Lost Property
Challenge: Set by Wenchie. To write a smutty Spike/Giles fic that included a bus ride, a wedding dress a coffin and a stuffed dog.
Giles wiped condensation from the window of the double-decker bus with his hand. Shielding his gaze from the glare of the unforgiving florescent lights overhead, he peered out onto the cold, wet and windy evening. Outside, the driving rain seemed to wash out all the colour, leaving a monochrome palette of slate grays and dirty charcoals that made the dilapidated shop fronts and litter-covered streets of Camden Town look even more dismal than usual.The traffic was surprisingly busy, most of the locals preferring to crawl along in the relative comfort of their cars rather than brave the bitter January weather. Those unfortunates outside tonight, scurried along, heads bowed, trying to avoid a face full of freezing raindrops and a spatchcock umbrella. The wind whipped down the pavements, stinging exposed skin and slicing through coats wrapped tight against the cold.
Giles had been out with friends, but he'd made his excuses and left early. He was trying to keep up appearances: sometimes it was easier to play the part of the sociable bachelor than be alone to confront his real feelings. The pain of losing Buffy had been bad enough, but living with his self-imposed separation was worse. He questioned his decision every day, wondering whose interests he had really had at heart.
When he first heard the news that Buffy was alive, he'd rushed back, desperate to see her again. And when he did, he realised how much she needed him there. But what she wanted was no longer what he was willing to offer - a surrogate father to Dawn and safe, dependable Giles to wave his magic wand and make everything right again. But he couldn't settle for the scraps anymore. Every time she turned to him for help, his resentment grew, and every time she pulled away from him, it hurt a little deeper.
But being without her had been hard too. He couldn't stop thinking about her: how she was feeling, how she was doing, how she was managing without him. And he had no way of knowing. There were a few awkward telephone calls in the beginning and the occasional letter, but he hadn't heard from her in months. The not knowing was driving him crazy, but he couldn't bring himself to 'phone. He couldn't bear to hear the anger in her voice.
The sound of screeching brakes jerked him out of his musings. Slowing, the bus turned a corner, driving through a deep puddle and spraying rainwater up and over a dark figure at the bus stop.
The doors opened and a furious blond stepped onboard.
"Hey! Watch where you're going, you bloody idiot. Got eyes in your backside have you?"
The voice was strangely familiar. Looking up, Giles saw a man in a long leather coat, his bleached hair plastered to his head, leaning over and poking the driver with his finger.
"You don't know who you're dealing with, mate. You don't want to get on the wrong side of me. I'm the Big Bad y'know."
"I don't care if you're the bloody Queen of Sheba, 'mate', no-one talks to me like that. Now, if you haven't got the money, get off my bus. No money, no ticket, no ride. Or I call the Police."
"Wanker."
"Spike?!" The figure span round."Bloody hell, if it isn't Captain Tweed himself."
Giles got up from his seat, walked down the aisle and took Spike firmly by the arm. He leaned over and spoke to the driver,
"It's alright, I'll take care of him from here."
---
Once outside, Giles turned on the sulking vampire, who was busy trying to shake the worst of the rainwater from his duster.
"Spike, what on earth are you doing here?"
"Nothing. Mindin' my own business, like you should be."
"There's nothing I'd like more, but unfortunately your business has a disconcerting habit of becoming my business. What are you doing here?"
Spike sighed and looked heavenwards.
"Well, I was going to go home, get drunk and pass out. But now I'm going to have to go get drunk and pass out somewhere else. Satisfied?"
Giles glared at him.
Spike stuck his hands in his pockets with a sarcastic smile.
"Well, it's been swell. Let's do it again sometime."
Without waiting for a reply, he turned on his heel and strode off down the street.
Giles stood, cross and shivering, trying to decide whether to follow him. It was cold and wet and he was tempted to just catch the next bus home, but he was worried about why Spike had ended up back in London. Something must have happened to Buffy to make him leave, and the only person who could tell him what that something was, was vanishing rapidly into the evening gloom. Resigning himself to another evening chasing vampires, Giles turned up the collar on his jacket and ran after him.
