Giles sank onto the couch and took a long, slow swallow of whisky. It
might not cure the worldâs ills but it was making him feel better. His
mouth was still experiencing the pleasant tingle from a malt blended to
perfection when a knock at the door shattered the illusion of peace.
Giles swore under his breath and pulled himself up wearily. No one he
knew ever bothered to knock which meant that it was someone he didnât
want to see. At least he could rule out a demon. Like the Scoobies,
they tended toward the ‘mi casa es su casaâ approach. For the first
time that evening, but not the last, Giles was wrong.
“Wesley? Good Lord! What brings you here? Please, come in.”
His former colleague smiled. “Forgotten the first rule, Giles?”
Giles raised an eyebrow and then smiled back as he took Wesleyâs
meaning. “Good rule but if you turn your head - yes, there. You show up
nicely in the mirror I hung to reflect the doorway.”
Wesley nodded, pleased that the first awkward moments had been smoothed
over so easily. Giles showed him to a seat, poured him a glass of
single malt and sat down with an expectant look.
Wesley sipped appreciatively and then began to speak, his eyes fixed on
the amber liquid in the glass he held. “I havenât seen you for a while,
have I?”
“No. You left Sunnydale as soon as the hospital released you. I was a
little - surprised that you didnât stop by to make your farewells.”
Wesley looked over at him. “You were? I didnât know that. Iâm sorry. I
made such a bloody mess of things from start to finish that Iâm afraid
I ended my time here as I began it - by taking the easy way out.”
Giles frowned, his eyes sharp as he studied Wesley. “I think youâre
being a little hard on yourself. We didnât get off to a good start and
you made some spectacular mistakes but -”
Wesley grimaced. “Please. Donât remind me.”
“But you came through in the end,” Giles finished. “You fought beside
the Slayer in one of her more spectacular battles and acquitted
yourself -”
His voice trailed off and Wesley smiled bitterly. “Cordelia killed more
vampires than I did.”
“She only staked one...oh.”
“It doesnât matter, Giles. I havenât come here for reassurance.”
“Bloody good job. Iâve got enough on my hands right now,” Giles said
bluntly. “Besides, from what I gather, youâre being of considerable
assistance to Angel.”
Wesleyâs shoulders straightened. “Yes, I think if you leave off the
adjective thatâs a fair and accurate description.”
Their eyes met and the tension dissipated in a shared smile. “Still
brooding, is he?”
“Oh, my, yes.”
Giles picked up the bottle and walked over to refresh Wesleyâs drink.
Wes glanced up with a nod of thanks and Giles felt a tug of affection
that startled him with its intensity. Wes was so like what he had been,
could have been, might have been. Watching him change and grow had been
fascinating. Having him leave so abruptly had hurt him more than he
cared to admit, but that had been drowned in the greater hurt of
finding himself sidelined and unemployed. Wesley was still fighting.
Heâd virtually retired. Fighting back the urge to sit down on the chair
beside Wes, he retreated to the couch.
“You know, this whiskey is a real treat but I am driving -”
“No; you must stop the night. Really. Itâs no trouble.”
Wesley smiled. “Thank you. I wonât even pretend that I didnât hope
youâd say that. However, Iâd still like to beg for a cup of tea. I know
youâll be able to make a proper pot, unlike these revoltingly soggy
teabags on strings they give you over here.”
Giles laughed. “Of course. Iâll go and put the kettle on.”
Over the rush of water he heard Wes call out but it wasnât until heâd
turned off the tap that the words registered. When they did he groaned
and turned but it was too late. By the time he reached the bathroom
Spike already had Wes against the ropes.
“You scream like a -”
“Finish that sentence and I dust you where you lie, vampire!”
“Like a Ragnith demon.”
“Ah. Fair enough. Known for their fierce, warrior like battle cries
arenât they?”
“No. Everyone agrees they scream like girls.”
“Why, you!”
Giles sighed and Wesley whirled around, his eyes flashing indignantly.
“You have a vampire chained in your bath tub!” Gilesâ expression was
sufficient to make him flush. “Well, yes, I suppose thatâs not exactly
news, is it. But you have to admit itâs unusual.”
“Itâs a bloody pain in the arse,” Giles said, giving Spike a look of
resigned loathing. “However, there are excellent reasons for it, even
though they escape me on an hourly basis, so Iâd be grateful - God, it
hurts to say it - if you didnât stake Spike. We need him.”
