Giles came forward as if to catch Spike's arm, but the vampire dodged and went
into the kitchen to rummage for some blood. 'See, I'm all bitter 'bout what
happened on the boat - an' I blame you.'
'One minor incident with….'
''S not just that. It's after. Remember, human, I've gotten out of some girl's nice warm bed to come 'ere. Had to see, just to remind meself why I'm doing the husband and father bit now.'
'I have no idea what you're….'
'I gave you every chance to love me, but you wouldn't.'
'I do though. Now.'
'Too late, see. That's the beauty of it. It's too late; I've moved on an' found meself like I wanted.'
'But… what about me? I've been so lonely and miserable without you.'
'For ten years?'
'What? Oh, yes, for ten years. It's been awful.'
'But you've had lots of others like me, Giles: trying to find me in someone else's arse. An' now you know what it feels like to love someone when it ain't reciprocated.'
'Oh God, I don't like this. I just want to go upstairs and….'
'Don't panic, pet, you will, you will… see… you get furious and just take me anyway.'
'But I bought candles!'
Spike took hold of his sleeve and began to walk backward toward the stairs. 'Don't worry; this'll be good.'
He manoeuvred Giles into the bedroom and began to strip him slowly. Giles began to enjoy himself once more and, as he was still only in pyjamas, didn't take long to be naked. He pushed Spike back onto the bed and began to unfasten his jeans. Suddenly, Spike flipped him over and lay on him heavily, shaking his head. 'No.'
'All grown up, remember? An' been givin' it for too long now. Ain't gonna take it no more. Fact….'
He produced something from the pocket of this duster, and that was the first time that Giles noticed that, once more, Spike was wearing this item. Suddenly, a cool fluid poured over Giles' groin, dribbling down his thighs and pooling on the bed. Spike emptied the entire bottle of hand lotion over the human, and then took hold of the button on his jeans, watching the human's expression carefully. 'I loved you.'
Giles blinked once more, distracted by the fact that Spike was slowly undoing his flies. 'I loved you, and I wanted you to love me. But you didn't - you just used me. You bloody chained me up and forgot 'bout me sometimes! So, how's it feel now? I'm gonna shaft you, and I don't feel shit for you. I'm just using you, you sad old fuck.'
He pushed in on this last word.
Stunned, Giles didn't have time to flinch at the feeling of stretch - but then it wasn't unpleasant; it was very, very erotic. He looked down. For the first time in his entire life, he had a part of someone else's body inside his. It was a joining more fundamental than he could have imagined. He groaned at the pleasure and thought for a brief moment that he saw a small, pleased smile around Spike's lips, but it was lost as the vampire began his tirade once more. To every thrust he added a bitter comment. 'Like takin' it, human? Feel all manly do you now? Don't think so. Think you're feeling dirty, Giles, cus you like it too much. All those times you came in my ass; all that suckin' you made me do… well, fuck you, Giles, I'm givin' you one now.'
He gave Giles a final, malicious look, but then buried his face into the naked shoulder as he came with a long groan of pleasure. Hidden thus, Spike's expression as he came out of the orgasm was not visible, so Giles was left only with the memory of malice when Spike pulled out, fastened himself up, and stalked out.
He did not see Spike again until the following day. Confused, aroused, confused by this arousal, Giles went to the crypt. He cautiously pushed open the door and found Spike sprawled in an armchair, reading. There was little else in the place, just a chair and a vampire, and Giles shivered slightly at the deadness of the atmosphere.
'I'm a little…. Can I sit down?'
'Good point.' As Spike got up and began to pace, Giles took the opportunity
of the empty chair and sat down, hoping against hope that nothing currently
dormant in it was about to sense his warm blood and reanimate.
'Stop being obtuse, Spike; you know what I mean.'
'I'm using you. Treating you like shit.'
'Ah. And why? I'm not sure that I'm all that clear on that bit.'
'Cus I can.'
Giles looked at him for a moment then got up and began to leave. Spike watched him carefully, stepping away slightly as Giles passed him but, suddenly, Giles whirled around and hit him - just a light slap, but the intent was clear. Spike put his hand wonderingly to his cheek. 'What the hell are you doing?'
'I don't like this game anymore.'
Spike came closer. 'What do you want to play then, Giles? You enjoyed that, didn't you? I can smell it.'
