"Secrets & Lies"
Author: Lynx
Email: lmentus@rochester.rr.com
Notes: For my fellow couch-sitters, especially Chelle, who never stopped
prodding. Bless your heart!
Spike awoke in the same position he'd fallen asleep in, surrounded by the warmth and scent of the Slayer pressed firmly against him. He waited with dread for the sensation to leave him, for her dream image to fade away as it always did. When he realized that he was actually awake and the Slayer was real, he sighed with relief and buried his face in her hair, tightening his hold on her.
He felt sated, satisfied, her blood thrumming through his veins, filling him with a contentment and a calm he hadn't felt in weeks. A contentment he hadn't expected to ever feel again, not after what had happened between them. Listening to her slow, even breath and the steady beat of her heart, Spike wondered if there was anything as close to heaven as this. Not that he would ever experience the real thing, soul or no soul.
A soul. It was laughable, really. He'd always taken such pride in being a demon, had flaunted it at Angel when he'd first come to Sunnydale. Taunted his sire about being tainted with purity, a goody-two-shoes, when all along - if the Slayer could be believed - he was just as much of a freak as Angel had been. Worse, even. Angelus had been unable to love anyone, while he, William the fucking Bloody, had fallen in love for the second time. And with the Slayer, no less.
Drusilla had been understandable. Vampires sometimes formed long term attachments with each other out of mutual need for companionship. With Drusilla he'd felt needed, strong, in control. He hadn't been a victim, the way he'd been with Emma and Angelus. He'd been Dru's protector, her black knight - her entire world - for eighty years. And then "Daddy" came home, and Dru's world hadn't been big enough for the both of them.
The Slayer, though... She didn't need his protection. She'd thwarted every plan he'd come up with to take her out, bested him at every turn, and in the final scheme of things, she alone had been the one to dust Angelus. She was stronger than anyone he'd ever known, pure of heart without being self-righteous. He didn't blame the Slayer for Dru's death, he felt responsible for that, just as he'd always felt responsible for her, since the first moment he'd laid eyes on her. His Black Rose... He tried to shove aside the memories of her. Dru was gone; she was his past, and the Slayer was his future. Out of the darkness and into the light... The Slayer and Drusilla, the sun and moon, day and night, two women who couldn't possibly be more different. The vampire he thought he'd spend eternity with, and the human whose time on earth was all too short.
Losing Buffy was something Spike didn't want to think about. She was his mate, and now, against all laws of nature, above all that was holy or unholy, she carried his child. Life on the Hellmouth, never boring, eh, mate? Just when he'd thought his unlife couldn't be more fucked up, along comes something to remind him that you always pick up speed on the way down. A soul *and* a kid - where was a stake when you needed one? A high falsetto voice sounded in his head- "I don't know nothin' 'bout birthin' no babies, Miz Scarlett!"
The Slayer sighed in her sleep and wriggled against him, all soft and warm, causing his cock to automatically spring to life. That was part of his problem right there. All too often, he let his dick do his thinking for him. But with the Slayer's deliciously soft ass pressed tightly against him, his hands roaming over her smooth skin, he couldn't honestly say that it was a bad thing. Her warmth beckoned to him, and he felt her pulse quicken and her breathing become uneven. She was just starting to waken, little whimpers sounding in her throat as his fingers found her center, feeling that liquid heat waiting to surround his straining shaft. He heard her plead with him, his name falling from her lips as he brought her close to the edge.
Making love to her was like something akin to playing chicken with the sun. No matter how much it singed your flesh, you kept trying to withstand the pain, wanting just one more look... Wondering if it was worth it, wondering if turning into a pile of cinders was worth feeling the heat caressing you one more time...
Was it?
Fuck, yeah, he thought, gently easing himself inside her. It was worth risking the sunburn, in order to sink into daylight like this. Worth every moment of pain, worth every twist and turn his unlife had taken. He'd go to Hell and back again to stay inside her. In some ways, he already had.
Buffy had been awakened by cool hands caressing every part of her skin and she writhed against Spike contentedly. She'd been afraid that it had all been a dream, that he wasn't really there, but the hard body pressed against her back had quickly reassured her. Skillful fingers dipped between her thighs, teasing her moistening flesh as soft lips brushed across her shoulder. He always knew just how to touch her, knew just the right buttons to push...just like the one he was pushing now, rubbing in small circles... God, he was so good...
She gasped his name and tensed as she hovered on the edge of orgasm. His movements became slower, drawing out the sensation until she thought she'd go mad with wanting. "Spike, please..."
She felt him part her folds and slide into her inch by inch, until she was filled with his entire length. Buffy heard him moan low in his throat and growl her name, causing her muscles to clench around him in response. Everything stopped as they joined together, relishing the combination of her soft, wet heat and his cool, marble-like hardness.
His fingers continued to gently rub her clitoris as he ran his tongue along the nape of her neck. She was so close... All he needed to do was move, just move a fraction of an inch...
Spike pulled back slightly and then gave a long, slow thrust until he was buried as deep as he could go. With a sharp cry, Buffy exploded around him, her body arching back as the waves of pleasure went on and on and on...
The Slayer's muscles tightened around him like a vise, sending him over the edge along with her. His head dropped to her shoulder and his eyes squeezed shut as the pulsing spasms caught him by surprise, milking his cock until he was sure there wasn't a single drop of fluid left in him. He could feel her heart racing as he shuddered against her and tried to catch his breath. In her presence his body always seemed to forget that he didn't need oxygen. He might as well be human for all the control he had around the Slayer. He felt almost chagrined at how fast she'd made him come, like a virginal schoolboy getting his first taste. How had he ever thought he could live without this?
"Wow," Buffy whispered tremulously. "That was..." Her voice trailed off as words failed her.
"Yeah, it was," he murmured in her ear. "I didn't mean for it to end so quick, though, I should have- "
"It was perfect," she assured him, lacing her fingers with his. "So intense... When you're inside me, it's like the rest of the world fades away."
"I know, love." His lips brushed across her throat. "It's the same for me. I want to stay like this forever, buried deep inside you..."
She shivered at his words and smiled sleepily. "Mmmm, that sounds wonderful."
"I can't believe I'm holding you again. I thought it was all a dream." He felt her squeeze his hand. "I never thought you'd come back. Never thought you'd want me again." He knew that he sounded like an idiot nancy-boy, but didn't care. He wanted her to know how he felt, and it was easier like this, in the afterglow of sex. Easier when she wasn't looking directly at him. "How can you love me, Slayer? What do you see when you look at me?" he wondered out loud.