Spike smirked, his eyes going between the two men with a speculative
gleam. “Going to introduce us, Rupert? And am I included in the
bevvies? Iâll take whateverâs going in a nice warm mug of blood. Spiked
blood. Ha. Get it?”
Giles cast his eyes up in despair. “Blood, yes. My alcohol, no. Wesley,
this is Spike. Spike this is Wesley. I think youâve both heard about
each other so that should suffice.”
He turned to leave and was stopped by Wesleyâs hand on his arm. “Giles,
I really need to pee - and well, I donât need an audience. Does he stay
in there all the time?”
“Oh, yes.” Spike said, a wide smile on his face. “All the time.
Shocking really what the Watcher gets up to with his rubber duck.”
“Spike, donât push it.” Giles gave Wesley a rather impatient look. “He
has a chair I use when I need to shower but itâs a real performance
getting the chains undone. Are you sure you canât - oh, never mind.
Spike, you get to come out but youâre going right back in, understand?”
“After my blood,” Spike said firmly. “Need to stretch my legs as well.”
When Wesley emerged from the bathroom, Spike and Giles were facing each
other, mere inches separating them, identical looks of frustration and
- was it relish?- on their faces.
“ - is not open to negotiation, Spike! Sit down and let me tie you up,
or Iâll -”
“What? Youâll do what exactly, Rupert? Staking meâs not allowed and you
wouldnât hit a defence - ow!”
Wesleyâs slightly embarrassed cough had them both turning to him and he
flinched slightly. “Iâm done, so if you want to just put Spike
back...”” he offered weakly.
“No!” Spike said, folding his arms. “Been in there for hours. Iâm bored
stiff and stiff as a board. I want a time out. Promise I wonât try and
escape.”
“Thatâs less of an inducement than you seem to suppose,” Giles said
sourly, but clearly resigning himself to the inevitable. “Very well.
Sit down and shut up.” He turned to Wesley. “Iâm so sorry, Wesley. Just
pretend he isnât there. Now what was it we were talking about? Oh, yes.
Tea.”
“Tea?” Spike spluttered with laughter and then subsided as Giles glared
at him.
“On second thought, I might stick with the whiskey,” Wesley said,
meeting Spikeâs challenging stare. “Giles, what <i>is</i>
he doing here?”
“More to the point,” Giles said, as they both sank back into their
seats, “what are you?”
Wesleyâs gaze slid past Giles to Spike, sitting outside the informal
circle of sofa and chairs, but far from out of earshot. Spike smiled
slowly as comprehension dawned.
“Well, why didnât you just say you have a date, Giles? Iâd have
buggered off somewhere and left you in peace. Not like you get lucky
more than once a decade, is it now.”
Giles and Wesleyâs eyes met for one charged, hot moment of sheer
embarrassment and then they spoke as one. “Itâs not a date!”
Spike stood and strolled over to them, perching nonchalantly on the arm
of the couch. “Excuse me? Did you just say what I thought you said?”
“I believe that line would be more appropriate from us,” Giles said.
“And get back to your chair.”
Spike ignored the last part and smirked down at Giles. “Say it again,
Giles. Tell me you donât have the hots for young Wes here. Tell me you
didnât just try to lie to me.”
“Of course I donât, and that has to be the most ridiculous - why are
you laughing?”
“I know,” said Wesley, staring down into his mostly empty glass and
tilting it from side to side as though hypnotised by the shifting
liquid. “It was covered in the Council newsletter. Issue 34, I believe.”
“You read that drivel?” Giles exclaimed. “Good Lord, I just throw mine
in the bin as soon as it arrives.”
“I noticed,” Wesley said, flicking him a glance. “And yes, I do read
them. If you had, you might have known about Gwendolyn Post.”
Giles accepted the reproof with good grace and then said, “So what
earth shattering discovery was chronicled in that issue?”
“Vampires can smell a lie,” Spike put in. He glanced at Wesley who
nodded reluctantly. “Taken you bloody long enough to cop to that, but
weâve still got a few tricks up our sleeve, Iâll wager.” He slid down
beside Giles and stretched out his legs, thrusting his hips up in a
move that drew both menâs gaze but which was, for once unstudied.
