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 – 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.
***
to Part Four
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