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Dead Men Walking - 4
On the long drive back to Bath, Giles almost wished
he could have back the depressed, introspective vampire that had plagued him
since his arrival three days ago. Spike was now practically catatonic. He refused
to talk and just sat smoking one cigarette after another without seeming to
gain any benefit from them. Giles was at a loss. He hated to admit it, but he
felt sorry for Spike. He knew it must be hard to allow emotions through a protective
shell that had long been hardened against them. Purporting to hate Angel so
much, Spike could find no outlet for his grief, anger, and fear… other than
turning it all in on himself. Giles ached to help him. After a couple of hours,
he decided he had little to lose, and everything to gain, if he pushed Spike
a little.
'You need to tell him.'
'Fuck off.'
'Whether you mean that in its literal or its more colloquial sense - rather
difficult to do, given that I'm driving. So, no, I won't fuck off. You have
to tell him.'
Spike rounded on him, and Giles was glad: at least he was talking now. 'And
say, what? Hey, poof, you're gonna die… that's the bleedin' reward you've been
looking forward to… you're gonna take yourself into some shitty cellar and fucking
hang yourself 'til your neck stretches and you fucking cum all over yourself.
Good one watcher. I'll go and tell him now, shall I?'
'Thank you for that graphic image, Spike. Maybe, if we're lucky, he'll take
an overdose and go peacefully in his sleep, hey?'
Spike's outrage was so genuine, he lashed out at Giles and caught him a resounding
slap on the side of his face. The blow tore off Giles' glasses, and the car
skidded slightly on the, thankfully, empty road. His pain, however, was evidently
nothing compared to Spike's, who was cursing and holding his head between his
knees in agony. When he had recovered, he cast a truly demonic glare at Giles.
'I didn't know you hated him so. It was Angelus that fucked you over, not Angel.'
'Ahh, so we can apply logic when it suits us then, Spike.'
'Fuck off, fuck off, fuck off.' Spike wanted to leave his devastatingly mature
reply hanging in the air but added, reluctantly, 'What do you mean?'
'Oh, come on Spike… drop the act. You lecture me on the difference between Angel
and Angelus but refuse to accept it yourself.'
'Oh, I know the difference, believe me, watcher. I won't spare one thought for
that souled fucker.'
'Uh huh, eight cigarettes in the last half hour, but not one thought.'
'Look, Angel is nothing to me. I refuse to think about him. He'd stake me if
he could do it without ruining his fucking hair. Hell, if he knew about Buffy,
he'd do it anyway.'
'This is the same Angel you were crying over only a couple of hours ago.'
'I am a demon, Giles. I cannot cry… it's like pissing: a physical impossibility.'
'Again, uh huh. Don't ever demonstrate your lack of pissing ability for me then,
Spike.'
Spike didn't even dignify this with a reply, so a few minutes later, Giles continued
his attack. 'Fortunate for you, then, with Angel officially dead soon, he'll
be a lot further away than two hours, won't he?'
It was one of Spike's most endearing qualities that he never really got cause
and effect. Having been in agony once already tonight, he nevertheless went
there again. He thumped Giles' leg hard with the side of his fist. Giles winced
but gave a small, evil grin when Spike collapsed once again holding his head.
'Oh, bloody hell.'
'Do I take it then that you find that thought unpleasant?' He saw the faintest
of nods from Spike. 'So, Angel's death is going to affect you?' Again a nod.
'So, you need to tell him.'
When Spike looked up, there were tears glistening at the corners of his eyes.
He saw Giles looking at them and said defensively, 'Pain, watcher, just the
fucking pain!'
'You need to tell him.'
'Just shut up, will you? Yes, I know that. I know I need to bleeding tell him.
But how I'm gonna do that? You tell me... shall I just turn up and say, "Hi
Daddy, it's me." He'd fucking stake me 'fore I could get the first words out.
He hates me; he hates me....' Spike cut off the rest before he committed himself
to things that could not be unsaid, but Giles knew Spike needed commitment,
and that the words needed saying.
'I wonder how long he'll be human for... before he does it. Maybe you could
sort of slip in then and tell him, when he's not so physically strong.'
'Just fucking shut up, will you? You're missing the bleedin' point, you ponce.
