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Eternity's Bright Promise - 5

Giles couldn't help but smile when he thought of the anticipation he'd felt when dressing for the evening. As if that even counted now as anticipation. He was so nervous, so excited, so bewildered, he could hear his heart beating frantically in his chest. He felt light-headed, a dizzy sense of the unreality at what was happening washing over him. He clung to Spike as they swept back through the night towards Sunnydale. Spike now rode casually, one hand over Giles', playing lightly with his fingers, stroking up his forearm. They were pressed tightly together on the bike, both enjoying the hard bulge of the human's erection, Spike occasionally wriggling back to make him squirm. After a while, Giles felt bold. He slid his hands lower and cupped the vampire's very obvious, very promising, erection. He heard Spike hiss slightly and felt him move his hand down, too. Spike took one of the warm hands and, sucking in slightly, pushed it down inside his jeans. Giles almost resisted the unfamiliar, scary act but let the vampire take control. He felt the stiff, wiry hairs first before his brain connected enough to separate… other things. When he felt calm enough, he put his other hand up to Spike's chest to hold on firmly and began a slow, intense exploration. Spike's erection was lying up to one side: it was hard like steel. Giles winced slightly and felt something nagging at him: something he ought to think about but didn't want to. He ignored the feeling and moved his hand lower. In contrast to the erection, Spike's balls were soft and incredibly malleable. He stroked them gently; they wobbled; Spike gasped, hunched over and swerved the bike. Giles instinctively grabbed onto everything - anything - for support, turning Spike's gasp into an amused shout. 'Hey! Fucking watch me nuts, mate!' Giles let go, his heart racing from fear and….

He wanted to make Spike stop the bike.

He wanted to have the vampire now: alongside the road, on the road, on the bike, he didn't care. He just wanted to feel him, see him, taste him… and what was that persistent thought stabbing at the back of his brain, trying to escape from the tight bounds he'd placed on it? His movements inside Spike's jeans became bolder, more assured. He took hold of the erection as best he could. It was too constricted; he urgently undid the front of the jeans and released it into the hot air. Spike gave a satisfied, long, anticipatory moan as the damp tip dried in the rushing air.

Giles put his chin on Spike's shoulder and saw the erection for the first time. It was too dark to appreciate it fully, but the moon illuminated the pale, unearthly flesh, and Giles could just tell where the solid shaft ended in a soft, darker, and more rounded tip. He put his finger directly on the end of the slippery knob and felt the small slit. He held the erection still with his other hand as he gently swirled around and around on the soft surface. Spike began to rise slightly off the seat and put one hand down to stop him. 'Don't! It's been so bloody long: I'll explode.'

'So?' Giles whispered the simple word into Spike's ear and felt the vampire slowly, but pointedly, remove the restraining hand.

It had been a long time since Giles had done this: the adolescent erection he'd fumbled once in a school pavilion after cricket had been such a disappointment that the exercise had not been repeated. This experience was entirely different. The cock filled his hand. It felt invulnerable yet seductively fragile: subject to his whims, his desires. He pulled the foreskin down and ran one finger around the edge of the tip. He moistened his palm by running it around and over the leaking slit and then used the lubrication to begin a hard, slow, intent pulling of the steel-like shaft. Spike tipped back his head a little then pressed against Giles' face, their cheeks resting together. He slowed the bike slightly, and Giles only prayed the vampire wouldn't close his eyes as well.

He'd only started to find his rhythm, when Spike groaned and said - as if unconsciously and totally lost to the moment - 'Yeah, just like that. That's really good, Giles, makes me so hard. Rub across again…. Fuck yes! Do it again! Jesus! I'm so fucking hard, and it feels so good. I want you Giles - when we get there, yes? Want this inside you instead? Wanna feel how good this could feel ramming up inside you? Want me to split you open? Yeah, like that, wouldn't you?'

Giles felt sick.

Bile actually rose in his gullet, and he felt a cold, washing tingle in his jaw. He wrenched his hand away and spat hoarsely. 'Stop! For God's sake, stop the bike!'

Just in time, he was able to fling himself off and vomit into the sparse bushes to the side of the highway. Spike folded his duster over his aching erection and watched him, puzzled. 'Too much whisky, mate?'

Giles stood up weakly and nodded. He didn't catch Spike's eye. 'Perhaps we'd better keep this until we get back. It is rather dangerous, after all.'

Spike gave him an inscrutable look. 'Not sure that I can, pet.'

'Oh, well….' Giles turned away and sat some distance from the bike, almost lost in the gloom. 'You… err… carry on, if you like. Only I feel…. Must be the motion of the bike. Sorry.'

