“What’s the matter, Rupert?”
Giles looked up from where he was reading inscriptions in the light from the near-by streetlamp. “The highlight of my weekend is being trapped by a horrendous thunderstorm in a crypt with a vampire and a robot made to resemble like my dead Slayer. What do you think is the matter, Spike?”
“I think it’s neat!” chirped the Buffybot. Spike shot it a glare that could melt its plastic skin and went back to picking black nail polish off his thumb nail.
Giles got as comfortable as he could on a low stone wall and watched lightening flash through the door and the bars on the one window high in the wall. “Good thing we were the only ones patrolling tonight. I wonder what brought this storm on?”
Spike shrugged. “Could be some mystical fallout from all the magic Red has been doing.”
“She has taken off in the magicks area.”
“Willow fixed me!” added the Buffybot. “She’s gay.”
Spike growled and launched himself off the tomb he was perched on.
“It’s the Big Bad, and he’s coming to get me! Help!” said the bot in cartoon peril.
Spike went over to it. “Sit down,” he snarled.
The bot hopped up on the tomb behind her. “Now I am at the right height for sex!” Growling again, Spike pulled down its collar and pushed a hidden button. The bot slumped a bit and stared blindly ahead.
“Thank you,” Giles said.
“I am so glad Willow could put in an off switch.” Spike returned his all-important tack of polish picking.
“It does get tiresome,” agreed Giles.
The two sat and listened to the storm. A crack of lightening was followed by the creak and crash of a falling tree.
“That didn’t sound good.”
After some 30 minutes of quiet between the two, Giles suddenly asked the vampire, “Is this what it’s like?”
“Is what like what?”
“A vampire being trapped inside a crypt all day.”
“Not exactly. You have the option of leaving and getting somewhere without bursting into flame.”
“I mean… never mind.”
They sat silently for a bit.
Spike sighed. “Yeah, it’s pretty much like this most days.”
“What do you do all day?
“Same things unemployed librarians do all night.”
“I also know over 300 ways to play solitaire.”
“There can’t possibly be that many.”
“Sure there are. I invented many of them myself.” Spike chuckled. “And, if you play solitaire with tarot cards, people die. It is true, you know.”
Giles’ normally calm attitude was shaken.
“Of course, that’s because every time the death card would turn up, I’d have to kill someone.” Spike had picked off all the polish, pulled out a little bottle from the pocket of his long leather coat, and started applying a fresh coat.
Giles watched for a while, then found himself staring at the Buffybot. “All that effort,” Giles muttered to himself.
“Fella’s got to look good,” Spike answered, not even shifting his attention from the tricky left pinky he was painting.
“No, not that.”
Spike glanced at Giles and followed his gaze. He grunted and went back to polishing. “Wasn’t worth it.”
“Did you pay for it?”
“No, I just frightened the boy into building it for me.”
“She was an extraordinary girl.” Both knew he means Buffy
Spike just nods.
“I can understand why you fell for Buffy.”
Spike glanced up at the middle-aged Englishman. “Why didn’t you?’
“What? No, no. She was like a daughter to me. I never had children, and doubt I ever will. I guess you can’t understand that.”
“Sure I can. Dawn feels like a daughter to me. Or at least a willful niece.”
“And, of course, their father abandoned them.”
“The wanker. I should hunt him down and get him for the pain he caused them.”
“That wouldn’t solve anything.”
“It would make me feel better,” Spike shrugged.
The storm raged outside for several minutes before Spike spoke up again. “It’s different with vampires. You have the best sex with your blood relations. Dru was my sire and no one is better.”
“It’s amazing vampires can have sex at all, actually.”
Spike quirked an eyebrow. “And why is that?”
“An erection is a function of reproduction and vampires do not reproduce through seed, but through blood.”
Spike looked sideways at the Watcher. “It’s a function of blood. Blood makes you hard. It’s a function of fun.”