What's the point of me telling him anything, Giles? What's the point of telling
him at all, if I can't lift a finger to help him?'
At last…. Giles tried not to smile at Spike's evident distress. He had thought
that this was the root of Spike's anguish, but he needed to be brought to that
conclusion himself.
'I don't know, Spike, but I still feel he has a right to know.'
'So do I, but.…'
'What?'
Spike turned to face him and lit up yet another cigarette. 'I just can't see
the scene, can you? How do you tell someone something like that? Maybe I'll
write.'
'Good idea, Spike… you could buy a postcard of the Abbey, and write on that.'
Unbelievably, Spike ended up, yet again, with his head in his hands. This time,
the tears really were ones of pain, and Giles took pity on him. Rubbing his
bruised arm, he said gently, 'You can't write something like that; you need
to go in person.'
Spike's reply was muffled, his face buried defensively into his thighs. Giles
put out a hand and laid it on Spike's head. He was allowed to stroke his thumb
gently over the short blond hair for a while, until Spike considered he'd been
poofy enough and sat up. He repeated his reply more clearly now. 'Why me? Why
do I have to be the one to tell him?'
A thought suddenly gripped him, and he turned more cheerfully to Giles.
'Absolutely not, Spike. If you think I am travelling
all the way to LA to see Angel and tell him this, then you are a very sad, very
delusional vampire.'
'Come on Giles, for me? Think of all the shit I've done for you over the years.'
They both pondered on this for quite some time. Even Spike had to give a rueful
smile at their joint conclusion that he had done precisely nothing, but this
didn't prevent his continued wheedling until they pulled up once more at Giles'
apartment.
Giles wanted to unpack, bathe, and sleep, but Spike wanted to talk. It was quite
a role-reversal, and it made Giles smile. Spike followed him into the kitchen
while he made tea and mentioned how much he'd helped the cause of right for
the last few years. He followed Giles into the bathroom while he cleaned his
teeth and outlined his role in keeping Dawn safe. He followed Giles into his
bedroom and reminded him about the journals. Giles only continued to undress
and, with a resolute tone, said, 'I'm not telling him, Spike.'
'Bugger you, Giles!'
Pausing in the act of taking off his trousers, Giles thought this a rather untimely
reminder of their strange non-relationship. Spike clearly had similar thoughts,
and his wheedling tone changed seamlessly to a more seductive one, as he crawled
up Giles' bed and stretched himself casually, but decoratively, over the covers.
'What can I do to persuade you, Giles?'
Giles laughed so hard he fell over trying to free one leg from his trousers.
He cast a glance at Spike's outraged face and doubled up, trying desperately
to breathe. When he'd regained control, he said between stifled giggles, 'That
was supposed to achieve what exactly, Spike?'
Spike knew he'd been rumbled, grinned, and shrugged. 'This fucking chip makes
me demented sometimes, watcher. Was a time, if I wanted you to do something
I'd just peel you for a while, and you'd up and do it right proper for me.'
'To be honest, Spike, I think I'd have preferred that to the whining and the
pathetic seduction attempt. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to finish undressing
and get into my bed.'
Spike did not move. He pursed his lips and studied Giles. Giles began to feel
slightly nervous. 'What? I don't like that look, Spike. What are you thinking?'
Spike stretched once more then started to study a particularly interesting nail
on one finger. 'Oh, I was just wondering whether I'd blown it completely with
you now… whether if I suggested a shag, you'd think I was trying it on again.'
He looked Giles directly in the eye. 'Would you?'
Giles felt his bowels contract. Whether this was from nervousness or anticipation,
he couldn't have said. He sat down on the bed and took his glasses off, pinching
his nose in a slightly tired way. 'I don't know what to say to that, Spike.'
'Why not? "No" is simple to say, Giles. If you say no - okay, I'll
go. No hard feelings. Other things'll be hard, but I'm used to that… can take
care of that on me own. Like you'll have to.'
Giles looked at him. 'What if I said yes then?'
Spike smiled, but there was no threat in that amused look. 'Ah, "yes"… well,
a yes is even simpler to say. If you said yes, then I'd probably do this….'
He put his hand out and took Giles' glasses and put them on the bedside table.
