Spike didn't want to play poker that night; he had other more important things to do. Trouble was, he couldn't remember what they were when Clem turned up unexpectedly and invited him to a game.

Spike pouted slightly as his friend tried to persuade him and gave in with the irrational thought that if some people thought he wasn't a man then he'd better be a proper demon for once. He gave Clem a lift on the bike, and they arrived to find two spaces left and a game just beginning.

Spike took his usual ragging for being the pretty-boy-with-a-chip-in-his-head-slayer's-pet and made his first bet. He was determined to enjoy himself despite that pillock, Rupert bloody Giles. Spike glanced nervously around the table to see if any of his unusual demon companions had heard him thinking about the watcher, saw from their faces that they hadn't, and laid a card.

He still could not believe that he had let an argument with the watcher upset him like this. He argued all the time with the wanker, and he was a bloody demon; he did not get `upset' – ever - so, on both counts, Rupert bloody Giles Esq. could take a flying fuck.

He'd only gone there in the first place to see his new DVD. He had not asked the watcher to watch, nor had he wanted to get into a debate about the whereabouts of Jim Morrison -- well, all right, he had done the first, but definitely not the second -- fuck it, he'd done that as well -- but he had not asked to be insulted and kicked out!

Spike liked DVDs; they were easy to half-inch and looked glittery on his crypt shelf. Trouble was, he didn't have a player for them. So, when Giles had announced to Xander Harris that he'd just acquired one, and asked him to come over and `tune it in', Spike had listened intently. The next night he'd turned up at the watcher's, claimed he had important vampire research to conduct, and asked to borrow the new machine.

Giles said he couldn't and shut the door in his face. Spike knocked once more and asked icily if, in that case, could he come in and do it there. So it had begun...

`Do what, Spike?'

`Research these fucking vampires.'

`Stop that ghastly swearing right away, and how can you research vampires with my DVD?'

`If you let me in, I'll show you!'

Giles had not been impressed by the opening credits of 'Lost Boys' as a piece of research material and stared in outrage at Spike's profile. Spike resolutely ignored him and put his feet up on the coffee table defiantly.

`And this is research how, Spike?'

`It's research for me, mate.'

`Get out, Spike, and take that rubbish with you.'

`It's not rubbish.'

`You'll be watching 'Interview with a Vampire' next. Spike... over there… wooden thing… sometimes referred to as a door... close it on the way out please.'

`Why don't you shut up, take a pew, and watch for a bit? Or are you afraid you might actually learn something or, even worse, bloody enjoy yourself. "Oh... I spent an evening with Spike, and I smiled once." Fucking lighten up, watcher.'

`Spike...'

`'K, but... look... this is a good bit. You'll like this... they can fly, see… over the ocean, but you don't know it's them `til later... but I've told you now, so you do... look.'

`You've seen this before?'

`One hundred and seventeen time, yeah.'

`You jest!'

Spike flashed him a cheeky grin. `Try me.'

`So, why do you need to see it again? I am quite at a loss, Spike.'

`Ah, but this is DVD... so shut up, and let me enjoy it!'

Giles sat down as far from Spike as he could and started to watch the film... or rather he watched Spike watching it. He'd rarely seen the unpleasant demon so animated and so... pleasant. He pointed out bits to watch; he explained things; he laughed and he chatted as if they liked each other. Giles wasn't fooled for a minute, but he was slightly charmed and felt himself beginning to relax.

He made the first error of the evening by offering Spike a drink. His second was to take one himself; his third and last – for all subsequent mistakes followed catastrophically from this one – was to leave the open bottle in front of them.

The argument started innocently enough. Spike was rewinding the drinking of the blood scene to watch in slow motion when Giles asked why there was a large picture of Jim Morrison on the wall. Spike's jaw fell open in surprise, and he turned to face the amused watcher. `You know who Jim is?'

`I should rather think so, Spike.'

`You're bullshitting me?'

`No... the Doors... been to his grave... added to the graffiti… left the flowers.'

`Jim is not dead.'

It was Giles' turn to look incredulous. `He most certainly is.'

`He was turned, and `e's living in a mountain retreat in Corsica.'

`Err... are you delusional, Spike, as well as stupid?'

The bottle was half empty by now, and Giles felt the slight slur of the final word did not do his wit justice.

Spike almost made as if to hit him, but retracted his hand, pretending to run his fingers through his hair. `Why do you have to be so fucking right all the time, watcher? Can't you allow some people might actually know more than you sometimes?'

`Oh, I have no problem with that concept, Spike; most people probably do. You, however, are not most people... you are not in fact `people' at all. You are a dead body, and I don't give a great deal of credence to anything said by something that ought to crawl back into its grave.'

Carried away on the inebriated flood of his own eloquence, Giles did not initially notice the effect his words had on Spike. He did notice when Spike stood up, tense and defensive.

`Thank you for the hospitality, watcher, but I've obviously outstayed me welcome.' He didn't even wait to retrieve his film; he just gathered up his coat and left quietly.

Giles stayed still, and the music mocked him. `Thou shalt not die...' He didn't hear or understand much else, for his head reeled with unanswered questions. Had Spike actually been hurt? Had his words hurt Spike's feelings? Did Spike, therefore, have feelings? Giles replayed the whole strange evening in his mind and came to the conclusion that he must be a very blinkered, very stupid man. A transformation had been taking place under his very nose over the last year, but he had not seen it... not taken the time to see it. The creature he had fought, hated, dismissed, and disliked was no more… it had changed.

Giles watched to the end of the film as if, somehow, that small gesture could make up for his rudeness to Spike. He knew it couldn't, and the whole evening upset him more than he cared to admit.

It had upset Spike, too, but he cared to admit it even less... refused to admit it in fact - hence the poker game with fellow dead things and the `fuck you, Giles' attitude.

Spike knew he was dead; he knew he wasn't a man; he didn't need bloody reminding every time he put out a hand.

He cast another sly glance around the table, embarrassed by the visual image that had sprung into his mind - his hand outstretched, Giles taking it in his. Fuck, he was being a wuss tonight. He drew a card, raised two tabbies, and promised to give himself a thorough flagellation later. He grinned at this thought, and everyone immediately folded.

`Hey! What!'

`Good hand, Spike?'

`Oh, no... I weren't smiling at that... honest.'

He'd won four kittens. He didn't want four kittens... he didn't want any kittens... well, the small ginger one was cute but... fucking wuss, stop it!

`I don't want `em. Swap you for something?'

He looked despairingly around the table. No one volunteered at first, but then, with an expression that went for a grin with Xol demons, one player got up, and fished for something in a box behind him.

He stretched over the table and deposited a small puppy in Spike's lap.

`For all four, plus their legs.'

`Hey! No bloody animals... I don't want bleedin' cats, and I don't want...' Spike suddenly picked the puppy up under its front legs and stared closely at it. `Where'd'ya get it?'

The answer was slightly forced, but Spike did not notice, intent as he was on the puppy. `Stray, why?'

`It's a vampire hellhound.'

He'd have been taken more seriously if said hellhound had not taken that exact moment to relieve itself rather copiously over Spike's lap.

He fell back, cursing; the others fell over, laughing.

Clem recovered first and felt beholden to defend his best friend. `Why'd'ya think that then, Spike?'

`Its eyes glowed red when I picked it up.' Spike came back to the table holding the puppy with one hand. What was a little accident between friends? At least one of them could pee.

Clem looked at the animal. `Err... that was just a tail light from the window behind you, Spike.'

`No... I saw his eyes glow. And look, he's licking me fingers... he recognises his vampire master.'

`You've been eating barbeque flavour chips all night, Spike.'

Spike was unimpressed. He'd seen a flash of recognition from the puppy that he was someone important, someone it was the dog's role to guard with its life. Spike held him up to Clem. `See, he's just like Thorn.'

Clem knew exactly what he was claiming; he'd been forced to watch at least ten of Spike's reruns of his beloved film. He couldn't see the resemblance, but he liked the way Spike's face softened when he looked at the puppy, and held his tongue.

`What ya gonna call him, Spike?'

Spike laughed. `Fang, what else?'

Spike was slightly embarrassed to discover that his new vampire hellhound could fit snugly into his duster pocket, but he didn't betray this emotion to his poker buddies. He bid them a gracious farewell with an English gesture he knew they would, nevertheless, understand, ignored their hoots of laughter about the dog, and rode back to his crypt. He stood outside in the moonlight for a while smoking and giving Fang time to do hellhound business in the proper place. Then he held the dog up to the moon, feeling that some sort of ritual gesture was required. `Behold... Fang – Vampire Hellhound!' Fang seemed suitably impressed for he gave a small yelp.

Pleased, Spike carried him inside and rummaged around for an old box for the dog to sleep in. He undressed and started to outline Fang's new duties. He knew that guarding him while he slept, warning him of all comers and assisting in the dismemberment and killing of unwanted humans was a little ambitious for a small puppy just yet, but when he'd grown... When he'd been suitably trained... As Spike climbed into bed he cast a few evil thoughts in the direction of Rupert bloody Giles. He pictured the watcher being torn apart by the hellhound, heard him cry out for mercy and for Spike to save him… Spike then cursed long and hard when, utterly beyond his volition, he actually called Fang off and saved the git. He turned on his stomach and started the fantasy again.

He fell asleep before he could resolve it satisfactorily one way or the other. He did not get to sleep for long though, for the whimpering soon began. Spike thought he was a master of manipulation; he'd met his match.

It didn't matter that he pointed out to Fang that he was a hellhound and therefore, by definition, not a bleedin' nancy-boy lap dog. It didn't help; the pathetic whimpering continued. Then the shivers began. That was worse. Spike could actually hear Fang shivering - even though he seemed to be trying to do it quietly, and without any bother to anyone.

He ignored the whimpering, and he ignored the shivering. It was the silence that undid him. He peered cautiously over the edge of the bed to see if the puppy was still alive. At the glazed, sightless, lifeless look that greeted him, he sprung up and swept the puppy up in his arms, stuffed him under the sheet, and allowed him to snuggle into the crook of his neck.

`I'm fucking cold, and me heart don't beat. Sorry, mate. I'm not much of a bed companion.'

The puppy didn't seem to mind Spike's inadequacies and, having successfully and quite efficiently achieved his goal, he bravely stopped shivering and went to sleep. Spike smiled and tried to return to his fantasies of the watcher... the watcher being shredded... no other watcher fantasies… he wanted that understood by anyone who might be listening in to his thoughts… dismemberment, disembowelment, dis-any-other-fucking-thing that would hurt a lot. He'd show him who was a man… no, a demon… no, a man… fucking shut up and just start it, hey?

He wanted to get to the bit where he put his hand out in a sweeping gesture to set Fang onto the unsuspecting human, but however many times he tried out the scenario, it always became the exact moment when he found the watcher's hand being extended to capture his in a tight, reassuring hold. Spike didn't want anything from Rupert bloody Giles, and he especially didn't want reassurance. Rupert bloody Giles was a fucking git and it served him right if Spike had not come over that evening to watch his TV again. Spike was glad he'd gone to the poker game and hoped the watcher was bored, sad and lonely. He then thought that this was, again, too wussy for a proper demon and went back to trying to think of more painful things to do to him that began with 'dis'.

Engrossed in his thoughts, Spike suddenly realised he'd been petting the puppy, so stopped, horrified. Master vampires did not pet their hellhounds. He sighed unnecessarily but satisfactorily… they had an awful lot of work to do together.

The next day Spike did not wake until midday. He wouldn't have woken then if it hadn't have been for the puppy whining to go out and scratching on the floor. Pleased the dog was already so well trained, Spike wandered naked to the door and, keeping out of the direct sunshine, let him out. He waited… unconcernedly - completely unconcernedly - as the puppy got further and further away. He attempted to whistle him back, but had forgotten how. He shouted instead, but his voice faltered as he heard 'Fang, Fang' sounding ludicrous in the otherwise silent cemetery. Cursing, he dived back downstairs, grabbed a blanket, and performed an impressive hot extraction on the disobedient puppy.

Spike felt as sorry for the dog as he did for himself having to stay inside all day. He determined to make the most of their enforced confinement and started some training. He'd watched a hellhound being trained once. It was a rather… unforgettable experience. Angelus had taken them all to visit one of his less pleasant acquaintances - which was saying something, given Angelus was the Scourge of Europe - and Spike had watched as captive humans had been forced to torture the hellhound puppies until the very smell of approaching human would send them into a frenzy of killing lust. He'd enjoyed the part where the humans had to test the grown-up hellhounds' reactions, but the earlier parts of the training had not… impressed him much. He eyed the puppy balefully, illogically blaming it for his own state of demonic patheticness. Torturing Fang having been ruled out, Spike was rather at a loss how to proceed. He lit a cigarette and started to pace around the crypt. The dog followed him. Spike smiled and dodged out of site behind one of the tombs. Fang yapped in delight and tore around trying to find him. It was a good game for all of about three minutes; then they both got bored with it. Spike sighed and went down to get dressed. He was rummaging for something clean to put on when he heard a high-pitched squeal that sent a shiver up his spine. He turned to find the puppy writhing at the bottom of the steps where he'd clearly slipped and fallen. Spike cursed and picked him up gently - the puppy needed to be able to savage humans; Spike didn't want anything defective with his new demonic guardian… there was absolutely no other reason he was concerned.

He felt the puppy over carefully and, with his somewhat considerable experience of injuries, concluded that he'd broken a leg. He flung back his head in disbelief at his own bad luck and made the dog as comfortable as he could on the bed. He finished dressing and ran through his options. He thought the slayer or the littl' bit would be good bets for some money for an injured puppy, but he'd rather break both his own legs than admit to them what he needed it for. He wondered briefly if the witch would fix the leg for free, but remembered her self-imposed abstinence. He dismissed Harris as a useless fat lump, which only left the wanker. He wasn't about to admit to Rupert bloody Giles that he had a puppy… a vicious hellhound… and that he'd been so careless that the pu… hellhound had sustained a serious injury in his care in less than twelve hours. It was a dilemma. The puppy started to cry piteously. Spike stomped his feet at the fates. He did not want to have to do this. Shivering came into play again. He covered the puppy with a blanket, looked down for a brief moment to compose himself and then turned to make his way to the magic shop.

He came up through a convenient sewer and dashed into the back of the shop under his blanket. Giles was cleaning some of the training equipment and looked up in annoyance when Spike entered.

'To what do I owe this thrill and delight, Spike?'

Spike hovered and hesitated, which was so unusual for him that Giles immediately became suspicious. 'What, Spike?'

'I need some money.'

'Ah… get a job then maybe?'

Spike gritted his teeth and persevered. 'As you so politely reminded me, wanker, I'm dead. I'd find it a bit difficult to pass an interview, don't you think?'

As Spike had no idea of Giles' thoughts about the previous night, he had merely meant this to explain why he needed to beg for money. He had not intended it to remind Giles of his rudeness, nor to remind him of him how he thought Spike had changed.

It did both though. Giles looked down, ashamed. He fiddled with a sword he was cleaning; he took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose wearily with one hand. Finally he looked up. 'How much?'

Spike was surprised and pleased. 'Thanks… err… I don't know.' He saw the watcher's bemused face and quickly added, 'Two hundred should cover it. For now.'

'Two hundred dollars! Spike! I was thinking more along the lines of ten!'

Spike squared his shoulders and looked Giles straight in the eye. 'A loan then. I'll pay you back. I promise.' This last was said with teeth so gritted that it hardly sounded like English at all, but Giles heard the stunning declaration nevertheless. He could not recall Spike ever using the word 'promise' before, nor could he recall him ever looking so sincere about anything.

'All right, Spike, a loan. I'll expect regular payments, and I'll decide on a rate of interest that is quite fair to both of us.'

'Interest?'

'You don't expect to borrow money for free, do you, Spike?'

Spike turned away slightly. 'I don't expect anything from anyone, watcher. Interest it is.'

Giles had now passed beyond intrigued and had moved into extremely alarmed. He could not imagine what Spike needed money for so badly that he was willing to prostrate himself like this. He determined to monitor the vampire closely and discover his secret. He led the way to the till and took out the agreed sum. Before he handed it over to Spike, he noted Spike's anxious and distracted air. 'Spike. Does this have anything to do with Buffy? Can this hurt Buffy or any of her friends in anyway.'

Spike thought briefly of Fang ripping guts out when he was better and lied. 'No.'

Giles heard the lie and committed himself to the discovery of Spike's latest, devious plan. He handed Spike the money, telling himself that it was better the enemy you know…

Spike took the bundle without any further thanks and left in an obvious hurry.

Spike had never been to a vet before, not for himself, and certainly not for a pet… hellhound. He quite enjoyed the experience. He liked sitting in the waiting room watching the dogs terrorising the cats. Fang, he was pleased to see, ignored everyone and kept a low profile as befitted a hellhound caught in a compromising situation. It was only a small break, and a light cast was applied. With x-rays and painkillers there was little left over from the borrowed money. Little could go a long way in cheep booze, and Spike treated himself to a large bottle of something mind numbing, stripped, and snuggled in with his drugged-up puppy for a drink-induced sleep. In a few hours they were both comatose on the bed… so deeply asleep in fact that the hellhound failed miserably in his duty to guard his sleeping master, and Spike did not sense the presence of a human in his crypt.

Giles had never visited the lower regions of Spike's lair. There was something profoundly disturbing and slightly Freudian in his mind about any lower region of Spike's being explored. This was an emergency however. He went cautiously down the stairs with a stake tucked reassuringly into the back of his waistband. He saw the pale feet first as he rounded the corner. He saw pale legs. He saw all the pale flesh spread out on the bed; he saw the muscles perfectly formed; he saw a relaxed, human expression on the face, and he acknowledged the beauty he saw there. Lastly, he saw the small grey ball of fur with the obviously new red cast that Spike had possessively tucked under his arm. Giles took a deep, thoughtful breath. He looked down at his feet for a while then looked back up at the beautiful vampire and knew that he had reached another crossroad in his long and interesting life. Being seduced by the dark arts had been his first: relinquishing them the second. Buffy being called was a sharp right hand bend; Jenny a soft curve he had tried to explore - attraction for a female not something he had ever thought to want - Angelus had set him back on his habitual straight and lonely road, and now this. Now a slim, naked vampire on a bed, who had proved himself to be so much more than the apparent sum of his dead parts, was standing firmly in his path.

He had chained Spike in his bathtub for weeks. He'd fought alongside him for over a year, but he had never once seen past what he had taken to be nothing more than a slick veneer. After all, he could have held a conversation with any vampire equally well: Darla or Harmony - well, all right, possibly not a long conversation there or one with any actual thought involved - either would have appeared just as rational and attractive for a short time. Veneer, however; it was all façade and illusion, and Giles had assumed that Spike was just that, too. No feelings: couldn't be hurt: treat him like a dead thing - worse, encourage the teenagers to deride and belittle him. 'Hey, the day's got a 'y' in it - must be a bait Spike day!' Giles wondered what Spike - from his perspective of one hundred and thirty years - felt about being tormented by American teenagers. Giles felt old compared to them (old and wise); what must this ancient being feel?

Giles sat down alongside the unconscious figure and laid a hand extremely cautiously on one cool flank. He wanted to get to know Spike, and he wanted to know what he knew; know what he felt, and what he thought.

He needed a new focus and a new study. He decided that Spike was going to be it. He had a perfect opportunity now, for Spike owed him.

Giles suddenly withdrew his hand from Spike's thigh, as long- repressed desires peeked out of their locked trunk at the contemplation of the ways that Spike could pay his debt. He slammed the lid firmly closed on all thoughts of paying in kind and, somewhat disturbed, quietly left the crypt.

Spike woke some hours later to the instant realisation that something had been in his lair as he slept. A quiet contemplation of the subtle shifts in scents told him that it had been the watcher, apparently watching him naked on the bed. Spike was intrigued - for all of one second - then he became angry… furious… he was sick of the double standards they all applied to him. If he walked in unannounced and stood watching them sleep, they'd probably stake him, but he was fair game anytime they felt like it. Spike refused to acknowledge the annoying thought that his anger at Rupert bloody Giles was a convenient way of deflecting anger at himself for being caught cuddling a puppy. Spike dressed and took the offending dog out for a few minutes while he had a cigarette then, leaving Fang to practice getting around with his fetching new cast, Spike made his way purposefully towards the magic shop. Rupert bloody Giles was not there, he was having a 'night off', so Spike made his way to the apartment. He'd half sworn never to come back here again after his previous treatment, but this was different. He had a metaphorical bone all ready to be picked over with the watcher - not as good as picking over his dead bones, but chipped beggars couldn't be choosers… and he must remember to stop and get Fang a bone from the butcher… hellhound training and all that.

Giles opened the door and immediately invited Spike in, which, in its turn, immediately put Spike on his guard. 'I wondered if you might show up again.'

Giles went to his desk and casually covered over one or two papers lying there.

'Why? Cus this is open house day or summit? Let's all go bleedin' visit each other… unannounced and unwelcome?'

Giles knew exactly what Spike was complaining about, but totally deflected his wrath by saying calmly, 'You're not unwelcome, Spike.'

Spike took a step back, and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. He resisted the almost overwhelming temptation to turn around and see what big, ugly nasties the watcher had in store for him - he could see no other reason why his presence would be welcome - and resolutely faced him down instead. 'Uh huh.' It was lame; he knew it, but speech seemed to have temporarily departed for cooler climes.