'Carry on?'

'Yes…. Finish yourself off… or however else you want to…. I don't know, you're a vampire, Spike, perhaps you do these things differently.'

Spike laughed, but even in his confused, nauseous state, Giles knew there was no humour whatsoever in the sound. 'No, we do it just the same as you, human. But you know what? Suddenly, don't feel like it much.' He fastened his clothes and started the bike. For one second, he clearly debated leaving the human alongside the road but relented and nodded his head to the space behind him.

They didn't speak again until they reached Spike's crypt. He stopped the bike. Giles climbed off stiffly and wondered if he could tell this vampire what had really happened. He opened his mouth to speak but was floored by a well-aimed punch. Spike doubled up in agony; Giles' hands flew to his nose. Spike stood up, still holding his head, tears of pain in his eyes. He spoke slowly and incredibly distinctly. 'That was worth it.' Having made his point, he spun on his heel and left Giles alone in the cemetery

Neither slept well that night.

Giles lay bathed in pain and fear: Spike's words had opened up a maw of personal agony that he had repressed very successfully for so long. It had taken him months to physically recover from Angelus' brutal rape: the splitting and bleeding something he had not been able to share with anyone or seek help for. The mental scars still bled: they coated him now with hot, painful memories of shame and degradation, terror and despair.

"I want you Giles - when we get there, yes? Want this inside you instead? Wanna feel how good this could feel ramming up inside you? Want me to split you open? Yeah, like that, wouldn't you?"

No, he wouldn't: he couldn't. How could he ever enjoy that? What had he been thinking of, wanting Spike? Wanting anyone? Penetration was pain and made you beg for it to stop. It made you swell and bleed for weeks, and the pain never seemed to stop.

Eventually he got out of bed and pulled on some old training sweats, going down to the relative cool of his living room. He starred morosely at the door, wondering what to do.

Spike sat with his head in his hands on the edge of his bed. Where did he keep going wrong? What more did he have to do to get this man to want him? He should have taken the girl while he could… and there was no doubt that he could have. He'd been so aroused by the ride over to the bar, so turned on by Giles' hesitant confession that he liked him, that he could have jettisoned years of pent up sexual need into her soft body… but he hadn't. She was not what he'd wanted.

What he wanted had been so close on the ride home. The feel of Giles' excitement over him: the sense of power and urgency he'd been able to rouse in the normally reticent watcher. That's where the human's allure really lay. He was outwardly so incorruptible, so formal, so bloody English… but inside? Inside he was a seething mass of confusion and need, and Spike felt that confusion; he knew that need; he'd seen the human at his very lowest; he had witnessed his.…

Spike lifted his head and starred sightlessly at the small flame of his flickering candle. What had he said? Had he said he would split the human open? Had he said he'd rip into him and make him bleed? Spike groaned as he realised what he'd done. He jerked his head back and screwed his eyes shut to the memory of the human's screams.


Spike flung himself up from the bed and stood with his back to the small dresser, blocking most of the illumination. He could see well enough, but Giles stumbled over something on the floor and sat heavily on the end of the bed. 'Spike?'

'What, human? Bit bloody rich this, coming into me bedroom whenever you want. Love to see what you'd do if I kept doing this to you. Just cus I live in the crypt; just cus I'm a vampire…. Don't see why….'

'Shut up, Spike. I'm embarrassed too.'

Spike came slowly away from the candle, and Giles watched him carefully. 'I want to explain….'

'No need, I got it.'

'Oh.' He put his head down. 'So you understand that I… can't. I can't let you….'

'I can't anyway, pet. I was only talking a load of shit as usual. I probably couldn't even push a pencil in you. Chipped, remember?'

Giles lay back on the rumpled bed slowly. He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. 'I think this is the most inauspicious start to any… liaison I've ever had the misfortune to enjoy.'

Spike chuckled and sat next to him on the bed, his legs crossed. 'I think being murdered was probably my worst.'

Giles looked at him. 'Okay, better than mine. But the one I had under the influence of dark forces was pretty… bloody.'

'Worse than shagging Harmony?'

Giles shuddered, finally remembering the hideous girl's name. 'No, I shouldn't think so. Mind you, I did have one girlfriend who thought blowjob actually meant that. That was a unique experience.'

Spike chuckled and lay down on his side, propped on one elbow, watching Giles. 'You had a good 'un with the gypsy though.'