'A yes would make me do this, too.…' He replaced the hand rubbing wearily against
Giles' eyes with his own, but he rubbed across the temples and the cheekbones
with the ball of his thumb. 'If you said yes now, Giles.…' His voice was the
barest of whispers. 'Then I could do this again.' His hand found the front of
Giles' boxer shorts and slipped inside them. He knelt up next to Giles and pulled
the hesitant face around to his. 'But if you said yes then, most of all, I'd
want to do this….' He placed his cool lips to Giles' reluctant warm ones and,
to the rhythm of his hand inside the soft cotton material, demonstrated to Giles
how "yes" would be the right thing to say.
Giles realised, with an almost debilitating shock, that in all the years he
had known Spike… in all the times he had watched him wreak havoc in his friends'
lives, that this was the most frightened he had ever been of him. Giles' knowledge
of all this began and ended with long-repressed memories of furtive rubbing
in the dark and brief encounters in cold, shared showers. He did not know much
about Spike's life, but he had the distinct impression that the vampire knew
considerably more than he did about this particular subject. He pulled his mouth
away from Spike's, but allowed the cool hand to remain inside his shorts. After
all, it had been there before. Spike didn't seem to object to the hesitation,
only sat back on his heels and smiled. 'So, Giles, yes or no?'
'I don't know, Spike… I admit, I'm scared. I've had no experience of this. And
to be totally honest, I don't really trust your motives.'
'My motives are totally open and above board, Giles. I want you to tell Angel,
and I'm gonna shag you 'til you do.'
This broke some of the tension between them. At Giles' soft laugh, Spike withdrew
his hand and sat back, wrapping his arms around his knees. Giles slipped into
the sheets and sat next to him, for all the world like an old married couple.
'I feel quite poofy now, Spike. I thought I'd just mention that.'
'Yeah, it's better when you just shag hard 'gainst a wall or something. That's
the best… nothing poofy then… no beds, no bloody talking.'
Giles turned to him. 'And… you've done that?'
Spike nodded slowly, watching Giles' reactions carefully. 'I meant what I said
that first day, watcher. It's vampire shit… we all do it. I used to think it
was cus the demon inside us was non-sexual.…'
'Asexual.'
Spike frowned. 'A sexual what?'
'What?'
'What kind of sex thing?'
'I'm sorry?'
'You said my demon was a sexual… what?'
'No, asexual, Spike, it means… having no sexual identity: lacking sex.'
'Well fuck you, too… what's the term for having too much damn sex then? I'm
more sexy than me shirt, and don't you forget it!'
'I have no idea. B-sexual perhaps?'
Spike laughed. 'So, anyway, yeah. Vampire sexual shit. Asexual, Bsexual… it's
all one and the same thing really.'
'Well, it's not for humans, Spike, as well you know. We have very clearly defined
sexual roles, and I, for one, do not like the thought of myself as a poof. Sorry.'
'But you fancy me; I know you do.'
'Yes. I do. Bit of a dilemma then, isn't it?'
'Nah, not really, think of me as your son or something.'
Giles' jaw literally dropped open. 'Good God, Spike…!'
'What? It'll be easy then… you fancy me, but you can't do the biz cus I'm family.
Easy.'
'Easy! You've just turned me from a harmless, poofy librarian into a predatory,
incestuous paedophile! Thank you very much.'
'Labels, mate, just labels. We don't go in much for labels, us vampires.'
'Ah, so Scourge of Europe, The Big Bad, The Dark Princess, The Bloodline of
Aurelius, The Master… all labels given by humans, were they?'
'Oh fuck off, Giles. You do my head in sometimes.' Spike slid down and folded
his arms under his head. This was proving to be more complicated than he had
anticipated.
Giles glanced at the confident demon lying alongside him. 'So…?'
Spike grinned. 'Hmm, that's what I was just thinking… so…?'
'The least you could do, I suppose, is finish off what you started.' Giles turned
to Spike, took his hand, and placed it firmly, and without any hesitation, inside
the slit of his boxer shorts. Spike hissed at the unexpected desire in Giles'
face.
'Are you sure?'
'Oh yes, quite sure.'