At the end of the street, he stopped and scanned around; trying to see which direction Spike had taken. Then, off to the left, he caught a glimpse of a blond head disappearing down a flight of stairs. Shivering, he ran to catch up.
The flickering light of a neon sign welcomed him, proclaiming the name of the bar in glowing red letters.
'The Crypt'.
Giles rolled his eyes with a muttered "God give me strength" and headed down the stairs.
After a brief exchange with the doorman, who remained unconvinced that he wasn't undercover vice squad in his smart gray suit and tie, Giles stepped into the dark smoky interior. A familiar petulant voice assaulted his ears.
"Christ, you again. Can't a man get drunk in peace anymore?"
Giles turned to face Spike with a sigh.
"I doubt very much you could do anything in peace, except, of course, rest in it. Which, incidentally, I would be happy to help you with." Giles looked around. "What on earth is this place?"
"It's where I come when I want to get away from idiots like you."
Spike glowered at Giles and then added, somewhat defensively,
"Dru would have liked it. It reminds me of her." He gestured at the walls. "All tacky Goth décor and terrible singing."
Giles could certainly see what he meant.
The place looked like someone with a Hammer House of Horror obsession had been let loose on the decorations. The exposed brick walls were festooned with flaming torches, manacles and torture devices, coffins were propped up in the corners and the small tables were illuminated by candlelight, wax drippings hanging from each ornate carved candlestick. An anemic looking girl dressed as the Bride of Dracula in a tattered wedding dress was on the tiny stage, singing an eerie rendition of "I've Got you Under My Skin."
Giles sat down. Spike rolled his eyes, giving up the idea of an evening to himself.
"Didn't Buffy tell you what I'm doing here?"
Maybe if he told him what he wanted to know he'd bugger off. Or buy him a drink.
"No." Giles sounded annoyed.
Spike raised an eyebrow.
"So, all's not well in the land of milky tea and honey then?
Giles glared.
"Spike, do I have to hit you or chain you up in the bathtub every time I want to get information out of you?"
"Rupert, didn't know you cared…"
"Oh for God's sake!"
Spike grinned, cocked his head and considered how much to say. He certainly wasn't telling Giles that Buffy had thrown him out.
"Well, funnily enough, I made a few enemies during my turn-on-and-kill-my-own-kind phase. Eventually they ganged up and chased me out of town. They were pretty upset. Said I'd sold my soul."
"You haven't got one."
"Not the point."
Spike fished a battered packet of cigarettes out of his pocket, pulled one out and waved the rest at Giles.
"Fag?"
"Don't smoke."
"Yeah, filthy habit," said Spike lighting his cigarette and taking a long drag. "Anyway, didn't fancy sticking around to see if they'd stick the Welcome to Sunnydale sign through my unbeating heart. So, here I am."
"And you… the chip, is it still…"
"Don't worry 'bout your precious hide, it's still there. Rattle my cage and I can't even growl. In fact," he added, bitterly, "I'm the original vampire version of the bleedin' dead parrot. Couldn't go 'gggrrrrrr', if you put 2000 fucking volts through me."
Spike knocked back his drink and banged his glass back on the table.
"Can't hunt, can't kill, so I come here, for the easy girls and the cheap whisky. Oh, it's a good life."
Giles ignored him.
"So, she's okay?"
"Who?"
"Don't play games with me, you idiot. Buffy."
Spike took another drag on his cigarette.
"Don't know. Don't care. Anyway, why you asking me? Thought she'd have told you herself."
"Well, she hasn't."
"Blown you out as well has she?"
Giles didn't answer and Spike looked up to see the stony expression on his face. He smirked.
"Oh, she has, has she? Well, well, I never thought you'd be off the Christmas card list. So. Here we are. The Slayer's cast-offs." He looked at Giles and nodded towards the bar. "Oh, and by the way, mine's a double."
Spike flicked his cigarette in the ashtray. Realizing that Giles hadn't moved he looked up to catch his incredulous expression.
"What?"
Giles gave an exasperated sigh and headed off to the bar.
---
An hour later, the two men sat nursing their drinks, both fairly inebriated on the whisky that Giles had continued to pay for.
