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?”


“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.





“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.


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?’”


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.


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