Spike grinned, turned, and straddled Giles legs. It was a surprisingly erotic
position, and they looked questioningly into each other's eyes. Spike started
to feel softly around the warm, human groin, brushed the back of his sensitive
hand over the soft curls and pressed the heel of his palm into the silky-smooth
sac. Giles groaned and bowed his head at the delightful sensations. With practiced
ease, Spike slid Giles' soft penis out from under the waistband, then eased
the shorts off Giles' hips. Exposed, Giles felt a deep blush flood his face
but raised his eyes, surprised and pleased, when Spike placed the back of his
other hand against one flushed cheek. Spike closed his eyes to savour the heat
and whispered, 'Yes,' quietly, and almost reverently. Giles realised with deep
shame that he had not given any thought to the things that Spike might find
sensual. For Giles, it was having an erection, being able to come to orgasm…
for Spike, it seemed to be the flushed warmth of a human body and, perhaps,
just being treated as a human for once. Giles felt humbled and guilty. It did
not seem much to give this enticing vampire.
Giles held Spike's hand in his and, unexpectedly, took the cool fingers into
his mouth. Spike's eyes flew open in delight. Giles swirled his warm saliva
over them and nibbled on the skin as if it were alive and desirable. He smiled
at Spike's reaction to this then took the fingers out and pressed them to the
pulse in his neck. Spike groaned and bowed his head. Giles pressed Spike's dead
thumb into the pulse, letting him feel how strong it was, how stimulated Spike
made him: knowing that the vampire would be aroused by the thump, thump, thump.
When he thought Spike was ready, he pressed that strong hand to his heart, moving
it around until it was in just the right position for Spike to feel the source
of all his longing. Spike arched his back in delight, stretching his neck and
exposing a tiny sliver of his abdomen under his loose shirt. Giles wanted to
examine that sliver. He knew it was a rare thing to have your deepest fantasies
fulfilled, and he was not going to throw away the opportunity a second time.
He let Spike's hand drop from his heart and began to unbutton Spike's shirt…
button after button… slowly and sensually exposing the enticing body hidden
under the material. The last buttons over Spike's abdomen took Giles slightly
longer than the rest. He fumbled as he felt the hard tip of Spike's penis brushing
up against the front of his soft flannels. Spike looked down at the hesitant
hands, put his there, too, and the shirt soon slipped from the pale shoulders.
Giles pushed Spike backward gently and reared over him, his erection rubbing
across the front of Spike's trousers. He brought one hand slowly up the side
of Spike's face, intending to brush his fingers over the penetrating eyes to
close them for a while, but was shocked to see Spike flinch when the hand appeared
above his face. Spike seemed not to have seen it until that point. Giles realised,
with a shiver of fear for Spike, that he was blind in his damaged eye. He made
no comment on Spike's reaction though, and distracted him by starting slow rocking
motions against the tight, swollen front of the flannels.
Spike closed his eyes anyway, enjoying the sensation of this heavy, warm, human
male on him. He felt vulnerable. Technically, Giles could hurt him, but this
knowledge felt strangely good. He let go his defences; he allowed himself to
be in danger, even though, with Giles, he knew hurt was unlikely.
Giles bent his head to rest on Spike's shoulder and increased the speed of his
jerky movements against the hard body beneath him. He began a low moaning, and
Spike realised, with shocked amusement, that Giles was about to cum. He concentrated
on the thought of the human penis on him, pictured its soft cockhead glistening
and ready to explode, imagined in his head the taste and smell of the potent
cum and forced himself to orgasm. They came together, and Spike was glad that
Giles had not appeared premature. He had never had such a quick, unsatisfactory
shag, but he felt that this was an immense leap into the dark for the watcher
and did not want him to know this.
When Giles recovered from his orgasm, he pushed off Spike and looked at the
damp front of the vampire's new clothes. 'Sorry.'
He was on Spike's blind side, so Spike turned and gave him a cheeky smile. 'I
was gonna take 'em off anyway. Want to help?'
Giles put his hands hesitantly on the buttons, but laughed as, once again, Spike
cupped his hands around the deep, hot blush spreading across his face. When
Spike was naked, Giles looked slowly over his body, shaking his head in wonder.
Spike laughed. 'What?'
'I never realised your body was so incredible.'
