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Chapter 8

Nothing Spike did or said would persuade Giles to discuss his plan. He was subjected to whining; fury; clever argument; tickling; and even the threat of physical force.

When he saw all his other tactics failing, Spike flung up and straddled the laughing human. He captured Giles' arms above his head, pinning him down at his mercy. However, this only diverted them both from its intent. Giles coughed lightly. Spike gave a small, excited moan. 'Try an' get away?'

'Of course I could… if I wanted to.' Giles pulled his arms away; his eyes widened - in his head, he'd seen his arms pulling away; in reality, they had stayed exactly where they were: pinned effectively by Spike. All his adult life, if he'd wanted to move a lover's hands, he had. He tried again. It was like being in a dream where you try to wake and escape but however hard you try, your muscles fail. He began to struggle in earnest. Spike raised his eyebrow and took away one hand. Nonchalantly, he stretched over to get his cigarettes. Keeping an eye teasingly on the furious, impotent human, he shook one out and caught it in his mouth.

'Come on, Pet. Struggle a bit more than that, yeah? Make it fun for me.'

Giles strained every muscle in his strong arms, but his hands rose not a fraction of an inch from the bed.

Spike lit his cigarette and smoked it for a while. 'So, the plan….'

'I am not telling you, Spike. Not yet. I've explained my reasons: it's too soon; I haven't got everything worked out yet. When I have, I'll tell you.'

'I'm not a bleedin' kid; I ain't gonna get all 'cited, and then disappointed if it don't work out.' Giles raised his eyebrow.

'All right, maybe I would.' Spike grinned. 'Struggle some more now.'

'It seems rather pointless.'

'How does it feel?'

'What, being pointless?'

'Nah, being helpless.'

'Well, I'm not, am I?'

Spike frowned. 'Yes, you are.'

Giles suddenly heaved up his hips and twisted. Caught off guard and considerably lighter than Giles, Spike was dislodged. He shouted in fury but, reversing their position, Giles pinned him down on his back. Giles was a lot heavier, and he was strong, but they both knew Spike could have escaped - with almost nothing more than a blink - if he'd wanted to.

Giles smiled: Spike looked so comical lying there with his cigarette still dangling out of his mouth. He lifted a hand off Spike's wrists and took it out for him so he could blow a cloud of smoke.


Giles slid off the vampire, and they lay side-by-side while Spike finished smoking.

Giles stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. 'That must be how women feel.'

'What? Aroused by bein' pinned down?'

Giles chuckled. 'I actually meant the sense of powerlessness. It must be salutary for them.'

'Maybe they should be more meek and grateful other times then. Women when I were young knew their place in the scheme of things.'

Giles was silent for a while then said, amused. 'That's an interesting - and brave - point of view. I'll discuss it with Buffy - oh, and perhaps Willow. See what they think, shall I?'

'Err… nah! Value me knackers too much, thanks.'

'So do I.' To illustrate his point, Giles slid a hand between Spike's legs and began to stroke the soft sac. Spike turned his head on the pillow to look at him.


'The sun's coming up. I have to go soon - open the shop and things. What are you going to do?'

'I'll ride back with you then. Come to the shop, too.'

Secretly very pleased, Giles stretched and yawned.

'Don't stop.' Spike held him in his intense gaze. Giles groaned faintly and willingly replaced his hand.

'Do you know what I'd really like to do? I'd like to try and take you slowly. Do you think that's possible?'

Spike pulled up his knees, let his supple legs fall open, and said softly, 'Try.'

Relaxed, warm from the bed and the sex, Spike's normally hard, cold body seemed soft and malleable. Giles moulded his hands around warm parts; slid them down soft, smooth skin; bent and stretched muscles and tendons to spread Spike beneath him like a sacrifice… and Spike rolled and turned to Giles' desires, allowing himself to be the clay for the human's pleasure.

When he'd looked, caressed and examined enough, Giles was hard and leaking. With no other preparation, he leant into Spike's thighs and pushed himself in. Spike arched back at the intrusion, his hips lifted high, and the position made Giles' penis slide deep into the vampire's rectum. Simultaneously, they both let out a soft, 'Oh, yeah,' the small shared thought bringing them together in a new intimacy. They both felt it. Giles frowned and put a hand to Spike's cheek; something was gone from the vampire's expression: some hardness, some barrier. He smiled; Spike blinked slowly then smiled back. 'That's very, very nice, Luv.'