Giles hesitated, unsure whether he wanted to discuss Jenny with Spike. He turned his head and looked at the pale, beautiful face and saw nothing there but calm interest. 'After Angel killed her, I had no desire to go on really. I think it kind of helped in a perverse sort of way. When he… did what he did, I didn't really care. Don't get me wrong: it was degrading, painful, terrifying… but not… affecting. It left me unaffected.'

Spike blinked slowly, and without warning, ran a finger gently down Giles' cheek. 'How can you be so clever for other people, Watcher, but so bloody stupid for yourself? Not affected? How long ago was it? I say some shit in the heat of the moment, and you puke your guts into the dirt. Yeah, very not affected.'

Giles turned his face away and was quiet for a very long time. When he did speak, his voice was soft and almost wondering. 'I was supposed to be helping you, Spike, not the other way around.'

'Physician, heal thyself, luv.'

Giles looked slightly askance at Spike, but said in a warm, amused tone, 'You should burn up for that, Demon.'

Spike gave a pretend gasp of outrage. 'Oh, you think so, do you?' He mocked slapped Giles, his hand incredibly close to the skin, but only stroking it with the air as it passed. Giles smiled and folded his hands behind his head.

Spike sighed unnecessarily and picked a small thread out of his blanket. 'So, what? Did you come here just to explain or….'

Giles turned to look at him. 'Oh, no, explain and apologise.' Spike's face had risen then fallen at this reply, and he gave an impatient huff.

'I meant….'

'I know what you meant.' Giles reached over and took hold of Spike's waistband above the zip and pulled it slightly. Spike fell forward, and Giles was there to meet him. In the near total darkness of the crypt, it seemed so easy. Spike's mouth was cool and welcoming; Giles' was warm and accepting. He fell back, and Spike slid slightly over him, one hand on the soft brown hair, one around the back of Giles' neck. The vampire began to twist his fingers into the hair as they twisted their tongues together.

Giles felt his own erection rubbing against Spike's and knew he wasn't far from coming. He eased them apart, placing a surprisingly loving kiss on Spike's forehead. 'I can't… do anything else, Spike.'

Spike pursed his lips and continued to pull Giles' hair into small peaks. 'Why not? It wouldn't be like….'

'No. I realise that. I know I have to get over it, only… not here and not….'

Spike began to interrupt, but Giles pressed a finger to the cool lips and took a deep breath. 'If we do… err….'


'Thank you. Yes. If we do… then I can't get rid of the feeling that 'this' - whatever this is - will be over…. No! Don't deny it. It might not; but it might. This might just be a physical thing between us: mutual desire that once satisfied will leave us with nothing else….'

'So, what you saying? You ain't gonna….'

'No. On the contrary. I want to enjoy it while I have it. I have to be at work today: I have things I have to be there for. There's no time now. And I want to see you properly. I don't want to do it here. And to be honest? I just want another few hours of anticipation, because I've rather been enjoying that.'

Spike began to laugh and rolled onto his back. Giles watched him carefully. 'Are you… okay with that?'

Spike hiccupped into silence and nodded his head thoughtfully.

Giles said softly, 'This is rather nice, too, isn't it?'

Spike turned his head; their faces mere inches apart. He lifted his hips slightly and dug out his cigarettes, lighting one carefully before replying. He folded his free arm under his head and turned once more to Giles, blowing a small trail of smoke over him as he spoke. 'Yeah, I can't deny it: it is. Last person I had in a bed was Harmony, and ya know, I kinda found meself making excuses not to be in it, too.' He chuckled. 'Even did some housework once - just to keep out of the bed.'

Spike smoked quietly for a while but stopped with his hand poised to his mouth when a hand began to undo the button on his jeans. He heard Giles chuckle. 'Finishing what I started s'allowed, I think.'

Spike almost choked when he tried to speak. 'Ain't gonna say no to that, am I?'

Giles sat up and undid the jeans completely, urging Spike to lift up slightly so he could slip them right off. The darkness hid his flush of embarrassment and made him bold. Spike lay still, except for the smoking - he could see perfectly well and liked the way the watcher's skin flared out his desire.

Giles cupped Spike's soft balls in the palm of one hand. Spike groaned but otherwise, this time, kept quiet. Warm hands travelled, and an awed voice said softly, 'I'd say fully cured, wouldn't you?' When there was still no response, Giles added thoughtfully, 'I'd better make sure though.'

Spike lifted his hips up fractionally and moaned softly as his foreskin was pinched up, and then eased down. Once more, Giles had access to the soft bulbous tip. The vampire watched the tanned hands moving over his pale shaft and revelled in the warmth they imparted. Giles took a firm hold. 'I've never really done this before, some… encouragement might be helpful?'