'Yes, in fact…' Giles went into the kitchen and poured them both a large drink. '…I wanted to apologise for the other night. It's why I came over… rather difficult to knock at a crypt, so I just went in. Sorry.'

Spike perched disbelievingly on the arm of the couch.

'Two apologies, watcher. You have a bleedin' epiphany, mate? Or just going through the menopause maybe?'

Giles ignored the jibe and, with raised eyebrows, offered Spike the drink. He smiled a small, evil smile. 'I also wanted to discuss the terms of your repayment schedule.'

'Oh, yeah, fucking screw a poor man, why don't you?' Spike's expression subtly changed. 'So, what did you think?'

For one brief moment, Giles thought that Spike was asking what he thought of his naked body draped on the bed. He opened his mouth, hesitated for the first time that evening, but saw from Spike's look that he'd mistaken what the vampire had meant. Worse, he saw that Spike knew he'd thought first about those naked limbs and that Spike was not disturbed by this realisation. He actually saw Spike filing the knowledge away with an intrigued look.

Giles turned away to gain some recovery space then turned back and realised, with a trickle of anticipation down his spine, that some balance had fundamentally changed between them. He couldn't have said how, but he knew that they were both aware of it. Spike didn't look quite so cocky now, as if he, too, was puzzled by the shift in their relationship.

Spike recovered first though and with a friendly, amused smile, quietly repeated his question. 'So, what did you think?'

'I think he'll make a sweet pet for you, Spike.'

Spike's eyes flew open in outrage, and he stood up angrily, poking Giles in the chest as he spoke. 'It is not a pet. It is a vampire hellhound… get that straight, now!'

Giles caught his hand and stilled it. 'Ah, my mistake then, Spike. Now I think on it I can see that it was a hellhound. Yes, of course, must have been the size and general fluffiness that confused me.'

Spike gave a small grin, knowing he'd been rumbled. 'Yeah, well, give 'im a few months and the taste of human blood. He's a work in progress.' Spike noted with amusement that his hand was still held by Giles and couldn't resist a tiny jibe. 'Surprised you saw him at all… given you were looking at something else.'

Giles didn't fluster at this as Spike had expected him to. He tipped his head on one side and said calmly, 'It was rather difficult not to see you, Spike. You were quite blatant. And no harm ever came of looking.'

Only now did Spike ease his hand out of the watcher's. Giles looked down surprised as if he had genuinely not noticed he was holding it still.

'Funny that, watcher, I'd have thought looking was always the first stage. I always find looking sets me to wanting and wanting to needing and needing to…'

'…to getting your behind royally kicked on a regular basis?'

Spike laughed and ruefully shook his head. 'Yeah, that it does.' He suddenly looked Giles directly in the eye. 'Maybe I've been looking in the wrong direction then.'

Giles held his look and saw, once more, a crossroads in front of him. He was about to reply when Spike cheerfully spun on his heel and said, 'Oh, I've gotta get me film - left it here the other night.'

Giles now suspected that he was being played. Everything Spike did or said seemed carefully calculated to cause a reaction of some sort in a complex game of his own devising. Behind Spike's back, Giles grinned. He, too, was a master of strategy, and he hadn't had a worthy opponent for years.

'I err… bought you some things, Spike.'

Spike turned, surprised. He'd expected his ambiguous comment and sudden changing of the subject to throw the watcher. He knew their relationship had subtlety shifted since his arrival, but he thought himself an expert on the nuances of human reaction, and felt confident he could play the game to whatever interesting conclusion it led. Giles' total immunity to his tactics rather threw him.

Spike looked over to the counter where Giles was indicating a small stack of tins. He wandered over and picked one up. 'Chummy - For the Healthy, Happy Puppy'.

'Do hellhounds eat dog food, Spike? You seemed a little out of supplies when I visited.'

With his back to Giles, Spike grinned, but by the time he'd turned around he had a scornful expression on his face. 'I can fucking feed me own dog… hound, mate.'

'Fine, I'll return them then.'

'Spike hesitated, then grinned openly and shrugged. 'Sure… be a while 'for he can digest human meat… Chummy'll do 'til then.'

Giles smiled, too, and indicated the bottle. 'Another?'

Spike laughed. 'You gonna get drunk and insult me again?'

'I don't need to be drunk to do that, Spike. You are very insultable when I'm sober.'

'Yeah, I'd noticed.'

Giles refilled his glass. 'So, let's discuss repayment terms.'

'Oh, bloody hell, what'd'ya want, watcher? Free bloody patrolling for a week? Vampires staked - ten dollars off the loan a vamp?'

'No, I was thinking along the lines of more… personal services.'

'Eh?' Spike actually looked up nervously, and Giles reigned in his gleeful laugh. Spike wasn't the only one who could step up the pressure and disconcert his prey… and had he just called Spike prey?

'I've been doing a collection of portraits of people here in Sunnydale. I've done most of the gang… here, look.' Giles uncovered the papers he had hidden earlier. Spike came nearer hesitantly and saw a series of charcoal sketches, mainly of Buffy and Willow, but also some of Xander and Dawn and one of Angel. Spike picked that one up and studied it closely. Like all the others it was excellent. It seemed to capture the essential demonic nature of the subject whilst also showing the newer, overlaying soul.

'It's good.'

'Thank you. That one was done from memory.'

'So… you want what?'

'I want you to pose for me.'

'Uh huh. Now you know that's not gonna bloody happen.'

'Fine. Only it seemed an easy way for you to work off your debt - a few sessions, you could watch TV while I sketched - but I fully understand. Well, it had better be shelf stacking at the shop then.' Giles turned away with his most unconcerned look. He left Spike looking at the pictures.

'How would I have to pose? I'm not taking anything off.'

'I should jolly well think not! No, I'd want to capture the essential you… duster and docs I was thinking.'

'The essential me, hey?' Spike laughed. 'I didn't know there was one of those. Okay then, if I can keep all me threads on, I'll do it.'

'Good. We'll start tomorrow evening. Bring over some more films if you want. It does take a while, and I don't want you to get bored and fidget.'

'I'll be still as the dead.'

Spike started to leave. Giles' quiet voice made him stop and turn. 'You can bring the dog, too, if you want, Spike. I might do one of you both. Vampire master with his hellhound… what do you say?' Spike screwed up his eyes and pursed his lips, trying to imagine the picture. Called like this on his pretence, he could not make Fang anything more in his mind than a small fluffy puppy with a bad leg. Giles smiled inwardly at Spike's obvious dilemma, but kept his face utterly passive.

Suddenly Spike brightened. 'Oh! He's a bit small to sit still… but I'll bring him over… he needs to start his human aversion training, and he won't meet any stuck in me crypt.'

'Quite. Good thinking, Spike.'

Spike sighed in relief that he would not go into immortality on canvas cuddling a puppy, and stomped out, relieved his Big Bad persona was still in tact.

The following night, puppy in pocket and DVDs and beer in hand, Spike arrived for his first sitting.

He perched on the couch watching Giles make his preparations. 'Take that chair, Spike. Put it where you can see the TV and sit astride it facing me… lean your arms on the back… that's it. Now, can you keep still for an hour or two?'

Spike clenched his teeth and did not reply. Giles started to draw. He could almost feel the tension radiating off the vampire. It transmitted itself to his charcoal, affecting the lines and angles of the face.

'Would you like a drink, Spike?'

'Am I allowed to bleedin' reply?'

Giles laughed and got up to fetch an exceptionally large whisky.

'Trying to get me drunk, watcher?'

'A little, maybe. I'm trying to get you to relax.'

'Ah… that's not going to happen… this is too…'

'What, Spike? Too difficult for you?'

'No, I was gonna say too intimate, but that seemed too intimate to say.'

'It is intimate in a way. As I said, I'm trying to capture the essential you. I need to study you, think about you, and try to represent that in the lines of charcoal on the paper.'

'There you go then; that's why I'm tense.'

'You must know you are beautiful, Spike.'

'Eh! What the fuck!'

'Sit down! Don't move…'

'Well! What do you bloody expect? Don't call me that… I'm not a fucking poof.'

'You don't think men can be intrinsically beautiful?'

'Mate, I'm a demon. Where I usually hang out you don't discuss men being beautiful - not if you want to keep your knackers intact you don't.'

'Odd that then, Spike. I was under the distinct impression demons weren't too fussy what or who they copulated with.'

'Hey! We ain't bleedin' zoo animals!'

'Avoiding the question, Spike?'

'It wasn't a question, watcher. It was a statement.'

'Ah, so it's true then?'

'We can shag it - we just don't call it beautiful.'

'Subtle distinctions, Spike.'

'Well, demons… you know… like subtle. Subtle good.'

Giles started to add chalk highlights and the soft substance oozed across the paper, the lines now fluid and smooth with Spike's relaxed pose. He smiled slightly and got up to refill the drinks. Spike held out his glass, and their skin touched briefly before Spike jerked his hand back. Giles turned back to his seat puzzled at the vampire's reaction but also slightly pleased. This pleasure puzzled him, too, and he restarted his portrait with a distracted air. He sketched in Spike's body shape, intending to add the dark shading of his clothes later. His hand hesitated as he firmed over one knee. He closed his eyes, and in his imagination his chalk slid over the inside of Spike's thigh to where, even on a vampire, the muscles would surely be soft and sensitive. Would Spike feel a slow stroking of those muscles?

He opened his eyes, embarrassed, and continued to fill in the slim outline he had created. Spike was now quiet; his eyes fixed intently on the artist. Giles badly needed to adjust his clothing. To his shame he was painfully erect, and the erection was trapped in the front of his pants, throbbing in an unpleasant way. He laid his work down and, claiming casually that he needed to pee, went quickly to the bathroom.

He leant his forehead on the cold mirror wearily. He was disconcerted. He had not meant it to go this far… he had not wanted to be out of control. Control was important to Giles; he had seen the dangerous outcomes that could occur in its absence. He decided to end this game before it went any further… before he went any further. He would stop this ridiculous study. He would cancel the debt.

'Debt cancelled yet?' As if echoing his own thoughts, Spike's quiet voice slid over him.

The vampire's unexpected presence, leaning casually on the doorframe, totally unnerved Giles. He had not yet done what he had come into the bathroom to do, and his painful erection filled his thoughts. He looked at his reflection for a moment, fought for mastery of his baser desires, but acknowledged their truth. 'No Spike, it's not. Two hundred dollars, that's ten sittings at the usual rate for an untrained model. We'll finish this session, and I'll want you again tomorrow.'

Not hearing the many layers in Giles' answer, Spike stomped back to the living room. 'You call me a model again an' you'll be using that chalk as a suppository.'

Committed now, Giles allowed himself a small self-deprecating smile. 'Oh… shut up, Spike, and watch the telly.'

The rest of the sitting went without incident, except for one minor puppy-related accident that, as Spike was posing and therefore keeping very still, he could not possibly get up and clean. Giles finally stood up with a quiet 'Enough.' Spike leant back gratefully, twisting his head from side-to-side and flexing his shoulders.

'Bloody hell. Come on then, let me see it!'

Giles looked down at the image he had captured on the paper and knew he could not show it to Spike. It was the vampire seen through a filter of unadulterated desire. He hastily tucked it into his folder and held that rather childishly behind his back. 'When it's finished.'

'Hey, no fair!'

'Yes fair - I may change my mind about the expression. If you see it now...'

'Jesus, take yourself seriously, or what?' Spike threw himself on the couch and continued to knead his neck muscles with one hand. Giles watched the hand with avid interest.

'Yes, I suppose I do rather. I went to art school you know… I wanted to… but then I was called… crossroads, Spike, always crossroads.'

He had not expected Spike to be interested in this or to reply, so was surprised when he looked up and said, 'Yeah, tell me 'bout it. I was gonna do all sorts 'fore I got turned… now look at me.'

Giles laughed, relaxing a little and beginning to enjoy himself once more. 'I have been, Spike, quite intently for almost three hours. I think I've seen enough, don't you?'

Spike suddenly gave him a disconcerting look and did not allow him to drop his gaze. 'You tell me, watcher. You're the one giving off the rather obvious signals all night… not me… I'm dead. But then you know that, don't you?' Spike twitched his lips, swept up the dog in one hand and swaggered out with a cheeky, 'See ya,' over his shoulder.

His cockiness fell from him as soon as Spike reached the cool night air. He leant his head against the smooth trunk of a tree outside the apartment for a moment before he could summon the will to walk to his bike. His hand slipped down to his crotch and he wrinkled his brow, puzzled. He had not had such an urgent erection in a long time, and it disturbed him. He had not wanted to pose for the watcher, so why was he aroused by it now? More importantly, how did he now cope with the knowledge that he had made the watcher hard, too? He had not had that effect, as far as he knew, on a human male before. That he had now, ruffled him.

He did not sleep well all day. He continued to rewind the evening in his mind. He had a feeling he was being played; that his game had been subtly changed so he was no longer deciding the rules. He'd never met anyone other than Angelus who could do that, and Angelus had had a distinct advantage in that they shared the same blood so, when he wanted to, the sire could read the childe like an open book. That a human could be playing mind games with him was intriguing. He thought he might even put off the disembowelment to see where and how this absorbing game was going to play out. He woke before sunset… excited. He was excited, something he had not felt for years, and he treasured the emotion.

Giles had at least had activity to distract him all day. He would not let his thoughts dwell on Spike and found, as a result of that intention, that he thought about him constantly. Thinking about him generally had little effect, it was when he thought of him from an artist's perspective that he found himself becoming embarrassingly hard, hot and uncomfortable. He had taken the unfinished picture to the shop with him and, when alone, glanced at it curiously. He was utterly dissatisfied with it, and as the day wore on he began to see what was lacking… or rather what was there that should not be. Giles knew that the perfection of the picture was in the way he had captured the skin tones and the sharp musculature of the face. Its faults were where the clothes began.

Giles wanted to draw Spike naked; his mind ached to see those muscles once more and to capture them forever in fluid chalk lines. He began to look forward to the evening's session with a tingle of suppressed desire, but also with an overwhelming sense of frustration at the knowledge that this desire would not be fulfilled.

Spike arrived for his second sitting on time and without the dog. When Giles raised his eyebrows questioningly, Spike said casually, `'E was embarrassed `bout last night. Clem's sitting `im. They're watching reruns of Lassie.'

Giles began to gather his supplies; Spike helped himself to a drink, uninvited. He seemed distracted and paced around the apartment picking things up and putting them back down as if he had never seen any of them before. Giles watched him out of the corner of his eye, trying to gauge his mood.

Eventually Spike stopped pacing and turned. `So, are you gonna carry on with the same picture, or do another?'

Surprised, Giles laid down his paper. `Err... I hadn't thought. I would like to try some other poses, I suppose...'

`Good, cus I've decided what the essential Spike is...' and with that, Spike stripped off his tee shirt, kicked off his boots and, turning his back to Giles, stepped out of his jeans. He flung himself down on the couch on his belly and faced Giles with a coy expression. `Better?'

`Bloody hell! No! I mean... what happened to the "I don't want to take anything off"?'

`Told ya – decided this was the essential me, I'm calling it `Vampire at Rest".' He grinned and let one arm dangle to the floor in a lazy way.

Giles sat still. He was stunned. Again he felt the game had been taken out of his control. Spike had gained some considerable advantage over him, but he didn't know why the vampire had chosen this particular twist to his game. He settled down to sketch without further comment, but then grinned inwardly.

`You must be cold, Spike.' Giles got up casually, lit the fire he rarely used, and watched with satisfaction as it caught swiftly with a satisfying glow.

The effect of the firelight on Spike's skin was magnificent, and Giles congratulated himself on his ploy. Not only had he shown little reaction to Spike's deviousness, he had mirrored the underlying sensuousness of his tactics. Spike did not comment on the fire except to stretch languorously to its heat.

The sitting commenced.

His head bent to his paper, Giles decided to keep the initiative. `So, Spike. You can `shag it' but you don't call it beautiful. Explain this gender bending thing to me; I'm intrigued.'

`Mate. Naked or not, chip or not, you're gonna get yourself filled in, in a minute.'

`No, honestly, Spike. I'm genuinely interested. I surmise you weren't gay as a human?' He outlined the whole of Spike's flowing shape on the couch in one bold stroke.

`Hey! Fuck you – surmise is right! You got bleedin' done for that sorta thing where I came from.'

Subtle shading emphasised the split of Spike's legs and cheeks, each buttock becoming rounded under Giles' soft stroking. `I know, that's why I'm curious. So, how does it start... when you die... get turned? And I do so love that euphemism, turned, by the way. But seriously, when did you find your interests changing?'

`Will you stop making me sound like some old predatory git with an' 'ole in me raincoat! I didn't change; I evolved.'

`Evolved? You've lost me.' He started highlighting Spike's musculature with soft white chalk, sliding it smoothly, as if a tongue, down each hard, veined bicep.

`Wish I bloody could. Look... last century and you couldn't have shagged a black girl, could you?'

Giles chose a thin pencil and sketched in each long, surprisingly delicate looking finger, making them almost come alive and active under his hand. `Possibly not in England, no.'

`But now no one thinks twice `bout it, do they?'

`No, but I don't see the connection, Spike.' His pencil connected the sinews to the hollows of Spike's shoulder.

`It's all to do with distinctions. You've lost your colour distinctions; we lose our gender ones.'

Giles blurred the harsh edges of Spike's cheekbone slightly to see the effect, smudging his wet thumb over the charcoal, and feeling the bone beneath the skin. `So, you don't see yourself as a man... male, so to speak?'

`Fuck you, bastard. I'll turn over if you like, and let you decide for yourself.'

Giles' hand paused in the act of running down Spike's spine. He closed his eyes briefly as he imagined that turning. Spike's flawless white body would have a dark, intriguing region that would draw the eye. He pictured choosing a pencil to capture that tightly curled hair and visualised how the pale penis would stand erect from its dark nest. He could almost see the strokes of white chalk he would use to bring out the shaft's unearthly power. Perhaps he would use a dark charcoal to smudge a suggestion of deep shade, emphasising the ridged cockhead. On this stark black and white picture he might choose a soft pink to swell and expose the smooth tip; it would be a single blush of colour, and the only focus for the eye. One sharp graphic line would capture the slit, larger, perhaps, than in real life, and he would use a cleverly shaded, gleaming drop of pre-cum to give it full expression and life.

`Err... no. Thank you, Spike. I'll pass on that.' Giles hoped his voice was steadier than his hand when he resumed the exploration of Spike's complex spinal definition. `So, you are a man, but you don't see other people's or demons' gender differences... is that it?'

`Oh, shut up, watcher. I just fancy what I fancy. `k? I can - so I do. Passes the bleedin' day, and it feels good, and there aren't too many good lookin' demons around anyway. I can't afford to be limited to one sex.'

The small hollow in Spike's hip defeated Giles, and he had to study it for a long time to see its essential nature. When Spike made only the smallest of movements on the couch it flexed and changed shape. `Keep still, Spike, you're wriggling.'

`Yeah, well, this is...'

`Boring? Sorry about that. I said watch a film.'

`Stimulating. I was going to say stimulating.'

Giles did not comment on this, but thinking about that stimulation and the slight movements Spike made did not help his concentration on the hollow he was shading. `Why only demons then, Spike? Why are you limited to demons? I would have thought you'd be able to attract a human... if they were drunk enough or senile perhaps.'

Spike smiled and again the maddening twitch of his hip had Giles entranced. `I can't shag humans.'

Giles caught Spike's gaze for the first time during this sitting; his pencil stilled. `What?' Did he hear a slight disappointment in his own voice?

`Courtesy of the fucking initiative. Chip see...'

Giles didn't.

`I can't give pain, can I? All penetration gives some pain... and I should know... err... you don't know if you've not tried it, mate. So humans... out.'

Giles let out a small sigh of relief but did not allow himself to recognise the sound as such. He had now reached Spike's buttocks. He contemplated his first quick attempts at capture and made one or two subtle changes in their shape. He could not help but smile when Spike's fidgeting increased as if subliminally he could sense where the artist was applying pressure.

`Maybe you should think more laterally, Spike.'

`I'm lying down already.'

`Very droll. Maybe you should consider receiving... not giving. You can take pain I gather?'

`I like pain.'

`I thought so. There you are then, problem solved, no?'

`Be a receiver?'

Silence descended on them for a while. Spike tried to decide if he had just been made an offer. Giles tried to decide this, too.

Eventually Spike said quietly, as if to his hand, which he was studying with feigned interest. `My gender bending – as you so charmingly put it – don't extend to humans.'

Giles congratulated himself on his composure. `That's just as well I suppose, seeing as no one you know would volunteer for the penetrating.'

Spike knew the game had just taken a new path once again and chuckled. `I think Harris might.'

Giles laughed, too. `We were discussing people accountable for their actions, no?'

They grinned at each other, pleased with this game. Both felt they had won some points and without conceding any vital ground.

Giles got up and refilled their glasses. He was hot, and could feel a warm arousal suffusing his entire body. He looked at the fire briefly as he put Spike's glass down on the floor for him, then with a inward smile at his own sagacity said nonchalantly, `Are you warm enough?' and laid his hand on Spike's back. Spike groaned and quickly covered by coughing slightly into his drink.

`Yeah, surprisingly, mate. I'm quite warm... hot even.'

