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July 7th, 2004

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11:38 pm - Just Enough: Part 1/5


AUTHOR E-MAIL: PhenDog@gmail.com

RATING: NC-17 (I will warn, though, that this is a bit more hardcore than what most people would expect of *me*)

SUMMARY: Having lost that which defines them, a Watcher and a vampire find that together they can forget the loneliness and discover meaning and comfort in each other.

Written for Lost Girl (lostgirlslair) in Mrs. Drake’s (mrsdrake) Ripper Ficathon. Details below.


TIMELINE: Post Season 5

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own Giles, Spike, or anything else except my beloved computer named “Slate.” (Obviously I don’t own them, or I’d own a lot more than Slate and you’d have to pay to read this.) The Buffyverse belongs to Joss, ME (yes I know, old joke), and a whole bunch of alphabetical TV networks, ‘specially now that it’s gone into syndication. Please don’t sue, I know I don’t have permission. Bad me. All my money went to bootleg X-files and Buffy episodes and Slate doesn’t want to leave me!

WARNINGS: Graphic Slash, Angst, Bloodplay, Themes and Dialogue which may be disturbing to some

DEDICATION: To Lost Girl…this is your fic! Hope you enjoy...I love your slash so very much, would love it if I could pay you back a little for it! And that Giles/Wes fic you’re working on? Write faster, darn it! Also to ElizaBuffy…without whom I would never have even read a slashfic in my entire life…much less WRITTEN one. You know which scene in this is just for you…let’s just say I will NEVER do such things with MY tongue.

Special thanks to cupcake (okay, that’s redundant, I know ;^), pumpkin (who first read this during an ETHICS conference (!) and straightened out a few impossibilities), and peanut (who WILL be brought over to the dark side of the ficworld one way or another) for their helpful comments and shameless flattery. I love you all (okay…I guess I DO have a large enough heart to share…even if cupcake gets the largest slice *g*). Errors that are left aren’t their fault, but are evil and should die.

FEEDBACK: PLEASE!!! Lay it on me at PhenDog@gmail.com Good feedback will be treasured, printed, and taped on my wall. Flames will be treasured, printed in large typeface, matted, framed, and hung with care on my door for all to see. Either way, you’ll be encouraging me to write more! Constructive Criticism treasured above all else, particularly as this is my virgin trip into slash!

DISTRIBUTION: Bodice Ripper, GRB, Shades of Grey efiction, WatcherGirls, Batpack, ODD

A/N: Written for Lost Girl in Mrs. Drake’s Ripper Ficathon. Requirements: Giles letting Ripper show through, any slash pairing (except G/Ethan or G/Angel) with hurt/comfort and smut. Restrictions: No character death, Spuffy, or non-con.

*L* Well…I always somehow thought my first slashfic would be G/E…guess not! But I have discovered a new love for writing vampires…

Also, um, I suck at following requirements. I didn’t break the rules; just bent one of them a bit. This fic IS NOT Spuffy, but does rely a bit on Spike’s feelings for Buffy, so, um, hope it's not too bad of a sin?


Raising the broadsword high, Giles brought it down swiftly, aiming to cleanly remove the head from the adjoining shoulders, but at the last minute he felt his blade turned as his foe ducked and rolled, catching only a slight nick in his upper arm. Stumbling only slightly, he caught himself quickly and shifted to pursue the newly risen vampire once more, cursing his luck that this one seemed to have acquired at least a few fighting skills in life—though not enough, obviously, to have avoided becoming someone else’s meal.

{{Watch out!}} Willow called to his mind as he surged forward once more, prepared to finish the job and wondering where in the bloody hell Spike had wandered off to when he was supposed to be providing back-up. Unfortunately, the witch’s warning came too late, and, even as Giles was trying to figure out what new threat was presenting itself, he felt the iron grip of the hand closing on his left arm. The second vampire squeezed forcefully and used the surprise to tear away the sword and throw it aside. Then he used his leverage to turn the Watcher around and slam him into a nearby monument, hard. There was a solid thud as his back contacted the solid marble, and a sharp crack as his head whipped back to kiss the same.

Giles felt the air rush out of him and he retched painfully for air as his vision exploded into a million pinpricks of light. The vampire readjusted his grip for a better hold, as his new prey struggled weakly. “Never had Watcher before. Bet you taste sweet though.”