Spike nodded complacently. 'Well, I've done a lot of work on it. William's had
some fine tuning over the years.'
Giles sat back in surprise. 'Vampire bodies can't change; it's one of the most
fundamental principles of the whole "dead body" thing.'
'Well, sorry, but I guess you watchers don't know it all. I can assure you...
muscles new, hair new, few other bits and pieces, too, I shouldn't wonder.'
'Goodness.' Giles laid a hand softly on the muscled abdomen, stroked it down
to the prominent hipbones, ran it up over the hard chest muscles and peaked
nipples. Spike watched his hand and enjoyed the light trail of warmth left in
its wake. 'So... err, Spike... what do you want to do now?'
Spike heard the hesitation and fear behind Giles' simple words. He looked at
him quizzically, his head tipped slightly to one side. Giles caught his eye
briefly, but looked down, embarrassed.
'I'd like to stay the night here, with you. I'd like for you not to leave this
bed before me?'
'Oh....' Giles was so relieved and pleased, he felt that maddening blush begin
again. 'Yes, of course.' He gave a slightly more confident smile to Spike. 'In
fact, I insist you stay.'
'Good then.' Spike twisted around and slipped under the cool sheets. Giles pushed
all the discarded clothing off the bed and joined him. This time, Giles turned
to Spike and pulled the cool, slim body into his embrace. After some initial
resistance, Spike relaxed into the human arms and allowed Giles to hug him.
When he sensed that Giles was almost drifting off to sleep, he started to stoke
one finger up and down the soft hairs on Giles' arm. Giles grunted at the tickling
sensation and, knowing he was still awake, Spike said sneakily, 'So, when you
gonna tell him, Rupert?'
A sleepy hand slapped him lightly on the belly, and Giles pressed his mouth
to the back of Spike's blond head. 'I'll tell you what I will do, Spike... I'll
get you invited to LA, and I'll make Angel want to see you, how's that?'
********************
Giles tried to be as good as his word the next morning. He had not intended
to get up until after Spike. He had a fairly good idea of why Spike had asked
for this: he could picture the scenes that must have occurred with Buffy. Nature
had its own agenda, however, that could not be denied. After lying for a few
hours with the still sleeping vampire in his arms, Giles tried to disentangle
himself unnoticed from the slim, hard limbs.
'Don't.' The voice was icy and accusatory.
'Err, Spike... sorry, human nature calls.'
'What?'
'I have to pee, sorry.'
'Hey! Can I watch?'
'You most certainly cannot.'
'Spoil sport, I never get to do any fun things. Buffy let me.'
Giles pulled Spike over onto his back. 'If nothing else proves that you have
never had the education of a gentleman, Spike, then your kiss-and-tell attitude
in regard to Buffy gives it away completely. I will not hear such things about
her.'
'She said I was the most degrading experience of her life. Do you feel degraded?'
'Err... no... but then I have lived longer than her; my perspective on these
things is less black and white, I suspect. That was a cruel thing for her to
have said.'
'So, will you let me watch?'
Giles suddenly realised that if he did not extract himself from this maddening
vampire, then Spike might indeed get to watch, given he was getting desperate.
He picked up his discarded boxer shorts and dressed modestly under the sheet.
Spike rolled his eyes and mumbled something about still being in bed with a
teenage girl. Giles ignored the jibe and made his way gratefully to the bathroom.
When he finished, he heard Spike in the kitchen and went in to find him completely
naked, drinking blood.
Giles felt faint and knew he had reached the limit of his tolerance. 'For God's
sake, get dressed, Spike.'
'Well, I thought I'd shower first; if that's okay?'
'Yes, sorry, thoughtless of me... of course you can.'
'I don't like showering alone, either.'
Giles turned away and tried to appear nonchalant, as he put the kettle on. 'I
think we'd look silly, squeezing into my tiny English shower together, don't
you?'
Spike looked thoughtfully at Giles. 'You are very hung up on appearances, aren't
you?'
'In the end, Spike, it's all we have. You will inevitably leave here. You will
return to America. I will be glad then of my insistence on appearances. It will
be all I have left.'
'That's a bit fucking sad.'
'Maybe, but I don't have anyone to carve my picture into immortal stone, or
to join me there in that eternity.' Giles looked Spike straight in the eye.