Giles pulled back slowly, breathing deeply at the unbelievable pleasure. Spike stretched his arms over his head and held onto the headboard, displaying his lean body. Giles re-entered, and Spike moaned, lifting his hips. The sensuality of being in Spike, watching Spike, made tears come to Giles' eyes. He placed his hands on Spike's chest and splayed his fingers wide over the swollen nipples. 'I want to make this last all day, but I can't.'

Spike's response was to release a hand, cup it to the back of Giles' neck and pull him down to his mouth.

They kissed deeply, softly; passion growing until the kiss sparked need deep in bellies, made skin flush, made them both swell and leak. Giles began to pump once more into Spike, but Spike clamped his strong arms around Giles' hips, preventing movement. 'Wait. You can last then.'

Giles didn't think he'd be able to. He'd felt his orgasm starting, and this interruption was painful, but Spike would not relent.

Finally, Giles nodded that he was past the worst, and Spike released him, encouraging small motions once more. Giles began the long work up again, but this time his body was sensitised. Every part of him seemed to contribute to the delight: his toes tingling, nipples swelling and flushing, ears beginning to hum and best of all, jolts of sexual pleasure as sperm thickened in his balls, gathering pressurised and ready to find release.


Spike held Giles' face down onto his chest when he stopped him this time, murmuring into the mussed hair, 'Patience. Trust me.'

'I can't. Don't stop me. Please.'

'I know what I'm doin', Pet. I'm feeling it, too, remember?'

Giles looked up, and Spike smiled. 'Honest. Feel me.'

The human slid a hand between them and winced at Spike's urgency: so hard, so swollen and so wet. He nodded and tried to wait patiently until Spike freed him once more.

When Giles began again, he cried out, half in pleasure, half in pain. He was so swollen that his penis felt unnaturally stiff, badly engorged, as if he'd left an untreated erection for days, instead of merely minutes. His balls were so sensitive that they hurt when he first banged them into Spike. The second time was pleasurable, the third, exquisite. His whole body felt ready to explode. He became frantic, more so when he saw Spike snake his hand out to stop him again. He panted out frantically, 'No. Absolutely not. Don't. God. No. I'll hit you. Stop. I. Must. Come. Must. Please. Oh. God. Coming.' With a shuddering groan and raking his nails down Spike's pale skin, Giles released into the arching body. He thought he was lost to all other sensation, but he looked down and saw Spike's penis sending small shots of cum onto a hard belly, and his own pleasure was doubled by the sight.

The after-sensation of this orgasm stayed with Giles for almost half an hour. He lay in Spike's arms, completely speechless, drifting in and out of exhausted sleep with seemingly every nerve in his body firing off and then lying dormant, only to spark to life again, as if they, too, were remembering and enjoying the release.

Spike smoked, ran fingers through the greying hair and, occasionally, made a comment that Giles was never quite awake enough to understand, nor asleep enough not to hear. It was only when Spike said, for the third time, that it was time to leave, did Giles make the effort to rouse. He sat up and scratched. 'God. Where to start with this day….'

'Shower might be a good idea.'

'Are you implying I smell?'

'Nah. I'm telling you outright you do.'

'Oh. Bloody hell, yes. Err…'

'I'll make some coffee. Go on, ya poof.'

Giles climbed stiffly out of the bed, trying not to let the vampire see how badly his human body reacted to a night of strenuous sex. He went into the privacy of the small bathroom, stepping in under the hot water with a sense of relief and delight. After a few moments, he sensed he was being watched and turned to see Spike in the doorway, leaning casually, cup of coffee in one hand, watching him. Giles kept his back turned but smiled at Spike over his shoulder. Spike gave a small rueful chuckle, balanced the coffee on the rim of the bath and went back out. Small moments, but Giles felt a comfortable intimacy growing between them. He drank the hot drink gratefully, dried off and walked naked back into the room.

Spike was eyeing the remains of their clothes on the floor, toeing them distastefully. He turned when Giles came in, rolled his eyes at the filthy pile and went into the shower himself. When he came out, Giles was dressed, also examining small tears and odd marks on his clothes with distaste.

'Your crypt first? You could grab something clean.'

'Yeah. 'K then.' Spike stood naked, rubbing his hair with a towel, watching Giles. 'This plan of yours….'

Giles smiled. 'Don't probe; I'm not ready to….'

'No. I'm not gonna. I just wanna know….' He looked down, pouting slightly. 'I just wanna know if it's gonna mean more of this.'

'Oh. Of course. I like coffee.'


'Sorry. What then? Showers?'



Spike smiled, despite the extreme provocation. 'I'm not 'fraid to name it. Us. Is this gonna mean more of us?'