Clearing his head enough to think, Giles lifted a knee in an attempt to force it up into the other’s groin, but the vampire caught his intention and managed to sidestep, deflecting him harmlessly as he laughed. “Feisty though…I like that.”

The vampire’s words started to make their way through his hazy mind, and Giles realized with a pang of fear that this had to be the newly self-appointed Master Vampire Spike had warned was trying to move in and establish his territory. It was this same vampire that had the town literally crawling with his newly formed minions, increasing the workload to the point where the small gang of survivors in Sunnydale was beginning to truly feel the strain, even with the much needed help of the resurrected Buffybot.

The vampire pressed against him, effectively pinning him against the monument, and Giles felt his head forced to the side by a rough hand in his hair. He could feel his own heart beating rapidly and knew the vein had to be pulsing invitingly. For a second, he tore at his attacker’s arms, feeling the nails tear the flesh in protest, but his opponent never so much as flinched, the toothy grin unwavering. Then, the Watcher let his arms fall to his side and forced himself to relax as he closed his eyes, realizing the opportunity the universe was offering him.

For the past month now he’d been waiting—waiting for the Council to resolve the situation with Faith and find a way to send someone to guard the Hellmouth, waiting for the Scoobies to sort themselves out and move on, waiting for… But these things would happen with, or without him, wouldn’t they? Without a Slayer he was useless here. Without a chance of being reaccepted into the Council fold, he was worthless elsewhere as well—without purpose. The others clung to him because they didn’t know any better, but he knew he wasn’t truly needed. He could fight and he could research, but so could they…he no longer offered anything unique. At least dying here, like this, would be a heroic end, one the others could accept—better than drinking himself to death, or taking matters into his own hands, or simply remaining until the day he became a hazard rather than an asset to the able team the others had become. Someday, they’d get on with their lives and move on. They were young, and they had each other.

He waited for the exquisite pain he knew would come the instant the teeth slipped into the welcoming heat of his flesh. He knew from past experience it would last only a second before the endorphins kicked in and allowed him to slide pleasantly into the oblivion as his life drained away down the throat of his enemy.

But the moment never came.

Instead, he found himself hacking and wheezing as the dust clogged air rushed back in now that the grip on his throat had vanished, allowing him to slide bonelessly along the wall.

“Giles, you okay?” His vision cleared enough to see Xander looking down at him worriedly though the settling dust, stake still in hand.

“Thanks,” he gasped, knowing it was the expected answer for having one’s life saved. He tried to stand, but his knees rebelled and shook, causing Xander to lay a steady hand on his shoulder and force him back down.

Xander looked anxiously over his shoulder and saw Anya fumbling with a foe of her own. He stood and turned to help. As an afterthought, and almost apologetically, he glanced back down at the Watcher and spoke quickly. “Just stay here, and we’ll try to keep them away.”

Inwardly, Giles swore, still panting and beginning to feel the bruises that would soon be forming. He was proving to be the very burden he’d feared. Even when he felt steady enough to regain his feet and possibly join in the fight, he found himself remaining on the ground with his back against the monument. He knew he should jump back in and offer his skills in the battle, but it suddenly seemed so much easier to just watch the action going on around him and distance himself from the struggle.

It wasn’t until he heard Xander’s voice again that he realized it was over and looked up to meet the boy’s gaze. “You okay there, G-man?” he asked, the words heavy with the concern that etched his face. Anya and the Buffybot were beside him, so that the three effectively encircled the Watcher. The former bore an expression that ranged from worried to annoyed, and the latter grinned passively. Behind them he could see Willow and Tara approaching.

Shaking off his mental cobwebs, Giles formulated an answer. “Er, yes. I’m fine…just…a bit dazed, I’m afraid.”

“Please stand up,” the Buffybot ordered brightly as it extended its arm. Giles looked away from the too familiar face, but he clasped its wrist and accepted its assistance as it helped him to his feet. The shooting pain that ran through his head told him he’d hit it hard and a concussion was possible.

“Where the hell was Spike?” Anya asked. “I thought he was supposed to be your partner?”

Just then, the vampire in question walked up from behind a nearby crypt and plunked down the heavy body of a large scaly blue demon. “Sorry, mates. Seems our friend had some back-up. Got one, but the other buggered off.” Then he caught the disapproving glances of those around him. “What’d I miss?”