"That's easy," she answered, snuggling back against him. "I see a boy who survived against insurmountable odds. A boy who could have grown up hard and cold, but kept his humor and passion intact. I see the man who risked everything he was and teamed up with his worst enemy to try to keep the woman he loved. Someone who made me scream his name in the middle of the cemetery."
Spike smiled at the memory of their first time together. The surprise they'd both felt at how good it was. The realization that nothing would ever be the same between them again.
Buffy continued, "When I look at you, I see a man who raced against the sun just to leave a rose in my locker. It was the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me." She pulled away from him and rolled over until they were nose to nose. "Most important of all, I see a vampire whose soul was strong enough to overpower a demon and knock up a Slayer." She grinned impudently at him. "That alone will get you into the history books."
Spike answered with a rueful grin of his own. "It's gonna get me bloody killed is what it'll do."
"Not while I'm around."
He dropped a kiss on her nose. "Gonna protect me from all the demons that'll be gunnin' for my undead arse? Not to mention the fucking Council..."
Buffy frowned. "Do you really think they'll come after you? Other demons? Giles won't say anything to the Council, he doesn't trust them all that much."
"Don't worry about it, pet. We're below radar at the moment. As long as we can keep our involvement a secret until the Watcher figures something out- "
"He will. Giles always comes through."
It was said with a quiet conviction that he couldn't argue with. The Slayer knew her Watcher best, and Spike would just have to trust her judgement in this. He pulled her into his arms and felt her stiffen as he nuzzled her neck.
"Giles!" Buffy pushed him away and struggled to get out of bed. Spike looked at her questioningly. "I forgot to call him! He must be imagining all sorts of-" she grabbed his shirt and pulled it over her head, "-horrible things. Where's your phone?"
"Do you think the image of me fucking you silly will be top on the list?"
Buffy gave him an exasperated look. "Please. Somehow I think Giles would rather imagine you killing me."
Spike snorted and rolled out of bed, grabbing his duster from where it lay across a chair. He removed the cell phone from one of the pockets and handed it over. "Yeah, well, I hope he's not on his way over here loaded for bear. That would definitely put a damper on our reconciliation."
Buffy rolled her eyes at him as she quickly punched out the number to the library. Giles wouldn't do something like that...at least, she didn't think so. The phone barely rang once before Willow picked up on the other end.
"Hey, Will, it's me. Yes, I'm fine - *we're* fine. Yes, I told him everything. No, he didn't faint." It was Spike's turn to roll his eyes as he tugged his jeans up over his hips. "Just tell Giles that I'm okay and that I'll probably see him tomorrow. Okay, bye." She clicked off the phone and turned to look at Spike.
"No sharp, pointy things headed my way?"
"No, you're safe for now." Buffy tossed the phone on the bed and ran her fingers through her hair. "I need a shower. And I'm actually hungry for once - can we order something?"
"Can I eat the delivery boy?" Spike asked with a smirk.
Buffy cocked an eyebrow. "What do you think?"
"I think you're a party pooper."
Buffy threw a pillow at him and it bounced off his head. "I want Chinese - sweet and sour chicken, fried rice, the works. Are you still hungry?"
"Hungrier than I've been in days. I think I'll call Willy and have him bring food for both of us. The little weasel owes me - several times over." Spike picked up the phone and dialed the Alibi Room. When Willy picked up, Spike gave him instructions and hung up without saying goodbye.
Buffy shook her head at him and grinned. "You are *so* rude, it's not even funny."
"Rude and crude, baby," he replied, swinging her up into his arms, laughing as she squealed. "And you love it." He captured her mouth in a kiss and headed for the door. "How about that shower? We have an hour or so before Willy gets here..."
Willow hung up the phone, her shoulders slumping in relief. Even though she'd told herself that Spike cared for Buffy, she'd still been terrified that his anger would get the best of him. She knew what he was capable of and yet he'd once again refused to fit into a definitive vampire mold.
"Vampires," she muttered. "Life was so much simpler before I ever knew they existed." Simpler, maybe, but she wouldn't wish for her old life back, not for anything. Not unless she could have Oz back, and that wasn't going to happen.
Willow had expected Giles to come running out of the office when the phone rang, but she'd snatched it up so quickly that he must not have heard it. She stood up to go and tell him about Buffy just as the library doors swung open. Startled, she looked up, smiling as Xander ambled into the room.
"Willow! You're here!" He rushed over and threw his arms around her the way he used to when they were little and had been separated for a few days. They had always hated being apart for any length of time and she'd forgotten how much he depended on her being around. And how much she depended on him. Willow returned his hug with vigor, breathing in the familiar smell of him.
"How are you? I knew you needed space, but I wish I could have done more for you," Xander said quietly in her ear.
"I'm better, and there wasn't anything you could do. With Buffy sick, it was better for me to just spend time with her. It gave me someone else to think about." She pulled away and tucked her hair behind her ears. "What are you doing here?" she asked.
"Cordy's doing some mother-daughter bonding at Neiman-Marcus. It's an all day thing. I came by to see if Giles needed any help. What about you?"
"Oh, I was just...cataloguing some books and researching a few things. Nothing much. I thought it was time I started getting back into my routine."
Xander nodded. "I'm glad, Will. God, it's so good to see you! How's Buffy? I miss her."
Willow couldn't help smiling up at him. "Buffy is doing much better. I think she'll be around tomorrow or the next day."
"Weird how she got so sick. I guess maybe the stress of being the Slayer finally got to her, huh?" Xander bounced on the balls of his feet, in the throes of yet another sugar rush. "Listen, Will, hang with me today, okay? We haven't done anything together, just the two of us, in a long time. We could go to the movies, the arcade, anything you want. I'll buy you ice cream..." he wheedled, desperate for the company.
Willow hesitated, wanting to say yes, wanting a normal day in the sunshine. She didn't want to desert Giles, though. There was so much work to do... Just then, he walked out of his office, studying some papers.
"Willow, I thought I heard voices..." He looked up. "Oh. Hello, Xander. What brings you here?" Giles tried to hide his disappointment. When he'd heard Willow talking, he'd hoped that it was Buffy returned to them, safe and sound. She'd occupied his thoughts the entire time he was looking through files in his office.
Seeing his distress, Willow spoke before Xander could answer. "Excuse me, Giles. That rare book that you were inquiring about?"
"Rare book?" he asked, confused for a moment. Willow nodded at him, raising her eyebrows. "Oh *that* rare book! You have news, yes?" The anxiety in his voice was unmistakable.
"I just received a call letting me know that the book is in excellent condition and should arrive sometime tomorrow." She smiled at the relief on his face.
