her*. 
She means more to me than anything in this world, and when I threaten death as far 
as she's concerned, I'm bloody well serious."

"OW! You're really gettin' off on pushing the ex-vampires around, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am," Giles said, smirking, and Angel rolled his eyes and started to leave.

"Angel," Giles called. Angel turned. "I'm proud of you. Really."

Angel grinned. "Thanks, sexy," he said, before darting away.

Giles sighed and grumbled and rolled his eyes and fidgeted with his tie until 
Spike leapt into the room, pointing at him accusingly.

"I KNEW IT!" he bellowed.

"Knew what, you prat?"

"That you fucked Angel! You gonna deny it? I just *heard* you! He called you 
sexy!"

"I *am* sexy! Spike, review that conversation in your head very carefully. There 
was absolutely no actual mention made of me having sex with Angel," Giles said, 
irritated.

"Doesn't mean it didn't actually happen," Spike said, pouting.

Giles walked up to him and kissed him. "No. It doesn't."

"You just admitted it!"

"How?"

"You said . . . I know . . . I *heard* . . . have you put some sort of spell on 
me?" Spike muttered, glaring through narrowed eyes.

Giles grinned. "Yes," he whispered, and pulled Spike close to kiss him deeply. 
"Now come on. There are two very special women waiting for us."

***

There were a lot of tears, but also a lot of laughter, and after the service, as 
everyone else filed into the house for drinks and catching up, Buffy walked up to 
Giles and Spike, Angel trailing behind her, and did her best to hug them both at 
the same time. "That was hard," she whispered. "But good. Good to have them close 
to us. I love you pervs." She kissed each one of them in turn.

Spike smiled and hauled her into his arms. "Love you, too, Slayer. And thank you. 
If it weren't for you . . ."

"Stop!" she said, holding up one hand. "You're gonna make me cry. No more crying 
for now, all right?"

"Right," Spike said softly, smiling, and handed her over to Giles who pulled her 
high into his arms and then started spinning in circles until she was giggling and 
dizzy.

"God," she said breathlessly, smiling up at him when he finally set her down. 
"You're really happy, aren't you?"

"Yes," he said, and then hugged her again until she squeaked.

"Good," she whispered. "I love you, Giles, more than anything."

"I love you, too," he whispered and then straightened. "I'm not sure, however, 
what I think about the type of young man you've started bringing home, Buffy." He 
glared at Angel over Buffy's shoulder in faux fatherly mistrust. "I mean, really, 
Buffy, vampires?" Spike snorted and Angel rolled his eyes.

"Dad!" she hissed, poking him. "Stop embarrassing me! I'll never be able to bring 
other boys home now!"

"What other boys?" Angel said, glaring. "NO OTHER BOYS, WHAT ARE YOU TALKING 
ABOUT? NO BOYS!"

"Kidding, kidding," Buffy said, leaning up to kiss him before turning back to 
Giles. "Besides, *you're* one to talk."

"Do as I say, not as I do!" Giles said, pointing a finger at her.

"Right," she said, smiling. "See you guys inside." She grabbed Angel by the hand 
and led him toward the house. "Buffy, no boys! I mean it, one boy, ME!" he 
grumbled as he followed her inside.

Spike sighed. "They'll be married before you know it and there'll be snot-nosed 
brats all over the place, Gramps."

Giles sank to the ground beside Tara's grave. "I rather like the sound of that, 
actually."

Spike fell to the ground beside him. "So now what, Watcher?"

"Now," Giles said. "We sit here for a bit and enjoy the sun, visit with Tara, then 
go inside and get stinking drunk and visit with everyone else we love, tell them 
that we love them and hug them all as much as we can before they go, and then 
go to bed."

Spike fell to his back and sighed in contentment. "Good plan, Watcher."

And so that's what they did.

***

End