"And then, she just stops writing!" Giles shook his head. "I'm a bloody stupid fool. I wanted her to be more independent, to stop looking to me for everything, and then she bloody well did." Giles waggled his finger at Spike. "It's a salutary lesson in being careful what you wish for."
Spike snorted quietly.
"Yeah, you get what you think you want and then it all goes tits up anyway."
Something in Spike's voice made Giles look up.
"What do you mean?"
Spike stopped, trying to decide how much to say, then mentally shrugged. In for a penny, in for a pound.
"Finally getting what I wanted. Her. The Slayer."
He braced himself, waiting for the reaction. It didn't take long for the cogs to whir into place. Giles' eyes widened, as he realized what Spike was implying.
"You mean you actually managed to talk her into sleeping with you?"
"Yeah, well, less talked and more tripped her up and dived under her before she hit the floor. But yeah, you got the general picture."
Giles sat bolt upright.
"How the hell did you do that?"
"No need to sound so bloody indignant!" Spike retorted, defensively, "I'm not the one who buggered off and left her!"
"It was for her own good!"
"Yeah? You really believe that?"
Giles didn't answer.
Spike shook his head in disbelief.
"Let's think this through shall we? Riley left. Her mother died. Her sister turns out to be top of Glory's list for 'things I need to kill today'. Buffy *dies*, gets mojo'd back, inside her coffin, so she has to dig *herself* out. Then she ends up flipping burgers at the DoubleMeat DemonEat." He looked directly at Giles. "So yeah, I guess we could say she's doing fine and fucking off back to England was a great plan."
"Well, she didn't have to turn to you!"
"There wasn't anyone else left," said Spike, pointedly.
Giles sat staring into his drink in silence, then looked up.
"I suppose you think I let her down…"
"Well yeah, Sherlock."
"…but I didn't have a choice."
"Sure you did, you've always got choices. You just made the wrong one."
"So, you just stepped in and made it all better. How terribly convenient for you."
"Yeah, I stepped in, but I didn't make it better."
Spike slowly swirled the whisky in his glass.
"But at least I tried," he added, quietly.
The two men sat silently for a while, lost in their own thoughts.
"I should have stayed."
Giles' voice pulled Spike back to reality.
"Why? Think you could have stopped her from jumping my bones?"
"Probably not."
"Well then, shut up and get over yourself."
Spike finished his drink and pulled out another cigarette, putting it between his lips as he patted his pockets for the lighter.
Giles persisted.
"Did she ever talk about me after I left?"
"No."
Spike retrieved his lighter and lit the cigarette, inhaling deeply. The two men sat without speaking, watching the smoke curl away. Strains of 'You Always Hurt The One You Love' floated towards them from the stage. Spike make a face at the tune, then saw Giles glance over at the singer.
He was struck by the expression on his face. Sad, and sort of… lost. Without thinking, he spoke.
"You really miss her, don't you?"
Giles' turned back quickly, caught off guard.
"Of course. I mean… I'm her Watcher, I worry about her." He tried to forestall further embarrassment by throwing the question back. "Don't you?"
"Yeah."
Spike took another drag on his cigarette, then knocked back his drink. He paused, staring at the empty glass.
"She makes it so you can't forget her. She gets under your skin and no matter how hard you scratch, you can't get her out. I've thought about her every day since I left, and every day before that, for as long as I can remember. Of course I bloody miss her."
"Oh." Giles was taken aback by the emotion in the vampire's voice.
"What?" Spike looked defensive. "I have feelings too. I may not have a soul, but I do have a heart. And when it gets ripped out, I bleed like the bloody rest of you."
He looked defiantly at Giles and was surprised to see embryonic tears glistening in his eyes. Embarrassed, he looked away.
"Anyway. S'time for another drink. I'll get these, shall I?"
Spike quickly slipped off to the bar. Giles watched the retreating figure, realizing in shock that Spike had offered to buy a round.
---
While Spike was at the bar, Giles sat and tried to digest what he had just been told. His mind was suddenly flooded with mental images he wasn't sure he needed. Buffy, having sex. With Spike. He shuddered with horror and something else he didn't quite want to think about. Curiosity? It couldn't be.