"Ah, yes. That *is* good news. This particular book is priceless. Thank you, Willow." They shared a secretive look that went undetected by Xander.
"A rare book? Does it have pictures like the ones you have locked up in your office?" Xander caught the sharp look Giles threw him and continued quickly, "Which, of course, I know nothing about." He grinned sheepishly and turned back to Willow. "So, what do you say, Willow? Do we hang?"
Willow looked at Giles. "Giles? Do you need me anymore today? I could work on the journals..."
"What?" he asked distractedly, already planning out the quickest way to track down Damian. "Oh, no, Willow...you go on with Xander. Have some fun, both of you. God knows, you deserve to. I think I'll go home and finish looking through Edwina's files. I presume it will take the rest of the day. You can work on the journals tomorrow."
"As long as you're sure," Willow said softly. Their eyes met again in perfect understanding, and Giles smiled back at her. "I'm sure," he replied.
"Then I guess we hang!" She grinned at Xander, feeling as if time had turned back a few years. For one day at least, she could try to forget that Oz was gone and that Buffy was carrying a child whose father wasn't human. Knowing that Xander was blessedly oblivious to what was going on would make it easier for her to relax.
Willow motioned for him to help her put away the books while Giles locked up his office. They walked out together, with Xander only marginally aware that he was missing something important. The feeling was fleeting, however, as thoughts of spending the day with his best bud pushed it away. He draped an arm around Willow's shoulders and called out a goodbye to Giles as they headed out into the warm afternoon sun.
In the bathroom, Buffy was braced against the shower wall as Spike thrust into her slick body in a slow, steady rhythm. They had washed each other first, which had inevitably led to hands and lips traveling over sleek skin. The water was starting to cool and she urged him to hurry up and come before it turned ice cold.
"Ladies first," he purred against her throat, licking the water from her skin. He could feel her squeezing him harder with her thighs, grinding against him, trying to get him to quicken his pace, and he chuckled softly at her efforts. Supporting her with one hand, he reached down and grabbed the bar of soap with the other. When his hand was slippery with suds, he moved it to her backside, sliding his fingers into the crease of her buttocks.
Buffy moaned, her body arching as she felt his finger circling her anus. "Spike, what are you-?" She gasped as his fingertip eased into her tight hole, aided by the soap. He'd never done anything like that before and the added pressure made her tighten around him even more. She clung to him desperately, shaking as his cock plunged deeper and his finger probed new and sensitive places.
Christ, she was so tight. He wondered if she'd ever let him... He let the thought trail off as he felt the familiar clenching of her muscles. "That's it, baby, come for me," Spike coaxed, almost frantic for his own release. Her wet body rubbing against his and the tightness of both entrances was driving him insane. He rocked against her clit and felt her start to convulse around him in long, hard spasms. She mewled into his shoulder and bit down on him hard enough to break the skin. With a shout, he let go inside her, his cock swelling within her fluttering walls. She always made him come so fucking hard; each time felt like an explosion that threatened to blow the top of his head off, along with the head of his cock.
Spike struggled to keep them both upright as they came down from their climax. He looked down at the trembling girl in his arms.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice husky with spent passion.
"I'm - I don't know what I am at the moment," she panted, resting her head on his shoulder. Her heart was racing out of control and her legs shook with violent tremors. They were going to kill each other with sex. She was going to die from a heart attack and Spike from dehydration. He couldn't possibly have any fluid left in his body after that. How did it keep getting better between them? Their time apart hadn't done anything to lower the intensity, if anything, it had doubled. "Don't let go," she told him as she carefully lowered her legs to the tub floor.
"Not even a consideration," Spike answered with a grin. No, letting go wasn't something he wanted to do...ever.
"If I don't get food soon, I'm going to collapse." Buffy yelped as she felt the icy blast from the showerhead as the last of the warm water disappeared. She shivered and Spike reached over to turn the water off. He grabbed a couple of towels that were hanging outside the shower and wrapped one of them around her, using the other to quickly rub himself dry. Still shaky, they made their way back to his room, the cold floor making Buffy's feet tingle.
Buffy quickly searched his dresser for socks and found a pair that reached almost to her knees. She sighed happily as the chill left her feet. Not wanting to put her other clothes back on, she walked over to the closet and looked for a shirt to wear. She wrinkled her nose. "Why does your closet smell like mothballs?"
"To keep out moths." Spike shook his head at the sight of her wearing his socks and nothing else. She really did have the most fetching ass he'd ever seen, all round and soft, with an underlying firmness. He grabbed a clean pair of jeans and tugged them on, leaving the top button undone. "Any luck, pet?" he called across the room.
Buffy pulled a large t-shirt out of the closet, the words The Rolling Stones emblazoned across the front. "How's this?" she asked.
Spike froze. "Not that one."
"Why not? I kind of like it," she replied, holding it up in front of her.
Spike walked carefully toward her, trying to stay calm. "Kitten? That shirt is from the Altamont concert," he explained. He sighed at the blank look she gave him. "1969? Hell's Angels?"
"Yeah, so?"
"So, it's thirty years old and a priceless piece of history," he answered, taking it from her. He hung it back up in the closet. "Didn't they teach you anything in that bloody school? I'll bet your mum remembers." Partying with the Hell's Angels- Christ, those were good times. The drugs, the music, the violence... The blood that flowed like wine from all the little hippy stoners.
"Can we leave my mother out of this? It gives me the wig to think that the two of you have anything in common." Buffy pouted. "Okay, fine, I won't wear your precious shirt." She turned back to the closet and Spike started to walk away, then stopped when she said, "I'll wear this one instead."
He looked at her and nearly lost it. "Iggy and the Stooges?! Not on your fucking life!" He stalked back to the closet and searched until he found one he didn't care about. "Here, wear this." He switched shirts with her and carefully hung Iggy back up, then turned to find her smirking at him. "What? I was bloody stoned at the time! I only went to keep Dru company, I don't even remember buying the fucking thing!"
"You are the strangest man *not* alive, you know that?" she told him. Pulling the plaid Bay City Rollers shirt over her head, she walked over to the dresser and looked for something to brush her hair with. "Giles would kill for this shirt," she idly remarked. She found a comb and began working out the tangles that Spike's fingers had left.
"Yeah, well, he can have it," Spike answered, coming up behind her and sliding his hands around her waist. "Maybe he'll go easier on me if we give him a peace offering."
"Oh please, like you're afraid of Giles," she snorted.
"He's important to you, luv. You need him on your side, now more than ever." He let his hand rest on her lower abdomen.