'Why? 'Fraid I'm gonna turn that key a bit more? 'Fraid you'll be obliterated when all those emotions come wingin' out?'
'Do it again.'
Spike stood so close he was almost standing on Giles' feet. He took hold of the limp arm and banged the hand against this face, on his chest, lower, on his bulge. 'Hit me.'
The arm twitched to life, and Giles pushed him away, enjoyed that, so swung again and felt a surge of desire, as his fist contacted with cool flesh.
'That's right. This is a good game.' Spike backed away but not very fast. Giles followed the clear invitation and hit him again. 'Let's play father and son, hey? I like that; I'll be your childe, an' you be my….'
'My child? No!' Giles shook himself lightly, the desire entirely gone with that imagery. 'That's quite repulsive.'
Spike just shrugged. ''K. But I've played that 'fore, and it was good… but then I guess it was more real then. Whatever.' He hopped up on a tomb, pleased - the watcher now effectively distracted from departure.
'So, you 'it me cus I've been treating you so badly.'
'Oh God. Are we back to that?'
'Well, duh! I've been away ten years; least you could do is make some effort.'
'So what form of 'bad treatment' did you have in mind? You can't hurt me; so I think your options are a little limited.'
'Can't hurt you, hey? Well, we'll see 'bout that. There's more than one form of pain, Rupert. You know that; you've been in pain all your life.'
It seemed a strange place to Giles - this gloomy crypt - to have his armour pierced by such an effective salvo.
He mustered all his considerable strength of personality and said coolly, 'I am just like other people, Spike. There is no great mystery.'
'You're gonna be easier to hurt than I thought.'
Giles spun on his heel and began to leave once more. With his hand on the door, he took one last look around. 'You're not seriously thinking of staying in here, are you?'
'Why not? 'S better than a bathtub.'
'An' visitors just as interesting.'
Spike chuckled. 'You, pillock. You're me first.'
'Oh. Yes. Sorry.'
Spike slid off the tomb and threw himself into the chair once more.
'Err… will I see you then?'
'Will you come over?'
'Are we still… playing?'
'Oh… piss off, Spike.'
If Spike repeated his irritating comment, Giles didn't hear it. He slammed the crypt door shut with venom he rarely felt and stomped back to his apartment. He had the feeling that the game had gone badly wrong but, as he seemed to have mistaken the rules, he had no way to put it right.
Spike didn't leave the crypt for some time. He sat in his chair, the book in his hand idly swinging to and fro. He was so close now he could almost taste it: almost taste the human. What profoundly depressed and puzzled him in equal measure was that this taste had nothing to do with blood, or drinking, or feeding. As a vampire, that was extremely disturbing.
Spike was wrong. Giles didn't feel pain exactly, more a desperate frustration and longing. A sense of hopelessness set in that he couldn't shake. The vampire was subtle; he gave him that. Whenever Giles failed at something - when he wasn't quite quick enough, strong enough, clever enough, brave enough - there was Spike, standing to one side watching him critically, disdainfully. Disgust would crawl slowly over Spike's face as he looked at Giles sometimes, and Giles could see in his mind pictures of them together, and he began to feel the disgust, too.
Spike seemed to flaunt his desirability in exact, opposite proportion to the disgust he engendered. He sat provocatively; he walked provocatively; he even seemed to be able to smoke provocatively: the nervous, fast smoking now given way to lazy, seductive pulls on that slim, pale column. If Giles went to the bathroom, the vampire would be waiting for him outside, leaning on the wall, one knee bent up, smoking. Giles could actually feel the hard floor as he mentally sank to his knees, so vivid was the imagery Spike conjured up. As soon as he saw that the human wanted him, Spike would laugh and shrug off the wall, swaggering back down the stairs to the others, his face contorted in amused disgust. Sometimes after a meeting, Spike would stay behind for a while, and Giles' heart would rise in his throat that something was about to happen - something that would end this hideous impasse. Once Spike had inspected his stuff, however, and derided his taste in everything, he would leave, and Giles was left almost weeping with frustration that he couldn't have what he wanted, and almost banging his head on the wall in desperation that he didn't know what that was anyway.
When he felt the human was ready, Spike stepped the game up a bit. He waited until he could almost smell the watcher's confusion and then, one night when he joined the gang on patrol, he said casually, 'Got some info for you, watcher. Wanna hear it?'
