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Chapter 9

When Giles finally came out, he'd showered and was wrapped only in a towel, hoping he might convince Spike this was the reason he'd make his odd dash to the bathroom in the first place. The bedroom was dark when he came in; Spike was watching the TV with the sound muted, lying on his belly on top of the sheets, flicking between channels. Giles got into the other side of the bed and pulled the sheet modestly up to his waist, but he watched Spike's back for a while, wondering what the vampire was thinking.

Eventually, he said quietly, 'I'm sorry.'

Spike twisted his head around and peered at Giles through the gloom. 'What's it like to cry for someone?'

'Err… what?'

'I want to know what it feels like to cry.'

Giles gave a faint smile. 'I would have said that you were asking the wrong person, but since I've met you, I seem to….' He trailed off uncertain and embarrassed. Spike turned and sat cross-legged close to him. He gave a small smile, and it seemed to match the human's uncertainty.

'What's so awful, Rupert, that you forget me chocolate?'

Giles wanted to tell him; he wanted to tell Spike that not only were the Initiative looking for him, but that Riley was intimate with Buffy, and that that changed all the equations, that changed loyalties and balances of power. Most of all he wanted to tell Spike that he thought Buffy suspected some of what was happening between them and that, in this, she held all the power. He held his own counsel though. He feared Spike would leave Sunnydale. He feared Spike would leave him. He feared to return to what he had been. Guilt at this selfishness racked his body. He rubbed a hand tiredly across his face and feigned interest in the silent television screen

Spike watched the complex emotions flicker across this human's face with wonder. He wanted to open the man up and discover the source of all this emotion. He wanted to bathe in emotion as he had once bathed in blood. He wanted a map, a code, to decipher what he was feeling, but he feared sometimes that this human was too complex for him, that he would never understand what went on behind that reticent exterior. He pouted for a moment and then hesitatingly put a hand on Giles' belly. 'No game?'

Giles' heart gave a small, eager start. He turned to face Spike and maddeningly felt tears prick his eyes once more. This complete unmanning in front of the vampire was becoming tiresome, but he couldn't control it. He nodded gratefully, and before Spike could resist, he pulled the cool form to him and curled Spike tightly to his chest.

By morning, Giles had made some difficult decisions, and he was glad when the light came so he could extract himself from the sleeping vampire's arms and begin preparations.

Spike knew the instant when the human woke, for he had lain awake all night listening to his heartbeat and his regular, deep breathing. Sharing a bed with a human was an endless source of fascination. He'd been truthful to Giles; he did remember everything about his life, but he'd lied when he said he never thought about it. Lying next to this beating heart brought back memories that made him feel slightly sick. It was the same feeling when he thought about what might happen when the game was over and the human tired of him. He pondered this feeling most of the night, comparing it to something he'd seen in Giles' eyes, something he'd heard in the strange sobbing. He had still not made sense of it all when Giles got up silently and left.

Spike spent the day much as he had the day before: using and abusing all Giles' stuff and making himself at home in the apartment. Giles did not make an appearance at all but, just after lunch, a soft knock at the door roused Spike from a daytime telly slump. He peered over the back of the couch and watched as the door swung slowly open. When Willow's face appeared, he cursed, and flung himself back down without much interest.

'Spike?'

'Yeah, what?'

'What are you doing here?'

Spike decided he'd better make an effort, or the watcher might have some embarrassing questions to answer. He sat up, glad he'd bothered to dress and said, as he lit a cigarette, 'I'm waiting for the old git to get back. I've got some info for him.'

'Oh. So have I. I've got the flight times he asked me to look up on the net. Where's he gone?'

Spike didn't reply immediately, but smoked slowly, watching the spirals of smoke drift lazily up. When he did speak, his voice was quiet and calm. 'Where's he going?'

'England, sometime this week he said.'

'Uh huh. When's he coming back?'

She frowned. 'He only asked me to look up one way, and you'd better not tell Buffy that, she'd freak.'

'Yeah, guess she would. She's kinda fond of him.'

'So, will you give him this when he gets here? This was the only one I could find, and it won't be cheap.' She laid a piece of paper down on the arm of the couch and left.

Spike finished his cigarette and went upstairs to get his duster, boots, and a blanket. When he came down, he put the piece of paper by the kettle where he knew it would be found. He hesitated for a moment then scribbled something under the various jottings Willow had made. Grabbing the blanket, he left.

The crypt looked even less appealing as a place he wanted to live out his interminable eternity. He kicked sullenly at the armchair then spun on his heel and went out to kill something to cheer himself up. He watched a number of demons going about relatively harmless activities and couldn't be bothered to even scare them, let alone go to the trouble of killing them. Something stirred in his heart, which being dead, ought not to have anything in it at all. He didn't want to think about emotions anymore; he just wanted to be dead and at peace so, after a while, gave up his abortive attempts at fun and made his way slowly back to the crypt. He spotted the soldiers before they saw him, and he watched them cautiously from his vantage point as they slowly swept the cemetery. He didn't doubt who they were looking for, and this discovery, on top of Giles' betrayal…. As if summoned by thought, Spike watched Giles hail one of the soldiers. The soldier turned and greeted Giles, and they chatted for a while.