Giles grinned and resumed his seat. He could still feel the unnaturally warmed skin under his hand and wondered idly if it would warm thus from friction.

Whisky in hands and bellies, they resumed the sitting. Giles decided he would add some subtle colouring to emphasis certain parts and lingered over his selection of chalks.

Spike began to feel the soporific effects of the warmth and the drink, but he came back to focus at Giles' next words. `What do you miss most, Spike, about not being human?'

Spike glanced over at Giles' bent head, surprised. Giles looked up and smiled, and Spike relaxed into the smile; he could see no traps in the simple question. When he didn't answer immediately, Giles prompted, `Sun?'

Spike thought for a moment. He swirled his finger in his glass and absentmindedly sucked on it.

`Spike... don't move.' The thumb ring was given a sensuous, midnight blue shadow, and Giles was pleased with the way this drew his eye. He allowed his gaze to linger on the real thumb for a moment just to ensure he had the right effect.

`Sorry. Nah, not the sun. Can't miss what you've never had, can you?'

`Oh come on, you were human for what? Twenty years?' He kept the blue in his hand, hesitating over Spike's eyes. Could he attempt to capture their ever-changing expression with his limited human talent?

`Bit longer.'

`So, you must miss it.' A faint first dab of colour to the iris... it was perfect, and he smiled.

`Mate, I was human in London in the nineteenth century. I never saw the bleedin' sun.'

Emphasised thus, Spike's eyes held him in a hypnotic stare. He felt impaled by the ambiguity he saw in them. `Well, what then? Food? I suppose you ate in Victorian England?'

`Course. But weren't my thing, if you know what I mean. Never been interested in food really.'

Giles cocked an eyebrow and coughed, amused.

`What?'

`Spike, you are the greediest vampire I have ever met; you are always raiding my fridge and eating one hideous snack after another.'

`Oh, snacks... I thought you were talking `bout real food... roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, spotted dick. Never been one for spotted dick much. So, not real food then... American food, that's different.'

Only the feet now needed completion. He had left them to the last. `So, what? There must be something you miss.'

`Why? Why do you assume I don't relish being a vampire? Typical bloody arrogance of humans to assume there is anything of your life I miss.'

The toes were so human Giles' hand stilled reverently over them. `It's not arrogance, Spike, it's merely my observation. You are so... sometimes you seem so... `

`Lacking?'

`Sad. You seem so sad, and I thought it might be because you miss something.'

Spike was quiet for a few minutes; he continued to play with his glass on the floor, running his finger around the rim then tapping the crystal. Finally he said, with a strangely flat tone, `If you must know, it's this I miss.'

It was Giles' turn to be surprised. He stopped stroking the soft sole of Spike's bare foot and looked up. `What... the fire? Posing for me?'

Spike laughed, and his voice returned to its habitual cocky tones. `Fuck off. No, I miss the conversation. I miss being taken seriously.'

`Oh.' Giles felt there was very little else he could say to this.

`Yeah, there you go. Sad hey? Mind you, I've been two vampires, so I'm a bit odd, like, in me tastes.'

Giles had finished and was studying his creation, so his answer was distracted. `Two?'

`Well, yeah. Pre-chip: post-chip. I didn't miss much of anything before this ruddy chip... too busy fighting, feeding and fucking. But now... well, I've got sorta slowed down. I can't do those things, so I just wanna talk sometimes, be treated...'

`Like a human?'

`Yes. Like a human.'

Giles put down his paper and sketching tools and looked directly at Spike. `Especially when you are doing essential vampire research?'

`Ah...' Spike flashed him a small, self-deprecating grin. `Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time. Backfired on me though. Misjudged me audience.'

`Oh, I don't know, Spike. You're here now, aren't you?'

`Yeah, I am.' Spike swung his legs off the couch and sat up. Giles flushed and turned away. Spike smiled evilly at his turned back. `How's about a pose like this next time?' Giles did not turn around to see what Spike meant and continued to pack away his chalks. He heard a small chuckle and glanced over his shoulder to see Spike dressing. He had already pulled on his jeans and shirt and was lacing his boots. Furious with himself for falling for the ruse, Giles took the bait another way.

`Yes, all right, Spike, we'll do a naked front pose tomorrow, shall we? It would complete the portfolio nicely.' He turned his back to Spike, poking at the fire, pleased when he heard Spike's dressing motions still for a moment.

The next thing he knew, a hand was laid softly on his shoulder, and a voice whispered in his ear. `Giles, few more sessions and I'll let you experience the essential Spike in more than one dimension, shall I?'

Before Giles could reply, Spike was gone.

Spike didn't even make it to the tree this time. He collapsed against the wall of the house to one side of the door. He wished he needed to breathe; it seemed appropriate - long, slow, calming breaths. Every stroke of the pencil… every highlight of chalk… he had felt them as if it had been Giles' tongue caressing him. What had they spoken of? He didn't know. He thought at one point Giles had asked to fuck him, but didn't think that likely. Gradually, as the urgency of his arousal subsided, the evening unravelled in his mind and something of their conversation returned. He smiled; he felt buoyant. He had been offered an opportunity to explore something new and, for an eternal creature, that was rare and not to be lightly dismissed… but could he do it? Where would the Big Bad go if supine under that tantalizingly discreet body? Who would he be when that exploration had been… consummated? What new vampire would emerge from the bonfire of that passion? - for he did not doubt that there would be passion. He had felt Giles' suppressed desire for him; it was what was holding him captive to this cool alabaster wall. Spike shrugged; unlife was too long to forgo exploration. He grinned, pushed off the wall, and wondered how he would fill the coming day. Anticipation drove with him to his crypt. He felt vital and alive.

Clem met him at the door with a nervous, guilty look.

'What?' Spike felt his mood plummet. Clem did not look happy.

'I'm sorry, Spike. He's gone.'

'Who?' but he already knew.

'Fang… I put 'im out for a pee… I watched 'im… then I looked away. Well, all right, I had a pee, too… and when I looked back, he was gone!'

'Gone!' Clem was good at reading his friend and took a small step back.

'Yeah. I looked around, Spike, honest. I looked everywhere.'

Gone.

Spike turned and went back out into the coming dawn. He called and searched for his dog for as long as the darkness allowed him.

He would find him, for how could a small puppy with a broken leg evade a master vampire who wanted to find him?

The cemetery was so full of night scents he could not distinguish one from the other and, when forced inside by a burning on his skin, he had to agree with Clem that Fang was indeed gone.

Once more Clem looked anxiously at Spike's expression. He thought Spike looked calm but, nevertheless, tried to cheer him up a bit. He held out a new leash and collar he'd bought for the puppy to show Spike. 'Look, see… I didn't mean to lose him; bought him these.'

When Clem left some time after he hesitated, unwilling to leave Spike in such a… state. He'd never seen his friend utterly lose it before, and it was not something he wished to see again. It had been the leash that had done it… he'd been stupid… he should have hidden it. He turned away from the crypt and made his way home, whistling sadly every so often, hoping a small, familiar figure might still appear.

Giles didn't go to the shop that day. He took off in his car and went for a long walk in the hills. He wanted physical exhaustion; he wanted to forget; he wanted to overcome his desire. He wanted to be alone and to think about the coming night. How would Spike pose? Sitting? - just a glimpse of his penis behind the chair back?… or blatant? - stretched on the couch, his arousal enjoyed by both of them? Where would it lead? Was he ready for what he surely knew was coming? He had left that side of himself behind with the dark magics that had given it air to breathe. Could he rip flesh once more? Could he penetrate and take? What new man would be born from this penetration, and what would die? He'd chosen a good place to come to ask these unanswerable questions, for there was no one to see his confusion and his… determination. He left the hills in good time for the darkness that was coming and returned to Sunnydale ready, eager and aroused.

Disappointment was too mild a word to describe how Giles felt when some hours after dark, Spike had not appeared. Still, for the first hour or so, he continued to tell himself that this was all he was… disappointed. It was only as the fire died and his empty paper started to mock him that he allowed his emotions freer reign. He felt played. It made him feel dirty, old and naïve. He had toyed with the devil, and the devil had seduced him. He started to tidy his stuff away, trying to maintain his habitual reserve, but suddenly straightened remembering a small piece of technology that gave him the upper hand with the devil. He grinned and left, slamming his door in a satisfactory way.

The cemetery was eerie but still, and although Giles kept a large stake in his hand, he made it to Spike's crypt unmolested. He looked at the stake for a moment before entering but left it at the door. No need to tempt himself too much. If he wanted it, Spike would not be able to prevent him fetching it. Although he knew he was invulnerable to Spike's unnatural strength and speed, Giles nevertheless felt a surge of tension course through him at the thought of the coming confrontation. It might not be the ripping he had been anticipating, but it had its charms nonetheless. Heedless of Spike's earlier annoyance at unannounced and unwelcome visitors, Giles pushed open the door.

The sight that greeted him was shocking. All his intentions, all his anger dissipated as he regarded the smashed tomb lids, the broken furniture, the scarred floor and the smears of blood on the walls. He hurried down the stairs following a trail of ripped and broken items. The lower regions were no better. There was little left that was recognisable. A whirlwind of destruction had decimated the crypt. Picking his way over broken glass and shredded clothing, he was immensely relieved to find Spike lying face down on the bed, unmoving, his hands buried under his pillow. He did not even bother to chastise himself for his rapid change of heart but, staking and punishment forgotten, sat beside him on the bed and stretched out a hesitant hand.

'Spike?'

'Go away.'

Spike's voice had none of its usual animation. It was flat and toneless and this alarmed Giles almost as much as the destruction in the crypt. He was rather at a loss what to do. He had very little experience of giving comfort, but then he smiled slightly… what else had he been doing since coming to Sunnydale? He sat quietly on the bed next to Spike for a long time. Eventually, Spike repeated, 'Go away.'

It rather unnerved Giles that Spike could lie so still, tolerating his presence, and yet so deep in his own thoughts. A human would have reacted by now, moved, precipitated events, but this vampire lay… as if dead. Giles didn't like this thought, it reminded him too much of his earlier assumptions and somehow made him feel partially responsible for this state of affairs. He put his hand back to Spike's shoulder and began a soft circling of the tense muscle. Spike twitched him off and moved further away. 'Go away.'

'Wanting doesn't make it come true, Spike. Make me.'

'If I could, I would. Rub it in, why don't you?'

Giles was pleased. At least Spike was talking now. 'I suppose if I ask you what happened, you wouldn't tell me.'

There was no reply to this. Giles sighed and studied Spike. He appeared to be wearing the same clothes he had stripped out of the night before although, with Spike, this was rather hard to say with certainty. Suddenly Giles saw a faint red stain on the pillow and glancing down at the back of Spike's head, lifted the corner up. He winced at the injuries Spike had been hiding. His hands, so recently admired and delineated by Giles' pencil, had been smashed and broken to bloody pulps. The pain must have been extraordinary, even for a vampire, and once more Giles felt at a loss. Until this point he had assumed something else had done the damage to the crypt. He looked around once more, bewildered at the extent of the destruction.

After a few moments, Giles shifted so he was sitting against the wall and stretched out his legs. With a deep sigh of commitment to something he had not been looking for, he pulled Spike's slightly resistant head into his lap. He started a reflexive, thoughtful stroking of the surprisingly soft blond hair. When had desire been enhanced by caring? He did not remember the addition, but it was here now. He wanted to offer comfort and make right what was clearly so wrong, and the only thing he could think to do was this almost subliminal stroking of Spike's hair.

Once more a 'Go away' was uttered by a mouth now buried against Giles' thigh, but it was a much more hesitant and less certain command.

Giles only extended the length of his strokes so they took in Spike's neck and eventually his shoulders. Some time later his hand moved down Spike's spine and, as he started to move it back up, Spike's tee shirt hitched loose. It seemed the most natural thing in the world for Giles' hand to slide inside and travel back up the distinct spine, warming the unnatural skin. He felt Spike tense slightly in his lap but did not stop his caress. He closed his eyes as his hand moved under the soft black material. He didn't need to be able to see Spike's back - every line, every curve, every ridge was fixed in his mind. As if he held charcoal once more, Giles started to shade in the muscles, he drew lines over the prominent shoulder blades, he highlighted the hollows of Spike's arms with his pale chalk. The cool skin seemed to warm under his hand as he had imagined it would, and he increased the friction. On one long stroke down his hand connected with the waistband of Spike's jeans. Slim as the vampire was, it gaped, and it seemed even more natural than stroking Spike's back that Giles should slip his hand inside that irresistible space. Spike's backside was hard and almost flat. There was no sensation of movement from the cheeks as Giles caressed them. He smiled and realised he had made them slightly too fleshy in the picture and was glad he had been given this chance to feel them for himself. The crevice between the toned cheeks parted easily to Giles' probing touch. He hesitated as he felt the smooth valley, which would run down to Spike's soft entrance.

Suddenly, Spike reared up. He punched Giles one hard, furious blow. Giles could not have said what shocked him more - Spike's attack, or that Spike's pain was clearly so much more than his, not only from the effects of the chip, but from the added damage to his hand. Spike seemed utterly heedless of either.

Alarmed, Giles half slipped, half tumbled off the edge of the bed, holding his jaw and replacing his glasses which had slipped. He staggered back against the wall as the vampire descended on him. The second blow connected with his stomach. Spike's cry made Giles wince more than the pain in his belly, and he tried to catch the vampire as he fell to his knees in agony. Spike only grasped the offered hand and bit it, savagely. He tried to hold on and worry at Giles' flesh but gagged slightly and had to let go as the pain of giving pain made his gorge rise.

Giles came back hesitantly to the collapsed figure and Spike placed one more, albeit weak, blow on his knee cap. `Stop it!' Giles' voice was commanding, censorial, and it only seemed to reenergize Spike. He staggered to his feet and punched Giles once more, biting his lip half through as a new wave of pain hit him. Giles could not make Spike stop; he didn't want to leave, so he did the only thing he could think of... he hit back. Years of training Buffy had honed his fighting skills, and it was a hard, accurate and extremely painful punch - but it was like connecting with marble, and he shook his hand angrily.

The blow was a waste of time; Spike took no notice of it, only punched Giles once more in the belly. Spike's scream of pain might have melted harder hearts than Giles'; it totally undid the bewildered watcher.

He saw another blow coming from the agonised vampire and had only one more tactic to try. He didn't allow any evidence of pain to cross his face, appear in his body, or leave his lips. Nothing; he made himself as if of stone and impenetrable.

It seemed to work. The light blow appeared to give Spike no pain so, unbelievably, the vampire tried it again, but Giles had now had enough. He grabbed Spike's fist and, straddling his back, twisted the strong arm up behind Spike's back.

Giles was strong and heavy and had the advantage of being able to bring a searing agony to Spike's brain if he wanted. Spike surrendered and lay face down on the floor, unresisting. Slowly, Giles stood up and sat on the bed, waiting for Spike to rise. It took a while, but eventually he gathered himself together and stood up, keeping his face averted.

`Just go, Watcher.'

`We've been here before, Spike. No.'

Suddenly Spike turned, and what he had not been able to achieve with his fists, he achieved with his expression, for Giles felt fear and shock wash over him. Tear-streaked, agonised, Spike's face made Giles look down, ashamed.

The vampire's voice was quiet, but it was intensely accusatory. `How could you, you cunt? What the fuck am I? An object? You come here, and see this...' he indicated the ruins of his home as if seeing it for the first time himself. `...you see this and you fondle me?' He gritted his teeth, but continued as if against his will. 'I let you hold me... I reached out...' Spike glanced down at the bed where he had let Giles pull him into his lap. `... and you feel me up? I'm know I'm not human...' his voice caught and rose slightly in pitch, and he waited until he calmed. `...I'm not human, but I'm not an object. GET OUT!'

Spike shook with the frustration of not being able to make Giles go. He felt a killing rage descend on him at his impotence. That he should be brought so low in front of the food shamed him, but he tried to muster some dignity and turned away from Giles.

It was then he saw it once more... a piece of plaited leather in two- tone blue, bought to match a puppy's eyes by a friend who had seen a lonely vampire's attachment to a living thing. Ragged and strung out, it was too much for Spike. He picked it up and held in loosely in his hand for a moment, and then making a tight fist with one broken hand, he began to complete the systematic destruction of his home.

Overwhelmed by self-loathing, Giles could do nothing at first but watch helplessly.

Spike did not see Giles' eventual resolution of the problem, for, stomping and grinding some of his favourite books into the floor, he felt only the briefest of hard blows to the back of his head before he fell into unconsciousness.

Spike woke some hours later to the knowledge that he was warm, comfortable, but that he had the mother of all headaches. He groaned, turned over, and found the overwhelming scent of the watcher permeating every inch of his soft resting-place. He cautiously opened his eyes and discovered that this was not surprising, for he was wrapped in Giles' bed in the soft light of an approaching dawn.

Even that tiny opening of his eyes caused his headache to sear further into his brain, and he pulled the sheet up over the pain and tried to go back to sleep. He didn't want to be in Giles' bed; he didn't want Fang to be gone; he didn't want to remember smashing up all his belongings and, most particularly, he didn't want to remember his rather effeminate, hormonal rant to Giles that he was not an object. On all counts he had the distinctly nauseous thought that all he needed was to start a soddin' period and he'd have achieved the dubious status of being a total, fucking bitch. He groaned again from his hiding place under the sheet and decided that he didn't really want much of anything, and that this was one of those times in his unlife when longevity held very little appeal.

Giles stood just outside the room, leaning on the wall to one side of the open door. He listened to Spike's awakening; he heard the unmistakable pain that he knew would be as much emotional as physical, and he longed to go in and offer comfort once more… but he knew he had lost that privilege now. He was a loathsome man. He had taken something that was in pain, and he had abused it. He closed his eyes to the memories of his hand slipping inside Spike's jeans and the feel of that silky skin under his palm. He had no right to think of it now, and he cut off the memories before they could give him any pleasure.

Giles' guilt had driven him to bring Spike back to his house; his concern had made him give up his bed, and his self-disgust kept him distant. He went downstairs and sat in the gradually lightening room, feeling old and tired. The eagerness and anticipation of only a few hours ago were all gone, and in their place came a weary depression of spirits he could not master. Eventually, he dozed off on the couch and did not hear Spike come down from the bedroom, nor hear the domestic sounds of the kettle being switched on and the fridge raided. He woke to the sensation of something hot touching his hand and opened his eyes to find Spike sitting next to him, grinning, holding a hot mug of tea on the back of his hand.

'Bloody hell! Ow!'

'Morning.' Spike's chirpiness utterly confused Giles. He sat up, rubbing his hair, and shifted some distance away, but he took the mug of tea with him. Spike stayed on the couch watching him closely. Giles did not want to look at him and kept his eyes averted.

'I'm sorry, Giles.' It was the last thing Giles expected Spike to say, and he could sense that the vampire was pleased with its effect.

'You're sorry? What did you do? I mean… why are you sorry, Spike? It's me…'

'I lost it for a bit, and you were just there. I think I was a bit of a prat?' Giles had to smile at Spike's apparently fond hope that he might be contradicted on this. He shook his head and closed his eyes for a moment, leaning back in his chair.

'What I did was unforgivable, Spike.'

'By who?'

'Err, sorry? And whom, Spike, not who.'

Spike got up and began to pace the room in his habitual, restless manner. 'Whom can't forgive it? Not me… I kinda remember it in the spirit it was offered. So, forgive yourself, and it's over with… done.'

'But I didn't offer it in a kind or caring way; that's just the point…'

'I never said you did, did I?'

To Giles' total astonishment, Spike came purposefully towards him. He took Giles' face in both hands, placed a hard possessive kiss on his lips, then pulled away and said in an amused tone, 'You fancy me, and you just got a bit carried away… can't blame you for that, can I?' He grinned and walked jauntily back to the stairs. 'I'm going back to complete me vampire at rest impression. I'd love a cuppa if you feel like bringing me one in bed, ' and with that he sprung, two steps at a time, out of sight.

Spike made it to the top step, just out of sight, before he collapsed to his knees. He rested his forehead against the cool tiles of the floor, but this hurt his aching head too much. Standing up cautiously, one hand braced on the wall, he made his way back to the bedroom. He climbed into the bed and pulled the sheet up over his face once more. He half hoped that if he knew no one could see him, he wouldn't cry. He clenched his jaw, raised his eyes and blinked.

It wasn't the bleedin' dog itself - not wholly anyway. It was what the dog had represented in Spike's 'life'. New beginnings, proof that he was more than the sum of his dead parts, someone to need him, something for him to practice needing… all this, none of it… anything… everything. Spike's feelings for the dog had been complex; he had not wanted to be forced to examine them like this… not when his head felt as if someone had filled his skull with a balloon, which they were blowing up inch by inch, the pressure increasing and the pain swelling exponentially. He was the Big Bad though, and big bad things did not feel pain, or if they did, they did not show it. He congratulated himself on his performance for the watcher and closed his heart to all emotion.

Giles tipped his head back and rested it against the old leather of his armchair. It was too much… too much contrast to the solitary life he normally led. He felt as if he were still trying to catch up to his conversation with Spike during the last sitting, let alone come to terms with the events in Spike's crypt. Just as he was coping with that, once again, Spike threw him a curve… and had he just been kissed? His mind registered suddenly that he had. How he wished he had not been caught so… unprepared. He'd had no time to savour it, no time to taste the vampire, no time to smell his unique scent or to imprint all those impressions in his mind. He tried to recall them now, putting his tongue to his lips and licking delicately to capture a last remaining trace of Spike's lips.