Giles held out his hand, and Spike came forward willingly. 'Is this an episode from the Twilight Zone? Are we destined never to leave this motel room? I feel as much need for you now as when we arrived, and things are crossing my mind that would entail another shower. But, yes, to answer your question, 'us' is exactly what there will be a great deal more of if I have my way. If I ever get to leave this room and get on with my plan.'

'Well, let me go then tosser, and I'll get dressed.'

'Do I have to?'

'We can take up from this point tonight, if you want.'

'Oh, that's really going to help my concentration all day.' Reluctantly, Giles released Spike's slim, naked body, and he sat on the bed watching him dress. When he was done, Giles handed the vampire a blanket and, raising one eyebrow, Spike made ready to dash to the car.

They arrived at the shop only a little later than normal opening time, and while Giles went around familiarising himself with Anya's changes, Spike made himself comfortable at the table for a day of smoking and watching the human. He didn't have much opportunity to do the second of these, for the human spent most of the day busy: seeing people, organising things and making arrangements that he refused to discuss with Spike. Spike had to content himself watching the human disappearing into the backroom with various men, going out on errands, making phone calls and peering at various pieces of paper, without falling victim to the temptation to ask, yet again, what it was all about.

The familiarity of having Spike in the shop with him but, at the same time, knowing that they were now lovers, kept Giles slightly off balance all day. Not unpleasantly so - more a kind of wonder, a repetitive checking to made sure Spike was still there, and then another check to reassure himself that he was not dreaming the steady gaze that followed his every move.

It grew dark. Spike left to feed; Giles watched him go, his heart sinking: plans were all very well, but he knew that Spike was not known for following anyone's rules - any plan that he had not made himself.

They had agreed to meet at a small out-of-town bar, a suggestion from Spike that had pleased Giles, the implication that the vampire now also liked them just spending time together, without sex, confirming that his hard decision the previous day had been worthwhile.

Spike was already there when Giles arrived, despite the fact that he was almost an hour early. He paused on the threshold, looking in. Spike was at a table in the corner with a large man. They were arm wrestling. Giles was slightly taken aback but not sure why that should be. A small crowd had gathered around the pair; notes were being slapped on the table - mostly on the man's side, for it appeared that he was winning by quite a margin.

Spike was grimacing, his arm bent very close to the table. He was straining badly, a blue vein on his forehead distinct and throbbing, visible even to Giles. With a final grin, the man snapped Spike's hand to the table, and Spike snatched it back, rubbing it, apparently in pain. He stood up and stormed off as the man, triumphantly, swept up his winning. He began to rise, but Spike reappeared at his side, seemingly begging for another go. The small crowd laughed and cheered the man on, so the combatants took their places once more.

Giles, more aware of what was happening than he cared to be, checked where the car was, made sure he had his keys handy, then made his way closer to the table. The bets were being replaced, more this time, but they were all on the human. Spike seemed utterly dejected. He fumbled in a pocket and produced a stack of notes, looking at them as if they were his last chance: food for starving children, pay off for bone-breaking debt collectors, his salvation. The drinkers laughed; the man snatched them off him and laid them on the table with a leer. Giles sighed, shook his head and debated intervening and ending Spike's game before it had begun. He didn't have the heart, but he held his keys tighter and kept an eye on the door.

A second bout commenced. Giles folded his arms and stared intently at Spike, sure that the vampire knew he was there, convinced that some of Spike's theatrical groaning and grimacing was being added for his benefit. He had to give Spike his due: the vampire made a good show of almost losing. At one point, Giles doubted that he could have slid a playing card between the pale hand and the beer-stained table. Giles shook his head again, this time with fond tolerance. He almost felt sorry for the man. He'd been on the receiving end of that preternatural strength and knew, only too well, just how much Spike was faking this.

Giles couldn't believe it when he saw it. Spike brought his arm back up to the vertical; he continued with his theatrical efforts until, suddenly, in a copy of the previous night, he reached over and drew out a cigarette from a box on the table. Looking at his opponent with a raised eyebrow, he lit up. Shock registered over the man's face as the inherent insult to his efforts sunk in. He began to sweat and heave at the slim, pale hand that he had grasped in his huge, tattooed fist. Spike took a long drag and sighed wearily… and then he looked at Giles. He chuckled, pouted slightly - as if already hearing the chastisement that was surely to follow - but then gently eased the man's hand, inch by easy inch, onto the table.

The crowd silenced. The man pulled away as if stung. Spike shrugged and began to sweep up the considerable number of notes on the table. There were rumblings. Giles sensed the tension mounting. He gave the vampire a furious look, but Spike only peeled off the top note and said cheerily, 'Drinks on me?'