Giles shook himself and tried to imagine what bizarre turn of events could possibly have thrown them together.
When he actually thought about it, it really wasn't such a surprise. He'd known that they'd found an uneasy alliance after Glory had beaten Spike to within an inch of his undead life. He also couldn't deny that Dawn had developed a strong attachment to him in the weeks and months that followed and that Spike had stayed by her side long after Buffy had died.
He'd been there for Buffy and her sister throughout; even when all hope of seeing her again had gone. He hadn't. He'd run away back to England when he lost her the first time. And then, when he'd got a second chance, he'd run away again. So even though the thought of them together didn't exactly fill him with delight, he realized he really wasn't in a position to pass judgment.
Buffy had demonstrated her capacity for forgiveness many times. She'd loved Angel, even after she'd seen him at his worst, and defended him even after he'd killed Jenny. And it wasn't really so strange to think Buffy might be attracted to Spike. She was little more than a teenager and at that age, love and lust were easily confused - Spike was good looking and he was in love with her. That was more than enough for most young women.
Or young men, come to that. The seductive quality of men like Spike wasn't lost on Giles. In fact, sometimes Spike had reminded him of a certain Ethan Rayne in his younger days.
Bad boys had their own charms.
---
Spike stood at the bar, confused. Why the hell was he spilling his guts to the Watcher of all people? And why was he paying for the drinks? This wasn't the plan at all.
He looked at Giles, and realised that they'd been talking for most of the evening. He couldn't remember the last time they'd done that. Or if they'd ever done it. Come to think of it, he didn't think he'd spent an evening with a living soul, or even an unliving one, since he'd left Sunnydale. All he'd done was drink, watch TV and think about Buffy.
He didn't like to admit it, but he was enjoying the company.
He recalled the last time he'd seen Giles, when Willow had cast that forgetting spell and Giles had suddenly gone all parental on him. It was just like him to play the solid father figure. Always there, reliable and dependable, like a dog that stayed, even when you kicked it.
In fact, now that he came to think about it, Giles was the kind of guy that did stick around. It was really weird that he'd upped and left at the most difficult time in Buffy's life. He obviously missed her. Nearly as much as he did. In fact he'd recognized that lost look because that was exactly how he'd felt, coming back to London - all disorientated and not sure what to do or where to go.
Spike paused mid-thought, suddenly putting the pieces together and seeing the whole picture. That was it. Giles missed Buffy as much as he did because he loved her just as much as he did. He was in love with her. That was why he left. He couldn't handle it and his stupid stiff upper lip English pride wouldn't let him stay and explain.
He shook his head in wonder and surprise.
"Well, well, Giles, so that's it. You poor bastard. So we're not so different, you and I, after all."
Spike leaned back against the bar, a sly grin slowly spreading across his face.
"Well, well, Watcher-boy, this could get interesting."
Still grinning, he ordered the drinks, told the bartender Giles was running a tab and returned to the table. He settled down and turned to Giles with a smile.
"So, Giles, what are you going to do with yourself, now you're back in London? You got a job with the Council or are you holding out for a library all of your own?"
---
They talked for a couple of hours, about London, the Scoobies, the ups and downs of Xander and Anya's relationship, Willow's recovery, business at the Magic Shop and about Dawn. And, of course, Buffy. Spike knew that Giles was hungry for information and he gave it willingly now, knowing that it was the one thing he had that Giles wanted. Well, so far, anyway. If he played his cards right, maybe that could change too.
Spike watched Giles as they talked, seeing him in a whole new light. He'd never thought of Giles as sexual, but now he'd seen through the Watcher's smokescreen, he saw repressed sexuality in every move. Spike found himself wondering what it would be like, to see all that repression torn down.
It could be a lot of fun.
And he didn't get a lot of fun these days.
It would be easy to begin with. A sympathetic word here, gentle reassurance there. Later would come the physical contact, a manly hand on the shoulder, then maybe a brush of the fingertips as he passed over a drink. Watch the reaction; judge it right. It wouldn't be a surefire thing, but catch an Englishman when he's drunk and lonely and you never know what might happen.