Spike knew this emotion; he'd felt it his whole unlife. Hatred so bitter that he felt it burn and warm his body, flooded into his brain, and his vision seemed to blur. He was being sold out by the man he'd come to…. He shook himself slightly; he was not so sad that he would think about anything that had happened over the last few weeks. Like most of the rest of his life and unlife, he tried to dismiss it as irrelevant and began to plan for the future.

He returned to the crypt and paced around, working out where he wanted to go. For some reason he couldn't concentrate as usual and put this down to a severe absence of nicotine, so leant against the wall and lit another cigarette. His hand shook slightly as he tried to connect the tiny flame to the small white column, and he laughed at his own incompetence. When his legs felt shaky, too, he cursed and turned his back to the wall, spreading his fingers out onto the cool stone for support.

He thought for a brief moment that he was going to vomit, for something rose in his body, but it was not physical. It made him shake even more. There was something coming, and he couldn't stop it. He tried hard. He put a hand to his mouth and clamped it tightly over. It didn't work. He put the other arm over his eyes to blind himself to the truth. That didn't work either. A huge sob tore into the silence of the crypt. It was followed by another. Spike sank to his knees, utterly disbelieving that these sounds had come from him, but when tears jabbed inside his eyes and began to trickle down his face, he realised they had. He was crying.

This was an emotion he could have lived without discovering, for it completely defeated his attempts to master it. He could not stop crying, and the harder he tried, the more the sobs shook his body and made him feel as if a blackness had entered his dead heart.

After a few minutes, he slipped into game face and, armoured thus, he managed to control the overwhelming blackness. He forced himself to his feet and stood against the wall once more. Gradually, he tested his human features, and when they held without crumbling into the weak, dribbling, creased up mess that came with the tears, he nodded and returned to the slightly damp cigarette.

He would have had himself completely under control, but Giles suddenly pushed open the door and came in.
**********************
Giles had gone home with most of his plans set in place. He took a short cut around the edge of the cemetery and was not all that surprised when he bumped into a group of camouflaged men making a slow, intent sweep of the ground. He stopped and nodded at Riley who acknowledged him and came over. 'Sir. I should advise you, Sir, that's it's not safe for civilians in this area at night.'

'Really? I didn't know that. Thank you.' Giles was amused to see that irony was lost on this fine, upstanding specimen, and for a brief moment, wished Spike were here to enjoy the joke with him, but then cursed under his breath at that very thought. As if reading his mind, Riley said, 'We're looking for the escaped hostile. Hostile 17.'

Giles felt his throat tightening. 'I told you he was dust.'

Riley gave him an impenetrable look. 'The chip is still functioning. We're reading its signal. You must have been mistaken. Sir.'

Giles nodded and backed away. As he walked home to Spike, he sent a prayer of thanks to most of the Gods he could name that he had spent the day so productively. He burst into the apartment and shouted for the vampire, surprised it was so unusually quiet and tidy. While he waited for Spike to emerge, he went to the kitchen to make some tea. He picked up the paper with the flight timings, pleased that Willow had got them so quickly. There were two that week that were suitable, and he made a mental calculation how quickly he could arrange to leave. His eye reached the part where the rather small, schoolgirl writing changed, and at first he couldn't take in what he was seeing. He absentmindedly poured the boiling water into the mug as he read it again.

"You only have one life, human. I'll have an eternity of them. I wonder who'll feel regret more.'

His blood ran cold and, as scalding water ran out over the counter, he dropped the kettle and ran blindly up the stairs. Spike hadn't had much stuff there, so it was hard to judge from its absence what had happened, but there was an unmistakable sense of desolation about the bedroom. He briefly checked the bathroom, but he knew that Spike was gone. Giles tipped his head back and swore vociferously, even kicking the wall in a fit of spite. Suddenly, he ran back down the stairs, grabbed the now rather soggy piece of paper and ran back out of the door, slamming it forcibly behind him.

When he got to the cemetery, he was careful not to be observed or followed. He went unerringly to the crypt and hesitantly pushed open the door. He saw Spike immediately; he was standing against the wall in a beam of moonlight. Giles went over to him, registering somewhere in his mind that the chair was on its side. He came to a halt in front of Spike and tipped his head on one side wonderingly. With an almost reverential look, he put one soft finger on the tears that still ran down the vampire's face. Spike did not turn away but looked at him through eyes huge with emotions he seemed unable to control.

Giles shook his head. 'You didn't read the paper, Spike. Why didn't you bloody read it?'

Spike didn't reply and clamped his jaw tightly shut as if afraid of what might come out if he attempted to speak. Giles dug into the pocket of his jacket and pulled it out. 'Did you not see all the flights were night ones? Oh, you foolish vampire. Did you think I'd let you out of my life now?'