Giles stammered and glanced nervously at Buffy. She shrugged. 'Catch me up later.'
They stood and watched the others leave then, shockingly, Spike suddenly propelled Giles back against a wall. He lay heavy on the warm body, spreading his arms against the cool marble and rubbing them together slightly. He slowly lowered his mouth to Giles', but just before the kiss, just as Giles was closing his eyes, his heart pounding, his mouth dry, Spike laughed and jerked his mouth away. Giles, furious, made to push him off, but then the mouth was on his neck, the tongue in the soft hollow of his throat, just licking around, just teasing and tempting. 'Let me, Giles; I can't hurt; you know that. It'll be so good.'
Giles didn't think the devil himself could have been any more seductive. That voice, the feel of that hard body pressed against him, and his need! Just to have Spike talking to him, let alone pressed like this against him…. As Spike predicted, Giles felt himself almost obliterated by the emotions that were flying out of his locked down heart, and there was little confusion. He murmured - as if justifying something he knew he was about to do - 'I love you.'
Spike groaned into the vibrations of the throat. 'Let me then. Please, Rupert.' He felt the tiny nod of surrender and sank one razor sharp fang into the wellspring of his eternity. It was so sweet. The blood pulsed only skin depth away from his lips. He'd never bitten a willing victim before. He missed the fear and the screaming, but there were compensations; this was so erotic. He felt the skin puncture to the sharpness of his incisor; he felt himself swell, felt the human swell, too, and rewarded him with a hand on his crotch as he completed the bite. Giles winced. Spike screamed and jerked back, falling to his knees. When the agony subsided, he laid his forehead to the ground so the human could not see his grin. It didn't matter about the chip now - it was immaterial - the watcher had been willing to let him bite. Next time, he'd make the human open himself up, and then he'd feed until his belly swelled with blood, until the watcher's emptiness matched his own. Only when Giles was drained entirely would the human be free… and then the exquisite refilling could begin. Spike stood, flicked an eyebrow at the wound, licked his lips provocatively, and sauntered away.
Stunned, Giles buttoned his collar over the mark, his knees shaking slightly from shock. He wished he'd not winced, and that simple fact shocked him profoundly. He had wanted to feel the slow sucking out of his blood, could feel a slight tingle even now through his body, on the tip of his cock, at the thought of that passage of fluid. Would it pulse into Spike's mouth? Would it spurt in short, hot bullets into that welcoming cavern? Would he cum to the feel of Spike's mouth so intimately on him? Would the vampire be grateful? Would Spike love him again?
Giles - leaning against that crypt in the dark cemetery - felt he would let Spike drain him unto death, if only the vampire would want him again. He went home and lay in the dark contemplating this surrender of all his principles.
He came in sometime during the night. Giles felt the mattress depress. He smelt tobacco and alcohol - waves of alcohol fumes poured off the cool figure. Cold, eager hands began to unbutton his jacket. Even more eager hands explored down to his warm depths, stroking though the wiry curls, enticing trails dragged across the sensitive tip of his penis. A mouth nuzzled into his erection, licked him through the soft material; a tongue dived in through the slit in his pyjamas and found him. Before he could react, the tongue played around the wound just as enticingly. Cockhead, wound, cockhead, wound, the vampire played and teased alternately, and Giles knew what he had to do to make the mouth stay down eventually, to make the vampire suck him. His body screamed so loud for release that the sound drowned out the small voice telling him that there would be no coming back from this surrender. He found a knife in his hand: a sharp painful instrument that cut his finger as he took it awkwardly. The gasps of pleased surprise from the vampire sent jolts of pleasure through his swollen balls, but when his finger was pulled slowly into the cool mouth, he thought he had never felt delight so intense. The vampire sucked at the finger like a baby, playing it in his mouth, easing out the precious drops of blood, but all the time he was easing Giles' hand toward his neck, easing the blade onto the thin skin that held much richer rewards.
The blade made a considerable mess when Giles pressed too hard. Sharp, like a razor, it sliced through the skin, and the blood pooled out. Giles took the soft, blond hair in both hands and gently eased the moaning vampire onto the food. He was right. The sucking made him want to cum. He felt the blood leaving that small wound as intently as he felt an orgasm. The sucking was exquisite, the tongue just probing, the lips mouthing to the raw edges, and the sound of the vampire feeding… it was a sound to cum to: unconscious mewing, deep heartfelt groans, and under all this - under those greedy sounds - a deep rumbling purr.