Giles glanced towards the kettle and got up slowly to make the requested cup of tea. As he watched the steam rising from the spout, he raised his eyes in the direction of his bedroom. He thought about Spike; he thought about the vampire's kiss, but mostly he wondered why Spike had made such an effort to fool him. He suddenly started to doubt the basis of the game they were playing. He had assumed that he had an evenly matched opponent and that battles would be won or lost, but that the outcome of the war would remain uncertain to the last. He now felt very old, very wise and so much more devious than Spike. Spike, it now appeared to Giles, had a streak of naivety and vulnerability he had never considered before.

He went over to his desk and took out the picture he had drawn of the naked vampire. He frowned as he looked at it. It could have been any naked man - albeit one in superb physical condition and with an unnaturally pale skin - but where was Spike? He had not captured the demon that had given him such a strangely endearing performance just now. He had drawn the very veneer he had wanted to crack open and explore.

Giles didn't destroy the picture, but placed it carefully back into the folder. It was a work in progress. He had captured the flawless shell; it was time to give it life and meaning.

Spike heard Giles come into the room and surreptitiously wiped his face with the sheet before emerging. 'Hey! Tea. Didn't think you'd have the balls, watcher.'

'I don't make tea with balls, Spike, just water and milk.' Spike pouted and congratulated himself once more on his faultless performance. Giles sat beside him on the bed and put the tea onto the bedside table. He took off his glasses in a familiar gesture and pinched the bridge of his nose. Spike sipped his tea.

'Why are you putting on this front with me, Spike?'

'Eh?' Spike narrowly missed choking on the drink.

Giles pursed his lips, thoughtfully, and replaced his glasses.

'Why still the games, Spike?'

Spike turned to put his tea down, his mouth open to make a jaunty reply, when Giles unexpectedly laid a hand on the side of Spike's face. 'Does your head hurt?'

Caught out, Spike could only nod, weakly. Giles got up and went to the bathroom and took a handful of pills from one container, paused, took a large number from another and returned to Spike. 'I assume human medicines work on you to some extent? Alcohol seems to.'

Spike took all the pills and crunched them as if they were sweets. He swallowed and swilled the remains down with the tea. Giles watched him closely. 'You should rest.'

'Why… you thinking I might need me strength later?' Never one to give up when he was losing, Spike volunteered what he thought was a lascivious look and winked.

Giles noticeably, and rather theatrically, shivered, slowly shaking his head in despair. 'Don't Spike. Quit while you're ahead, hey?'

Spike pouted a little. What?'

'You don't have to put on this endless bravado with me any more, Spike. We've both been… laid bare. You know things about me I would have kept private, and I know that you are so far from being the Big Bad now that…'

'Shut up.' Spike's voice instantly lost all its forced jocularity.

'Why? Afraid of the truth, Spike?'

'The truth! The truth! Oh yeah… what about the truth then, watcher! Had yourself a good feel, didn't you… like that truth?'

'Bravado then deflection, Spike. Clever.'

'Shut up!'

'Bravado, deflection, immaturity! Anything else?'

To Giles' intense embarrassment, Spike suddenly twisted his face away and blinked once or twice, tipping his head back. 'Please, watcher, go away, hey? I'm a bit shagged... head 'an all.'

Full circle, crossroads… could he get it right this time?

Giles reached out to try.

He laid a hand on Spike's face once more. 'Lie down, Spike… it'll be gone soon.'

Keeping his face averted and his back turned, Spike slid down the bed. His shoulders were tense and Giles longed to knead and work them. He risked a tentative touch, and Spike did not flinch. He made himself comfortable alongside the edgy vampire and started to soften the unforgiving back. In pain as he was, Spike clearly enjoyed the easing of his tension. He wriggled his shoulders lightly under Giles touch and eventually turned on his belly to give Giles better access to his back. Giles stilled his hands for a moment and sat back on his heels. 'Do you trust me enough for this, Spike?'

They both knew he was referring to earlier exploratory hands. Spike turned his face to one side and gave a small, genuine smile. 'Can I?'

'Yes, Spike, you can.'

Spike gave him a quick glance over his shoulder. 'Damn.'

Giles laughed, and they both realised with pleasure that the game had resumed. Boundaries had been renegotiated, rules had been altered, and some cards had been laid face up on the table and shared.

'Just go to sleep, Spike. Oh, by the way, I've knocked a hundred dollars off your debt for my disgraceful lapse last night.'

Spike grinned. 'Huh. Cheers.'

Giles chuckled. 'Then I added ten back for each time you hit me and twenty for the bite, so we're back up to two hundred again.'

'Hey! Two sittings…'

'Yes, very well, one hundred and sixty.'

'I only hit you properly five times, so, with one bite, that's a hundred and fifty!'

'Head getting better I take it.'

'Enough to know when I'm being screwed, and hey… feel free to touch me up any time… for a hundred dollars you can lick my arse if you want to.'

'Don't sell yourself cheap, Spike. Some people would pay… oh, at least a hundred and five to kiss your ass.'

'Yeah, well, I'm kinda tired… not at me best for… negotiating…' Good as his word, Spike fell deeply asleep under Giles' hands.

Giles watched him for a moment, wondering how long the sleeping pills would be effective. He gave Spike a tiny, fond pat and climbed off, making his way downstairs. He had a long day ahead.

Giles finally finished just before sundown and returned home pleased with his day's work, but anxious and distracted by his discoveries. He opened the door and thought for one minute that Spike had rained a storm of destruction on his possessions as well. He had in a way, but as Giles looked around in shock, he saw subtle differences to this destruction. The fridge was standing open and milk cartons were spilt and dripped onto the floor. The microwave was smoking slightly and an indefinable object was burnt onto the revolving table. There was food scattered everywhere and a trail of crumbs and split substances lead up the stairs. Like a child in a fable, Giles followed the trail warily. He stepped on something that crunched under his feet and looked down to see small white objects randomly decorating the floor. Pills, whether pain relief or sleeping tablets (or something else) Giles could not immediately determine. Half way up the stairs there appeared to be a sort of... he could only describe it as a nest. He kicked lightly at blankets, which were lying next to a cereal bowl half full with something mushy. A spoon lay licked and discarded next to the bowl, and cast off black jeans and a tee shirt were placed as if sitting on the stairs sharing the feast.

He continued into the bedroom and found Spike naked, face down on the bed with his head hanging off one side. He appeared to be trying to shake hands with something on the floor that was not there.

Spike heard Giles come in and attempted to turn over, but he was twisted in the sheets and gave up the effort, lying with just his face turned towards the door. Giles could only describe him as... sort of awake. He was languid; his eyes were unfocused. Moving closer, Giles heard Spike murmur a quiet 'Hey,' but he continued to look bemused at his hand.

'What are you doing, Spike?'

'Why'd ya always reach out for me? Look.' Spike's voice was soft and slightly slurred. He stretched out once more as if to direct something then snatched his hand back annoyed.

Giles went in the bathroom and studied the raided medicine cabinet thoughtfully. He wasn't even sure himself what he had had in there... some of his old friends had interesting hobbies. There were pills and capsules scattered everywhere as if, like in a kid in a candy store, Spike had tried and discarded the range available. Giles sighed and went back to the bedroom to cope with a stoned vampire.

Stoned vampire had managed to turn over and was lying spread-eagled on the bed. Giles hissed slightly and covered Spike with a sheet before he had time to think, but the picture stayed in his mind as if he had looked at a light so bright it had burnt its image onto his retinas. He recalled it and studied it for a moment. The nest of curls had been as dark as he had pictured it; Spike's penis was pale – surprising really, for he was clearly erect - and that tantalising drop of precum that Giles had planned to capture with clever shading was as bright and as illusive as he had wanted it to be.

Spike giggled at Giles' manoeuvre with the sheet. `Why'd'ya do that, watcher? I'm gonna shag ya.'

'Hmm… ' Giles sat on the bed beside Spike and, laying a hand on the sharp cheekbone, turned Spike to face him. His eyes were utterly unfocused. `What have you done you stupid child?' Giles could not have rightly said why he called Spike that; it just seemed so appropriate as he held the drugged face in his hands.

Tears pricked the corners of Spikes' eyes and he tried to wipe them away, but missed, and his hand hit his ear. `It hurt, and dey tasted good.' Spike put his hand up to Giles' face with more success. `Kiss me.'

Giles pulled away fractionally but smiled. `You are stoned and are therefore not in your right mind – if you even have one of those – so I most certainly will not.'

`Nah... this is me right mind Rupshet... Ruperd... Giles... he's the wrong 'un...'

`Who, Spike? Lie down, and let go of my face.'

Spike giggled as he lay down and held Giles surprisingly tightly around the back of the neck. `'im... the big bad... that fucker... he's the wrong 'un... this's me. And me wants `t kiss ya.' Good as his word, he pulled Giles' lips down to his own and held them against him with the force of both hands. Giles was expecting a drunken, inexpert, rather slobbery kiss; he was shocked by his own arousal when soft, smooth, cool and sweet-tasting lips brushed his in a deceptively platonic way. It deceived him only for the time it took Spike's tongue to slip out and lick across Giles' lower lip. Opening his mouth in an automatic response, Giles was claimed. Spike pulled him right into the bed onto his back and twisted so he lay over him. The slim, naked vampire draped across him, making no movement with his body, but possessing him with his mouth.

Spike opened his mouth wide to Giles, forcing his tongue in to explore the soft, warm, human walls. He took off Giles' glasses, and that small removal shed some of the watcher's reserve. He responded to the kiss and opened his mouth to the vampire's passion. Giles' hands crept around to Spike's backside and clamped on each hard buttock. He dug his fingers in, trying to grind Spike more to him. Spike lifted his face from the kiss and grinned lopsidedly. 'Yeah, baby, squeeze me.'

Rather ruining the mood Spike obviously thought he was creating, Giles spluttered… amused at the choice of words. Spike wrinkled his forehead, seemed to be trying to compose a coherent reply but finally shrugged and with a slurred, 'Whatthefuck, I cun still shag,' he returned to Giles' mouth.

Giles lay supine under the vampire, studying his own reactions with interest. He didn't feel committed emotionally to what was happening. He was enjoying it in a detached, observant way - even in a physical way, but no… involvement. He smiled into Spike's kiss, curious to see where this vampire would take his desire. He could see his sketch being filled in with intriguing highlights as Spike's veneer cracked. He pushed Spike away a little, 'So, where is the big bad then - if he's gone?'

Spike giggled once more and rolled off Giles to prop himself up on his hand. He couldn't quite coordinate this manoeuvre, so laid his chin on Giles belly and peered seductively, if a little unfocused, up at him. 'He's not gone, lover, e's squished.'

'Squished?'

'Yeah.' Spike hit at his own breast. 'Under 'ere, with William.'

'Ah. So you're not William either?'

Spike gave him an incredulous look then tapped the side of his nose conspiratorially. 'Nah, but don't tell 'em all, will ya?'

Giles shook his head and let his gaze travel once more down the flawless vampire's body. He turned so he was lying on his side, displacing Spike's head. The movement made Spike turn onto his back once more.

With no sheet to cover him this time, Giles could not suppress a hiss of desire at the vampire's visible state of arousal. He felt Spike searching for one of his hands and forming it into a fist around the pale, thick shaft. He resisted, but realised with an amused self- deprecating smile, that the resistance was only in his head - his body responded freely and naturally to the intensely intimate moment. Spike folded his arms behind his head and stared at the ceiling. 'S'good.'

'Really?'

'Well… do summit then. Wan' me ta show ya?'

Giles twitched up his eyebrows and taking his hand off Spike's penis replied 'Yes,' quite quietly, but with an intense, barely-suppressed desire. He sat back and watched as Spike's fingers took the erection lightly by the tip. Spike worked his foreskin expertly, rolling it off the cockhead, rubbing his thumb over the exposed soft knob. Without disturbing Spike's self-absorbed pleasure, Giles reached quietly behind him and produced a notebook and pencil from his drawer. Spike was irresistible. Giles focused on the erection, capturing the contrast of shadow and light from the hair and skin tones. He caught the strength and urgency and the way the slim fingers worked their magic on it. He sketched only as far as Spike's nipples and down to his knees. The whole focus of the eye was on that exposed, worked penis. He knew this sketch would not add any subtle dimensions to his study of the vampire's character, but he wanted it nonetheless. He glanced up at Spike and felt a shiver trickle down his spine when he saw he was being watched.

'S'yer duster, luv.'

Giles paused. 'What?'

'Keeps ya 'way from everythink - like me duster. Ya shud let yer self go 'bit.'

'Like you?'

Spike chuckled. 'I'm swingin' on the moon, pet, but yeah… just close yer eyes an' go fer it.'

Giles laid down his sketch. 'Go for what, Spike. What exactly do you expect me to do?'

Spike put a hand gently to Giles' face and slipped his thumb into the warm mouth. 'How's about that tongue bein' yer pencil fer a change?'

Spike played idly with the tongue, rubbing his thumb on it, teasing the tip, and then gradually, inch-by-inch, he pulled Giles down so his face was on his smooth, cool chest. Giles found one small, soft nipple right under his tongue, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to shade it in. He swirled round and round, able to feel it harden and peak to the touch of his new, intimate pencil. He felt his detachment peeling away. His balls started to tingle, and he licked the skin over Spike's ribs tentatively. It was so cool, so flawless. He wanted more. He kissed down Spike's belly towards the soft hair. Spike put his other hand to Giles' head, guiding him lower. He murmured soft, incomprehensible, slurred encouragement to the exploration. Giles lifted his head up and watched as Spike exposed the tip of his penis with each stroke of his fist. Giles decided it wasn't as deeply pink as he wanted it and ran his chalk across the tiny slit. Spike gasped at the heat on his cool flesh, and Giles added hard, experimental colours, rolling over the knob and its ridge, slipping in under the foreskin to add relief there.

Still detached, still remote, still not able to accept what he was doing, Giles was unprepared for Spike to give one huge shudder and send a load of cum against his face and over his tongue. He pulled back and watched as Spike writhed, milking the last drops of his orgasm, unconcerned about Giles' presence, unheeding of his audience - centred, focused and relieved.

When Spike was finished, his hand stilled on his penis, and he let a smile play on his face. ''S'at's better.'

Giles was about to comment, but saw with fond amusement that, once more, Spike had fallen deeply asleep. Giles sat back and put a hand to his face. He wiped some of the cum off, closing his eyes to savour it in his mouth. He had not tasted sperm for a very long time, and it evoked memories of such exquisite delicious pain that his whole body was suffused with the remnants of his dark power: pounding bodies, incantations, blood-rites he had indulged in… all evoked by the taste of the viscous salty fluid in his mouth. There had always been pain; there had always been blood; there had always been the ripping of flesh before the pleasure of release…. He took a deep breath. His hand crept down to his crotch. He released his own straining erection and, without any detachment, with full, intense concentration and desire, he opened his eyes, feasted them on Spike's body, and worked himself to the taste of Spike in his mouth. It had been so long. He was so tight and so ready for release. He put a hand on Spike's chest and leant over him. He felt the rush, felt the cresting over the edge of promised pleasure and, with a gasp, emptied himself over Spike's flaccid penis. He shuddered as he came and moaned from the intensity. He continued to pump out; the soft plops of cum landing on Spike, glistening on his dark hair and running off his slim flanks. Giles kept his eyes fixed on the tip of Spike's cock, imagining rolling it around in his mouth, bringing Spike off, pushing his tongue into the tiny slit... until he felt himself start to soften. As he collapsed back on his heels he tried to make Spike cum in his mouth but could not extend the fantasy beyond his own sweet relief.

Giles staggered off the bed and went into the bathroom. He brushed the mess off the sink and bathed his face and hands. He did not look at himself in the mirror, but turned away and, with a sigh, went to clear up the living room.

He made a desultory attempt before collapsing in a chair. He tipped his head back and went through the events in the bed from finding Spike stoned to his own powerful orgasm. He smiled. They'd had a brief respite from the game, and it had felt good. Giles glanced sadly back up the stairs and briefly considered the contents of his bathroom cabinet. He wanted to let himself go. He wanted to be uncontrolled, uncaring of the consequences of his actions… but he was the watcher. It's what he did - watch.

He clenched and unclenched his fists for a while, trying to release the tension in his body. He still felt the old power and desire coursing through him; he could almost hear the ancient whispered magics taunting him. He let the voices stay, for he had need of all his courage, all his power now… wherever it came from. He could not afford to feel fear, so ignored the slightly sick feeling in his belly and the tiredness behind his eyes. He got up and went to his coat, taking out a small slip of paper with a telephone number on it. Listening briefly to ensure that Spike was still asleep, he dialled the first of the numbers he had been given at Willy's Bar.

Spike woke with a slight headache and a muzzy feeling behind his eyes. Neither was as bad as the intense agony in his head for the last twelve hours, so he turned over, pleased with life. That he was naked registered first. That he was sticky occurred to him second. That he had lain and wanked off in front of Rupert Giles hit him third and rather took away all other thoughts for a while. Kissing. Licking. Oh, God, turning over and exposing himself. Spike covered his eyes with his arm. Fuck no, Giles' hand being forced onto him. He curled into a tiny ball. Bloody hell, had he given himself one of his special slow hand jobs with Giles kneeling along side him? Oh, fuck! The git had been drawing him. Spike remembered Giles actually sketching him masturbating. He sprung up and searched the drawers; he looked under the bed cursing. Nothing. It was gone. He flung himself down once more, groaned and considered Brazil as the best alternative. When things could not seem worse he remembered his aim. Oh shit… had he put his cum on Giles' face? It seemed inconceivable. He'd hardly ever touched the watcher in the six years he known him, but he'd lain there, unconcerned, and cummed him… and then what? Spike sat up and looked down, puzzled. He sniffed suspiciously then lay down grinning. He had fallen asleep after his orgasm. He remembered that… shoot and sleep. So why… and this was a reasonable question he thought… why was he covered in human cum? Why, more specifically, was his cock covered in human cum? It was a satisfying end to his reflections. He'd been stoned… what was Rupert bloody Giles' excuse?

He couldn't find his clothes and seemed to remember another very pleasant vampire wearing them while they had a picnic, so he borrowed some of Giles' stuff. He found a reasonable un-square looking pair of jeans and an old faded denim shirt. Grinning at their effect on him, Spike made his way downstairs. Giles was on the telephone and turned his back when Spike appeared, finishing off his conversation in a hushed and hurried voice.

'Hello.'

Giles only nodded and replaced the handset.

'So… '

'Recovered?'

Spike hopped up onto the counter. 'Oh yeah… always do, vampire constitutions and all that.' Spike peered suspiciously at the microwave as if having a flashback to something but then shrugged cheerfully.

'Do you remember anything at all?' Giles' voice was quietly amused, but Spike did not miss an underlying hint of concern.

'Everything. Up to when I fell asleep that is… '

'Ah. And you're not… embarrassed.'

'Are you?'

'Well, I'm not going to publish the incident, no.'

'Pity, you could illustrate it an' all, couldn't you?'

Giles blushed, and Spike laughed. 'Never no mind, watcher. You can blot your copy book over me any time you like.'

Giles looked up sharply. It was a familiar enough saying and seemed to relate only to his sketching, but he wasn't so sure Spike didn't have another more subtle meaning. He studied Spike's look until the vampire looked away, amused. Giles coughed lightly feeling that although it had been Spike that had got stoned, Spike that had almost destroyed his kitchen, and Spike that had blatantly masturbated in front of him, he was now the guilty one. He huffed and put the kettle on, ignoring the stare he felt Spike giving him behind his back. When the tea was made, Giles handed Spike a cup and said, 'Sit down. I have something to tell you.'

Spike raised one eyebrow. 'No going down on one knee?'

'Shut up, Spike. I have spent the last two hours scraping something I don't even want to attempt to identify off my microwave; I am in no mood for your strange sense of humour. Sit down, shut up and listen for once.'

Still chuckling, Spike did as Giles bid and sprawled on the couch, looking relaxed and pleased with himself.

Giles did not mince his words. 'I've found your dog.'

Spike's demeanour changed in an instant. He jumped up, alert and apprehensive. 'Where?'

'Sit down. It's not as easy as that. It appears you were right after all; Fang is a vampire hell hound.'

'What! I mean… bloody hell.'

'Quite.'

'How the fuck did you find 'im… how did you find that out?'

'It wasn't too difficult. I questioned your friend with the odd skin contours; he led me to a hideous bar where I discovered a Xol demon that eventually admitted he had stolen the puppy - and are hellhounds offspring called puppies?'

'Dunno… didn't know they still existed… err… I mean… so where is he?'

'Ah, well, that's the problem. He's been kidnapped… dognapped…'

'Fuck! Who? Bleedin' vampires… jesus, I hate fucking vampires… who's got 'im? I'll kill 'em.'

'You can't; they're human. He's been taken by some renegade watchers I'm afraid.'

Spike giggled from a nervous release of tension. 'Renegade watchers… you are fucking pulling my dick ain't you?'

'No, I save that for when you are stoned apparently.'

It was said. Slipped into a conversation that took almost all of Spike's attention, Giles tested the vampire's reactions to their games. Spike turned to him with an unreadable expression. 'Or for when I'm asleep.'