Silence fell again. Spike finished putting polish on one hand and realized Giles was studying him. “What now?”
“Sorry, just thinking.”
“About vampire sex?”
“Ever had any?” Spike asked, mostly to annoy. Giles did not answer. Of course Spike took this as an affirmative. “Ripper, my man!”
“I was very young.” Giles pulled out his handkerchief and polished his glasses. “My ‘pals’ set me up. And I was drunk. She was quite charming until she showed her demon face.”
Spike threw his back his head and laughed. “Oh God, that’s fun to do. Ever since the chip, I’ve had to get my jollies other ways.”
“I’m not so sure I want to hear about your jollies, Spike.”
“Come on, loosen up. A couple of times I‘ve driven to L.A. and picked up a bird. Well, I work my charms and get her into bed. Then, at just the right moment…” Spike’s face suddenly morphed from an attractive completely human face to a visage with a massive wrinkled brow, tiger yellow eyes, and a mouth full of very sharp teeth. “I can’t hurt, but the Big Bad can still scare,” Spike laughed, running his tongue over his fangs.
Giles was unimpressed with this display, having fought beside Spike all summer and having seen his ‘game face’ many times. “Very funny, I’m sure. You know, there are stories in the Watcher’s dairies about you and Angelus,” Giles said, trying to get back at Spike.
But the vampire just shrugged and shook off the demon visage. “Like I said, blood is better. He’s my grandsire, after all. Besides, gender doesn’t mean much. I like women, but as long as it’s got a hole, or a tentacle, or…”
“Please, Spike, spare me your litany.”
“Sex is sex. Who can keep pace with a vamp except another vamp?”
“Or a Slayer,” Giles stated quietly.
“I guess I’ll never know.”
“That was part of your attraction, wasn’t it?”
Spike shrugged. “Yeah.” Both sadly thought about their loss.
Suddenly, Spike left off blowing on the polish on his nails and hopped off the crypt. With a mischievous grin, he stalked over to Giles. “How about you, Giles? You been lonely? Want a little Spike in your life? The storm’s not letting up. No one will know.”
Giles sputtered. “No. Not even a faintest remote chance. Go away, Spike.”
Spike leaned in close and put his hand on Giles’ knee. “Come on, Ripper… you know you want to.”
“No. I do not. If you are that hard up, why don’t you switch on the bot. That’s why you had it made, isn’t it?” Giles said angrily.
“Because it’s not her!” exploded Spike, causing to Giles grab the wooden stake he had been patrolling with. “It’s a cold, plastic fake reminder of what I’ve lost.” Spike stalked over to the crypt wall. “Of what I’ll never have.” He punched his fist through one of the stones covering a burial alcove, breaking off chucks of stone, and ripping into the coffin behind it.
“What are you doing?” Giles asked, afraid Spike had something nasty planned for him.
“If I can’t have sex, I may as well break something. It goes back to what I do all day.” Spike threw out pieces of wood, bones, and strips of rotting cloth. He stopped and pulled a ring off a finger bone and tucked it in his pocket. His careful search did not produce any other bounty. He stepped to the next alcove and drew back to kick it in.
Spike paused. “What else is there to do? Besides, you put me in the mood to smash things.” With a strong side kick, Spike shattered another cover and started sifting through contents again.
Giles watched him for a few. “I’m sorry, Spike.”
“About what?” Spike mumbled.
“For that crude suggestion of mine. About the bot. You threw me off, hitting on me like that.”
“I was only joking, Rupert. And I… I thought you may be lonely.”
“I am lonely. Desperately. But, sorry. Even with all your Big Bad charms, you’re just not my type.”
Spike finished sifting through the wreckage of coffin and body, stuffing a few finds in his coat pocket. He returned to his perch and sat cross-legged. Reaching into an inside pocket, he pulled out a battered western paperback.
“What all do you carry in your pockets, anyway? I rarely see you without that coat. Why are you so attached to it?”