“I donât believe a word of it,” Giles said flatly. “The Council has its
head up its bloody arse but I refuse to accept that itâs sunk so low as
to endorse myths like that.”
“Itâs a complex assessment of physiological changes,” Wesley explained,
looking wretchedly uncomfortable. “Your body reacts to a lie and a
vampire, with its heightened senses, can, in some circumstances, detect
the changes.”
“Some circumstances,” Giles said, latching onto salvation with a death
grip. “Spike, youâre either making trouble or your chip is having an
effect on more than your ability to be violent.”
“Chip?” Wesley said, raising his eyebrows and momentarily distracted
from his churning emotions. He couldnât allow himself to believe that
Giles -
“Bloody soldiers,” Spike explained, eager for a fresh audience.
“Operated on me. Diabolical infringement of my civil liberties -”
“Oh God,” Giles sighed, rolling his eyes. “Here we go again.”
“ - and put this sodding chip in my skull. Canât feed, canât so much as
thump someone without this pain ripping through me. God, itâs
unbelievable.” He waited, in vain, for outpourings of sympathy and then
sniffed as Wesleyâs steady gaze showed nothing but distant approval of
his condition. “Fine. Be on the side of the folks whoâll have you out
of a job by Christmas.”
Wesley looked at Giles who shrugged. “They do seem remarkably efficient
at hunting demons, but Iâd back Buffy against them any day,” he said,
with more conviction that loyalty. He really didnât trust that lot at
all.
Spike sensed that the conversation was drifting and brought it back to
a more amusing topic.
“So, you think I canât do it then, Watcher?”
“What? Oh...be a walking lie detector. Certainly not.”
“Iâll prove it,â said Spike. “In return for a drink. Very rude of you
two to sit there necking back the booze and not offer me some.”
“Wesley is a guest. Youâre an infestation.”
“Thatâs what you call ‘em these days, is it?” Spike murmured, with a
wicked grin.
Gilesâ lips thinned and he stood, got a glass of whiskey for Spike to
shut him up, and refilled his and Wesleyâs glasses while he was at it.
Spike studied the small measure sadly and then downed it in one.
“Good stuff. Right. Iâll ask you a question, you answer and Iâll tell
you if youâre lying. Wes here can write it down. If I can get say eight
out of ten -”
“Ten out of ten,” Giles said firmly.
“Thatâs not very fair,” Wesley said. He looked at Giles apologetically.
“You could tell Spike heâs wrong and weâd have no way of knowing.”
“Well, thank you, Wesley,” Giles muttered.
“Itâs simple enough,” Wesley said, refusing to feel hurt at Gilesâ
disappointed look. “Iâll ask the questions; things I know the answers
to but Spike couldnât possibly.”
“What? No!”
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Spike said, over Gilesâ indignant refusal
and taking advantage of the situation to casually appropriate the
bottle of malt and pour generous refills. Giles and Wesley were so
intent on each other that they barely noticed. “Off you go, lad.”
Giles tensed as Wesley sat rapt in thought for a while, taking frequent
sips at his drink. This was futile. Spike knew heâd made an accurate
guess and Wesley seemed to have elevated that bloody rag of Traversâ to
Holy Writ. Giles took slight comfort in the fact that neither of them
were howling with laughter or, in Wesleyâs case, stalking toward the
door, outraged and disturbed. The fact that Wesley, at least, seemed
well on the way to being drunk, might have had something to do with it.
Giles tried to drink from an empty glass, gave it a puzzled look and
then nodded in automatic thanks as Spike refilled his glass.
Wesley glanced over and smiled shyly at Giles who found himself
flushing as he let his concerned scowl soften in reply. The urge to
kick Spike out into the night and make Wesley smile with pleasure was
very strong. Then Spike shifted beside him and Giles found himself
studying the vampireâs scarred eyebrow and wanting to trace that
interrupted line with finger and tongue before moving down to - Christ,
stop it, you pathetic fool, he chided himself. Oneâs not interested and
the other would use it as a weapon.
“Did you own a dog named Benjy?” Wesley began.
Giles opened his mouth to deny such a hideous suggestion and then
sighed. “Iâm attracted to you, Wesley. Thereâs no need to continue with
all this. Iâll...you can let yourself out. If you wouldnât mind just
chaining Spike up for me?”