'Ah. Indeed… mine that is, not yours.'

Spike tapped his nose. 'I'm a vampire, Giles.'

'Yes, I had forgotten.'

Spike tipped his head back at this admission. He studied Giles intently. After a moment he gave a small nod, came over to Giles' chair, and crouched down in front of him. 'No more games, watcher. When this is over, I will have you. You want me; I want you.' He stood up gracefully and went back to his place on the couch. 'So, how we gonna get him back?'

Reeling from Spike's words, it took all of Giles' considerable strength of character to answer with any degree of nonchalance. 'We are not going to do anything, Spike. These people are dedicated, elite, vampire hunters. There may be one watcher leading them, but the rank and file will be ordinary folk whose lives have taken an extraordinary path. Seeing friends or relatives killed by vampires can drive some people to a killing frenzy that they can't then escape from. So no, Spike, you cannot come too.'

Spike got up and paced restlessly. Giles watched the way his old clothes hardly clung to Spike's slim body, how hard he looked under them, how… desirable. 'What the hell do they want a vampire hellhound for? They're vampire dogs… they kill humans - properly trained 'course.'

'Exactly, I assume they use them to detect and identify vampires…'

'We're hardly difficult to spot, are we?'

'Even Buffy didn't recognise Angel for what he was for many months.'

Spike flung himself back on the couch distractedly running a hand through his hair. 'Yeah, well, most of us ain't thinking with our brains when we look at Angel, are we?' As if realising he'd made some fundamentally incriminating confession, Spike went back on the attack, trying to ignore Giles' amused looked of wonder. 'Look, Xol demons are fucking liars… known for it throughout the demon world… how'd ya know he wasn't just yanking your chain?'

'I thought of that. I had Willow test some of the… err… biological substance he deposited on my tiles the other night. Definitely demon extraction.'

'All right. He is - so let's go get 'im!'

'No! Spike, I've just told you, these people are fanatics. I've heard - and I don't actually believe this myself - I've heard they have adopted some very black practices. They keep captured vampires for training purposes, torturing them until they become too damaged to fight and then they stake them. There is absolutely no way are you getting involved in this. I only told you so you do NOT come looking for me tonight when I go to meet them.'

'Okay.'

'Uh huh. And that okay is a "I'll wait until the old geezer leaves and go anyway" sort of okay, is it?'

'No. It's an "I understand completely and I'll stay here like a good little boy" sort of okay. But Giles… ' Spike looked down and played with his thumb ring.

'What, Spike?'

'These fuckers sound dangerous, and I've got plans for you later… can't do ya if you're dead, mate. Well, I could 'suppose - if you got turned - but rather have you warm and pliant, 'k?'

Giles got up, and as he passed Spike he leant over and pulled his face into a kiss. He opened up Spike's mouth quite as easily and effectively as Spike had done with his. He sank to his knees and wrapped his hands around Spike's head, urging him further into the kiss. Spike slid off the couch, taken unaware by this unexpected passion. They pulled apart for a moment, looked into each other's eyes and knew beyond a doubt that they were seconds away from falling to the floor and taking each other. Giles nodded, acknowledging the understanding between them. 'Tonight, Spike. When I come back… and be assured, I will be coming back.' He smiled, got to his feet, grabbed a coat, and left. Spike remained behind, aroused and unsatisfied.

Giles made his way cautiously into the back room of the magic shop. Although it was locked, he did not put it past the renegades to get there early and gain some advantage over him. He did not anticipate the exchange going badly, but you never knew with fanatics. He wanted the dog; they wanted some unique research on the black arts that he was reputed to hold. He sat on the couch and waited, thinking back over the past forty-eight hours. When had curious detachment been replaced by searing need? Had it been the sketching that had brought him to this almost uncontrollable urge to return to his apartment and take Spike on the floor? Had it been the intense activities on the bed? Or had it been Spike's abrupt ending of the game and his heartfelt admission that he wanted this weak, ageing, human body. Being wanted was an intense aphrodisiac. That something so inherently beautiful as Spike wanted him overwhelmed Giles. How he wanted to tangle and writhe with those cool limbs.

'Well, well, Ripper!' Lost in his thoughts of the slim vampire, Giles had not heard the ex-watcher enter by the back door. Slowly, he came into the light, followed by a number of rough, tense-looking young men and women.

Giles stood up, surprised. 'St John? What are you doing involved with this riff raff? Hardly your style, I'd have thought.' The man called St John came closer and put out his hand. Giles took it and found himself being pulled into a fond embrace. He attempted to relax into it, but felt tension radiating off his old council colleague.

'I could ask the same of you, Ripper. Why are you dealing for the return of a hellhound? Hardly watcher business, is it?'

Giles avoided a direct answer. 'Well, where is it then?'

'It's not here, obviously… not until we have the research we want. But we thought we'd bring this to show you.' St John turned and clicked his fingers, and one of the young men went back out into the night and returned with a dog on a lead…. a dog in the loosest possible terms. Giles eyed his first grown hellhound warily. He had to admit it was beautiful. It reminded him of an artic wolf. It had a similar body shape and blue eyes, but this creature was at least twice the size, more like a deerhound and, like that animal, could easily bring a human down in the chase. The hound seemed docile enough with the humans and lay down alongside the wall bars contentedly.

'Beautiful, isn't he? He'll sense a vampire from over a hundred metres… always wanting to return to his natural masters. He unknowingly gives them away to us and we…' St John made a stabbing motion with his fist, and Giles cocked an eyebrow at him.

'So, how do we do this swap then?'

'What, Ripper, no time for small talk? How long has it been? Twenty years?'

'Longer. And it's not Ripper. It's Giles. Just Giles.'

'Shame. I always thought that name so appropriate… but then I sort of enjoyed it first hand, didn't I?' The younger humans spread themselves restlessly around the room, examining the weapons and chatting quietly among themselves. Giles sat back down on the couch, and St John perched on the arm, lighting a cigar. Giles studied him. It had been twenty-two years, and he remembered it all as if it had been yesterday. The experimentation, the power, the pain, and the feelings that they had been the masters of the universe… these things you did not forget… but this man in front of him was not the vital young man with the body of a Greek God he had followed down dark paths. He was a slightly balding, slightly overweight, middle- aged man who seemed to have replaced passion with fanaticism.

Giles was about to speak when the hound sat up. The single movement sent a chill down Giles' spine. When the dog's eyes glowed red Giles actually shook himself to rid the eerie feeling from his own body. Everyone turned to look at the dog. One young man said with a quiet, intense delight. 'Vampire!'

St John turned to him. 'Take two others, and hunt it down. Don't capture it; kill it.'

Giles felt his stomach contract in fear. Could he have been this stupid? Could Spike really have disobeyed him and followed him here? Of course he could. Giles knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the dog was sensing Spike. He laid a hand frantically on St John's arm, realised his mistake, and turned the movement into casual, nonchalant interest.

'Oh, if it looks like a young, blond haired man… it's mine… I'd appreciate it if you didn't kill it. It's taken me a year to get it how I want.'

'Ripper? You delight me! You never liked my ideas about crash dummies.'

'Yes, well, I have seen so many vampires now, I see more merit in your ideas, although a personal training vampire hardly equates to your idea of selling them for crash dummies!'

'A personal one, though? What fun! We go through too many to remember one from the other.' He nodded at the three young men who had gathered by the door. 'Fetch it, and bring it here.'

Giles could do nothing but pray that it was any stray vampire that happed to be passing. He did not want to play out this difficult negotiation with the added complication of Spike's presence. He heard him before he saw him - colourful, outraged swearing preceded the four figures into the room. Two of the men had Spike's arms bend up behind his back, the other one held a sort or rigid noose around his neck. Giles saw it was a dogcatchers' ring.

Spike was brought into the centre of the room and forced, swearing, onto his knees. St John got up and tipped Spike's chin up, studying his face with interest. 'I take it this is the one you were referring to?'

Giles came over and took a handful of Spike's hair, forcing him to look up. He locked eyes with the familiar vampire and prayed that their games would have some use now. Keeping Spike's eye contact he said with feigned nonchalance. 'It certainly is. This is Spike… aka William the Bloody. I assume you've heard of it? It's been my training vampire for nearly two years, and I would sincerely appreciate it if neither you nor your… people… staked it.'

Spike held Giles' eye contact, and Giles saw the slightest of nods. He'd got the new game. Giles' relief was short-lived. A quiet voice said, 'He's lying.'

Both St John and Giles looked at the young man still holding the noose around Spike's neck. St John laughed lightly. 'You'd do well, Peter, not to question Ripper on his veracity. I seem to remember that always upset him a little, and you do not - let me repeat - do not want to upset Ripper.'

'This thing was loose in the basement. There was no sign of restraint, and it was unguarded and had access to the sewers. It is not captive.' The young man called Peter cocked his head on one side and gave Giles a challenging look. St John did the same, and Giles stalled for time by slowly removing his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. Before either man could react, he put a crashing blow on Peter's face, and the young man fell, unconscious.

Giles smiled at his old colleague. 'They don't make them like they did in our day, do they?'

St John eyed his foot soldier thoughtfully. 'I hope you have a good explanation for that, Giles?'

Giles smiled, released the noose from around Spike's neck, and led him to the couch. 'Sit down.' Spike did as Giles requested without protest.

Giles turned back to face the accusatory and threatening eyes. 'It's chipped. It can't hurt humans, so I leave it to wander about as it chooses. It can't go far; it's hated in the demon world and a prey to any lout on a Saturday night binge looking for some action.'

'Chipped?'

'Yes, I had it neutered… so it would be safe. The experiment's worked rather well, and I'm thinking of copyrighting the idea… it's a lot less exhausting than staking them, that's for sure… and they can make rather… pretty pets.'

St John nodded sagely to this idea, and Giles only hoped that no one would see through his blatant lie. No such luck. The older watcher looked up with hard, cold eyes. 'So, your training demon can't hurt humans, Giles? Rather a contradiction in terms, isn't it? Not much of an opponent, if it can't strike back.'

Giles paused, look down deep into his character, drew on depths he rarely had to plummet, and looked back up, as if unconcerned at the desperate plight Spike was now in. 'Ah… but you are missing the point, St John. It is here to train us in stoicism. If we don't show pain, its chip doesn't work. It hits my Slayer; she learns not to show pain. She is magnificent now.'

St John gave a low whistle. 'A natural barometer for human courage? Wonderful. Can I try it out?'

Giles did not hesitate. 'Of course, be my guest.'

Spike got warily to his feet. 'Fuck off.'

St John laughed. 'You let it speak, how droll, and Giles… English too! I'm touched.' He swung a low punch at Spike who hardly seemed to feel the blow. Spike glanced at Giles, unsure what he was being asked to do. Giles nodded fractionally at him, so Spike punched the human… not very hard, but sure he would collapse in agony anyway. St John showed no reaction to the blow… not a flicker of emotion crossed his face until a grin spread from ear to ear. 'Interesting. Hit harder, vampire. I want to see how well this chip works.' Never one to be subtle with such an invitation and thinking he may as well get hung for a humungous sheep as for a smidgen of a lamb, Spike swung his best punch into the human's nose. St John collapsed in pain, joined shortly after by Spike. The others moved in closer in a threatening manner, but the kneeling human waved them off and stood up, his nose bleeding.

Giles looked scornfully at him. 'My Slayer would have withstood that pain. It can never make her flinch these days. Good, hey?'

St John nodded with respect at Giles. 'I am truly impressed, Ripper. This is an excellent training aid. So… I think I've changed my mind about the terms of our deal. The hound for the vampire - what do you say?'

Giles continued his flawless performance and laughed. He could not quite take his anxious thoughts off the prone Spike, but he answered with a credible amount of coolness. 'I'm only getting the bloody dog to help me keep track of that thing on the floor - no vampire - no need for dog! Now, come on, let's do this trade.'

St John smiled, nodded at a couple of his minions, and they went over to pull Peter to his feet. 'Where is the book, Giles?'

'In my apartment, on the mantel.'

The two young men left, carrying Peter limply between them, and Giles pulled Spike to his feet, sitting him back on the couch. St John stood dabbing at his nose. The waiting was tense. Giles sat down next to Spike, and when St John wandered over to speak to one of the remaining gang, he heard a quiet, 'I'm sorry,' from the vampire.

He hissed back. 'You will be.'

He sensed Spike smiling and felt Spike pressing his thigh against him. 'Nah, you love it… playing these games…'

I'd prefer it if our lives weren't in imminent danger of ending, Spike.'

'We've got away with it… easy.'

'Don't underestimate St John, Spike, or the fanaticism of these young people.'

'I don't. But I don't underestimate you either, Ripper.'

Their quiet conversation was interrupted when the humans returned empty handed except for a folder in Peter's hand. He gave it to his boss with a triumphant, spiteful look at Giles. Giles' bowels contracted in fear. St John studied the contents of the folder, turning the pages around looking at them from different angles. He wandered back to the couch and stood looking speculatively at Spike, then down at the paper in his hand. It unnerved Spike for he did not recognise the folder. 'What? Bleedin' hell, what?'

'Quite right, vampire, what indeed? What are you doing with these, Giles? Is this how it is with you and your so-called training vampire?' St John held up the sketch of Spike naked on the couch and let it drop into Giles' lap. Spike picked it up and looked at it for the first time. He was impressed, and the drawing was quite good, too. He sniggered and looked between the two humans. He felt things had taken a turn for the worse, but there was little he could do to turn it back.

Giles was still cool, but it was becoming less and less easy to maintain his lie. He stretched lazily back on the couch and gave a small shake of his head. 'Have you actually looked at him? What do you expect? Come on, St John… you know my little… peccadilloes. I'm hardly going to pass up an opportunity like this, am I?' He placed a hand on Spike's knee. Spike moved his leg away, and Giles turned and punched him in the face. It was not an especially hard blow, but Spike curled up, feigning more pain than he felt. St John grunted, satisfied.

Suddenly the figure of the young man, Peter, loomed behind him. 'He's still fooling you, boss. Let's test him, hey?' He fetched a whip from one of the others, and before Giles could protest, Spike was seized, and his wrists were tied together with belts on the wall bars.

He twisted around to face the room; Peter went up to him and held him by the jaw. He ran a stake almost seductively up Spike's body from his thigh to his heart. 'I think he's lying, vampire. I think there's something going on here… are you controlling him somehow? Is he afraid of you? What is it, demon?'

Spike answered him by producing an impressive amount of spit and hurling it accurately in the menacing face. He grinned and cocked his scarred eyebrow. Peter broke Spike's jaw with his first blow, with his second he cracked a rib, but Spike brought up his knee and thumped it into the young man's balls. Peter didn't (or couldn't) hide the pain, and Spike arched back in agony as his attacker fell to his knees. He glared up at Spike and picked up the discarded stake. Giles shook off St John's restraining hands and grabbed the young man's arm. He looked into the faces of the assembled company and knew he was losing it… knew that they did not believe him any more. He snatched up the whip and ran it through his fingers, separating the strands. 'Don't stake him. Let me punish him properly, hey?'

He looked at Spike and said icily 'Turn around.'

Spike let fly a stream of obscenities, but Giles only shrugged. 'Fine,' and he let the strands fly over Spike's belly. Spike howled in outrage, so Giles flailed him across his groin. Spike hissed, but turned his back, as he had been ordered. Giles now went up to him and, turning to see the humans' reactions, ripped Spike's tee shirt down the back and tore off the two halves. As he leant around Spike to free the pieces on his arms, he ran one finger over Spike's chest and murmured as quietly as the sound of his digit on the cool skin. 'Forgive me.' Giles felt Spike's head tip to one side fractionally to press against his arm. It was enough. They understood each other. Both knew they were now playing a far more deadly game than they had anticipated.

Giles turned away a little unsteadily and went back to his position, wiping one piece of Spike's tee shirt over the strands of the whip. When his back was to Spike, he heard another ripping sound and turned to find Peter tearing Spike's jeans off, too. Spike was left naked and hanging from the leather straps around his wrists. Spike hid his face against his arm, and the assembled humans laughed, delighted at the thought that the vampire was humiliated by his nakedness. 'Come on, Ripper. Show us what you're made of.'

Giles didn't hesitate. He brought the whip down across Spike's shoulders then stopped to see the result of the lash. The crimson streak emerged and blossomed gradually. It wasn't a colour he'd have picked for Spike, but Giles couldn't deny its attraction. Spike made a picture of stark contrasts, and Giles continued to add brilliant highlights to the pale figure, stroke after stroke across the body that he had studied so intently… across the body he had caressed with his eyes and his hands and his tongue. The whip did the caressing for him now. It lay on Spike's skin finding sensitive places, making Spike groan, and exploring his muscles and his nerves. To every stroke on Spike's skin, Giles grew harder. Every shade, every highlight connected him to the vampire. He shed his detachment as he shed Spike's blood. The whip joined them in an intimate connection of pain and arousal. Giles used all his skill on Spike. He delineated every contour of the familiar body with blood-red lines. He ripped Spike apart, and he swelled to the ripping.

The humans gradually started to leave, some disturbed by what they were witnessing, some bored, but some clearly aroused, and they slunk away to more private places. St John seemed to fit into this category. He had stationed himself to one side of Spike and appeared to be fixated on the twisting body. He grew visibly hot and flustered and was the last to leave, turning and almost running from the room.

Finally alone, Giles dropped the whip and sank to his knees. He put his forehead to the floor, unable to look at the body hanging from the wall bars. Other than a few groans, Spike had not made a sound the entire time of his torture. His voice now, in the ensuing silence, was shockingly loud, even though he spoke with the smallest of croaks. 'Giles…'

Giles looked up and got to his feet. He went over to Spike and pressed against him slightly as he stretched up to undo the tight leather bindings. Spike groaned and pushed back against him, and his bleeding backside rubbed against Giles' erection. Giles groaned, making to move away, but Spike's voice held him close. 'Giles… please. Now.'

Giles caught Spike's face and turned him slightly. He saw what St John had been watching with such avid fascination. Spike was painfully erect, his penis standing hard against his belly, the tip exposed and weeping with a steady stream of precum leaking out and mixing with blood to form a trickle of pink. Spike's eyes were closed, but he pushed back once more against Giles. His voice was low and urgent; there was no pretence at all: he was laid bare, his plea as raw as his body. 'Take me, Giles, now… before I change my mind.'

Giles laid his forehead briefly on Spike's shoulder. He pressed him into the wall bars and ran his hands up Spike's back through the blood. They slipped, and he fell harder against him. His erection drained the blood from his brain; he felt light headed from the physical exertion. He fumbled with his zip and let all rational thought desert him. When his erection sprang into the cool air, Giles hissed and took it reverently in both hands. He rubbed the tip against the blood that covered Spike's cheeks, running it up and down the lash lines. Spike groaned and spread his legs wider. Giles pulled back his foreskin and placed the tip of his cock to the smeared blood. He rolled it around, as if trying to erase the marks he had unwillingly put on Spike's body. The blood only coated him, too. Giles slid a hand around Spike's waist and found the root of his cock. He held it tightly, rubbing into the soft hair, and slipping two fingers down to press and stimulate Spike's balls. Spike groaned again and pushed back, trapping Giles' erection between them. With his free hand, Giles explored for the entrance that Spike had so freely offered him. It was cool to the touch, slick with blood, and parted easily to the pressure of one insistent finger. Just inside, Giles paused and put his face into Spike's neck. He kissed into the damp blond hairline and increased the stimulation on Spike's cock. 'I don't understand this. Why?'

Giles' plea was heartfelt, and Spike heard the bewilderment evident in the voice. He shifted slightly so he could feel the penetration of Giles' finger more and tipped his head back to rub against Giles' face. 'Cus I'm a vampire. You forgot it… and that's… that was everything. I won't forget that, pet. But this is me, too, and I want you to see it. I want to share it with you, with a human, for the first time. I swell to the pain, watcher. I feed on the agony… so, share it with me?'

Giles started to move the finger in Spike's hole. He hooked it against the inner ring and pulled and stretched. Spike's moaning sent them both into a frenzy of need. Giles kicked Spike's legs even further apart, and then took his hand off Spike's cock to lift one of his thighs. Spike responded and hooked his foot over a wall bar, stretching his cheeks apart. Giles took his own erection once more and, looking down as if to imprint the image in his mind, he pressed the tip against the entrance he was stretching and stimulating with his finger. As he eased his cock in, he withdrew his finger - the contrasting directions of friction making Spike writhe in his restraints. Giles' smooth knob disappeared inside the vampire, leaving only its glistening shaft in the chill air. He rubbed his hands once more over Spike's rapidly healing back and coated the remaining column with cool, slick blood. Giles put his arms under Spike's and grasped the wall bars, pulling them in tightly. Inch by inch, he eased fully into the tight channel. Every movement dragged his foreskin back more deliciously, rolling it up against the rim of his swollen tip. Stretched as he was, Spike's backside was almost flat, and Giles was able to embed fully until his wiry curls brushed the bleeding skin. It only took slight movement to rub Spike's cock against the wooden bars, so Giles thrust in a few times to make him moan some more.

'Fuck, Giles, hold me, too…'

Giles tipped his head back at the delectable moment and grinned. 'I thought I told you to stay put tonight.'