"I know," Buffy sighed. She leaned back against him, marveling at how the two of them had resumed the intense passion and teasing banter that had earmarked their relationship. They fit together like two pieces of the same puzzle, interlocking because they were meant to, because they were a perfect match. They both understood the night, they both understood the violence that it brought. They had the same sense of humor that surfaced in the darkest situations and they experienced the same feeling of being on the outside looking in. Of not fitting into the surroundings that life had dictated to you. Sometimes, when she looked Spike, Buffy felt as if she was looking in a mirror. He was the flip side to everything that made her who she was.
"Can you feel it?" she asked. "It's like we were only apart for an hour, instead of two weeks."
"I know. It's bloody weird, isn't it? It feels like it used to, before Darius fucked everything up. After everything that's happened, you would think that there'd still be some tension between us, but it's gone."
Buffy turned in his arms and buried her face in his neck. "It feels so good to be in your arms again. I never want to leave."
Spike chuckled. "I'm going to have to let go for a bit, if you want to eat. Willy will be here soon."
"Well, only because it's food," she allowed. Spike kissed her thoroughly and gave her a light swat on the rear before releasing her. He laughed and ducked as she took a swing at him and missed, then ran out of the room before she could catch him.
Once downstairs, the fireplace caught his eye. He got what he needed out of the tinderbox and began building a fire, picturing the Slayer's naked body lit by golden flames. Spike shook his head. If either of them could still walk after today and tonight...
The doorknocker sounded, interrupting his thoughts. With a backward glance at the steadily building blaze, Spike opened the door and stood behind it to avoid the rays of the sun. Willy paused, then shuffled in, jumping as the door closed behind him. He looked around the room, then turned and smiled ingratiatingly at his host.
"Hiya, Spike, nice digs you got here. A little roomy for one person, but it's got class." He held up two bags. "Here ya go, coupla pints of my finest O-neg - nothing but the best for my favorite client - and Sweet and Sour Chicken with the works for your lady friend."
Spike raised an eyebrow at the last remark and took the bags. "Thank you for being so prompt, Willy," he told the smaller man, nearly gagging on the words. The Slayer was wrong about him; he wasn't rude *all* the time. He did have manners when it suited him.
"Hey, Spike, anything for you." Willy's eyes kept darting around the room, as if looking for something. "If ya can't count on Willy, who can ya count on, right?"
"Um, yeah...right," Spike drawled in a bored voice. "Listen, I'd love to chat, but the food will get cold-"
"Oh. Yeah, sure, Spike, whatever you say." Willy held out his hand for payment. "I hope I got the order right, I wasn't sure what the Slayer liked-"
"The Slayer?" Spike growled dangerously.
Willy babbled on, oblivious to the danger. "You two make a cute couple, who woulda thought? You bein' mortal enemies and all. 'Course, with Angel and Drusilla gone, and the Slayer bein' such a juicy piece, who could blame ya for wantin' to dip your wick-"
In the blink of an eye, Willy was suspended in the air, Spike's fingers a hair's breadth from crushing his larynx. Spike's eyes glowed yellow as he stared into the face that was rapidly turning red in front of him. His voice dropped to a deadly snarl, each syllable dripping with ice. "I don't appreciate people speculating on where I 'dip my wick'. It makes me a bit tense." Spike gave an almost imperceptible squeeze and Willy gurgled as he clawed at the hand holding his throat.
Spike suddenly released him and Willy fell to the floor in a heap. "I wouldn't want any unfounded rumors floating around town, Willy. Gossip can be so hurtful, you know. Especially for those who engage in it."
Willy lay there gasping, trying to find his voice. "You...know...me, Spike," he croaked. "I...shun gossip. Wouldn't...be caught...dead...spreading rumors."
"Smart man," Spike murmured. "Now if you don't mind, I'd like to eat sometime today. You know your way out." Spike turned and walked away, taking the bags to the kitchen. In the doorway he stopped and looked back, watching as Willy slipped out the door, still rubbing his damaged throat. Spike shook his head and began gathering the necessary cups and utensils for lunch.
"Willy knows," Buffy said softly behind him. "This could be bad."
"Not necessarily," he answered, turning to look at her.
"C'mon, Spike. You know how easy it is to beat information out of him. He'll talk, and talk plenty." She ran her fingers through her still damp hair.
"He's afraid of us, luv. Sometimes I think you scare him more than I do. And why would anyone even think to question him? As far as everyone knows, we hate each other. Period."
"I wish I could believe that. But if Willy knows, then others will find out, too. I just got you back, I don't want anything else to happen." She let Spike pull her into his arms and rested her head against his chest. His heart was still beating faintly beneath her ear. It comforted her to know that, even temporarily, her blood had given it life. That he carried a part of her inside him, just as she now carried a part of him.
"Nothing is going to happen, Slayer. I won't let it." He kissed the top of her head. "Now, let's get some food into you before you waste away." Handing her a tray, he began piling everything on it. "Take this out to the main room, will you, pet? I'll be right back."
Spike sprinted out of the room and up the stairs, returning a few moments later with his arms full of pillows and blankets. He made a nest in front of the fire and they settled comfortably, leaning back against the couch. Willy had brought more than enough food and Spike alternated between feeding Buffy pieces of chicken and stealing bits for himself. Buffy pointed out that it wasn't quite fair, since there was no chance of her stealing *his* food.
For the rest of the afternoon they ate and laughed and made love in front of the fire, forgetting about everything else in the outside world. For one afternoon it was just the two of them, together again despite their differences, despite the numerous obstacles in their path. And as day turned to night, their lovemaking became more frantic as they tried to make a few short hours last an eternity.
As dawn broke through the apartment window, Giles put down his pen and stared blearily at the translated pages before him.
It was finished, all of it.
Every page revealed, every last word known...and not a bit of it was of any help to him. His first impulse was to destroy the lot of it, throw the journals and their translations into the fire and be done with it all. And then reason stepped in, scolding him as usual - *Ever the child, Ripper* - and all he could do was shove the offending pages away and stare at them broodingly.
And wonder what to do next.
Showing them to Buffy and Willow was out of the question. Neither girl needed any more stress in her life at this point in time, and since the journals hadn't given him the answers he sought, there was no reason to inflict the books' conclusions on them. He sighed and removed his glasses, rubbing his face with his hands. How ironic, that after blowing up at Buffy for keeping secrets, he was about to do the exact same thing. But then, the life of a Watcher was often filled with lies and hypocrisy, a fact that the pages in front of him only seemed to hammer home with great force.