The vampire began to squeeze Giles' balls gently, as if at each suck he was stimulating the fluid. The room began to fade slightly, and a small buzzing sounded in Giles' ears. Instead of holding the blond hair to him, he pushed it away slightly but, like a desperate infant, the vampire snuggled in tighter to his feeding. Giles had to get him away; he was not as lost to this iniquity as he feared; he had the strength to push him off, and the vampire could not resist.
The vampire's eyes were dilated; he was agitated, laid bare for a moment. He seemed, for a brief second, to want something else from Giles, but when Giles tried to get him to replace his hand inside the warm opening of his pyjamas, Spike snapped back from wherever he had been. He jerked his head back with a disbelieving sneer. 'Yeah. Like I'm gonna do that, you sad fuck. See ya.'
He crawled off the bed, flared out his duster, shook his shoulders, lit a cigarette, and swaggered, grinning, out of the room.
Giles knew something was badly wrong with him the next day at a meeting. He looked at the bright, cheerful faces, as if seeing them through an oddly distorted lens. Something stabbed at him, and he went hesitatingly up to his bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. Panic. He'd felt panic when he'd looked at them. His heart was beating fearfully, and he felt slightly nauseous, but he tried to shake the feeling off and went downstairs again.
It was no better. He could hear a faint buzzing noise in his ears, and they all swam in front of him still, as if that damn lens was making them swell large, then pulse away. He excused himself and asked them to go, but when he was alone, it was even worse. Normal things that he had made his life - making a cup of tea, listening to the radio, writing a few letters home, thinking about home and his life after Sunnydale - suddenly seemed terrifying. He didn't want to think about life after this time, after Sunnydale, after Buffy. He didn't want to live in that house in England on his own, becoming sad and old. All the things he had looked forward to as his rewards for the life he now lived - going to the theatre, friends in London, new books - all seemed sad and incredibly lonely.
The pulse in his heart got worse all morning, the panic at everyday thoughts so bad that, eventually, he had an uncharacteristic daytime drink and went back to bed.
He actually felt tearful but knew then that he must just have an odd virus and that when he woke, he would be better. He began to drift off to this comforting thought but then it arrived again.
Giles tried to say no. He argued. He pushed it away. He went into the bathroom, but the vampire followed him in. So loving, so full of life, it was like a bright spark in the darkness of Giles' day. Hands all over him, hands wanting him, promises of love, apologies for being so cruel, tears, laughter; Giles surrendered once more to the promise of the love, and it fed deeply from the wound that had throbbed all day, reminding him of this debasement. He just stood pressed into the harsh white tiles of the bathroom wall, the sucking demon playing gently with the foreskin of his cock.
When his legs began to weaken, the vampire could not hold him up and continue to play. When it let the soft penis drop, Giles found enough strength to push it away again. The vampire dropped its head onto its chest, panting deeply. Giles put a hand out for support, for Spike to help him but, once more, Spike lifted his head gleefully - still in demon form this time - and spat at him. He slammed the bathroom door so hard some things fell off the shelf. Giles sank to the floor and a well of black rose up to meet him. He did not come round until late into the night. He was cold. Shivers wracked his whole body. He crawled to the bed and climbed in, wrapping himself tightly in the covers, but before he could think about what had happened, he fell into a mercifully deep sleep.
He told the others that he had a virus. They were still worried about him. He could hardly talk to them; his voice would not project enough to get the words out, softened as they were by the blackness that threatened to overwhelm him. He lost interest in the daily tasks of life and did not shave or dress for two days. Every sound made him jump, expecting to turn and find the devil that he could not resist.
Buffy watched him carefully and, on the third day, threatened him with Joyce. While he could fool the youngsters that he had a bug, he did not fancy those mature, thoughtful eyes discovering his secrets. So, on the third day he dressed and shaved and, when they all came over, tried to appear his normal self. It was as if there was a sheet of glass between them. He spoke quite rationally; he acted quite like himself but, at any minute, he felt the glass would shatter and all his pretensions would fall like shards of glass to the floor.