Spike did not flinch from his gaze and, after a moment, gave a slight nod. Giles
knew that Spike had accepted the burden, and that he would go to LA and tell
Angel of his fate.
Spike did not push for any more with Giles for the remainder of his short stay.
His mind had moved on from the immediate to the distant, for he began to think
about Angel.
This proved surprisingly painful, and he became increasingly restless in Bath.
Now he had decided to go to LA, he wanted to do it now... he wanted to face
Angel now. After another two days, he came into the Giles' bedroom one morning,
dressed, packed, and ready to leave.
Giles knew that this moment would come and bowed to the inevitability of Spike's
departure. He would miss him more than he would have thought possible, given
that he was still occasionally confused by how much he hated Spike and how much
Spike disgusted him. He accepted the confusion with grace and decided that,
like Spike, he would try to be less concerned with labels and appearances. He
even drove Spike back to Heathrow, and there was only pleasure in doing so.
They parted like casual acquaintances; Giles shook Spike's hand at the departure
gate and wished him well, promising to engineer an invitation to for him LA.
He walked back through the concourse, only now admitting to himself that he
felt surprisingly sad.
When the strong hands grasped his shoulders, he jumped in surprise. Ardent lips
fastened to his, and Giles knew that, for this one precious moment, he was totally
unconcerned about appearances or labels. These hang-ups would come back to him
soon enough as he faced the stares and shocked expressions of the throng around
them but, for that one moment, all he could think about was Spike. All he wanted
to think about was the feel of Spike's lips. All he could concentrate on was
the taste of Spike's tongue as it slipped into his mouth. Spike kissed Giles
with an urgency and passion that they had not shared before. Their hands came
up to entwine in hair; their bodies ground together. They only pulled apart
because Giles needed to breathe. They rested their foreheads together, smiling.
'Take care, Spike. I hope it goes well for you; let me know how it all works
out? And....'
Spike pulled away and looked at Giles intently. 'If you ever need it, there
will always be a place in England where you will be welcome.'
It fleetingly crossed Giles' mind to ask why Spike's eyes were glistening, given
he was not in pain, but he saw from Spike's expression that he did not need
to mention this. Spike knew very well that he was not exactly being the Big
Bad at this parting.
'Cheers then, Giles. Keep me books as long as you need 'em. Look after 'em for
me... they may soon be all I have, hey?' This attempt at bravado went disastrously
wrong and, with one last anguished look, Spike picked up his bag and headed
back to face his unwelcome task.
The flight seemed even longer going back. The seats were uncomfortable; the
alcohol made him scratchy and restless, and he was glad to land and get back
to his own quiet, dead life. For the first time, he regretted letting Giles
engineer the excuse to get him to LA. Left to his own devices, Spike knew that
he would now have found some very good reason why he could not see Angel, or
why Angel would not see him and, therefore, not bothered with the attempt at
all. He felt as if events were overtaking him, as if he was merely a pawn in
someone else's plans, and he did not like that sensation at all.
Giles did not hesitate in his promise to Spike. The minute he got back to his
apartment, he sat down and drafted the letter he hoped would get Spike the invitation
he needed.
Dear Wesley.
Thank you for sending me the address of your new Angel Investigations website;
it was thoughtful of you. If I owned a computer, I would log-on and take a look.
Sorry I have not written earlier, but I decided to take the council up on the
book offer I told you about in my last. As you rightly said, money like that
does not grow on trees. But it's been a hard slog getting started, I can tell
you. Not helped by a particularly bad decision on my part to ask that ghastly
vampire, Spike, to assist with some of the research.
He was only here for a week but, believe me, it seemed a great deal longer.
How are things in LA? Busy, I expect.
Well, must be going, thanks again for your letter. By the way, do you know of
any doctors in Sunnydale that specialise in demon injuries? I seem to remember
there was one, but perhaps he has stopped practising. Along with being lazy
and obnoxious, Spike also spent the entire time harping on about some minor
injury. He did seem quite blind in his right eye... not something that would
worry me unduly, except for its implications for Buffy. He is a liability like
that, and I suppose something needs to be done.
Mention it to Angel, perhaps; he may know of someone who could help. I should
think LA full of such people; maybe one of them could be persuaded to visit
Spike in Sunnydale.