If only Damien would contact him. Giles had left several messages all over the globe, even going so far as to call Meredith again to see if she had heard from him. She hadn't, but promised to pass along the information should Damien turn up. Now, all that was left was the waiting.
And the worrying.
Slowly, he pushed away from the table and stood, gathering the translated pages together. Knowing what they contained - and what he was about to do - made him feel sad, angry...dirty. But there was no way he was going to subject Buffy to the truth, not while she was still struggling to get her strength back. He needed her focused, and he needed his Slayer back, and in this case knowledge would only hurt his cause, not help it.
His eyes roamed over the bookshelves, finally settling on a title that sounded boring even to him. He pulled the book out and placed the journal translations inside, then returned it to the shelf, feeling fairly certain that no one would stumble upon it by accident. When the time was right, when the girls were feeling more...stable...then he'd show them what he'd found.
With a heavy sigh, and feeling far older than his years, Giles turned from the bookshelf and headed upstairs, desperate for a shower and several hours of undisturbed sleep.
And thirty minutes later, he realized that no amount of soap or scalding water could make him feel clean again. And undisturbed sleep proved to be an elusive thing, at best.
"Use your legs," Giles called out from across the room, "they need conditioning."
Buffy nodded and crouched down low before leaping back up into a perfectly timed kick that took the practice dummy's head clean off. Grinning from ear to ear, she turned to face Giles, only to find him scowling back at her. "What now?" she asked exasperatedly, returning his scowl with one of her own.
"Nothing, as long as the vampire stands perfectly still and waits for you to attack."
"Giles-"
"Your responses need to be lightning fast - no excuses! By now word has most likely leaked out about your...incapacitation...and we *must* be ready for whatever comes along to challenge you!"
Buffy grabbed a nearby towel and wiped the sweat off her face. "Don't you think I know that? I *am* getting stronger, I can feel it. The speed will come, don't worry."
"Don't worry, she says," he muttered, scooping the dummy's head from the floor. Straightening up, he faced her with a deadly serious look in his eyes. "Buffy, we don't have the luxury of time. Each day brings you further along in your -" he cut himself off, unable to say the word. "We have to get you back in fighting form before *your* form changes. And the forces of darkness will not step back and take a breather just because we're not ready!"
Her face softened, and she took a step toward him. "Giles, I do understand all of that. And I know that you're worried about me. All I can tell you is that I'm trying my best and that nothing is going to stand in the way of me doing my job. Not even being pregnant."
"All right, then," he nodded briskly, "get back to work. And this time, make every move so fast that I can't even see it."
Her ponytail bobbed as she gave him a smartass salute and then she was flying through different combat moves, a deadly blur in motion. Giles sighed and cautioned himself against being too obvious in his concern for her. If he overdid it, then she would start questioning just what had him so worked up, and there was no way he could possibly explain the mounting feeling that time was running out for all of them.
It had been four days since he'd translated the journals, and he considered himself lucky that neither Buffy nor Willow had mentioned them. Buffy's lack of interest came from her preoccupation with Spike, and as much as it made Giles ill to think of the vampire touching her, he was nonetheless grateful for the distraction.
Willow had become withdrawn again, as if she'd only had enough energy for a brief respite from the pain. It made him feel helpless, and only served to reinforce the guilt he still carried from their night together. The pang of longing he felt in her presence didn't help the situation any, either. His life was a mess, and if he couldn't help himself, how could he possibly help those around him?
The sound of his name brought him out of the brooding spell. "Yes...er, what?"
Buffy was staring at him, trying to catch her breath. "What's with you today, Giles? One minute you're all over my ass, the next you're a million miles away. Is there something I should know about?"
"N-No, of course not. I just feel so damn helpless, sitting here waiting for Damien to call. And I have to admit that I'm worried about Willow. Have you talked to her?"
"This morning." Buffy grabbed a towel and wiped her face. "She sounded better, but still a little distant. I had hoped...she seemed so *strong* a few days ago, and now it's like Oz died all over again." Her eyes were troubled. "I know what you mean about feeling helpless. It sucks."
"I couldn't agree more."
He began gathering up the equipment while Buffy drank from her water bottle, both of them lost in thought until she broke the silence. "I think I'm ready to patrol again."
Giles stopped suddenly and turned. "Really? You've only been training for a couple of days."
"I know," she shrugged, "but I have to start again sometime. I can't sit around waiting for something to happen, and I can't let you and Xander continue to do my job. I need to get back out there."
"And you think you're strong enough to handle whatever comes along? You were out of commission for a long time."
"I'm feeling better, Giles. Well enough to stake a vampire or two, anyway. Besides, the numbers are still down, right? I'll start patrolling tomorrow night."
"All right, as long as you're sure." He started to say something, then stopped, as if he'd changed his mind. "I'll finish cleaning up here...why don't you head on home? If I hear from Damien, I'll call you."
"Okay. If I'm not at home, I'll be at the mansion."
Giles gritted his teeth, fighting off the images that automatically invaded his head. She's going over there to play gin rummy, he told himself as his hands tightened around a fighting staff. Teeth clenched, he bit out a "Goodbye" and watched as Buffy grabbed her duffle bag and practically skipped out the door.
The library door had barely closed when he whirled and slammed the staff into the training dummy with enough force to snap the stick in two. And as he stood there, breathing heavily from anger and exertion, his only regret at the childish display of violence was that Spike hadn't been on the receiving end.
Buffy lay in Spike's arms, flushed and drowsy, her left leg slung comfortably over his. It had been a long day and she was exhausted, both from the training session earlier and the strenuous lovemaking a few moments ago. And she'd never felt more blissful in her life.
In just four short days, everything had turned around. Her appetite had returned with a vengeance, and now that there was food in her stomach, her strength was increasing at a rapid pace. The face that stared back at her in the mirror was no longer frightening, and she could almost swear that it held a sort of...glow. Physically, she felt like her old self, with a little something extra thrown into the mix. In that respect, everything was just fine.
With Giles, though... Giles still seemed distant. Buffy supposed she couldn't blame him after everything that had happened, but it still hurt. Perhaps when she started her slaying routine again, he'd come around. After all, he couldn't stay mad forever.
Spike nudged her. "You're awfully deep in thought. Or did I render you unconscious?"
"Not quite," she answered drily. "Blondes *are* capable of deep thought now and then, you know."
"Yeah, right," he snorted. "Pull the other one." With a smirk, Buffy let her hand drift lazily over his stomach, across his hip, and down one thigh, finally coming to rest on his spent cock. She wrapped her fingers around him and gave a gentle tug. "Pull what?" she asked with a grin.