The beaten man looked around in impotent fury when his supporters immediately changed sides and went happily to the bar with Spike. When he'd bought a round for everyone, he came over to join Giles with two drinks in his hand. He looked abashed at the human but said with a hint of defiance, 'What? Bloody what? An' you were early. You were 'posed to get 'ere 'bout now!'

'Do I have to say the word chip? Do I have to remind you that you are…?

Spike gave him a look. 'No. You don't. But we wouldn't be 'ere if I didn't. Ever think 'bout that in yer moralising.'

'What do you mean?'

'How do you think I got the ticket, Mate? Crossing the Atlantic ain't cheap.'

Giles looked at him. He began to laugh, deep, belly shaking laughs that he could not control. It was not the reaction Spike had expected, and the vampire looked rather aggrieved. When Giles could control himself, he hiccupped slightly and said, 'Sorry. Only….' He began to chuckle again, wiped a tear from his eye and tried again. 'If ever there was a cue…. I'm almost beginning to believe in your show theory. Well, if that's true, the supporting character has just been handed the best cue ever….'

'What the bleedin' hell are you rambling on…?'

'The plan, Spike. I think I can tell you now.'

Spike laid his drink down carefully, aligning it exactly into the centre of a beer mat. 'K then.' Only the stillness of his hands and the fact that he wasn't smoking, gave away just how tense he really was.

Giles folded his arms on the table. 'Do you remember I mentioned a book? Well, I've decided to do it.' There was no reaction from Spike. 'It's going to be a history of Slaying. I'm going to trace all the Slayers and record their lives in one volume for the first time. The Council have commissioned it, and I've negotiated a good advance. Enough, anyway.'

'Uh huh. So….' Spike squinted, demonstrating the fact that he was thinking hard - just in case Giles missed it. 'And that's to do with me… how?'

Giles shook his head in despair. 'God. Spike! Don't you see? It's the perfect excuse to come here on a regular basis. First Slayer? Last Slayer? Faith? Kendra? Sunnydale has seen its fair share, and I think each one will warrant at least a chapter to themselves - oh… two months per chapter, perhaps?'

Spike pursed his lips. 'Last?'


'You called the slayer the last. Don't think she'd appreciate that.'

'Well, no, current, obviously. Only it's catchier. I had thought to call the book "Alpha to Omega: The Slaying of Passion, A Definitive History." See…? The double meaning in passion…? I shall have a large section on the men they've loved but have been unable to…. I'll do Angel, of course….' He saw Spike's face. 'Well… yes… it's a title in progress. It's not easy thinking up titles, you know. You try it!'

'So. That's the plan, is it? You write a book, and you come back here for a few months?' He looked down and began to trace patterns through the spilt beer.

Giles looked at the lowered blond head, and the surge of desire that washed through him quite took him by surprise. He resisted the temptation to reach out and stroke through the mussed tangles, but Spike seemed to sense his suppressed intent, for he looked up and smiled. 'Sorry, but I was kinda hoping for more, ya know?'

'Oh, there is more. Sorry.' He avoided the mock punch and said with a smile, 'Yes, you see, I shall have to go where each slayer lived and… died. Whether I shall be able to trace every one is dubious…. I mean to start in France in the spring, possibly April. There is some very strong evidence that Joan of Arc may have been a slayer. I intend to do some research in Domrémy for a month or two. But, you see… I don't speak French very well….'

Spike couldn't help a small grin at this, although he kept his face bent to his small, interesting pattern. 'Uh huh. You saying I should come to France with you?'

'Yes. I am.'

'In April?'

'Yes. What?'

Spike looked up and took a deep breath. 'It took me months to earn the money to get over to you for Christmas, how the bloody hell….'

'That's the next part of the plan.'

'Oh.' Spike screwed up his eyes a little. 'You haven't got me a….' He swallowed nervously. 'Job. Have you? And no would be the correct answer to that.'

'Sort of is the truthful answer. I thought about Anya and this damn shop business. I can't manage my part when I am so far away and especially now I'll be travelling so much. I want to split my share with you. I want you to be my silent partner. You can look out for my interests, keep a check on Anya… that sort of thing. I'll make it worth your while.'


'Oh! Well, I didn't think you'd go so readily for it, and I was willing to offer you more than that but, yes, if you think that's…. What? What? NO! No way, Spike! I'm only asking you to keep an eye on things! I'm not giving you eighty percent of my take! Don't be bloody ridiculous.'