Spike still maintained his uncharacteristic silence, but dropped his cigarette to the floor and put the freed hand over Giles', guiding him, showing him how much pressure he could take and the speed he liked. Giles quickly caught on, and Spike folded both arms behind his head, closing his eyes to the exquisite sensation of being brought off by Rupert Giles. Just the thought of Buffy's watcher playing with his penis made his balls begin to tingle with the anticipation of orgasm. He rolled the thought around as Giles began to fondle his sac, perhaps sensing that release was imminent. Rupert Giles…. He'd been there since the beginning… the mutual animosity… the sparring… and now, here they were, enjoying each other's bodies.

In his mind, Spike swapped the more amenable Giles currently making unlife interesting, for an earlier one. He felt once more the hard porcelain against his back and the coolness of the chains. He mentally walked this earlier watcher toward the bath. He made him sit on the rim and instead of offering food from novelty mug; Spike made the human reach out and open his jeans. He made Giles search inside for him. He made the watcher get him out, made him start to pull him… and then his fantasy caught up with reality. It was too much: Spike arched off the bed, gasping and cursing. His sperm shot out with unnatural velocity and splattered his T-shirt, his face, and the surrounding bed. Giles almost let go, but two cold hands clamped around his warm one, and Spike kept the stimulation going until, some long minutes later, the jets of sperm ceased, and he sank like a stone back to the mattress.

Giles sat back on his heels, his arms shaking slightly from the exertion. He was hesitant, unsure what to do, when the decision was taken from him. Spike reached up, cupped the back of his neck and pulled him down into a tight, cool - and now rather damp - hug.

Giles had never lain on someone else's sperm, but it smelt surprisingly familiar: that damp ocean smell that lulled him to sleep and told his brain that he was in his own post-orgasmic slump. Just before he fell into this much-needed sleep, Spike took hold of one of his warm hands and slid it up inside his T-shirt and onto his cool belly. The contrast of temperatures was incredibly seductive, and it was on the tip of Giles' tongue to point this out, when he fell into a light doze.

When he woke, Spike had turned on his side, and Giles assumed it was this movement that had woken him.

It was incredibly dark: the candle having long burnt down. Giles wanted to see what the time was so felt gently in Spike's pocket for his lighter and got up to find out. He relit the candle, saw some more standing alongside it and lit those, too; the increased light allowing him to see the vampire properly for the first time that night. He smiled fondly at the ruffled blond hair and the rumpled clothes. It was nearly six. He had to leave… but couldn't. He lay back down, and turning his face from Spike's seductive back, folded his arms under his head and began to think about the coming night.

He didn't even get to start the thought. He was looking up at a startling ocean chalked in bold lines and colours on the ceiling of the crypt. It was as if he were standing once more at the viewpoint. Waves crashed in on some invisible shore, angry and heaving. In their overwhelming, terrifying midst, dreadful, inhuman creatures were tossed about, screaming and reaching for help that would never come to them. It immediately made Giles think of medieval depictions of hell, but something about the creatures, so familiar, so… everyday for Sunnydale, made him wonder if it wasn't Spike's watery fearful vision of his own unlife, and this realisation made Giles shudder. Something drew his eye though; something made him catch his breath in wonder. In the middle of this nightmarish ocean stood a small beacon, and it shone its warm light in a pool onto the waters, and where it struck, all was still and calm. Here the water shone, and looked inviting and safe. Giles didn't know whom, or what, this beacon represented to Spike - he wasn't sure it mattered all that much - but the whole picture… undid him. That Spike could produce such an allegory of his unlife, and that he should want it here, above him as he slept, actually brought tears to his eyes. He turned towards the sleeping figure, slipped one arm under the blond head and pulled him back into a tight all-forgiving spoon.

He was completely late for work the next day not arriving until well after ten. Anya looked pointedly at him and made a show of serving a customer… one of many in the busy shop. Giles nodded at her and mumbled an excuse. He quickly made himself busy, glad of the distraction from his thoughts: they were all for the blond figure he'd left sleeping peacefully that morning. He wasn't too sure that Spike had been asleep when he'd finally extracted himself and left, but he'd been grateful for the pretence, if that was what it was. Everything that happened with the intriguing vampire confused him. Every moment he spent with him only sent him spinning off in another direction. Had he actually accused Spike of not being able to appreciate beauty?

For the first time, Giles began to see Spike not as a vampire that had once been a man but, critically, as a man that had been forced against his will to be a vampire. Giles wondered for the first time what it was like to be undead. He'd thought about vampires for years: studied them, researched them, fought them, killed them… but he never empathised with them. He did now, wondering what he would be like had he been turned. He hoped he'd be like Spike but had the disturbing thought that he would not have survived long enough to know.