Spike stilled noticeably in his restraints. He twisted to cast a glance over his shoulder. '… this is a joke, right? You fucking beat me half to death, and now you're eight inches up me arse, and you want to play friggin' mind games? Bring me off, watcher, or you'll be sorry.'

Giles nuzzled once more into Spike's hair. 'What are you going to do, Spike? Lick me to death?' The nervous tension of the last few hours broke out of Giles in a high-pitched giggle. He felt himself swell to his own power. He tried a few experimental thrusts, but held them both far enough away from the wall bars that Spike's cock had no contact at all.

'Nooo!' Spike furiously tried to lower his leg to prevent some of Giles' pleasure, but Giles only hooked one arm under it and held on to the bars just the same. Spike was trapped, one leg raised, his whole body stretched and vulnerable to Giles' desire. Giles giggled once more and began to moan appreciatively as he started long, slow enjoyment of Spike's tight passage. He propped his chin on Spike's shoulder and peered down at the vampire's erection.

'That looks rather painful, Spike. Is it?'

Spike made to fling his head back to butt Giles off, but thought better of it at the last moment. He hung his head and, for a moment, Giles thought the game had gone sour.

Suddenly Spike started to laugh. He lifted his head and tipped it softly against Giles. 'You win, watcher. Now just fuck me, will you?'

Giles was happy to oblige. Participating now, Spike started to writhe and thrust back against Giles' penetration. At every hard contact with Spike's cheeks, Giles felt his balls contract and swell more. The friction on his cock from Spike's soft, cool walls was incredible: he'd never felt stimulation like it. He wanted it to last; he wanted to draw out the pleasure from this slim, intoxicating body. Spike seemed to sense his delight, for he began low, erotic encouragement. When Giles slammed in particularly hard, Spike hissed delightedly, 'Yeah.' As Giles pulled out until the red circumference of his knob was just visible stretching Spike's hole, Spike groaned out a vehement 'Fuck.' 'Yeah' and 'fuck' began to get closer together as Giles lost himself to the intensity of his imminent orgasm. It started in the small of his back: a tingle that grew and swelled his balls. It was hot: it seared him in its demand for release. He took his hands off the bars and gripped Spike's hips, digging his fingers painfully into the hollows he had found so difficult to capture on paper. Unbelievably, Spike took his whole weight on his wrists and lifted his other leg to hook that foot on the bars as well. He sank down onto Giles' cock so the thrusting had even more depth. It finished Giles off. His orgasm crashed out of him in a spurt of hot sperm that spattered against Spike's cool walls. Giles stopped thrusting and jerked himself into Spike, his legs shuddering at the effort of taking Spike's weight. Awash with cum, Spike became slippery, and Giles revelled in the feel of the sopping channel. With a final spasm, he emptied a last shot of cum into Spike, felt his legs buckle, and fell to his knees. He looked up at the stretched, displayed vampire, glistening and slick from blood and from the cum draining out of him, and watched with awe as Spike removed his feet from the bars, hung for a moment with his legs outstretched, and then lowered them gracefully and easily to the floor.

Spike twisted around in his bindings and looked down at Giles. He twitched up his eyebrow. Giles gave a tiny, rueful laugh. On his knees, Spike's cock was so close to Giles' mouth as to make the gap, no gap at all. Spike twitched his eyebrow again and thrust forward slightly, so his penis swayed against Giles' lips.

'Come on, watcher, do the decent, hey?'

Giles allowed the tip of his tongue to poke out and just catch the end of Spike's cock, and the desperate vampire groaned and writhed, swearing and pleading. Giles withdrew his tongue and flicked it around his mouth, tasting Spike's precum. Suddenly, he shifted forwards on his knees and swallowed the soft, spongy knob of the offered cock. Spike let out a high-pitched sound of relief and lifted both legs, wrapping them tightly around Giles' neck. Giles rolled the cool, slightly salty knob around in his mouth, slipping his tongue under Spike's foreskin, and allowing his teeth to graze over the rim. He put his hands to Spike's backside to pull him closer, and his fingers parted Spike's cheeks. His hole was still slick with sperm and blood, and Giles pushed the middle finger of each hand in and pulled and probed the soft flesh. Spike tried to ride more into Giles' mouth; Giles resisted for a brief moment but let the cockhead finally graze his throat. Out of practice, he started to gag; but his discomfort was short-lived, for he felt Spike's entire body shudder with the force of a powerful, pain- induced orgasm that filled his mouth, sent cum draining down his throat and spilling from his lips. He pushed Spike back slightly so he had just the tip of the spouting cock between his lips and sucked hard on the tiny slit. Spike keened a high note of intense satisfaction at this and continued to pump cum into Giles' mouth.

Eventually, Spike's orgasm faded to dull, blissful throbbing in his balls and a light twitching up and down his penis. He lowered his legs and wriggled off Giles' fingers with a slight laugh. With no further comment, Giles stood and, using one of his swords, slashed Spike free. Spike looked down, rubbing at his traumatised wrists but was pulled up as Giles seized his face. No soft opening of mouths this time - this was raw and urgent need. Spike could taste his own cum coating the walls of Giles' mouth and spilling out over his chin. He kissed back urgently and felt himself starting to swell again - the taste of the cum, the smell of the blood, the feel of Giles' warm body pressed to his - it was all overwhelming. Suddenly Giles pulled away and forced Spike's gaze to his. `Will you obey me now?'

Before Spike could reply to this strange question, Giles dragged him over to a cabinet and thrust an old set of training sweats at him. `Go. Don't go to your crypt or my place. Go to a demon place... anywhere you will be safe until this is over... but just go, Spike. Please.'

`What about me dog?'

Giles looked down for a moment then caught Spike's eye once again. `They won't exchange him, Spike, I never expected them to. Do you think I would trust a watcher to keep his word?' He saw Spike's disappointment and his futile attempt to hide that human emotion. `Buffy and Xander are rescuing it while I keep the gang here. Anya can sense it... but I've failed my part of the plan to keep them all here and together.'

`Fuck... I failed it, you mean.'

`Yes, all right, you did... but...' It was Giles' turn to look down, embarrassed.

`Hey, watcher...' Spike tipped Giles' chin up and placed a soft kiss on his lips. He took the sweats and dressed, grimacing at the faintly unpleasant smell and odd look. `I'm going. Play it out for me, hey?' One last teasing kiss and Spike left.

Kept inside by the sun, it was only later the following evening that Spike was able to make his way to Giles' apartment. More suitably dressed and wearing his duster, he tried to resurrect the Big Bad. He suspected this was a futile effort: he hadn't been very big or very bad lately. He knocked hesitantly on the door, unsure of his reception. Distanced from the events playing out around him all day, Spike had had time to reflect on the intensity of the previous night.

He had never allowed humans to see him like that before: he did not often allow himself to be like that any more. The pain had overwhelmed him, stripped him of his humanity, and made his demon beg for relief. It had been sublime: all he had wanted was orgasm and release. So he had let Giles take him. They had done it. The quiet, bookish watcher that he had watched and studied for years had whipped and then penetrated him. Human sperm had filled his body. He had shown the watcher the extent of his subjugation. Where would they go from here? Spike doubted that Giles would cope as easily with his behaviour as a vampire could. Spike clung to his excuse that he was a demon - how could Giles rationalise what had happened between them? He had to see the watcher now though, for he had heard no news and could no longer bear his forced idleness.

Being kept waiting at the door did not bode well for this meeting. Spike fidgeted on the doorstep and debated leaving, but the door was suddenly opened a crack, and Giles peered out. `Oh, it's you.' He opened the door wide and beckoned with his head for Spike to enter. When he was in, Giles shut the door and turned to him. Spike grinned. Giles was wet, dripping onto the tiles with a towel clasped around his waist. `Sorry, I was taking a shower.'

There was a distinctly awkward pause. To cover, Spike shed his coat and prowled into the kitchen, looking for a drink. `Well?'

Giles perched on one of his bar stools. `They got it back.' At Spike's delighted expression, Giles continued swiftly, `You can't keep it, Spike.'

Spike put his drink down carefully on the counter, studied it for a moment then glanced up with an unreadable look. `And why would that be? Given that he is mine, not yours.'

`I know. But I can't trust you not to train it, Spike. When I thought it was just a puppy, I was happy for you to keep it... but now... I'm sorry.'

`Ah. I see.' Once more he looked down, and Giles could sense the tension radiating off him, could see it in the edgy lines of the body he now knew so well. `So...' Spike's voice was deceptively light. `... my improvements extend to shagging me, but not to trusting me, hey?'

Giles felt himself to be at a dangerous crossroads. He wasn't afraid of the vampire; it was not that sort of danger. He wanted him. It was as simple as that. Since that urgent penetration in the blood and the sweat, all his thoughts, all his desires, had revolved around Spike. Giles wanted Spike, and he did not want this brewing argument to interfere. He tipped his head back slightly, considering his options. Slowly, he got off the stool and came around to Spike's side of the counter. He advanced steadily. Spike glanced behind him angrily, judging distances and space, but realised he couldn't fight him anyway. He stood his ground with a mutinous look on his face. Suddenly, Giles grabbed his face and thrust him back hard against the refrigerator. He savagely took Spike's mouth, grinding his knee into Spike's groin. With one hand he ripped off the towel around his waist and forced Spike's hand onto him. `There, you fool, that's how much I trust you... I trust you with my body... but I'll be buggered if I'm going to be glancing over my shoulder every time I cum in you, to see if your bloody hound is about to savage me! So, choose now. You've got ten seconds. You can keep the dog or you can have me whenever, wherever, we feel like it. Choose.'

Spike deliberately took the whole ten seconds, drawing out the ecstasy and the agony until the very end, but finally gave his answer by sinking to his knees and taking Giles' cock reverently into his mouth. Giles threw back his head with pleasure. He had not felt a mouth around him for many years, and he had forgotten how exquisite it was. He was not fully hard so Spike sucked gently on him and played with his balls until they both felt the satisfying swelling of his penis. It did not take Giles long to remember that the creature bringing him off did not breathe. He sucked his own breath in at this startling realisation, grasped the blond hair and thrust into Spike's mouth. It was superb; he could grind and rub the tip of his cock against Spike's throat. More, he could push it down and feel Spike swallowing him until the throat muscles stimulated even the thick column. He couldn't hold out. With a force that made his legs buckle he emptied straight down Spike's throat; his entire body was suffused with pleasure and radiating waves of intense orgasm. Giles began to pant: a ragged hoarse drawing of breath that sounded loud in the quiet apartment. He pulled out of Spike and sank to his knees, too. He put his hands down on the floor, still panting. Spike sat back against the fridge, watching him with amusement. `Good?' Giles could do nothing but nod.

Eventually, Spike stood up and, catching hold of Giles' arms, pulled him up the stairs to the bathroom. He cast a rueful look at the familiar bathtub then began to peel off his tee shirt and jeans. Giles watched in awed delight as Spike's naked body was revealed to him once more. He ran his hands over Spike's back as the vampire bent to undo his boots. `Healed.'

`'Course. Vampire. Told ya... enjoy it.'

They stood naked together in the harsh fluorescent light, and Giles reached for another towel. Spike stilled his hand. `What?'

`I can't compete, Spike. I'm a middle-aged human.'

`Where's the competition, watcher? I'm a reanimated dead body; you win on that score.' Giles smiled and allowed Spike to push him gently back against the wall. Spike raised his leg slightly as he rubbed against Giles' body. `And you're warm, Giles; I'd swap you two inches, just to be warm.'

`No, you wouldn't, you vain liar. And there's not two inches difference!'

`Ah, well, I have vampire acuity, pet. I see things clearer than you... so...'

`What?' Giles slid away from Spike and switched the shower back on. He turned round with his hand extended to Spike.

`Where is he then? Me dog... what did you do with `em? Not that I'm bothered, like, but in case I... well... anyway, where is `e?'

Giles smiled. `I gave him to two humans that I want very much to keep safe from vampires.'

`Oh.'

`You joining me?'

Spike grinned and stepped into the shower. Giles ran his hands over Spike's chest, flicking lightly at the nipples until Spike groaned. The water cascaded over them both, warming Spike's skin, making Giles' skin blush slightly from the intense heat.

`Spike...' Spike opened his eyes and found Giles watching him thoughtfully.

`Yeah?' Spike's answer was lazy and sensuous; he turned his face from side to side under the stream of water.

Giles smiled at the languorous vampire. `Do you remember the story I told those fools... about your chip? That if they didn't show pain...'

Spike eyes came back to focus and his body tensed.

`Feel like testing my theory again?'

Spike twitched his eyebrow up in surprise but quickly turned Giles to face the wall. He ran his hands for the first time over the human's naked back. He pressed into the firm muscles and delighted in the warm skin. He sank to his knees and pressed his face into Giles' thighs, opening his legs and nuzzling into the soft cheeks. Slipping one hand through, he began gently kneading Giles' sac, rubbing it between his fingers as if testing grain. Giles groaned.

`Watcher… make those groans full of pleasure, hey?'

Giles chuckled. `I'll laugh all the way through, shall I?' He looked down thoughtfully at Spike and chuckled again. `But, you know, I've been wondering something...' He pulled away slightly so Spike was not touching him at all, looked him straight in the eye, then said quite distinctly, `Ow.'

Spike's eyes flew open in outrage at the same time as he clutched his head with a low scream of pain. Contrite, Giles sank to his knees and pulled Spike to him. `Sorry. I just wanted to know.'

`Bloody hell, wanker. You really are a dark one, ain't ya?' Spike gave him a mock thump on his arm but then grinned. `Seeing yer down `ere.' He pushed Giles fully onto his back and pushed his thighs wide open.

`Err... a little undignified, Spike!'

It was Spike's turn to chuckle. `If you wanna keep yer dignity intact, mate, don't fuck vampires, hey?'

Giles pursed his lips thoughtfully at this as Spike lent down to explore the exposed entrance.

Suddenly, he pushed Spike away slightly and sat up, out of the stream of water.

'Fucking hell! What now?' Spike sat back on his heels annoyed. Giles stood and offered him his hand.

'I don't want to err… fuck a vampire, Spike; I want to fuck you.' He looked down shyly for a moment. 'I haven't actually thought of you as a vampire much recently. Let's do this the non-vampire way, what do you say?'

Spike tipped his head to one side, curious, but got to his feet and followed Giles into the bedroom. Giles dimmed the lights and started to light some candles that were strategically placed on windowsills and bookcases. He saw Spike's face and laughed.

Spike bristled. 'Hey! Don't get carried away with this human shit, watcher. Flames and vampires don't mix and…' he screwed up his face as if pained. 'Ain't this a bit bleedin' poofy? Candles? Beds? Bloody hell, you'll be buying me a fucking friendship ring or summat next.'

'It's called atmosphere, Spike.'

'Ah, atmosphere… where's the blood, the manacles, and the bleedin' pliers then?'

'Come here.'

'Hey!'

'Spike, I can say 'ow' as easily as I can say 'come here,' and next time I'll put proper affect into it.' Giles opened his mouth theatrically to shout the word. Spike laughed and climbed onto the bed.

'You've really surprised me lately, Rupert, and that ain't easy to do these days. So, come here yourself, and let me get back to what I'm good at, yeah?'

Giles came slowly towards Spike. The candlelight created exactly the right ambience in the room: he felt languid and suffused with desire. Spike reached out and caught at his hand, entwining fingers. Spike pulled, and Giles did not resist the entreaty. He was manoeuvred gently onto his back, and Spike straddled him, his hands braced on Giles' shoulders.

Spike pursed his lips and tipped his head to one side, studying the body beneath him. 'You ready then? Cus if you moan or groan or croak or any other bleedin' thing in pain, I'm gonna... ' He stopped and grinned and they both knew there was little he could do. 'Don't test me, mate; I could always just stop.'

Giles shook his head. `Smiling and laughing, see?'

`Yeah, well, that's gonna put me off completely. Just don't do anything, that's best.'

Lying on his back and being penetrated by a vampire was not the easiest situation for Giles to do nothing in. He tried his best, but as Spike eased a first finger into his hole, he couldn't help let out a groan of deep, intense pleasure. Spike grinned and slipped in a second. He stretched Giles open even further and effortlessly pushed them deeply into his anus. Spike probed gently and found the spot he was looking for. He had assumed Giles to be fairly experienced in this area, and had made allowances for the urgency of his entry the previous night, but looking at Giles' face now, Spike was not so sure that the watcher had ever been shown the true delights of such penetration. He brushed the tip of one finger over the swollen prostate gland, scratching to one side of it with his other. Giles gasped and reared up slightly. Spike looked warningly at him, and Giles said between clenched teeth, `Bloody good chip that, Spike, seems to know the difference between... oh, my, God... between... uh.' Effectively silenced by the increasing pressure of Spike's finger, Giles could only dig his nails painfully into Spike's arm and jerk his hips up slightly on the embedded fingers.

Spike saw that Giles was very near release and gently withdrew. He laughed lightly at the human's face. `Patience, watcher, patience.' He looked warily down at the slightly stretched entrance, considered his chip, but then thought `fuck it' and placed the tip of his penis against the indentation. He pushed in. Spike knew he was large; he knew he was hard; he suspected that Giles had not done this for many years (if at all), so he was impressed with the watcher's stoicism. Not a flicker of pain crossed his face: he looked only eager, pleased and, when Spike began a soft pushing against his prostate, utterly blissful. Relieved, Spike began to enjoy himself. He allowed impressions of Giles to ease into him, savouring each one individually. He'd had human women under him - softer and more pliant; he'd shagged numerous male demons – some who could even pass for human in low lighting and with a few drinks - but he'd never experienced the intense pleasure of sharing this physicality with a man. Spike liked that he knew what Giles was feeling - he felt it made the experience more intimate and intense for both of them.

Spike smiled down at Giles as he gently worked in and out but saw that Giles had his eyes closed. He drew a finger slowly down Giles' cheek; the eyes opened and Giles locked his gaze with Spike's. He was sweating slightly; the salty clear drops ran off his temple and into his hairline. Spike wiped them away with his hand but then bent low and, seeking permission with a look, licked them away. Giles groaned at the feel of the cold tongue on him and his hand crept to his penis as a flood of desire hardened it once more. Spike sat back on his heels slightly and began to watch intently as his cock moved in and out of Giles. He was fascinated by the stretch around him, the tightness of the ring, and the pleasure this intense grip gave him all around the shaft of his erection. He noted that Giles was bleeding slightly and glanced up at the human, impressed. The smell of the blood made Spike feel faint. It stirred longings deep within him that were even more powerful than his desire for release. He stilled his movements for a moment and put a hand to his face.

Warm fingers slipped around his wrist. 'What's wrong?'

Relieved that he was still in human form, Spike looked sadly down at the human. 'I'm not a man, Giles: I have different… needs.' He closed his eyes and began to push in and out again, trying to recapture his delight in the sex.

Suddenly, as if jolted by a powerful current, Spike came alive. The smell of blood gushed over him and overwhelmed him with its potency. He opened his eyes in disbelief and saw Giles calmly drop a pair of scissors back onto the bedside table. Blood seeped from a slightly ragged scratch just to one side of his cock, where the pale, soft skin stretched to become inner thigh. Spike touched a finger to the oozing and placed it to his mouth. He paused, then looked up with an expression of worship and love. He pulled out, prostrated himself between Giles legs, and began to feed from the human's groin. He played with the blood like a cat teasing a helpless animal. He licked, nibbled, let it get away from him, then captured it and fed. He held the drops still, let them think they had escaped, tormented and hunted the infinitesimally small beads of crimson fluid.

Giles thought he would explode from the sensation of Spike nuzzling at him. He had never seen the attraction of cunnilingus - had refused to give that pleasure - but he regretted that selfishness now. Spike made unconscious, soft, snuffling sounds as he fed; his hands moved restlessly over Giles' inner thighs; his nose pressed hard into the root of Giles' cock; his teeth and tongue played over the sensitive skin making Giles swell and lift his hips fractionally. Giles looked once more at the scissors, grinned, and picked them up. Where to cut? It was a delicious decision and he savoured it, feathering the sharp tip over his chest, swirling it around his nipples as each area was considered and rejected. Cutting himself was nothing new: it was an old indulgence that returned like a familiar friend. He felt humbled that he had such an appreciative audience for his artistry and wondered whether his whole dark life had been preparing him for this vampire. He tipped his head back slightly at the seductiveness of his selection and, pushing Spike to one side, pulled his sac tight and split the skin in one bright red arc of gratification. Spike moaned. He pressed his face to Giles' hand as if kissing at a ring, then fell to the new feeding place. As he was meant to do, he took Giles' entire sac into his mouth and sucked it. Like a man in the desert who sucks on pebbles, Spike's mouth was filled with life-giving fluid. The metallic flavour lapped over his tongue and trickled down his throat. He pulled the sac tight away from Giles and heard a high-pitched gasp of desire. He crushed it into the root of Giles' shaft, and the watcher swore quietly. The mutual sensuality of Spike's feeding amazed them both. With his cool mouth entirely filled with the warm wobbly balls, Spike eased his finger once more into Giles' anus. He found the swelling he sought, and as he stretched and rolled and pulled and sucked and pressed and licked, he also scratched with his nail.