'If I don't 'ave enough money, I can't come to France with you, can I? If I don't come to France, you can't talk to anybody.'

'You bloody turn-coat, you mercenary demon; you're blackmailing me!'

'Thirty-seventy then. But that's me final offer.'

'Wait a minute. You haven't even told me what you think about my plan yet! About the book, about France!'

'I think you're a total pillock, and that you should just stay here. But given that, it's… interesting. Course, havin' killed three slayers, I would say that.'

'Three? No, two, Spike: China and…. That's not even funny.'

'Well, she asks for it with that bloody superior attitude an' stupid earrings. So… what was with all the big 'airy men in the back room all day? Can't quite see the bum cracks anywhere in this plan, and now I'm getting' a bit worried.'

Giles laughed. 'Ah, that's my favourite part. I just thought that as I'll be back here so frequently now, I would need somewhere to stay. I don't want to pay for somewhere permanently, so I'm having the back room converted to a studio apartment - nothing fancy, just a shower, small kitchenette, bed….'

'Slayer's training room converted?'

Giles pouted. 'Yes. You work it out.'

Spike nodded, impressed. 'I have. Very subtle. Doubt she'll see it like that.'

'She'll find another and another trainer.'


'So….' Giles looked anxiously at Spike. Out loud, his plan sounded pretty sketchy, unreal, much-vaunted: write the definitive textbook….

Spike lit a cigarette and leant back. 'You stay 'ere for another two weeks?'

'Yes, while the conversion is done.'

'I come over to France in April?'

'For a month or so, I would think, yes.'

'Then you come back here…?'

'In the autumn, probably. September, if all goes well.'

'In the meantime, I get thirty percent of the shop's profit?'

'You get thirty percent of my fifty percent, and you actually work for it.'

'Then when you come back, you stay in your new place - back of the shop. Another two weeks.'

'Yes. But I could always put someone up, if they wanted a summer holiday in Devon….'

'And had the money for one.'

'Of course. If they did.'

'You gonna have cable in this new studio thingy then?'

'I hadn't thought about it, but I suppose I could.'

'And a telephone point?'

Giles smiled. 'Again, I might. Why?'

Spike returned the smile. 'Cus for another ten percent, I might manage that for you, too.'

Giles flung his head back and laughed. He finished his drink and left Spike at the table while he went to get them another. It had gone better than he'd feared, but… there was something… something he couldn't put a finger on… something not quite…. He turned and looked back. Spike was lighting a cigarette - nothing unusual there - but he looked thoughtful; he didn't look happy, as if all his previous animation had been an act. Giles frowned slightly, wondering if he was just seeing too much in Spike's volatile personality.

He carried the drinks back and sat down. Spike took his, still silent. It wasn't a particularly uncomfortable silence, so Giles allowed Spike the time he needed to mull over the plan. If he had a complaint to make, it was that Spike had accepted it all too easily. He had expected some argument. He had expected at least some derision. This Spike, this easy-going, sounds-like-a-good-idea Spike, worried Giles. He was about to suggest another drink, hoping that a more mellow Spike might become a more vocal Spike, when he felt a foot brush against his leg. 'Let's go.' Giles looked up, still very unsure of Spike's mood. The vampire looked quite himself: laughing, playful and apparently over whatever had upset him earlier. Giles was very worried… but Giles was also very aroused. Arousal won out over worry, and he grinned back.

'I seem to remember you promised me we'd take up where we left off this morning.'

Spike continued to rub his boot up and down Giles' leg, but his words were less encouraging. 'I seem to remember that you ain't slept for at least twenty-four hours, and you were jet-lagged then.'

'Oh.' Giles looked away quickly. 'But….'

'I'm not gonna leave ya, Mate. Not now. If I wanted immortal-an'-don't-need-sleep, I'd have that. Your human shit is all part of yer attraction….. And… you get that I didn't mean literally, yeah?'

'Well, if you are sure… some sleep would be nice.' He stood and held out a hand. 'But I don't ever want to sleep alone when we are on the same side of any large body of water. Coming?'

They found a different motel, and Giles paid for the room for twenty-four hours. He ordered in some food, and then turned gratefully into the bed. Spike stayed up, smoking quietly in the window, his feet up on the sill, his chair tipped back, swinging slightly. He seemed to have an endless capacity for being still; it was something Giles had never noticed about him before. It was very, very restful having him in the same room. Giles had the absurd thought that it like being a child: falling asleep in the evening while you watched a beloved parent watching over you. He fell asleep to this thought and woke, thirteen hours later, with a sense of complete peace and contentment he had not felt since leaving Sunnydale.

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