Buffy had told him all about Ethan, so he knew Giles wasn't averse to a bit of man to man action, but he also knew he wasn't going to admit it. He'd have to go in by the back door, so to speak. It would make for an interesting challenge, but he didn't have anything to lose. Wham, bam, thank you mam, then he could always chuck him out.---
Under Spike's attentive questioning and sympathetic ear, Giles found himself opening up in ways he wouldn't have thought possible mere hours before. He didn't know whether it was the whisky, or just the opportunity to talk to someone who actually knew and understood all the events of the last few years. None of his friends knew. One of the conditions of leaving the Council had been absolute secrecy, so even if his friends had understood, he couldn't have told them.
And Spike was being, well, human. Although it was hard to believe, maybe his infatuation with Buffy had actually done him some good. And hearing him talk about Dawn convinced the Watcher that the change was more than just a calculated attempt to stay in Buffy's good books. It was clear that the vampire loved Buffy, but he also loved her sister. Cared for her in much the same way, in fact, as an older brother would.
Giles found himself wondering about Spike's own family and realized that he had never asked where he came from, or anything about his life before he was turned.
Maybe Buffy had. Maybe, once again, Buffy had actually reached through the demon and touched the man. Maybe William wasn't so far away after all.
Well, if Buffy can see him, then so can I, thought Giles, proudly, with distillery logic. I owe her that much.
And there was something soothing about the way Spike was talking to him. Maybe it was the drink, but he seemed… softer somehow. The candlelight cast a warm glow that smoothed the angular lines, the eyes seemed brighter and the lips were… fuller. He hadn't noticed before, but when Spike smiled, the lips curved up in quite an entrancing way.
The thought of Buffy actually touching the man, physically touching him, suddenly didn't seem so bad after all.
---
At 3am, the bartender finally chucked them out. With no buses and not enough money left for a taxi they staggered off towards Spike's flat to crash out. After a brisk half hour walk in the night air, they were both feeling the cold, so it was a relief to reach the unmarked doorway, tucked inconspicuously beside a shop front. Giles pressed his face to a gap in the metal grill, trying to peer through the window as Spike struggled with the keys.
"What's in there?"
"It's a Taxidermist's. You know. Stuffed stuff."
It took Spike several attempts to get the keys in the lock with his cold numbed fingers. Opening the door, he kicked aside the junk mail, assorted pizza leaflets and free newspapers and switched on the light. He nodded towards the door at the top of the stairway.
"Home sweet home."
Giles started up the stairs as Spike closed the front door. When he reached the upstairs door he opened it onto a squalid bedsit. Spike followed him inside.
"S'not much but I got a good deal. No-one else wanted to take it."
"I can see why. This place is a tip!"
"Well funnily enough, I don't get many visitors. Anyway, s'art, I read it in the paper. Some silly bird put her bed in the middle of an art gallery and won a bloody award for it." Spike tugged at the rumpled sheets on the unmade bed. "Wasn't nearly as messy as mine neither."
"What's that?" Giles pointed at a small stuffed bulldog, crouching by the door.
"Don't worry. Bark's worse than his bite."
Giles giggled slightly.
"They were chucking him out downstairs. I felt sorry for him. We both got neutered, but then he got stuffed too. I used to use him as a bottle opener, till his teeth fell out."
Spike picked up a bottle of whisky and a glass from the bedside table and waved them at Giles.
"Another drink?"
"Don't mind if I do."
Giles sat down on the edge of the double bed as Spike poured a drink. He downed it, poured another, and then handed it to Giles, noticing the older man's long fingers as they curled round the glass. Time for action, he thought.
"So what was that really about? You leaving Sunnydale. She misses you y'know. More than she misses me I reckon."
"Really, you think so?"
"Definitely. So, why d'you do it? Really?"
"I don't know. When I think about it now, it seems like the most stupid thing in the world. But she's got to get tougher if she's going to survive. And I can't always be there for her, not in the way she wants."
Spike looked innocently at Giles.
"Why, what do you mean?"
Giles took off his glasses and polished them haphazardly on his jacket sleeve.