Giles shouted and pulled at Spike's hair; he flung himself back, keening a high-pitched delight, and a shot of warm sperm plopped onto his chest. Giles' hands flew to his cock to work it for more. Spike sucked and scratched harder, and the sperm continued to flow. Finally, Giles put a hand to Spike's hand and stilled him. Spike removed his fingers, but continued to suck at the drying cuts. Eventually he sat back on his heels and looked at Giles with a puzzled expression. Giles cupped the back of his head and pulled him closer. Spike made as if to kiss him, but dipped down and licked at the sperm on his chest. Giles groaned as if disgusted, but his smile belied the emotion. Spike gave him a cocky shrug and cleaned him off entirely, even sucking cheekily on the softening cock, and slipping his tongue under the foreskin briefly. He sat back once more and shook his head at Giles, indicating the scissors. 'You're kinky. You know that, mate?'

Giles started to laugh. He tried to stop, but he looked at Spike's outraged expression and was lost. He shook his head in disbelief at Spike's naivety. Wiping tears from his eyes he calmed enough to say, 'Oh, Spike, you never cease to delight me with your endless capacity to pervert the truth.'

Once more he cupped behind the back of the vampire's head and pulled him down. This time he got the kiss he was planning on. The coppery taste of his blood was still strong in Spike's mouth, overlaid with the saltiness of the cum. He grimaced slightly and kissed up Spike's face instead, raining kisses into his hair and around his ears. 'Hey! Too poofy, too poofy.'

Giles pushed Spike's face away laughing. 'I suppose that would have been difficult to say with your mouth full of my balls, Spike.'

Spike gritted his teeth. 'The only reason I had any balls in me mouth, mate, was cus they were bleeding.'

Spike turned onto his back, and Giles copied him. He reached down and pulled the duvet over them both. Spike was wondering what Giles was thinking when he felt a hand creeping across his belly. He grunted with amusement but Giles only said quietly, 'It's two nil at the moment, Spike. That seems a little… unfair. Not quite cricket.'

Spike chuckled. 'Yeah, well, I'm a little dubious at your stoicism coping with me getting off, watcher. Take a harder ass than yours I'm 'fraid. And… oh, yeah, hold it, Giles.' Spike arched back as Giles' hand brushed his exposed tip.

Giles pushed the covering off Spike and looked in awe at the vampire's penis. Without hesitation, without invitation, he took the soft knob into his mouth. He held the foreskin back and rolled his tongue over the surface as if licking a lollipop. He half expected to taste the intense fruity flavour of the sweet and was surprised by the cool, salty drops he found on his tongue.

Spike lay back and folded his arms behind his head. It was intensely satisfying to have the watcher sucking him off. He allowed their history to play though his mind; every slur, every jibe, and every time this man had pissed him off or belittled him... had come to this: his cock was now inside the watcher's mouth. He put his hands to Giles' hair and stroked softly. The working on his cock increased. Spike brought himself back to focus, surprised at just how good this blowjob was. Giles' strokes were long and tight around his shaft; the warm human tongue made an expert counterpoint across the round tip. Spike sat up a little and watched the intense concentration on the watcher's face. He groaned as Giles' teeth scrapped along the vein on the underside of his erection. He suddenly started to pant, tried to stop, but couldn't. He felt his balls swelling, gasped at the unlooked for and unexpected intensity of the orgasm that was crashing through him. He urged it on, focused on the throbbing, felt his sac harden and become tight. Jets of cold cum travelled along the glistening shaft; he tried to warn Giles, tried to push him away, but only cried out and emptied himself totally into the willing mouth. Spike pulled himself to sitting; he flung himself back on the bed; he thrust his hips up; he dug his fingers into Giles' scalp, but still the human sucked him; still the human brought him to a crashing, intense release. Spike thought the pleasure would finish - he felt drained - but still orgasm throbbed within him. Finally, he had to push Giles away and the human sank onto the bed next to him. Spike turned and buried his face into the hollow of the warm shoulder. Giles thought he heard a faint, 'Bleeding hell,' but put it down to the fact his blood was surging in his ears and making him feel dizzy.

The candles burnt low. Giles made a valiant effort and pulled the covers back over them both. He was hot, sweating, and he revelled in the way the vampire snuggled into him, seeking the warmth. Spike turned and twisted and rolled and curled until he was completely nested. Within a few seconds, he was asleep. Giles was not. He felt incredibly energised. He wanted to shout, to run, or to fight. If he could have sustained the slightest erection, he would like to have penetrated something again. All of this kept him restless and awake and within a few minutes he wanted a drink. Dismissing this idea, he then thought about needing to pee. This need started to fill his mind, and he could not shake it off. With a groan of frustration, he disentangled himself from Spike and crept from the room. The light was still on in the bathroom, and the harsh fluorescence made him squint. He went over to the sink and took a long drink of water. He studied his face in the mirror, looking to see if he recognised the man looking back at him. He wasn't sure. Finally, he went over to the toilet bowl and took himself gratefully in both hands. His heart nearly stopped when two more hands slipped around to lie over his. 'Bloody hell! Get off! I'm peeing! Private bodily functions here! For God's sake, Spike!'

Spike's body was warm from the bed, and he pressed himself to Giles' back. His voice was warm too, silky and seductive, and it slid sensuously around the human body. 'Yeah, I know… '

Unable to hold back, Giles released a steady stream into the bright light and closed his eyes to the discovery that Spike's helping hands excited him.

When he felt that Giles was finished, Spike slid his hands onto the warm human belly and hugged tightly. 'Bed. Sleep. Vampire wants to be at rest…'

Giles smiled at the reference, and Spike pulled him laughingly back to bed.

Spike went through his impressive and thorough nesting routine, and when he was still, Giles spooned against him. Spike's body was fluid, his skin silky. Giles wondered how such preternatural flesh could be so seductively soft. He glanced at the clock and realised, with a sense of deep gloom and foreboding, that only a few more hours of this idyll were left: tomorrow he would return to the shop; Buffy would come over; Willow and Xander would be there; Anya would need him. Where was Spike going to be in that everyday world? Giles rubbed the heel of one hand wearily into his eyes. He had no answer to that question. He looked down at Spike's blond head; he ran a hand right down his body from the shoulder to his hip; he wrapped his arms tightly around Spike's thin torso and knew, beyond the slightest doubt, that his initial desire for this vampire had grown into some more, far more. Two days ago he had thought it odd to find himself fond of Spike; now he could not bear the thought of losing him. It was partially physical; he was self-aware enough to know that: his body felt alive for the first time since he had sought his sexual satisfaction in much more dangerous ways. There was so much he wanted to do and explore with this invulnerable body. Giles knew however that his body did not rule him; his clear and focused brain drove most of his actions. Rationally, he wanted Spike too. He had not had so much amusing conversation for a long time – partially his fault for associating with teenagers all day – but Spike had proved to be a stimulating companion. Giles suspected he had still not really got beneath the veneer and seen the real Spike, despite their sharing over the last few days. He knew Spike was all front and bravado, and he desperately wanted to be the one to crack him open and explore the depths. Giles smiled into Spike's soft hair. All this rationalising, all this angst... he just wanted Spike to want him. It was simple really. He knew he had the answer to his own question. Only Spike could say how they would be in the morning.

Spike lay still, sensing Giles' restlessness. It was good being a vampire: no one knew if you were asleep or not. His body felt replete and satisfied. He had tasted human blood once more – human blood freely given. Giles was amusing; he was an excellent shag and he offered up his blood from interesting body parts: Spike felt he'd fallen on his feet for once. He pushed to one side and ignored thoughts that made him cringe with their wussiness. Good mate, good shag, potential food supply... that was all. That Giles' arms were wrapped around him possessively and he felt safe... wussy. That Giles made him feel wanted... wussy. That he wanted Giles... well, he wasn't even going to go down that path. Unlife had taught him that what he wanted was usually the least likely thing to happen.

When Giles ran his hand down from his shoulder to his hip with a deep sigh, Spike knew he was thinking of the coming day. How was this going to survive that harsh unforgiving light? Spike couldn't survive it himself... he had no idea how love might escape its destructive rays... and if he had just used the `L' word then he was gonna take himself out and do something painful with a stake. Wuss.

They both slept finally, for they both woke. Giles woke to the feel of his hand being rubbed around Spike's erection. It was novel and an improvement on the World Service. He turned Spike over and propped himself up on an elbow, looking down at him.

`I'm guessing I don't look as good as you in the mornings?'

Spike shook his head. `If I wanted flawless, mate, I'd have stuck to demons. Rumpled is good.'

Giles fell back on the pillow with a groan. `I have to get up.'

`Giles, I already am up.'

`Yes, well, I should think that would be a fairly regular occurrence for you, Spike, no?'

Spike slid seductively onto Giles, straddling his chest. `Not `specially. Waking up alone's a bit of a pisser, ain't it?'

`Are you trying to tell me something, Spike?' Giles wasn't sure if he could bear to hear the reply to this and busied himself with finding his glasses from the nightstand. Spike stilled his hand, seemed about to say something, but changed his mind and rolled off, laughing. `Go watch, watcher. That toad's calling ya. I'm going catch up on me missed sleep. Might see ya later, hey?' Foregoing his nest building, Spike turned onto his belly and effectively feigned sleep.

It was the worst day in the shop that Giles could remember for a long time: he made some money; there were no catastrophic endings of the world; no one sang - but every ring of the bell, every opening of the door, every voice made him ache to see Spike. It was so unlike how he had thought about the vampire the last time he was at work that the abrupt change confused him. So when he looked up from measuring out some ingredients to find Spike leaning in the training room doorway watching him, he actually felt himself shaking with suppressed desire. Buffy, Willow and Xander were at the research table; Anya hovered at the door looking for potential customers. Spike merely nodded at Giles in his usual way and sat down on the ladder. He took out a cigarette and, ignoring Buffy's look of disgust, lit it, and smoked steadily, not speaking to anyone, and apparently not taking much notice of what was going on around him.

Giles tried to return to his work but found himself utterly unable to concentrate. He kept looking at Spike. The only awareness the vampire gave of this intense scrutiny was an unusually stringent air of ignoring everyone: he stared ahead; he looked at his feet… only when he was passed a book did he cast a glance at Giles. Giles was looking at him, and for a brief moment their eyes met. Giles was stunned to see as much confusion and desire in Spike's eyes as he felt there must be in his. He made an excuse to come over to the table. He stood facing Spike and pointed some things out to Buffy in one of the books. He moved slowly around the table so he was leaning nonchalantly on the rail of the ladder. When no one commented on this, he sat down just below Spike. Immediately, Spike's foot pressed into his back. He groaned and everyone looked up.

`Rheumatism... everything's aching this morning.' The teenagers looked aghast, as if he had said he was about to croak.

Xander offered his usual useful opinion. `You've gotta start taking it easy ... stop with the late night activities!'

`Err... what...?' Spike's foot increased its pressure against his back.

`Patrolling, Giles… in that damp cemetery. Early night… be of the good, you know?'

Giles heard Spike's quiet laugh from behind. He started to swirl the toe of his boot in a small circle on the small of Giles' back. They both knew they were thinking about what fun could be had with early nights.

`Yes, well, maybe I will. Look, hadn't you all better get about your business? I'm closing early today... stock taking.' Giles saw Anya's surprise. 'And no, I can manage alone... you and Xander do something nice together.'

It still took Giles over ten minutes to persuade everyone to leave. He could feel Spike's presence on the steps like a hotspot in the room. His very blood seemed to want to travel towards the vampire. He was so hard he could hardly walk to the door to lock it after the last of the visitors left. He pushed the bolt across with a sigh of frustration and was about to turn when he was slammed back against the door. The bell clamoured as his lips were claimed by desperate cold ones. He pushed Spike back against the display counter, and things spilled to the floor around them. Spike pushed back, and they smashed into shelves; the sound of breaking objects filled the shop. Giles wove his hands into Spike's hair and ravished his mouth. He forced Spike's neck back and bit at the cold, lifeless throat. Spike groaned and brought his knee up to press into Giles' groin. Giles spread his legs slightly and lifted the knee into him, pressing it harder.

Unable to get the purchase he wanted, Giles suddenly dragged Spike over to the research table. With one violent sweep of his hand he cleared the books. They fell to the ground and were trodden on as dominant was fought for. Giles forced Spike face down onto the table; Spike resisted slightly, but could not fight back with any of his preternatural strength. Giles kicked Spike's legs apart and cupped at his balls through his jeans. `You still owe me a hundred and fifty dollars, Spike. I'm collecting the debt in kind.'

Spike was almost laughing too much to reply, `Fuck off, watcher, you almost bloody whipped me to death; I'm cancelling the debt.'

Giles leant over him, rubbing his erection into Spike's backside, forcing Spike's erection against the table. `I saved your bloody life, Spike, in case you missed that fact.' He bit into Spike's hairline, and Spike flicked his hand up to swat him away. `So, I'm adding another fifty now.' Giles' hand crept around Spike's waist to undo the jeans. Spike attempted to wriggle away, but they both chuckled at such a pathetic escape attempt.

`I'm not a bleedin' object, mate, remember? Can't buy and sell me.' Spike went for aggrieved and abused vampire, but that didn't impress Giles either.

`Yes, I can, Spike. You're anything I say you are. Now, strip off and bend over; there's a good chap.' Together they took off Spike's jeans. His pale cheeks were flawlessly smooth under Giles' hands. The urge to penetrate and embed and thrust overwhelmed Giles. He grabbed the bottle of oil he had been using to mix the potions and slowly undid his own trousers. Spike turned his head to one side and spread his arms on the table, waiting. Giles poured the oil over his erection in a liberal stream of sweet-smelling slickness, and then dropped the bottle carelessly to the floor. He parted Spike's cheeks, and as he pushed in, he leant over Spike's back. They groaned in unison at the delightful sensation. The oil seemed to urge Giles to thrust and work the tight passage - it coaxed him on. He gripped Spike's shoulders, braced his knees, and let the pleasure come. Each thrust forced a wave of desire into his balls; each pull back released that wave into his cock making him swell. He looked down at his red, glistening shaft sliding in between the pale cheeks. The sight made him groan again. He pulled right out to marvel at the deep plum-purple tip and smiled at Spike's hissed disbelief. Giles leant over him and slipped a finger in instead. `Where is it?'

Spike knew what the watcher was seeking and stilled his slight movements on the table. The exploratory finger worked around the oily, cool walls until it found the slightly soft, spongy swelling it sought. With a smile, Giles tested his find. Spike squirmed and made a hoarse, ragged cry. `Oh, you fucking littl' genius, mate, `xactly right.' Encouraged, Giles bent Spike's leg up onto the table and, with the improved stretch and access, worked the spot for him with increasing urgency.

He leant in and whispered against Spike's ear. `Tell me when you're going to cum. I want to be inside you.' Spike nodded as best he could then buried his face into his folded arms. Only the sound of Giles' soft grunting could be heard. He kept himself hard as his fingers disappeared in and out of Spike's hole until Spike suddenly lifted his head and moaned, `Now, bastard, now.'

Giles slammed back into Spike. He almost rode up on top of him with his thrusting but, unable to cum off, he pulled Spike to standing and thrust him hard onto the steps. Spike spilled himself over them and Giles, braced on both sides of Spike's body, thumped into him even harder.

The pressure in his balls made him start to grunt, as he tried to will his orgasm to fruition. He moved his hands and braced them on Spike instead, digging his fingers into the hard, slim waist. He watched as Spike's hands disappeared to find and release his own pleasure, and a sketch came into Giles' mind of those hands on that long, slim, throbbing penis. The image he conjured up tipped him violently over the edge of his orgasm. It hit him like an express train: painful, unavoidable, and taking away all thought, as it raced through his entire body. He vaguely heard a high-pitched scream, heard low male grunting, but felt only deep intense gratification.

Giles' legs buckled before his spurts of hot sperm had finished. He pulled out of Spike, still releasing and still twitching. He tumbled to his knees, his shaft in his hand and worked himself to the end of his pleasure. Spike stayed prostrate on the stairs. Giles looked up and could see Spike's hand still clasped around his erection; Spike's sac swung and seemed to pulse as he watched. He lifted one shaking hand and placed it delicately on the soft, corrugated skin, and was rewarded by one more groan from Spike.

Eventually, Spike slid off the stairs and lay on his back next to Giles. He stared unseeing at the ceiling. Giles stretched his legs out more comfortably and leant back against one of the overturned chairs. He glanced around his shop at the havoc they had wreaked and heard a soft voice from the floor. `Tell `em you got attacked by a soddin' big demon.'

`One that spilt a large pool of semen on the floor behind the steps?'

`Get Harris to clear it up; `e won't even know what it is. More fun than researching though, innit?'

`Quite.'

'What ya gonna do now?'

Giles chuckled. 'I'm not sure I can do anything.' He passed Spike his jeans and, with an amused twitch of his eyebrow, Spike wriggled into them. 'Why don't you tidy up a bit, Spike? I could knock some more off your debt then.'

'Fuck you, watcher. You've just had at least a hundred and fifty dollars of my ass… debts off.'

'I distinctly remember you saying I could have your… err… ass… for a hundred dollars.'

'Lick, mate… lick… not stuff your dick up it.'

'Again, I think you should owe me for that service, Spike. In fact, I think we've gotten back up to the original amount. So, two hundred dollars… and then there's the interest, of course.'

'If I could be bothered, watcher, I'd smack you one, chip or no.'

'Pity. I had rather more interesting things in mind; although, smacking might have come into it.'

Spike sat up and looked at him curiously. 'Jees, you are a dark one, watcher. So, what you got in mind?'

'Well, your place for a start. Seeing as you've already smashed that up.'

Spike laughed and stood up, offering a hand to Giles. 'You ain't got it in ya, pet. You'll be needing hospitalisation if you go on like this.'

Giles tutted but took the offered hand and was pulled to his feet. Spike looked at him, hesitated, turned away, but then turned back and kissed him. He wrapped his hands around the back of Giles' head, lifted his leg slightly, and rubbed gently on Giles, as his tongue slipped in through the soft, warm lips. Giles pulled away, amused. 'This isn't like you, Spike. Isn't this a bit too… poofy?'

Spike shrugged, sat back down on the stairs, and lit a cigarette. 'I do what I feel like.'

Giles came hesitantly towards him. 'And… you felt like kissing me?'

Spike smiled as he heard the fall of yet another brick from his protective wall. 'Yeah, I did.' He opened his legs and Giles came to stand between them. He tipped Spike's face up, removing his cigarette. He saw Spike frown slightly and wondered if the vampire was finding the moment as intimate as he was. He leant down and captured Spike's mouth. He tasted the fresh nicotine and smiled. Spike opened his mouth slightly, but there was none of the urgent taking and biting and needing of any of their previous kisses. This was tender and almost…

Giles pulled away, shocked. He saw a similar emotion flicker across Spike's face. He pulled Spike against him and kissed the blond head. 'I didn't want this, Spike. It's not what I was looking for.'

Spike pulled away and leant back on the steps on his elbows. He eyed the human speculatively. 'Love.'

Giles could not make out if the word was a question, a statement or just agreement. It seemed rather important somehow. He decided to be circumspect, too. 'Can one ever fuck without it, Spike?'

Spike took another drag of his cigarette and peered at Giles through the smoke. 'Sure you can. I shagged Harmony, didn't I?'

Giles smiled. 'True, but you got fond of her? In the end?'

Spike shrugged. 'Not love though.'

'So, this is just a physical interlude for you, Spike?'

'You're the one who just said you didn't want it, whatever it was. Can't draw love, can you, watcher?'

Giles backed away and perched on the edge of the table. 'But you were hardly looking for it either, Spike. You don't even like me.'

'You're growing on me.'

'Like a fungus, I suppose.'

Spike smiled, but didn't reply.

'Spike… this is important…'

'Why? Why do humans have to rationalise everything? Think, think, think… it's all thinking with you.'

'Spike, I have to live in the real world; I have to be able to get up in the morning, sleep, go to bed… I can't do any of that if I don't know how things are going to work with… this.'

Spike began to look hesitant for the first time. 'How the hell should I know, Giles? William the Bloody: Specialist Subject: "Love and the fuckin' awful experiences he's had of it." Jesus, mate, I was only a young 'un when I got done in… didn't know much about it then, and I sure as hell don't know.'

Very slowly, as if approaching a wounded, dangerous animal, Giles came back towards Spike. He sat down alongside him on the steps and put out his hand to bum a smoke of Spike's cigarette. Spike huffed, as if discovering another unwanted dark side to the familiar human, but companionably shared the remains of his smoke. 'I thought I knew what love was once… but I was mistaken.' Giles soft words cut through the silence between them.

Spike looked thoughtfully at him. 'That computer lass Angel killed?'

Giles hesitated. 'No. This was before I came here… coming here was like an escape in a way.'

'Huh. Well, don't look at me; I'm a demon; I'm not even sure I can feel love.'

'You loved Drusilla well enough.'

'Yeah, guess I did… do. But it wasn't…'

'Like this?'

Spike chuckled. 'I was gonna say real, pet.'

'No you weren't, Spike, you were going to say like this.'

'I'm not even gonna dignify that with a reply, watcher.'

Seeing his cigarette rapidly disappearing, Spike fished in his pockets and lit two new ones. Giles watched his lips as they closed over them; he watched Spike's strong, slim hand. He took the cigarette and leant back on his elbows. 'Would you kill me, Spike, if you got your chip out?'

Spike choked slightly. 'Bloody hell! Where'd that come from?'