“You were supposed to be—” Willow started, but Giles put a hand on her shoulder, knowing that the Larsh demon was indeed something to be concerned about.

“Will it be back, do you think?”

“Nah, not tonight. They like to be in twos and right now the pair’s one short.” There was a slight frown as Spike took in the situation and noticed the purpling on the other man’s wrist and the rumpled condition of his clothes. “You look a little worse for the wear, though, Rupert.”

“Gee, you noticed,” Willow muttered. Then her voice grew louder, “Carresh went after him and almost killed him before Xander showed up.”

Giles felt the need to speak up and defend himself. “While I appreciate the assistance, I hardly think that’s fair.”

Spike caught the younger man’s look as Xander glanced away. Still, by agreement, no one bothered to contradict Giles further.

They started to leave, walking toward the cars, done for the night and ready to go home. Giles forced himself to mind the throbbing pain in his arm where the vampire had squeezed him and contused the flesh with its viselike grip, so that he wouldn’t have to think about the rest of it. While he was busy not paying attention, he found himself stumbling when a foot caught a gravestone. It was only Spike’s steadying hand that prevented him from becoming reacquainted with the ground.

There were knowing fingers questing the back of his head, and Giles tried to contain his wince but failed when the fingers found the large painful area where flesh and bone had struck marble. “Quite a bump you got there,” Spike pointed out.

“You gonna be okay getting home?” Willow asked worriedly, knowing that while the rest of them had come in Xander’s car, Giles had arrived separately in the BMW. “I mean, are you okay to drive tonight?”

“I’m fine,” he growled, pushing Spike away. He had enough self-pity that he hardly needed it from the others. Unfortunately as he did so, he tripped again.

“You are not.” Xander stated bluntly. “And you’re not safe to drive.”

“Well, I’m sure as hell not leaving my car out for just anyone to find and vandalize!”

“Perhaps Spike could drive?” Tara offered, thinking of a solution that would offend the Watcher the least while still allow them all to get home.

“After what he did to the Citroen? I think not!”

“Hey! There were demons involved in that, thank you very much,” Spike retorted defensively. “I was drivin’ when you were in diapers, old man.”

Xander noticed the set of Giles’ jaw, and knew the tension was only going to get worse. Stepping up, he waved to the others to keep walking to the vehicles. Spike hesitated, but then shrugged and followed the rest of the group.

Xander laid a hand on Giles’ arm, which was promptly shrugged off. “Hey,” he said quietly. “I know you’re upset, but we all have bad days. None of us are Slayers; it happens.”

“But you don’t all have to babysit me.”

“We care.”

“Maybe so, but it isn’t wanted or appreciated, and I wish you’d all just sod off.”

Xander was surprised; such language aimed directly at them was harsher than he’d expected from Giles. “That’s not fair! I don’t want to have to worry about you tonight, and if you don’t let someone take you home, you’ll probably end up in a ditch. You don’t want to hear this, but we almost lost you tonight. Please just let Spike take you home?”

The older man slumped his shoulders, and Xander was astounded by the look of defeat that met him. Giles bit his lip and nodded. The last thing he wanted was to cause even more concern on his part. “Alright. But if the bloody git crashes the car, I’m blaming you.” Still, the attempt at humor was weak, and they both knew it.

Together, they walked the rest of the way to where the others were waiting. Giles dug in the pocket of his jeans and tossed the keys to the blond vampire who caught them neatly. “You’re driving,” he growled, not even bothering to say goodbye to the others, who piled into Xander’s van hoping not to draw more of his hostility.

Spike didn’t bother to open the door, but simply jumped into the convertible and caressed the leather steering wheel lovingly. “Been a while since I’ve been behind the wheel of something so pretty,” he commented.

“And it’ll be a while until you do it again,” Giles commented as he piled into the passenger seat, trying to hide the humiliation. He rode in silence the rest of the way to his flat, gripping the door with white knuckles every time they spun around a turn. Fortunately, they made it without incident, and Giles was relieved when the car stopped moving and the engine purred itself out into silence.

“So, you going to invite me in?” Spike leered. “The date went so well and all.”