"Well, she wants a father figure and I can't do that forever. I'm not her father, I'm a Watcher. She needs to find her own way. She needs to grow up."
Spike cocked his head on one side and gave an evil grin.
"Last I checked she was already pretty grown up, in all the right places. Taught me a thing or two, I can tell you."
"Spike. I don't need to hear this."
"No?"
"No. It's bad enough knowing she had sex with you. I really don't need the gory details."
"Sure about that?"
"Yes." The reply sounded unconvincing even to Giles.
"She was cute, wasn't she?"
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean."
"Yes you do. She had that funny little bump on the end of her nose that wiggled when she was eating. And those beautiful pert breasts that jiggled when she was beating the shit out of you…."
"Spike!" Giles gulped down his whisky and glared at the vampire.
"You're not telling me that all the time you were with her, you never thought about it? Not even once?"
"Certainly not."
Spike looked at Giles out of the corner of his eye and saw him blushing. It was time to go in for the kill.
"What, never? Never thought about how it would feel with her hard tight little body wriggling away underneath you?"
Giles shifted uncomfortably on the bed. Spike leaned closer, whisky fumes still on his breath.
"She feels good you know, with those strong thighs wrapping themselves tight around your waist, as you slide into her."
"Stop it!"
"Why, like the idea do you?"
"No!"
"Really Watcher?" Spike was really close now, breathing into Giles' ear. "I think all watch and no play makes Giles a horny boy."
"Damn it, I said stop it!"
Spike grinned.
"Well, I have got you all hot and bothered, haven't I?"
"No."
"No?"
"No. Perhaps. I mean… I don't know what I mean."
Spike reached over and ran his hand slowly up Giles' thigh. When he spoke again, his voice was low and liquid.
"Hot. And. Bothered. But it feels good doesn't it?"
"Um…"
"Um?"
His hand reached the top of Giles' thigh, then started to move higher.
Giles grabbed Spike's hand with his own and held it still. Feeling his heart suddenly pounding in his chest, Giles looked up into the vivid blue eyes, his head suddenly swimming with confusion and liquor.
"Spike, what are you doing?"
"Do you want me to stop?"
Giles heard the words but couldn't think past the lips that had spoken them. When Spike leaned towards him, he felt his own mouth respond, and as they kissed, he felt his own lips and tongue tasting the whisky and cigarettes.
It felt alien but strangely sensuous. Sour and sweet mingling under the full lips; cool, soft, but demanding. The same lips that had kissed Buffy. His Buffy. Was this what it was like for her? Was this how she felt? He closed his eyes and gave in to the sensation, justifying it in his own mind.
Spike felt the Watcher respond and grinned to himself. He pulled his hand from Giles' and slipped it under the jacket, caressing the hard nipples that poked through the cotton shirt. Giles groaned and leaned against the stroking fingers.
Their kisses grew more insistent and Spike felt his hard cock pressing against the fly of his jeans. He moved his hand lower and felt the Watcher's own erection twitch through the wool trousers. Rubbing slowly over the bulge, he heard the other man's breath quicken. Reaching up to the waistband, he unfastened the button with deft fingers, pulling down the zip and sliding his hand inside.
When he touched silk covered flesh, Giles swore under his breath.
Spike dropped to his knees on the floor in front of the bed, shuffling round so he was kneeling between Giles' spread thighs. He pulled the rough fabric out of the way with both hands, slipping down the black silk boxer shorts, before bending to take the head of Giles' cock in his mouth. He held the shaft still with his hand as he slid his mouth slowly over the tip.
Giles gasped at the unfamiliar sensation, but the cool lips and tongue were soothing against his hot flesh. At the back of his mind he knew this was probably an exceedingly bad idea, but it felt good, and right now, he didn't care.
Spike took his time, flicking his tongue around the glands, enjoying the tiny noises that escaped the other man's lips. He slipped his other hand inside the silk underwear and cupped the heavy balls, rolling their weight in his palm and gently stroking the sensitive perineum with his fingertips.