Xander was the first of the gang to turn up and sat down to wait for those with more active and fulfilling lives. If he noticed that Giles was out of sorts again, he didn't comment on it, but once or twice gave Anya a nod and puzzled frown in the watcher's direction.

Giles was the only one pleased when, just after lunch, Spike shot into the shop, casting aside his blanket and cursing about the sun as usual. He sauntered up to the research table and sat down next to the watcher, putting his feet up on the table. Looking at no one in particular, he said, rather distinctly, 'It's so fucking hot. Can't wait for tonight.'

Xander looked up and hesitated, deciding whether he could be bothered with sparring in the heat. He decided it was always worth it for Spike and said, 'Heat affecting the dead now, is it Spike?'

Giles winced: he felt like a reformed racist at a Klan meeting. He wanted to say something to smooth the comment. He really wanted to lean over and smack the idiot boy but had to refrain. He should have known there was no need. Spike tipped his chair right back, lit a cigarette and smiled inwardly with the pleasure of his own superiority. He stared at the boy for a moment, and then said with deceptive neutrality, 'Makes me decompose faster, yeah.'

Giles suppressed a small chortle but knew that Spike had heard it. Xander looked at Spike nervously, and then at Giles. 'He's joshing, ain't he watcher-man? Dead boy can't really… go slushy, can he?'

Giles didn't look up from the book he was pretending to read. 'There have been cases of vampires' parts falling off in extreme heat, yes….' He left a magnificent pause and then said casually, 'Fingers… toes…. That sort of thing.'

Xander's eyes grew wide, and he glanced down at Spike's long, slim fingers. Helpfully, Spike wriggled them on the table and then suppressed a chuckle as the human paled. He pouted a little and said innocently, ''Course, they'll grow back.' As if feeling he ought to be a pleasant conversationalist, he added, 'Angel's dick fell off one summer in Italy, but it grew back like… slowly.'

Giles coughed violently against his hand and had to take his glasses off to wipe them, tears running down his face. 'Sometimes of course they don't grow back in exactly the same place…. Or in the same shape come to that.' He risked his first direct look at Spike and almost managed to keep a straight face: until Spike turned and favoured him, too, with the innocent look. Giles bit his lip. He looked up at the ceiling. He drew on all his reserves and recovered enough to ask almost fluently. 'Isn't that so, Spike?'

Spike, clearly much better at this game, nodded wisely. 'Yeah, it was never the same again after that.' Bravely seeking something positive from the unfortunate situation, he added helpfully, 'But it was much easier to reach, which I guess was good for Angel. Not so good for Darla, but that's another story like.'

Xander's head went from one to the other as if he were watching tennis. His jaw hung open; Giles almost felt sorry for him. He was about to end the game when Buffy arrived and sauntered up to the table. Xander immediately hailed her, 'Hey! Buff? Where was Angel's…? You know….' He blushed, but a quick glance at his own crotch told Buffy exactly what he was referring to.'

Buffy blushed even more, blanched, stopped furiously, started to speak, but turned to Giles who, for some bizarre reason, seemed to be choking. Equally bizarrely, Spike was tapping him lightly on the back with clearly amused, fake concern. Buffy glanced back at the door. 'I'm going out and coming in again. Weirdo spell better be gone.'

Giles got up to speak to her. He stood with his thigh touching Spike's shoulder. 'Sorry. It's nothing, only… it's hot, and I'm looking forward to the night.' He pushed into Spike slightly as he spoke.

Buffy said with cheerful concern. 'You still not sleeping well, Giles?'

Giles paused and moved away to the counter, brushing hard against Spike as he left. He chuckled. 'I'm convinced I won't tonight.'

Xander was still too engrossed picturing Angel naked to comment on Spike's final collapse. Buffy only watched him with disdainful wonder as he staggered helplessly from the shop under his blanket.

Giles watched him leave, but the vampire stayed in his thoughts. On the way home that evening, he bought some wine. Incredibly, an evening drinking wine with Spike was not only a reality, it was going to be just a prelude to something… unthinkable: unthinkable, but infinitely desirable. Giles had no doubt that Spike had joked about Angel like that for a reason, and it was not just to annoy and confuse Xander Harris. Could he ever think of Angel in quite the same way again? Every time the rape came into his mind in the future, it would be softened, even deconstructed by Spike's wickedly innocent face and the feelings that had surged inside him as they'd worked the boy together.

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