Buffy continued to watch her watcher carefully, perhaps more tuned into what was happening than he suspected. After an hour or so, she brightly announced that they were having a party at the Bronze that night, and that he had to come. He cried off. She insisted, and the Mom threat hung large between them. He capitulated and found himself later that evening dragging through thick treacle to get his unwilling body to the bar.
He didn't particularly like coming here at the best of times. When he felt more like dying than partying, it was hideous. The music made him feel sick; the smell was even worse. He sat quietly in a corner trying to be Giles for everyone, and then he saw him.
He was standing by the pool table, a cue in his hand, idly leaning on it, watching a young couple play. Occasionally, this pair looked over to him, and their looks were full of admiration and need for approval.
The vampire seemed to watching over them as if…. Giles sat up and looked at the couple carefully. He realised they were vampires, too, although quite why he thought this, he couldn't say. He nodded at them to Buffy. She turned, looked them over with distaste and confirmed with a nod. She got up as if to do something about the outrage, but he held her arm and shook his head, mumbling something about a scene and ruining the party. She shrugged and went back to the dance floor, her stance clearly indicating that she'd get them later.
Giles watched the trio avidly, soaking up the pain of seeing him with his own kind. The younger vampire - a slight, pretty female - missed a shot, and Spike laughed and took her place, looking up with a teasing glance to the boy who suddenly looked less sure of his own success. Spike cleared the table quickly, and the boy groaned, throwing his cue down childishly. Spike went around the table and picked it up, giving it back with a mock-jab at the boy as if it were a stake. The boy laughed; Spike reached out a hand and, somehow, naturally, easily, he pulled the boy into an intimate embrace.
With his chin on the boy's shoulder, he turned.
He looked directly at Giles, flicked up an eyebrow, and licked up the boy's neck.
Giles felt the lick. He felt the look of disdain even more. Most of all, though, he felt the nausea rising in his throat and only just made it to the bathroom before vomiting. As he leant over the toilet bowl, he heard the click of a lighter from behind and smelt the familiar smell of a freshly lit cigarette. He stood weakly. 'Go away.'
'You not feeling well, Giles?'
'Oh! Nice. Here I am seein' if you're all right like, and what'd I get? Nice language like that.'
Giles pushed past him and began to splash water on his face. The door banged open once more, and the young vampire swaggered in. Giles suddenly reanimated from the dark place he'd been sinking into. His natural and very highly tuned sense of self-preservation told him that this was serious. Spike could not bite him, but this one could.
Spike turned to the boy and pulled him close, running his fingers through the rumpled dark hair. 'Take it easy, 'k? This is Giles. Say hello to Giles.'
Giles swallowed. He couldn't work out which emotion was dominant: fear that he could be killed, or jealous fury that Spike was holding that boy and not him.
Spike pouted a little and seemed to be weighing something up. The boy entwined around him like a puppy seeking attention. Spike laughed and kissed him. The boy glowed and began to pace around for all the world like a small, young, Spike.
'So, what do we do now?' Giles tried to sound nonchalant but knew that Spike would hear the lie.
Surprisingly, Spike looked at him, still pouting, and said, 'I don't know.'
'Let's eat him.' The other two, who both knew they were not actually talking about the situation in the bathroom, ignored this helpful suggestion from the youngster.
Spike chuckled and said under his breath, 'Think I've lost the plot a bit.'
Giles felt something swell in the core of his body, and it made him ache just to touch Spike. 'Can we agree…. Can we move on from here now? Let's agree I do love you, and you go back to loving me?'
'Hey!' Once more, Spike pointedly ignored the interpretation, but Giles nodded at the boy.
'That was a bit unnecessary, wasn't it?'
Spike followed his gaze. 'What?'
'Fucking that to try and make me jealous?'
'You think I've fucked him?'
'I know you have. You've got satisfaction crawling out of you.'
'You bastard, Giles.'
'Spike, you've practically been swallowing him all night.'
'You still have no idea, do you? You actually think what you feel is love? You're still pathetic, and you know what? I'm sick of this game now. I'm bored of it. I've got more feelings in these,' Spike stuck his fingers in the air in a two-fingered salute, 'than you've got in yer whole fucking body. Go find someone else to play with, Giles; you're beyond my help.'
Embarrassment - hideous, cringing embarrassment - overwhelmed Giles, for he suddenly burst into tears. They'd been threatening for days, a shaky undercurrent to every conversation, and now they burst forth, and he could not call them back or stop.