Spike felt himself twitch, and groaned. "Christ, you're insatiable. Vampire or not, I *am* old, luv. I need my rest."
"Liar," she retorted as she felt him swell under her hand. She stroked him for a moment, laughing at his automatice response. Before he could roll on top of her, she stopped, laughing again as he growled in frustration. "Don't worry, I was only teasing. I wouldn't dream of disturbing your 'rest'."
"Witch."
"Oooh, points for using a "w" instead of a "b". He pinched her, and she squealed, swatting him back hard enough to leave a mark on his pale skin. "Ow! Bastard."
In self-defense, he rolled her, pinning her to the bed. "Violence will get you everywhere, pet," he murmured, nuzzling her neck until she was writhing helplessly beneath him.
"S-Stop, Spike, please," she whimpered.
"Stop? Really? That's a new one," he chuckled in her ear. "You mean you don't want me to do this?" He slid two fingers into her and slowly stroked them back and forth, manipulating her clitoris with his thumb. Her back arched and he smiled at the flush that traveled across her skin. "God, I love watching you," he murmured. She was so responsive; he found it easy to read her body, to make it dance under him as if she had been created for exactly that purpose.
And easier still to make her lose all sense of time and place. "Dooon't," she moaned, then gave a frustrated cry when he paused. "Don't stop, please don't stop..."
Her babbling made him grin and pick up the pace. "Wouldn't dream of stopping, love," he whispered against her skin. His mouth moved over her throat, sucking lightly, feeling the pulse throb against his tongue. Salty and fragrant, her taste and scent were heady enough to make his head swim, almost enough to make him forget himself and take a bite. His tongue followed a drop of sweat into the hollow between her breasts before sweeping up to capture the pert nipple that begged for attention.
Buffy's body grew taut like a bowstring, her hands twisting in his hair, urging him to suck harder, rub harder, please, please, please...
A sharp tug with his teeth and she was hurtling over the edge, crying out his name as she went. Her nerve endings were still sensitive from her previous orgasms, twitchy, even, making the pleasure seem frightfully close to pain, but Spike didn't back off. Instead, he kept on kissing and touching her lightly until she gradually came down in a breathless, boneless heap on the bed.
"I can't...move," Buffy managed squeak out, "I-I...think...I...died." Spike's smile was wide and full of conceit as he stared down at her. "I've always believed that the only job worth doing was a job worth doing well." He lay back against the pillows and pulled her close.
Her nose wrinkled in distaste as she peered up at him. "Okay, *stop* - that sounded a little too much like Giles for comfort."
"Now, there's a frightening thought. How is the Tweedy One, anyway? Still got a stake with my name on it?"
"Probably. He still seems kind of angry, although he hasn't come right out and said anything. Mostly, he just acts British and broods a lot." She snuggled against him, breathing in his familiar scent. God, she'd missed him so much. Sometimes being together still felt a little unreal, like a dream. Every once in awhile she pinched herself, just to be sure it wasn't. "I think Giles will thaw out once I start with the slaying again. I'm sure it'll be a relief to have things back to normal, at least in one sense."
For a second, Spike didn't register what she was saying. Then it sunk in. "You're thinking of going back on patrol?" It took every ounce of control to keep his muscles from tensing up at the thought of her putting herself in danger again. "When?"
"Tomorrow night."
Struggling to keep his voice casual, he said, "Are you sure that's wise, pet? You've only been back in training for a few days."
Buffy yawned, exhaustion finally catching up with her. "It'll be fine. I'm getting stronger every day, and I need to get back out there. If I wait any longer, word will leak out and I'll have chaos on my hands when every Tom, Dick and Demon shows up to challenge me." She squirmed for a second, trying to get comfortable. "Sleep now, okay? I'm dead tired - we can talk about it later."
"Buffy -"
Preparing for some kind of macho argument, she raised up to look him in the eye, and her face softened at the concern she saw there. Her hand reached up to touch his cheek. "I'm the Slayer, Spike. It's not only my job, it's who I am...it's in my blood. I don't know what will happen when I'm further along, but for now, I have to keep Sunnydale safe. Or at least try to. Understood?"
He stared at her for a moment, then nodded, giving her a quick, hard kiss. "Understood." But I bloody well don't have to like it, he thought to himself.
Buffy gave him a luminous smile, then settled back down beside him. Spike began threading his fingers through her hair, something he usually did to help her wind down. She sighed, burrowing against him contentedly. "Don't forget to wake me up later."
"I won't, baby. Just go to sleep."
"Mmmm, sleep," she murmured. "Sleep is good."
Buffy's breathing grew deep and even, and Spike wished that he could drop off just as easily, but it was still night, and now he had a new worry to contend with. The Slayer being back in business so soon was something he hadn't bargained on. He'd only just gotten her back, and he'd be damned if he was going to lose her to some fledgling vampire or transient demon. Hell, he was damned anyway, but there had to be something he could do about this, some way to stop her without driving her away again. He lay there listening to the beat of her heart, feeling her breath on his skin, and realized that there was only one course of action that would allow him to keep her safe.
And unfortunately, that course of action led to the one person he'd rather not face.
Giles dropped the books on the table and wondered for the tenth time in just as many minutes why he didn't have a life beyond this blasted library and the several thousand musty volumes it contained. True, most of the time he loved what he did, and he loved the smell of five hundred year old books even more, but the events of the past few months had taken their toll. Spike showing up in Sunnydale, Angelus resurfacing and killing Jenny, Oz's murder, Giles' own impulsive deflowering of Willow, Buffy having sex with *two* vampires - although, thankfully, not at the same time - and now ending up pregnant beyond all the laws of physiology...well, there was only so much a man could take.
It was enough to make him long for the drug-induced haze of his youth.
He sighed and turned his attention to the book in front of him. It didn't look any more promising than the last twenty or so volumes he'd already scanned. There didn't seem to be any other recorded instances of a human, Slayer or otherwise, becoming pregnant by a vampire. It wasn't supposed to be possible. Period.
So how did he account for Anne and Buffy?
And when the hell was Damien going to return his calls?
The sound in the stacks behind him was almost imperceptible, but he'd been expecting it. In one fluid motion, Giles had the crossbow in his hand and was swinging it up to face the intruder. "Don't come any closer," he ordered.
Spike stood before him with an insolent grin plastered on his face, hands raised up in a mocking gesture of surrender. "Ease up, old man. I didn't come here to eat." He stared at Giles appraisingly, his lip curling with disdain. "Even if I did...you're a bit past prime for my tastes."