Giles slammed the car door. “Sod off. Not that it’s any of your business, but I plan to get good and pissed, and I’d prefer to do that alone.” He walked toward his door, but the vampire ignored the hint and followed.

“Not like I’d need a ‘come on in,’ anyway; not unless you’ve done a nice de-invite when I wasn’t looking.”

“Now there’s a thought for a good way to pass the time,” the Watcher commented as he opened the ornate door to his flat, fumbling slightly with the latch in the darkness, and walked in, flipping on the harsh artificial light in the entry. He tried to close the door behind him, but an arm slipped in and forced it back open.

“Honestly, Rupert, you could at least offer me a nightcap for driving you home. ‘Sides, the kiddies will want to know that I made sure you got home alright.”

Giles paused, then released his hold on the door and turned away, too tired and beaten down to argue. Spike followed him in and flopped on the couch while Giles wandered into the open kitchenette and opened the cabinet above the sink, retrieving a bottle of amber liquid. “One drink and you’ll go away?”

Spike didn’t answer, instead picking up the bottle and reading the label as two shot glasses clunked against the table. “Glen Morangie? Awfully good stuff to get smashed on.”

Giles shrugged, “I get a discount through the shop. One of our potion suppliers has connections.” He poured into both shot glasses, then looked at the vampire, eyebrows raised. “Can a vampire even appreciate a good scotch?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“Doesn’t taste the same as it does to you, if that’s what ya’ mean. But it’s still got the burn and buzz. That’s the best part anyway.”

Nodding his agreement, Giles produced a small bottle of pills from a pocket, and then sat on the opposite end of the couch. He hesitated when he realized Spike’s eyes were on him, but uncapped the lid, slipping out two of the capsules anyway. “Painkillers,” he explained, knowing the vampire would assume it was for his head and the arm, though, in reality, the pills knocked out all sorts of pain—not just physical.

“Bloody powerful ones, by the look. That ain’t Tylenol.”

“No,” he agreed, as he swallowed them with the Scotch, daring Spike to say more.

Spike stared straight into the green eyes, holding them steadily and meeting the challenge. “And you’re drinking on top of it? Bugger. Can’t say whether that’s brave or stupid.”

“Both, probably, but I’ve done it before without anyone caring. Now drink up, and then you can leave and let me get on with it.”

“So you can off yourself, and the others can stake me later? Thanks, but no.”

Between the heat of the liquid that had gone down his throat and Spike’s comment, Giles felt his face redden. “I have no intention of ‘offing’ myself. If those are your thoughts, I’ll ask you to leave—first politely, and then, if you still won’t take the hint…”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll threaten me with a splinter,” Spike replied, brushing the comment aside as he let the scotch touch his tongue and slide downward, savoring the feel as it seemed to produce a fire within.

Giles never moved his eyes from his companion. “Why do you care, Spike?” he asked, knowing it was a question that had bothered him for quite some time. Not knowing the answer made him uneasy.

“About you? I don’t.” Spike grinned. “Mostly it’s just knowing that if you die, I get blamed.”

“No, I didn’t mean that. I meant why do you stay? Here in Sunnydale? We don’t pay you now in money or blood, nor do we supply you with anything else of value to you. You claimed to love Buffy, but she’s gone now. There’s nothing for you here.”

“You mean why don’t I get myself a band of minions to do what I can’t because of this bloody chip? Why don’t I go off and have some fun?”


Spike sighed and shifted on the couch, suddenly uncomfortable as well. He knew the Watcher’s opinions on the vampire’s feelings for his charge. “Because, quite frankly, there’s nothing left for me. I made a promise to protect the Slayer’s sister, and I failed. This is all I can do to fix that. It’s not enough, but it’s all I’ve got.”

Giles snorted and looked away to pour another glass, which he promptly downed. “Penance? I hardly believe that. You don’t have a soul; you aren’t bound by such noble causes.”

As he sat up straighter, Spike’s eyes suddenly flashed. “So the poof is the only one allowed to be ‘noble?’ That’s reserved solely for bleeding Angel? Like hell.”

Shaking his head, Giles replied softly. “You didn’t love her, Spike. You’re incapable. It was a sick obsession—nothing more.”

That did it. Spike felt the anger in him triggered so strongly, he had to fight his demon for dominance to avoid the inevitable change in his features that would result if he gave in. “You can’t know that!” he hissed when he finally gained a modicum of control, the Watcher’s eyes boring into him the whole time.