'I'm curious; indulge me.'

'How do I know?'

'It's not a soul, Spike, just a… limiter. You must have all the same desires and urges. If you wanted to kill me, you'd know.'

'I'm a demon, Giles.'

'Yes, I rather think I know that. That doesn't answer my question.'

'Yes, it does. Demons always destroy… wreak havoc… vampires kill what they love the most. I killed my family, Giles.'

Giles looked down at his feet, letting his hands hang down between his legs. 'Have you just told me you love me, Spike?'

Spike turned to him with an amused look. 'Thought I'd just told you I'd kill you… but take it how you like.'

Giles caught hold of Spike's hand and played with the fingers distractedly. Still looking amused, Spike allowed him to. 'I'm not sure I can… lose control enough to… let you in, Spike.'

'You won't need to, pet; I'm a slippery sort of bloke, I'll ooze in… ya know, orifices an' all.'

Giles laughed. 'I suppose I could let one orifice go a little.'

'Like now?'

Giles turned to him. 'I thought you said I wasn't… stoic enough to withstand you.'

Spike grinned. 'Yeah, well… been thinking 'bout that.'

'Oh, have you? Thinking about my orifices?'

'Woke up thinking of them; thinking of them right now. So… you finished up here for the day?'

'What did you have in mind?'

Spike got to his feet and went to his coat. He plunged his hand deeply into one pocket then withdrew his fist and came back to the steps. He opened his hand to show Giles the white pills lying innocently on his palm. 'What are they, Spike?'

Spike twitched up his eyebrows. 'Do you care?'

He held out his other hand. 'My place then? And I'm gonna hold you to the smacking.'

Giles refused to travel through the sewers so made his own way to Spike's crypt. He stood outside in the sun and looked with a puzzled expression at the door. He had felt Spike's need washing over him as they had talked. He didn't know if he could cope with that much need. Being relatively empty - being almost dead inside himself - he was unsure what he could offer to a needy vampire.

Something caught his eye. He looked down. The stake he had left on his last visit still leant against the wall. He remembered finding the destruction; he remembered the feel of Spike distraught in his arms; he felt once more the feel of that slim body; he relived the fight and Spike's desperation… but most of all, he remembered the humour, remembered Spike's eyes on him, recalled waking with him… their whole relationship over the two days crashed through his mind and left him dizzy.

He thought all this and knew he was committed. All detachment was gone; all cool reasoning left him. He had never been empty, just shut off. Spike had turned him back on, and Spike was waiting for him on the other side of the door.

Giles went in slowly. The gloom took a while for his eyes to adjust. He stayed by the door, cautiously. When he could see, he saw Spike. Spike was tidying up. Giles smiled at the endearing sight of Spike doing housework - albeit a rather desultory and devil- may-care type of cleaning. Spike turned around and looked at him thoughtfully, then indicated his armchair. Giles sat down and accepted a handful of the small, white pills. He swilled them down with beer and leant back on the chair, waiting for the old but never forgotten feelings to wash over him. He continued to watch Spike, following his body rapaciously with his eyes. Every bend, every stretch, every twist or turn was fed on and absorbed into his desire for the slim, blond vampire. He glanced at his watch every so often; surprised the effects of the drugs were taking so long. Other than a slight nausea, which could have easily been explained away by apprehension, he felt nothing. Eventually, he stood up and went towards Spike. He slipped his arms around the slim waist and nuzzled into his neck. 'They're not working I'm afraid, Spike. I feel quite normal and quite myself. Sorry.'

Spike turned around in his embrace and grinned, and a chill went down Giles' back. 'Really?' Spike leant into him, pulled back to give him a devilish look, and then put his mouth to Giles' soft neck. He licked one cool, insistent trail up from the hollow to his ear. 'Do you trust me yet, watcher?'

Overcome, Giles was only just able to croak an answer. 'Not bloody likely, but I want you, and there's more trust in that than I've felt for a long time.'

Spike continued to nuzzle into Giles' ear; then Giles felt a tiny prick against his neck. There was no pain; it felt no more than touching a fingertip to a needle and withdrawing in surprise. He wondered why Spike stayed on his neck. He wondered why Spike started to moan. He wondered why he started to feel faint. He pushed Spike away and staggered when he saw the demon eyes staring back at him.

'What have you done to me?'

Spike slid back into human form and backed away slightly, as if to reassure Giles. 'Nothing, pet. I wouldn't do anything to hurt you. But you couldn't feel that, could you?'

'No, I bloody didn't!'

Spike grinned. 'See, you won't feel the other things I'm gonna to do you either. You feeling bold?'

'What did you give me, Spike, some form of demon date rape drug?'

Spike's eyes flew open in surprise; he started to laugh. He tried to stop but caught Giles' outraged middle-aged-Englishman-who-thinks- he's-just-been-given-a-teenage-girls'-drug look, and couldn't. He doubled over as if trying to catch a breath. He leant against the tomb and gradually stilled to quiet amused hiccupping.

Giles came over to him and thrust him back against the cold stone, pinning him there by his shoulders. 'What have you given me, Spike?'

A small hiccup, an amused glance, and Spike said quietly, 'Painkillers, mate, that's all, honest. A handful of 'em so you wouldn't hurt.'

Giles stood back a little aggrieved. 'I thought you were going to give me something more… interesting… so I could… do this thing with you?'

Spike licked his lips slightly and cocked his scarred eyebrow. 'Yeah, well, I figured fucking you stoned wouldn't be much fun. Want you there; want you cognisant; want you participating… just don't want you squealing.'

'I have never squealed about anything in my life, Spike, and… cognisant?'

Spike shrugged. 'Comes of hanging out with books too much… must have had an ulterior motive, mate, all that sitting around with all those dusty tomes. Can't think who it might have been though.'

'Xander Harris probably, knowing my luck.'

Spike laughed and took Giles' hand, guiding him towards the trapdoor. 'Nah, he's another word beginning with 'c' that I don't need no dictionary to spell. Now, you coming? Before those bloody things wear off?'

'Seeing as you've just been kind enough to call me an ulterior motive, I suppose I have no choice.'

'None at all.' Spike let Giles go first down the steep ladder, amused at his wobbly and uncoordinated gait, then jumped down after him. He took hold of Giles' arm then pulled the trap shut.

Giles grabbed at him. 'Hey!'

Spike increased the reassuring hold on Giles' sleeve. 'What?'

'I can't see. Anything. Nothing. It's…' caught out by the unexpected turn of events, his voice was full of apprehension. '… totally dark.'

'It's only underground, pet. I usually have candles and shit, but I've not lit 'um.'

'Err… why not?'

'Cus. This is what I want.'

'What? Me scared and about to have a coronary.'

Spike laughed and started to pull Giles gently towards him. 'Nah, just you not… watching for once. Use your other senses, Giles. Let go a little, hey? No observation, no detachment, no thinking of me as an object: feel me, taste me, listen to me, and smell me.' As if to illustrate his point, Spike brushed his lips over Giles as lightly as a feather. Giles groaned and tried to capture Spike's face for more, but the vampire slid away, silently.

'Spike?'

'Spike?'

Giles could hear his voice rising in timbre and stopped. His heart was beating rapidly in his chest. Like a child who is playing hide- and-seek with his father, he knew there was nothing to fear, but feared it nevertheless.

Suddenly, a hand slid down his chest and his shirt fell open. He put a hand to it wonderingly and realised it had been cut off. Before he could comment, the pieces were slipped off his shoulders. He stood bare chested in the slightly damp air. A finger, so soft on his numbed skin he thought at first it was a breath, ran up his spine from the waistband of his jeans to his hairline. He shivered and, as his skin puckered to the delightful sensation, his jeans were opened and slipped off his hips. He stepped out of them and took off his own shorts. Naked, he felt as vulnerable as he had ever felt.

The light touches came thick and fast after this. Sometimes he could almost have sworn they were not fingers but something sharper. He put his hand onto his body and felt dampness, but it could have been sweat. There was no pain, and he didn't really care what was happening to him as long as it continued to happen. He could feel his erection standing against his belly. He felt a man's natural conceit about its hardness and size. He hoped Spike's vampire eyesight was as good as it was reputed to be, for he wanted him to see it and admire him. He moved slightly so it swayed and tapped his stomach.

He was rewarded for this arrogance with a sharp, ringing slap on his backside. It must have been hard for it stung afterwards. He cried out, but they both knew there was only delight and desire in that cry and familiar dark gratification. His payment for not showing pain was a tongue travelling up his aching shaft and swirling around the weeping tip. He cried out once more and put his hands down to Spike, but there was only air. The vampire had merged into the darkness and moved on. Giles hissed in frustration, but the sound was lost to the sharp retort of another slap. Giles braced himself against the ladder and held on as blows rained down on his soft, rounded cheeks. The hand on him was cold and hard, and it hit him unforgivingly. Desperate not to show pain, Giles bit into his lip but, finally, it was too much for him, and the merest groan of pain escaped his lips. The smacking stopped as quickly as it had begun. Giles strained his ears to hear Spike, but the silence mocked him. He reached out in the darkness hesitantly and felt Spike's hair. He knelt beside him and pulled him into his embrace. 'I'm sorry.'

He felt Spike nod, but then he was gone. Giles folded himself around emptiness and tipped onto the ground. Now there was only tongue. No hands, no pain, just an endless licking over his body. Giles turned over and stretched out on the damp ground, revelling in the attention of the talented vampire. The tongue licked around each nipple, and human teeth nibbled at them. The tongue made a damp trail down the breastbone to the navel, and Giles felt it as a distinct chill line on his skin. The tongue played in his belly button, and he clenched his fingers to the sensation. He started to lift his hips and push them to where he thought Spike was kneeling, but again there was nothing. He lay for a long time as if totally alone. Eventually he stood up. He took hesitant steps forward until his legs contacted with something soft and solid. He crawled gratefully onto the bed with a sigh of relief that he had something solid and non-threatening underneath him. He felt light brushing on his wrist, put his hand out, and discovered he had been tied with a piece of soft cloth. It felt like tee shirt material in a long strip. He started to pull it off, alarmed, but heard a sound for a first time since the sensual torture had begun. 'Please…'

Nothing more. It sounded as if it had come from behind him and whirled around feeling for the vampire. He didn't really expect to find him. He debated the binding and knew if he really wanted to that he would be able to break from its soft clutches. He lay on his back and stretched his arms above his head. With the loosest of ties, he was fastened to the rail of the bed. He felt the mattress depress as Spike climbed on and smiled that even Spike could not become weightless.

Surprisingly, a potent smell washed over him at the same time as something hot was spilt onto his chest. He recoiled into the bed slightly, overwhelmed by the unexpected sensations. He couldn't place the smell, and it nagged at him; it smelt like hot summer nights and smiled that he should think this in these circumstances. For the first time since coming down the ladder, Giles knew where Spike was, for the vampire suddenly straddled him and started to work the hot oil into him. Stretched and bound, the feel of Spike sitting on him and fondling him in the total darkness made Giles' balls start to contract and pulse, and he knew he was about to come. He was mortified and groaned, trying to buck Spike off. All he knew was that a mouth was suddenly placed over him and a soft tongue encouraged out his release, catching every drop, and urging the balls to full relief with its insistent probing and licking. Before he could compute all these sensations, Spike turned on him again, and once more the cold, strong hands worked at his nipples. Spike slid his hands up to Giles' armpits and sunk them into the soft hair, running them sensuously up the inside of Giles' arms.

The hands came off him, but Giles had no time to complain before more oil was poured on him, only this time lower, on his belly. He felt it pool slightly as he sucked his gut in; he groaned as Spike wriggled lower, straddling his thighs. The hands continued massaging in the oil; this time they worked over Giles' waist and dipped down to his flaccid, sensitive cock. When Spike's hands touched him, Giles strained against the bindings and the hands stilled. He moaned and lay back down, relieved when the hands began again.

One hand slid down to his thigh and lifted it, stretching it back as far as it would go. Held there, he knew he would be fully exposed to the vampire's gaze and blushed at the thought that Spike could see him like that in the dark. He flushed even deeper when a flood of oil was poured onto his groin. It ran over his cock, poured off and down his cheeks, ran tickling and enticing over his hole. Something brushed against him and probed him slightly. He knew it wasn't a finger or any other part of Spike, it was thin and…

… Giles cried out as he was pumped full of warm, sweet-smelling oil. The probe hardly penetrated him, but something propelled the oil in, and he felt awash with its sweet sensuality. As he groaned and writhed, the instrument was withdrawn, and a finger slipped in to take its place. Giles prayed the finger would explore where he wanted it to go. He could not help pleading slightly, and his pleas were answered when an intense jolt of satisfaction shot to his balls. As the finger worked over his prostate, he began to swell once more. Blessed and relieved, he relaxed into the pleasure.

After a few minutes of stimulation, the finger was withdrawn and his other thigh stretched up. Something bounced against him - something cold that leaked cool droplets on him. It was pushed against his entrance; the pressure increased; he opened, and Spike's penis embedded deeply and satisfyingly into his stimulated and aching channel.

They were both still for a moment. Giles heard the faintest whisper. 'kay?' He replied by lifting his hips and starting the fucking himself.

It was Spike's turn to groan. He knew this was wanted and needed by the watcher - knew he was wanted, that he was needed, and that thought made him swell and ache. He began to move - slow, long thrusts at first. He watched Giles' face avidly, turned on by his unfair advantage over the human. He watched Giles' face register every slide of his penis, every thrust against his balls. He put one hand gently on Giles' cock to help the reawakening. It was slippery to his touch, and he worked his hand on the tip as if polishing a cricket ball. Eventually, his own needs overwhelmed him. He put both hands securely back on the raised thighs, closed his eyes to concentrate and… let rip. He became animalistic; he plunged into the slick channel. He rose up over the supine human and pummelled him into the mattress. Moaning registered in his mind like a distant background accompaniment to his hammering, but he did not let himself worry about it. He'd done all he could to make the human withstand him - if the chip fired off, it did. He could concentrate on nothing but his own orgasm.

Spike crushed and pulverised and hammered Giles. It seemed to the drugged human that the using went on for hours. After a while he started to hear Spike, a low, unconscious sound between pain and pleasure. Giles was inundated with sensation. He strained against his binding, for it felt good to do so; he listened to Spike's sexy provocative noises; he felt every part of his body used for the vampire's relief… and still it continued.

Spike's cries became harsh as if he could not find his release. Suddenly, he grabbed Giles around the waist and flipped him over. The bindings twisted and tightened, and Spike ripped them off. He heaved the heavy almost deadweight body up onto its hands and knees and stabbed in once more. This position was sublime for Giles. Now every thrust of Spike's erection hit his sensitive gland. He could put his hands to his own swelling shaft and enjoy it. He could thrust back. He put his head down onto the mattress and pushed himself up as far as he could to give the desperate vampire total access to his body. He felt Spike's urgency… he wanted that jetting in his bowels… he wanted to feel its unique coldness. He began to pant from the effort of helping and urging Spike on. He started to make soft pleading sounds as he panted, and this seemed to be the catalyst for Spike's intense, almost fearful orgasm. He suddenly dug sharp fingers into Giles' waist; he reared back with a high-pitched scream and jerked violently against the raised backside. He almost climbed into Giles, as he heaved himself off inside the slippery hot anus. Giles' short pleasant orgasm came and went while Spike flooded Giles with cold semen. When the jerking stopped, the humping began. Spike crossed his arms under Giles' belly and yanked him up to meet his shoves - still emptying himself, still draining himself dry. Totally numb from the drugs and the pounding, Giles lost himself entirely to the physicality of the demon within him.

It seemed to Giles that hours had passed since his hole had been stretched to accommodate the vampire's lust. He knew this couldn't be, but when Spike began to still his wild movements, when he stopped screaming, when he pulled them both down onto the bed and lay as if dead, Giles knew he had probably had the most intense experience of his life to that point. Spike hugged the human to his chest and shifted slightly so he was still deeply embedded with no danger of slipping out. Giles felt something soft being pulled over them both, and he put a hand out to catch the vampire's hand. Spike's entwined their fingers and shifted once more so Giles' head lay in the hollow of his shoulder. Once more the quiet question was asked. 'kay?'

Giles took the hand to his mouth and kissed lightly on the thumb, his teeth clanging slightly on Spike's ring.

Spike started to fall into a delightful post-orgasmic snooze when he heard a quiet voice. He rubbed his face into Giles' hair as the watcher whispered, 'Debt cancelled, Spike.'

Spike chuckled and hugged Giles even closer to him. 'On the contrary, watcher, you owe me now.'

'Good.'

Spike laughed again, but then stilled. Giles was about to speak, but Spike's hand flew across his mouth and cool lips brushed his ears with the merest of sounds. 'Someone's up top.'

'Fuck.'

'Quite.' Giles snickered quietly at his favourite expression in the vampire's mouth.

'They won't come down here, will they?'

'What, unannounced and unwelcome?'

'Oh, yes. Bother. Can you find my clothes?'

'Fuck, fucking fuck, fuck.' Spike slid out of his warm, comfortable nest, retrieved the human's clothes and, as Giles was dressing, went around his lair lighting candles and storm lanterns. The light totally changed the atmosphere.

Dressed and able to see, Giles looked at Spike. Spike looked back at him, as he pulled on his jeans and tee shirt. They both looked over as the trap door was opened.

'Hey, dead boy, you in there?' Spike groaned and dipped his head a little. 'Yeah, what'd ya want?'

'Xander.' Giles felt he ought to declare his presence, as if this voluntary offering would make that very presence less suspicious. He sat on a chair to one side of the crypt and tried to look nonchalant. He hoped that the descending human did not see his wince of pain as he shifted slightly on the chair. He felt bereft. He felt as if something essential to living was about to be taken from him. The light had created a barrier between them; now he felt these humans would destroy them altogether. He watched Spike's expression, trying to read him. He tried to sense the vampire's thoughts. He tried to send Spike his confused thoughts.

They both groaned when another pair of legs followed Xander's. 'Slayer.' Spike was clearly none too pleased with this visitor either.

'Giles?'

'Buffy.'

'What'ya doing?'

'Research.'

'Oh. With Spike?'

'Yes, I'm conducting essential vampire research.' Giles ignored Spike's quiet laugh and continued. 'Were you looking for me?'

'Giles, something's been in the shop. Anya went back tonight and called me; it was awful, all smashed up. Sorry.'

Spike moved away from the new arrivals and closer to Giles. He stood a few feet behind him. Giles wondered if Spike was deliberately staying out of his line of sight. He got up and moved over to the bed, smiling slightly at Spike's look of annoyance.

Spike flipped the chair around and straddled it with an unconcerned air. He knew that Giles would not be fooled if he studied a nail, so played with his rings instead. He thought his dead heart might start to beat again. He had seen the look Giles had given him when the light had returned… and now this. Now these human children had arrived to pull the watcher back to the real world - to the world he seemed so afraid of losing. Spike knew he could not really fit into that world. How would they … allow themselves each other? It was not possible. He put his chin down onto folded arms. He was tired and put his overwhelming sense of dejection down to that simple fact. He was shagged from shagging, nothing else.

Why had he reached out that hand? Why couldn't he keep his bloody hands to himself? All it ever got him was shafted. The human voices droned on. He tried to ignore them. He just wanted to crawl back into his bed and not emerge until he had overcome this wussy phase.

'Spike!'

He jerked his head up at Giles' insistent demand. 'What?'

'Are you coming?'

'Where?'

Giles tutted and turned to Buffy. 'Give us a few minutes to… err… finish up our research, will you?'

Buffy pouted but started to climb back up the ladder. Xander looked disparagingly at Spike. 'I don't see why he has to come. Big ugly demon's gone; we need someone to tidy up, not piss around.'

'Spike's coming.' Giles' voice was surprisingly emphatic, and Buffy turned as she climbed.

'Why?'

Giles caught Spike's eye for the first time since the intrusion on their activities. Spike wanted to drop his gaze, but couldn't. He saw Giles smile. 'Because Spike is rather essential. That's why.'

Spike started to laugh and Giles got up, encouraging the youngsters to leave. 'We'll be there in a few minutes, Buffy. Tell Anya to start checking for theft.'

Once more they had to wait until the unsuspecting humans left. Giles turned to Spike and looked at him. Spike gave him a confident, cheeky look. 'Essential, hey?'

Giles looked a little annoyed. 'Well, I may have gotten carried away a little. Nice to have if you can afford it would be more accurate, perhaps.'

'Indispensable?' Spike swung his leg off the chair and stood up.

'Pleasant - as a distraction.' Giles started to come towards him.

'Vital?' Spike put out his hand.

'Lightweight but agreeable.' Giles reached out and took his hand and pulled him into a tight embrace.

'Very important?' Spike nuzzled into Giles' neck then kissed softly and… lovingly up towards his eyes. As the cool lips brushed over him, Giles felt himself being led back towards the bed. 'Crucial?' Giles laughed at Spike's amused questions. He pushed him to sitting and stood between the spread legs again.

Spike looked up at him. 'What am I then, watcher?'

Giles gave a quiet huff of amusement. 'Irritating?'

'Ah… you've got there then.'

Giles tipped his head on one side, puzzled. 'Where? What?'

Spike grinned and pulled Giles down on top of him. 'You've discovered the essential me, pet. I'm irritation personified. Now, where's me scissors, and how're those little pills holding up, hey?'

The End