Giles glared, keeping the crossbow trained on Spike's chest. "Forgive me if I don't find that the least bit comforting," he returned drily.
Spike shrugged. "Can't say I really give a shit about your comfort level." Did the Watcher really intend to take him out? Spike knew he had more than the required balls for the job, but would he risk the Slayer's happiness? "You plannin' on pullin' that trigger? Or aren't you even the least bit curious about why I'm here?"
"I think I have a pretty good idea of why you're here, and who sent you. I'm sure that Buffy means well, but -"
"The Slayer doesn't know I'm here," Spike interrupted. "And I'd rather she didn't find out, either."
"Well, when she finds my drained corpse in the morning, she might get a bit suspicious, don't you think?"
Spike laughed. "Don't think too highly of your own slaying skills, do you, Watcher? You are the one with the crossbow, after all." He leaned back against the table and crossed his arms. "Look, if I'd wanted you dead - any of you - you would be. I've had ample opportunity, not to mention getting up close and personal with the Slayer on a regular basis. I mean, let's face it, I've had her in some pretty vulnerable positions -"
Giles' face went purple with rage. Before Spike knew what was happening, the Watcher had him by the throat and slammed him up against the wall, crossbow bolt pressed into his chest. "Shut. Your. Bleedin'. Gob," Giles gritted out, "or I'll make you *wish* I'd pulled the trigger."
Gone was the well-bred, uptight librarian, and in his place was a thoroughly pissed off Eastend brawler. The strength in the other man's hands caught Spike by surprise. There was a lot of muscle hiding underneath all that tweed. And a lot of rage. Any doubts he had about the Watcher's ability or inclination to dust him had gone the way of the mild-mannered librarian, leaving only one coherent thought.
His ass was perilously close to being annihilated.
In spite of all that, or maybe even because of it, a chuckle of appreciation snuck out. He tugged at the Watcher's arm, trying to keep his larynx from being crushed. "Easy, mate," he managed before the hand tightened even more.
"I'm not your *mate*," Giles growled dangerously. "Buffy thinks you're worth saving...that you've got a soul. Trust me when I say that I don't suffer from the same delusion."
"That makes...two of us...then," Spike choked out. "But what...we think...doesn't...really... matter...does it?"
Giles stared hard at him, struggling with his intense desire to destroy the vampire once and for all. It would be so easy; just press the bolt into cold, dead flesh and feel it evaporate under his hand. He felt himself lean in closer, just a fraction of an inch, almost giving in to the temptation before Spike's words make him pull back. As much as he hated to admit it, the vampire was right. What they thought - what they wanted - didn't matter at all.
The only thing that mattered was Buffy...and Buffy was in love with Spike.
Cursing, Giles shoved the vampire away from him. Spike stumbled, then righted himself, his laughter turning to a cough as he rubbed the imprint of Giles' hand on his throat. "Gotta...hand it to you, Watcher," he said hoarsely, "you hide your inner demon well."
"I've had a lot of practice. You would do well to remember that. Now," Giles set the crossbow down on the table, and leaned against the edge, crossing his arms, "as much as I've enjoyed our repartee so far, it still begs the question...why are you here?"
Spike looked away, feeling suddenly awkward, like a schoolboy being grilled by his date's father. A date he'd knocked up, no less. He took a deep, unneeded breath and plunged in. "I'm worried about the Slayer." Looking up, he found Giles staring at him impassively. "She told me she's going to start patrolling again tomorrow. It's too soon, I don't want her out there."
Giles cocked an eyebrow. "I really don't see how it's any of your business."
Spike's temper flared. "It bloody well *is* my business! She's not up to her full strength yet, and I'm not about to let *my* woman get herself torn up while protecting this shithole town."
"*Your* woman? Buffy is not your property, Spike, she's the Slayer. *She* understands that, and moreover, she takes pride in it. Perhaps your concern lies less with her well-being than with the preservation of your own kind."
The vampire snarled with frustration as he picked up a book and threw it across the room. "I don't give a fuck about the preservation of my kind!" He stalked toward the Watcher, who stood up straight, letting his hand rest on the crossbow. "You *know* she's not ready...and you know that her condition throws everything for a soddin' loop. Are you really that much of a heartless prick that you'd send her off to get killed? Oh, wait, I forgot - anything for the bleedin' Council, right?"
"Buffy is, and always has been, my first and only concern," Giles muttered through clenched teeth. "Patrolling tomorrow was *her* decision - I had nothing to do with it. If you're so bloody worried about her, why don't *you* watch her back the way that Angel used to? Or don't you care enough to put yourself on the line for her?"
Spike's eyes narrowed at the mention of Angel. Clever ploy, that - throwing the ex-lover in his face. Surprising coming from the Watcher, though, considering that Angelus had murdered the man's girlfriend and left her splayed out on his bed like some macabre present the cat dragged in. "Angel wasn't quite the paragon that you think he was, even before Angelus showed up. Like you, he hid his inner demon well."
"Unlike you, I suppose, who makes no effort to hide yours at all."
Spike spread his arms. "Hey, I'm exactly what you see. I don't make excuses for what I am. I'm a vampire, I drink blood, and I get my rocks off by smashing things." And banging Slayers, he thought, but figured it was prudent not to add that little fact to the list.
He started pacing around the main floor of the library in a nervous fit of energy. "I'm not exactly complicated, you know? Before Angelus came back, my unlife was pretty simple. Drain the general population, shag Dru, try to kill the Slayer...world by the ass, right?" he shrugged. "Only I couldn't seem to kill to chit, could I? All I got was an organ dropped on me for my trouble. And then *he* showed up...and Dru changed...and there I was, stuck in that fucking wheelchair..." His eyes met Giles' unwavering stare. "I just wanted it all back the way it was. So I came up with that stupid plan - I never thought she'd go for it. Never thought she'd actually..." The memory of her screaming his name that first time caused him to shake his head ruefully. "An hour after we fu-" He broke off as the Watcher's eyes narrowed. "An hour later, I was helping her kill Drusilla.
"I did more than lay myself on the line for your Slayer. To save her life, I sacrificed my whole world."
"You seem to have recovered admirably, trading one woman for another."
With a deadly snarl, Spike's face shifted. He stopped just short of grabbing the other man, and pointed a finger. "You don't know a thing about it! What Dru meant to me, what losing her meant... And I bloody well didn't plan what happened with the Slayer - I fought it with everything I had! But just like I couldn't kill her...I couldn't seem to walk away, either." The admission seemed to deflate him, and he shifted back. "She was under my skin before I knew what hit me."