Spike glanced down at his long leather trench coat. “That’s a story for another day. You won’t like it much. Let’s see what fun I can turn up.” Spike hopped down and began systematically going through his pockets. Silver lighter and cigs came out first. A wad of cash was pulled from an inside pocket. A pocket knife with an illegally long blade. A couple of stakes. A small zip lock bag of Giles did not ask what. The bottle of black nail polish. The shiny bits he had just pilfered from the crypts along with a finger bone. Spike paused and tossed aside the finger bone. A deck of playing cards with a rubber band around it. A thin wallet. A couple of condoms and a silver flask.
“What does a vampire need with condoms?” Giles asked.
“Pffft. Birds won’t drop their knickers for a quickie without one. They're afraid they'll die of something." Spike snickered. "You really are out of circulation.” Spike shook the flask, took a hit, then offered it to Giles. He gave it a sniff before sipping.
“Is this from my stock?”
“What do you need a wallet for?” Giles asked as he handed back the flask.
“Same thing you do. I have to keep up appearances.”
“May I?” Giles asked, reaching for it. Spike shrugged.
Inside the worn black leather were a couple of very well made fake id’s in the name of William Blooden, including a driver’s license for Arkansas. Next, he found a series of pictures from a photo booth of Spike and Drusilla making out like teenagers. Peeking out from behind this he saw the folded edge of a yellowed photo. Giles looked up at Spike. “Go ahead. It may amuse you.” Carefully, Giles pulled out the photo and unfolded it. Angelus, his hair long, dressed in Victorian finery smirked out at him. “He let that be taken to amuse Dru. Angel doesn’t know I have it.” Giles nodded and carefully folded the picture before replacing it. He flipped it over to find a black and white picture of Buffy smiling up at him. He recognized it as having come from the Sunnydale yearbook. He closed the wallet and traded it for the flask.
“I should have called in the resources of the council to deal with Glory.”
Spike returned the clutter to his pockets. They sat and shared the flask, thinking of all the ways they could have saved Buffy.
“I should've been better armed. A shotgun would've taken out Doc,” Spike listed.
“I have connections. I should have called in some markers.”
“I could've rounded up some demons I know. Hired some muscle.”
“I could have summoned a demon,” Giles topped.
“I could've drank Dawn’s blood and carried it through the portal. Or Buffy’s.”
“I should have recognized Glory when she came in the shop.”
“I could've killed Glory’s human form, Ben.”
“I should have put Dawn on a plane for somewhere far away.”
“I could've not fucked up.”
“Not fucked up.”
“Ninety-one days.” Spike said.
“How long she’s been gone. Ninety-one days.”
Spike shook the flask and offered the last bit to Giles who shook his head and turned serious eyes to Spike. “Do you ever wish you were mortal?”
“Once in a while. Not often.” He put the flask in his pocket. “More so the last year. I wanted to be human… for her.” Spike’s eyes slipped to the Buffybot. “She was a soul snob, you know. She would never love me without a soul.”
“Isn’t there a way for a demon to regain his soul?”
“Fairy stories. I’ve heard them all my life, well, all my unlife. Supposedly, there is a guy squatting in a cave in Africa who will grant your wish once you pass some trial or another.”
Giles snapped his fingers. “I know just the book that’s in. Would you like to read it some time?”
Spike shrugged. “Sure. May be worth knowing.”
Both fell silent. The stillness outside dawned on Giles. “Hey, the storm has past!”
“I’ll see you around the slaying grounds, Rupert!” Spike called as he took off with a sweep of black leather.
Giles sighed and turned the Buffybot back on.
The false light returned to its eyes and it looked around. “Where’s Spike?”
“You don’t need to be around Spike all the time any more. You have to slay.”
“Evil creatures be-ware!”
“That’s right. Let’s take you home.” Giles silently lead the Buffybot across the sodden cemetery to return her to her ‘home’ before driving his lonely way to his own.