“I can. You didn’t even love Drusilla; she was a toy to you—an infatuation perhaps. I noticed you dropped her soon enough when Buffy caught your attention.” Giles knew he was pushing the vampire, but didn’t care and leaned in closer as he spoke.

Rather than backing off, Spike moved nearer as well, but remained quiet, containing himself. Giles took this as a cue to continue. “But now she’s gone, and you are worthless, Spike. Worthless. You are a vampire who can’t kill and can’t feed the way a vampire was meant to feed. You fight for a cause you don’t believe in, for a woman you never loved.”

Spike raged internally, but knew the Watcher’s intent and sought to turn the tables before he did something to injure the other man and trigger his own pain through the chip. “How ‘bout you, Rupert? Who the hell are you, now that she’s gone?” he spat.

The question was unexpected, and Giles was momentarily caught off guard, seeking an answer. “I am…I am a Watcher. I will continue to do what I must, until the next Slayer arrives to take her place.”

“But you AREN’T a Watcher—not really. The Council only hired you back out of necessity. Do you ever think they’ll welcome you back? Do you think what you do here is important? That Willow and Xander and the rest of your little family couldn’t get along just fine without their daddy? They sure as hell had to tonight.”

Spike had hit on his own thoughts perfectly, and it hurt deep in his gut, twisting and wrenching. Any thoughts of his aches and pains vanished as the blood rushed to his head to block his vision and fuel the rage that had lain dormant beneath the surface, without outlet from the moment his Slayer had hit the ground beneath the tower. “YOU DARE!” he roared, as he leapt up, upsetting the table and causing its contents to crash to the floor. He lurched forward, grabbing the black t-shirt and hauling Spike to his feet. “Why the hell do YOU think I stay?” Giles pushed Spike forward and slammed him up against a toothpaste-colored wall hard enough to cause some of the residents of the nearby bookcase to dislodge themselves and fall to the ground. He might not be able to knock the breath out of a vampire, but Giles knew he could sure as hell get his attention.

At first, Spike’s eyes were wide at the unexpected force of the response, but then he dominated the surprise and managed to constrain it, maintaining the tough façade. At the same time, he had to fight the urge to fight back, knowing the chip would call him on it instantly, and forced his arms to remain at his sides. “WHY? Because you’ve got nothing else!”

The grip tightened and the enraged human face twisted further, but Spike pushed on, trying to ignore the crushing feel against his chest. “Well, neither do I! Hell, I’m a vampire, mate. I’m EVIL, but you said it yourself! I’m not a vampire anymore, not really. Living on pig filth because I can’t even get a good nip,” he practically spat. “I’m no more a proper vamp than you are a Watcher, mate, because we’ve both lost whatever made us what we are. At the end of the day, we’re both still around for the exact same reason…because there’s nothing else.”

Giles suddenly released his fistful of t-shirt and stepped back as Spike gratefully put a few inches between himself and the wall. “No, perhaps not,” the Watcher said, his voice eerily calm and flat as his features returned to schooled indifference. “But do not compare me to you. We are nothing alike.”

“We are because of her. Buffy was always your purpose, and, ever since I realized my feelings for her, she gave me mine.”

“Feelings?” Giles leered. “What feelings Spike? Lust? The need for a good shag? The desire to bag yet another Slayer in the only way you could?” The alcohol and adrenaline made him forget whatever injuries he may have sustained.

No longer caring, Giles leaned in as reached down his hand to stroke against the flesh hidden under those tight black jeans, willing it to grow hard. Spike shuddered at the unexpected touch, but years of living with Angelus had taught his body to produce a near-instant response. “Was this it? Was this what you felt for her?”

“You want to find out?” the vampire grinned, running a fingernail down Giles’ chest, snagging the nail on the rough thick weave fabric of the sweater. The physicality of his response surprised him, and he reached for it eagerly, knowing it was the first such escape he’d allowed himself in quite some time. Suddenly, he had to know just how far the Watcher was willing to push this.

Continue to Part 2.

(1 time waster | Waste Some Time)


[User Picture]
Date:July 8th, 2004 02:32 pm (UTC)

I'm so loving this!! On to the next bit!!

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