Giles was silent as he contemplated the vampire before him. Spike seemed sincere enough, but demons were notoriously adept liars. Still, both Anne and Buffy had put their trust in one, enough to fall in love with him and defy every part of their calling. And as much as he hated vampires in general and Spike in particular, what was done was done, and Buffy needed every bit of support they all could give her. "Do you love her?" he asked.
"What, you mean you actually think a demon like me is capable of it?"
"At this point, Spike, I don't know what I think. But I suppose that if a vampire can get a Slayer...pregnant...then anything is possible. So, I'll ask you again -do you love her?"
Spike wished he could lie. More than that, he wished he'd never even come to the bloody library in the first place. But he'd already placed himself in the line of fire, and the only way out was the simple, unvarnished truth.
He leveled a steady gaze at the Watcher and replied, "More than I ever wanted to kill her." He laughed bitterly. "Ain't that a kick in the nads? Spike, once sidekick of the Scourge of Europe, killer of two Slayer's - now pansy-ass in love with one. I can't even bloody drain my victims when I feed!" he shouted in disgust.
Giles looked at him with interest. "Buffy mentioned that...it's really true? You eat, but don't kill?"
"I haven't killed anyone in over two months. Not that I can remember, anyway."
"Is it because you feel some sort of remorse for what you've done?" Giles inquired.
Spike shrugged. "I don't feel anything, I just...stop feeding. It's as if the desire for the kill just isn't there anymore. 'Cept when I went after Angel's boys, but I was plenty pissed off, you know? And they were vampires, not human."
"Interesting," Giles began excitedly. "Do you think - " He realized what he was doing and stopped, shaking his head. "This conversation is wrong on so many levels, I can't even begin to count them."
"Tell me about it, mate," Spike replied. "How the fuck did this happen?" He walked over to the stack of books on the table and picked one up. "You're the one with all the answers, what do the bloody books say?"
Giles followed him and took the book out of his hand. "They say exactly nothing. There has never been a mention in any of the standard texts, not that I can find, anyway. Our only resource so far has been the journals, and they..." His eyes became hooded and he turned away.
"They what?" Spike grabbed the Watcher's arm. "What do the journals say? Are you telling me you finished the translations?"
"This morning. I - I haven't told Buffy. Or Willow. They have enough to worry about without -"
"Blast it all, Watcher! What do the fucking things say?"
Giles pulled away and walked over to the cage, retrieving a large book. He handed it to Spike. "Here, inside...I don't even know why I brought it with me tonight. Habit, I suppose. I didn't think I could read them again, but I just keep hoping that they'll shed some light our situation - give us something, *anything* to go on. Or maybe I keep hoping that each time I read them, it all ends differently, somehow. Never does, though."
Spike cocked an eyebrow and stared at the pages as if they were going to leap up and bite him. "This is it, then? The final act in all of this?"
Giles nodded. "Hmm. Fitting turn of phrase, by the way."
All of a sudden, Spike didn't want to know. But he could no more look away from the pages than he could walk away from the Slayer. He *had* to know.
Quickly, his eyes skimmed over the Watcher's shaky hand, trying to decipher some of the words. The handwriting contrasted sharply with Willow's even script, and as he continued to read, he understood why it deteriorated with each line. The feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach grew, and the room receeded as he was transported back five hundred years to the place of his dreams. Every vivid image came back to him, only now, he knew what each moment had been leading up to. When he reached the last line, he stared up at the Watcher with a look of horror that he quickly masked.
"Yeah, so?" he shrugged. "None of us figured on a happy ending anyway, right?"
"And you're not bothered by what you just read? Not the least bit concerned about what it might mean for you and Buffy?"
"This -" Spike shook the papers in his hand, "this all happened centuries ago! It's got fuck-all to do with me and the Slayer. *You* would never do what that other Watcher did, so none of it matters."
"I wish I could believe that, Spike. I really do." Giles sighed and removed his glasses, cleaning them more out of habit than out of any real need. "But there are too many parallels to ignore."
"Well, what are you doing about it, then? Not like you can ask those pillocks in the Council, either. So where do we go from here?"
Giles blinked at the "we", then realized that he'd have to get used to Spike being part of the equation. "I've been trying to contact an old friend, someone I believe has already seen the journals. He's an expert in demons, and demon physiology for starters, and a medical doctor. I haven't been able to locate him as yet."
"Well, you'd better, because time isn't standing still for any of us." He ran a hand through his hair, then looked up with bleak eyes. "Another thing...the Slayer is scared. She puts up a brave front and all, but underneath she's just a frightened little girl. We're talking about someone who faces death on a daily basis, and never runs, so to me, a scared Slayer is far more disturbing than anything written in those soddin' journals." He pierced Giles with his gaze. "If you let her down, I'll make Angelus look like an amateur in the torture department."
"I have no intention of letting her down, and I don't need you to remind me of what Buffy needs. Perhaps you'd be better off looking in the mirror - oh, wait, you can't. You're not human."
"I might not be human, but I'm what she wants. Get used to it, mate."
"I'll never get used to it, but that doesn't mean I can't work around it. And this petty fighting is getting us nowhere. Can I count on you to shadow her on patrol?"
Spike nodded. "I hadn't planned on doing anything else. Do you really think she's ready?"
"As ready as she'll ever be. You'll have to keep out of sight. If anyone, Buffy included, finds out what you're doing, there'll be hell to pay, both with the Council and with the demon community, I'm sure. Willow is the only one besides myself who knows, yes?"
"And Willy," Spike replied, "but I think we've got him covered. He's scared shitless of us."
"Until someone with a bigger wallet or fist comes along. I would wager our time frame has become even shorter, then, the journals notwithstanding."
"Yeah, well...that's life on the Hellmouth, innit? Good times for all."
Giles sighed. "I hear war-torn Beirut is lovely this time of year," he said wistfully.
"Slightly better mortality rate, anyway," Spike reasoned. He stared at the Watcher. "So, we're clear, then? I don't get in your way and you don't get in mine?"
"Agreed," Giles nodded, "but if Buffy even stubs her little toe, then all bets are off."
"Right. And I want to know anything you turn up first hand. No leaving me out of the loop."
When Giles nodded again, Spike turned and headed toward the stacks, leaving the Watcher to stare after him pensively. The meeting hadn't quite turned out as Giles had expected. Far less bloodshed, for one thing.
Spike paused at the top of the stairs. "Watcher..." he called without turning around, "if anything happens to me, you'll - "
"I'll look out for her, Spike. You don't even have to ask."
The vampire nodded, and left without a sound.
No, Giles thought tiredly, not as he'd expected at all.
To be continued...