Giles felt a surge go through his belly. He reached down and slipped his hand behind the vampire's neck, guiding Spike's head lower, down and onto his cock. Spike acquiesced, surprised by the gentleness with which Giles controlled his movements, quite unlike the violence of Angelus, Dru's wild passions or Buffy's blind desperation. Giles was careful, almost tender, stroking the back of his neck and curling his fingers into his hair, slowly guiding him this way and that.
Spike found Giles' response disconcerting. It wasn't what he was used to and it wasn't what he'd expected. Once the barriers came down, he'd thought that all the pent up frustration would come flooding out and that he, Spike, would feel the rush of conquest. But this tenderness was strange and unfamiliar and suddenly he didn't know the rules.
Didn't the bloody librarian ever lose control?
Spike tried to concentrate on the task, wondering if this was still such a good idea. But Giles seemed to be enjoying himself. The small sighs had turned to groans and the hand at his neck was encouraging him to move more quickly, so at least it would be over soon. Spike slipped his hand further back, to massage the tight rosebud with deft fingers.
As the first few waves of orgasm began, Giles felt his body begin to tremble. He was lost in the feeling, for once not thinking of anything other than the pleasure emanating from his aching cock. The tremble became a shudder and he felt his balls tighten, a hot flood of sensation suddenly rushing through his body as he came, cradling the head between his legs as he jerked into Spike's waiting mouth. Spike tasted the salty fluid and swallowed, keeping his eyes down, not sure what else to do. Giles stroked the vampire's hair, as his breathing slowed, feeling his body relax as the tension subsided.
There was an awkward pause. Then Spike felt a strong hand brush his cheek and lift his chin, forcing him to look up into the Watcher's eyes. He flinched involuntarily and tried to look away, not knowing quite what to expect. Giles felt the flinch and saw a brief flicker of something in the vampire's eyes.
He looked searchingly at the face cupped in his hand, trying to read the reaction. He flicked his eyes over the sculpted cheekbones and lips before being drawn back to the intense blue eyes.
Giles gaze fell on the jagged line that sliced through Spike's eyebrow. He traced his thumb slowly over the scar.
"I don't think I've ever asked you how you got that."
Spike squirmed, feeling far too vulnerable on his knees in front of the Watcher. He mumbled,
"Broken bottle."
"Bar fight?"
"No." Spike pulled his face away and tried to get up, but Giles held him by the shoulders.
"How?"
"Doesn't matter."
"No, tell me. Vampires heal better than that. So it must have been before you were turned."
Spike looked angrily at Giles.
"Look, it was my father, okay?"
"Your father…?"
"Yeah. My father. What you gonna' do. 'Phone Social Services?"
Spike wrenched himself free of Giles' grip, got up and tried to walk away.Giles stood up, catching his trousers as they started to slip from his waist. Holding the loose material with one hand, he grabbed the vampire's arm. Spike swung round and took a swing at him before collapsing on the bed in agony as the chip fired.
Giles fell next to the curled figure, disorientated by the blow and the strange turn of events. He lifted his head.
"Spike?"
Reaching out tentatively, he touched a shoulder, feeling Spike cringe. He sighed. For all Spike's bravado, it was perfectly obvious he was upset. But Giles also knew that there was no way in hell Spike was going to admit it, and he didn't have the emotional energy to push.
Right now, all they both needed was sleep. He could deal with the recriminations in the morning.
"Come on. Get up and help me get out of these wet clothes. I'm drunk and tired and cold and I need to sleep."
After a few moments of tense silence, Spike sat up, too tired and confused to argue.
They slowly undressed, not speaking; neither wanting to acknowledge what might be going on. Then, when they were both naked, they crawled, shivering, under the thick duvet, before whisky and exhaustion carried them off to sleep.
---
Some time in the early morning, Giles stirred and looked round the room, disorientated. Slowly, memories of the night before returned and he looked down to see a pale arm curled around his chest. As he gazed at the unfamiliar sight, he was surprised to realize that his overwhelming emotion was gratitude.
He closed his eyes and allowed himself to nestle back against the cool body that in sleep, at least, was able to give him the comfort he needed.
And, thought Giles, only in sleep, would the vampire be able to accept the comfort he offered in return.
~Fin~