He stood, avoiding their looks of surprise and began to walk past
Spike. A hand shot out and grabbed at him. Spikeâs fingers hooked
inside Gilesâ belt and pulled him back so that he landed sprawled on
the couch with his legs across Spikeâs lap.
“What the hell are you playing at?” Giles demanded, struggling to sit
up.
“Could ask you the same thing, mate.”
Spikeâs voice was unexpectedly free from gibe and Giles twisted to face
him, his body stilling. “I donât -”
Spike nodded his head in Wesleyâs direction. “You never asked if he was
lying too. When I said it was a date. He knew it wasnât...but he wanted
it to be, didnât you, Wesley?”
Giles couldnât stand not being able to see Wesleyâs face. Putting his
hand flat against Spikeâs chest, he pushed away and rolled to the
floor, scrambling up hastily. Wesley was staring at Spike, lips parted,
eyes wild with shock.
“Wesley?” Giles said hesitantly. “Why did you come
here tonight?”
Wesley stood and went to Giles. “To see you. Nothing more, I swear. I
just - I just wanted to see you.”
Giles found himself looking at Spike and Wesleyâs sharp gasp of panic
only made Spikeâs smile wider.
“Wanted to see you naked, more like,” Spike said off handedly. “Want me
to tell you how he strips, pet?” He raised an eyebrow and Wesley began
to stammer words that never achieved coherency.
“Spike," Giles said wearily. “I havenât drunk enough to find you
amusing, nor to make me doubt my ability to inflict considerable pain
upon your skinny arse. So, for the last time, sit down, shut up and -”
“Tell me,” Wesley said abruptly, taking a defiant swig at his drink.
“How the hell do you know anyway?”
Giles threw up his hands and headed for the bottle. It was about the
only thing in the room that wasnât changing in incomprehensible ways
with every passing moment.
“Seen him in the shower...seen him getting dressed...seen him from top
to toe.” Spike let his gaze run appraisingly over Giles, slumped across
the couch and sipping moodily at his drink. “Not bad. Not bad at all.
Iâd give him one. If he asked. Which he never did,” he added kindly,
doing his feeble best to reassure Wesley who was looking slapped with a
wet fish stunned.
“I wouldnât lay a finger on your cold, dead, scrawny body if you begged
me, Spike,” Giles said.
Spike achieved a creditable sneer for someone with a mouthful of
whiskey, swallowed it and, swaying slightly, said bluntly, “Bollocks.
Even Wesley knows thatâs a bloody lie.” He turned to Wesley who had sat
down again and appealed to him: “He knows Iâve got nowhere to go, knows
I canât bite him - and he chains me up as far away from his bed as he
can get me. What does that say?”
Wesley shrugged, drank, and shrugged again. “Wants to fuck you?” he
hazarded.
“Go to the head of the class, pet. Understandable. Iâm the ultimate
forbidden fruit to your type, arenât I?” Giles snorted with laughter at
the unintentional pun and Spike played back his words and grinned too.
“Thatâs better, Giles. Relax. Might be dead on patrol tomorrow, after
all. Watchers donât make old bones, do they now?”
“Some do,” Wesley objected.
“You and Giles are too much the hero type,” Spike said cynically.
“Blaze of glory men. Boring, joyless, uptight blaze of -”
“What are you trying to do, Spike?” Wesley said. “Playing Cupid? Trying
to get rid of me? Annoying Giles ‘til he stakes you? What?”
His voice was slower but he was still speaking clearly and his eyes,
though hazy, were still surprisingly sharp. Giles emerged from a fog of
introspection and drawled, “Good questions, Wesley. Cross examine the
annoying git.”
Spike went over to the couch, grabbed Giles by the front of his
sweater, hauled him up effortlessly and kissed him with careful
thoroughness before letting him go so that Giles fell backward. Two
long strides took him to Wesleyâs chair and he stared down at him
before crooking one finger imperiously. Wesley rose like a hooked fish,
breathing rapidly, and Spike kissed him with an impatience that rode
over any hesitancy Wesley might have shown until all that was left was
a hunger for more.
Spike stepped back and looked at them both. “That just about covers my
evil plans, gentlemen.” He waved a hand at Giles. “Been wanting to fuck
you for days.” He turned to face Wesley. “Youâre a bonus.”
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