The Summer's house was filled with typical post-patrol chaos. Xander was putting weapons away. Tara had gone to fetch Dawn from her friend's house across the street. Willow had the Buffybot open and was tinkering once again. Everyone was talking about the night's kills and laughing. Giles motioned Spike away from the others. “I located the book which details the legend we discussed.”
“Remind me, Rupert, which one?” asked the vampire, who was more than ready to escape to his quiet crypt.
“The African one about a demon reclaiming his soul.”
“Yeah?” Spike was interested. “You know, I made a bet about that once. Of course, the fellow set off to prove it and I never heard from him again.”
“Would you like to come over tomorrow night and read it?”
“An evening away from the kiddies? I’d love to.” He raised his voice as he headed for the door. “I can’t come over tomorrow, Red, I have something to do!” And he was gone before Willow could protest. He was tired of the Scooby gang using him as a bodyguard or babysitter as the whim hit. He had to rebel sometimes.
When Spike arrived at Giles’ bachelor apartment just after dark, Spike could tell he had been drinking for some time. Spike was not surprised. It’s not like this was a new thing, and everyone mourns in his own way.
Giles waved the vamp to the sofa and poured him a scotch. “What’s with the good stuff, Rupert?”
“What is there to save it for?” He handed a slim, vest-pocket sized volume to the vampire. It showed obvious signs of wear, but was well cared for, being such an old book. “I’ve marked the place. It actually sounds quite plausible.” He sat beside the vampire and pointed out some illustrations. “See, there is even a teleportation address thingie.”
Spike squinted the small print. “I’m not much for the magicks, so I’ll take your word for it. Can I borrow this and study it?”
“Certainly not. It’s part of my collection. But, I’ll make you a copy and translate the magical bits.”
Spike read through the volume, rapidly engrossed in it. He reached for his drink and realized Giles was studying him.
“What now? You know, you like to stare at me a lot.”
“When I was holding you here, when you showed up with the story about your neutering chip… I have to confess, I kept you here more to study you than anything. A cooperative, captive vampire has been an unheard of thing in the Watcher’s journals. I have learned so many things from you about vampires that were previously unknown, or at least unconfirmed. They would love the knowledge I gained. If the council had not turned it’s back on me after taking my life from me. The life I dedicated to them… I gave up possibly having a wife and children for my calling, you know.
“Now my Slayer, is gone. The group of young people I attempted to give some guidance to is fragmenting. And I… I have no purpose. I have no roots and no circle of friends. I have nothing to lose."
Spike noticed how close the Watcher was sitting. “Are you all right?”
Giles drained his Scotch and set the glass on the table. “Were you serious?”
“Once in a while. Was I serious when?”
“During the storm. Went you… hit on me.”
Spike raised an eyebrow. “Why not? Have you changed your mind?”
“I have. I am so very lonely. It weighs on me these days.” He reached up and lightly touched Spike’s cheek. “And you are a very beautiful man.”
“Normally, I’d just be in this for a shag, but I have to ask. Is this just a drunken impulse?”
Giles barked a laugh. “No. I’m drunk for the impulse, not because of it.”
studied the tired eyes. He really does want this. Damn. I want it, too.
We’re more alike than we care to admit, I guess.
“Okay, then.” Spike got up, locked the door and wedged a chair under the knob. Everyone knew about the faulty lock on the front door.
“Don’t bother. They never come to visit me anymore.”
Spike turned a smile on him. “Then laws of bad luck say this will be the one night they decide to burst in.” Spike headed up the stairs to the loft bedroom, pausing half way up. “Well?”
Giles followed him.
In the dimly lit room, Spike stripped Giles’ clothes, then his own. After that, he let the Watcher do what he wanted. I promised I would take care of Dawn, but I know Buffy would want her Watcher happy, too. The tipsy Englishman spent a little time just looking at Spike, then ventured to touch him as if he were some sculpture or rare artifact.