Yours, Rupert
Giles was pleased with this letter. He thought it subtle, yet believed it would
produce exactly what he wanted. Wesley would mention the injury to Angel; Angel
would bring Spike to LA. For all Spike's protestations that Angel hated him,
Giles believed their relationship to be far more complex than a simple emotion
like hate would indicate.
Spike spent his first few days back in Sunnydale in a state of nervous excitement.
Giles had not told him the plan to get him to LA, wanting his reactions to be
as natural as possible. Thus, Spike did not know whether he could expect to
be summoned, whether one of the humans would come here to fetch him, or whether
a resounding 'fuck off' might be winging its way to him. Once or twice, he went
to the magic shop and telephoned Giles. It reassured him to hear that calm,
familiar voice, but he could only do this when Anya was briefly distracted elsewhere,
so their conversations were rather short and business-like. Only once did either
of them venture onto more personal ground. After a week of waiting for something
to happen, Spike slipped into the shop one evening whilst everyone was stocktaking
in the cellar and dialled the memorised number.
'Watcher.'
'Spike. Still nothing?'
'Still nothing.'
'Give it time; I only posted it five days ago. You know how disrupted the post
has been to America recently. They may not have even received my letter yet.
How are you?'
'You know, the usual.'
'How's the Buffy situation?'
'Haven't seen her much....' Spike wanted to add "not when she's standing
on me right, anyway", but he thought he had successfully kept his blindness
from Giles, and resisted.
'Have you thought what you are going to tell Angel, when you do see him?'
'No. I kind of thought....'
'What? Tell me.'
Spike took a deep breath to try human means of steadying himself. 'I thought
I'd come right out and tell him the truth. Angelus always tried to get me to
do that - never did of course - but maybe I'll give it a try for once.'
'Good idea, he'd probably appreciate that... Spike? Are you still there?'
'Yeah, I'm still here.'
'Oh, it's rather hard to tell given....'
'That I'm dead?'
'I was going to say, given that you are so far away.'
'Oh. What you been doing then?'
'Working, reading your books as it happens today.'
'Anything good?'
'Yes, actually the last book, when you and Drusilla arrive in Sunnydale. Extremely
interesting, especially the bits about a certain, quiet, intelligent, and rather
handsome librarian....'
Spike laughed. 'Fuck you, Giles, I never described you like that.'
'Exactly, and thank you for the increase in my vocabulary. I'd never come across
the term 'pissant fuckwit' before, but it is one I shall certainly treasure.'
'Fuck, that seems a long time ago. You've no idea how things have changed since
this bleedin' chip.' Spike did not actually mean this to be in direct reference
to his description of Giles, but as the words left his mouth, he realised that
was how they might be interpreted.
There was a long pause before Giles said quietly, 'So, not a pissant fuckwit
anymore then?'
Spike laughed. 'Are you fishing for a compliment, Giles?'
'Yes, I rather think I am.'
'Oh... well, I'm not very good at those. Ask the slayer; she don't seem to like
my compliments too much.'
'As I would have thought you'd have noticed, Spike; I am not a young woman.'
'I had noticed, Giles. And that's the best compliment you're gonna get out of
me. I'd noticed.'
'Heart felt, I'm sure.'
'Totally.'
'Spike....'
'What, watcher?'
'Remember what I said about... coming home. I would think that if you were facing
eternity, England would be a much better country to do that in.'
'Why, cus it's so boring there anyway?'
'You're getting silly now, so I'm going to go.'
'Yeah, that cricket match is calling... don't blink, you might miss someone
waking up.'
'Hang up, Spike. You are wasting Anya's money.'
'It's not being wasted, Giles.'
'Oh. Well, I miss you, too, Spike.'
At that, Spike did hang up; he couldn't afford distractions like this. He needed
to stay focused on the task in hand... and, oh, was that the cash till left
temptingly unguarded? Spike's focus left him for the rest of the evening and
long into the night, because he got paralytic at the Bronze and continued drinking
heavily on his return to his crypt. He crashed out unconscious on the bed in
a pool of vomit and, therefore, did not hear Angel come down the ladder or sense
Angel standing looking at him.
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