“So beautiful. So few scars.” His hands ran over the pale angles and planes of Spike’s body, yet avoided touching Spike’s penis. He reached down and started tugging his own. Gently, Spike took the man’s shoulders and seated him on the bed.
Kneeling before him, Spike took Giles’ hard cock expertly in his mouth, making the man moan. His fingers twined in Spike’s short hair, breaking the gel and twisting it to new shapes. It was not long before he spent his load deep in the vampire’s throat.
Spike started to get up, but Giles grabbed his shoulder. “Will you… will you stay a while longer?”
Spike made a point of not accepting too quickly. “Sure, I have nowhere else to go.”
Giles climbed into bed and Spike lay down beside him under the covers, not touching him. In the darkness, Giles fell asleep and Spike lay with is hands behind his head, listening to the human breathing. When they had held him “captive” here in this apartment, the place had come familiar. Spike knew the little night sounds and smells of it, and of Giles. He lay without moving, experiencing a new perspective on these things as the human slept beside him.
Some hours later, Giles woke up. “What? Who?” he said at the unfamiliar sensation of waking up next to someone.
“It’s me, Rupert,” Spike said quietly.
“I’ll be right back,” he faltered, escaping downstairs to use the bathroom, and get a glass of water. He returned to find Spike unmoved, still naked beneath the covers. He slipped in beside the lean man and ran a hand across the muscular, hairless chest.
“I want…” he started, then pulled away. He was mostly sober now, and thinking twice.
Spike captured his hand and returned it to his chest. “Rupert, whatever you want from me, you can have,” Spike murmured. “This is a one-time offer, so use me as you will. I… I want you to.”
Giles paused and then fumbled in a bedside drawer. Giles rolled the smaller man over and spooned against him. Spike could feel Giles’ erection prodding against him. There was the click of a plastic cap and the chemical, yet not unpleasant scent of KY jelly. Spike raised one leg to accommodate Giles.
The larger man rapidly found his target and pushed roughly in. He had not done this since he was a teen, and he knew how to not hurt his partner, yet he did not care. He’s just a vampire, I can’t hurt him. Then Giles closed his eyes and dismissed all thoughts of who and what he was fucking.
Spike panted to combat the flare of pain. He forced himself to relax and the pain soon turned to something like pleasure. It had been far to long for Spike as well. He needs to hurt. He needs to be comforted. I need to be hurt and comforted. I guess this works all around.
After a few minutes of spooning, Giles pushed and posed the compliant body until Spike was on his knees and Giles could ride him hard. He lost himself in the sensation of being surrounded my flesh, of being in control, of having contact with another. As much as he wanted it to last, it had been to long and it felt so good. Giles slammed hard into Spike’s ass, his fingers digging deep on sharp hipbones until all is spent.
He fell beside the vampire, panting. Spike sat back on his heels and looked at him. “Better now?”
Giles opened his eyes as if he’d forgotten another person was there, peered at the vampire, then closed them again. “Yes, thank you. You may go now.” Spike stood up. “What day is it?” he asked as Spike gathered his clothes. “I can’t keep count."
“One hundred and twenty.”
Spike went downstairs to the shower. In the spill of hot water and soap, he masturbated, thinking of the texture of Giles’ skin, the smell of his despair, and the taste of his seed. Thinking about anything but the girl he will never make love to.
Spike came home to his crypt late on the night of the 146th day, blessing the demon shopkeeper wise enough to cater to vampire clientele. He put his smokes, blood, and whisky away. Breathing in a sigh, he realized someone had been in his crypt. He smelled musty books, a hint of scotch, subtle aftershave, and Giles. Spike looked around and spotted a familiar thin red book and several folded sheets of paper lying on his armchair. A note stuck out the top.
I am leaving for England today. You can have this book for I think it will fit well in one of your many pockets. Perhaps it will help you wile away one of your long sunny days. Besides, it belonged to the Watcher’s council. Thank you for all you have done for Dawn, for me, and for her.-Giles