Spike's chin actually wobbled, and they both seemed utterly fascinated by this: Giles, his hand just stroking over the trembling lips; Spike, his eyes even wider and more puzzled. Giles moved his hand until a finger was just under Spike's jaw and, with this soft gesture, brought Spike into his embrace. He dug his fingers into Spike's hair; he pulled on the soft blond strands; he rubbed his face into the cool, silky ear; he murmured words that made no sense but said all he needed to say.

Still Spike did not speak so, more coherently, Giles began to outline his plans for their flight to England. He spoke of the trip and where they would go; he told Spike about Riley and Buffy's involvement. Spike pulled away and began to pace around in the dark, smoking violently, restlessly. Giles watched him then risked a quiet, 'What's wrong?'

'Me. I'm wrong.'

'Ah. Because you cried?'

Spike hesitated, debating whether he could deny this, realising he couldn't. He nodded furiously and continued pacing.

'Are you angry that you were made to feel those emotions, or that you did feel them?'

'Fucking what?'

'Are you mad at me, or at yourself. It's rather important.'

Spike came back and peered closely at him. 'I don't know. I feel everything when I look at you. It's all just a fucking mass of stuff. I can't work it all out and, yeah, I'm mad at you and at me, and… I don't know! How do you learn all this stuff?'

Giles watched him pace away again. 'Would it help if I told you I don't understand it all either? I'm the same when I think about you, Spike; what did you expect? You're a vampire. I should fear you, hate you. I don't do either. I look at you and something twists inside me until I can hardly stand to be in my own skin because it keeps me separate from you. I hear you, and I can't bear to speak in case you stop talking. When I think of you, I think I should just go away, for those thoughts make me so unlike myself that I'm entirely lost anyway, and I don't know the way back. What did you think I would think when I got home and found this?' Accusingly, he held up the paper.

Spike spun around. 'I don't know how to cope with this! All I know is anger and hate and deep, dangerous passion. I don't want to think about your bloody hands on me. I don't want to remember your fucking voice when you sing, or think about how you laugh at things I say! I'm not human; how am I supposed to do this? This was supposed to be a soddin' game… just fucking around and good shagging. Not this. I didn't want to end up soddin' crying in a bloody crypt cus I thought you didn't love me!'

'You never wanted it to be a game. I knew that from the start; don't lie to yourself.'

Spike tipped his head back. 'Neither did you.'

'That's not true….' Giles trailed off uncertainly as he watched Spike's face. He swallowed slowly. 'Last night, I felt as if I'd lost you, and I don't care how this all started really. All I'm concerned about is where it's gone.'

Spike came slowly toward him. 'Where has it gone?'

'Why were you crying?' Giles began to move to meet Spike. 'What do you want from me?'

'I want….' Spike took hold of Giles' hair, tugging lightly with one hand on the longish strands at the back of his head. He dashed the heel of his other hand across his face and tried to look Giles in the eye, finding this very difficult. 'I want to wake up happy cus of you.'

Giles groaned slightly. 'I've never said these things to anyone, and I can't find the words.'

Spike nodded. 'You know I understand, don't you?'

'You can't say them either, can you vampire?'

Spike finally looked him in the eye. 'I want to learn though. I want to be able to love.'

'Can I teach you anything?' This soft question seemed aimed more at himself than Spike, but Spike smiled, a slight mischievous look returning to his stressed face.

'Teacher and pupil, hey? Like the sound of that game.'

Giles chuckled and, when he found that Spike did not resist, pulled him into a welcoming embrace. 'No more games, ever. If we're to do this, we do it as ourselves, yes?'

Spike looked up at him with a puzzled expression. ''K, but not sure I know who that is.'

'Something else to find out then, isn't it? In England.'

'Oh, yeah. So… bloody hell, England. Ain't been there for fucking years.'

Giles pushed Spike to arm's length. 'It's not just because of the Initiative. I wanted to go anyway. Something about these last few weeks….' He gritted his teeth to the inevitability of having to say something so intimate. 'Something about being with you has made me question things in my past. I want to go home and… face things, I suppose. Does that sound strange?'

Spike pursed his lips then tapped gently on the side of Giles' skull. 'Told ya; it's all in there still.'

'Yes, I know you did. It set me to thinking, and when I felt such… panic at the thought of losing you, I realised that I was about to lose other people I feared for, too.'

'Huh. Panic, hey?'

Giles smiled. 'Yes, panic I can admit to.'

''S okay. Like panic. Enjoying thinking about you thinking 'bout me.'

Giles glanced down and raised his eyebrow. 'You bounce back, Spike; I'll give you that.'

'Here or your place?' Seeing Spike already had him pressed backward over a tomb, Giles felt offering the choice a little unfair. Spike had his hips thrust forward against Giles' groin, the hard bulge in his jeans very evident in that position. 'Last time we were in 'ere like this, you didn't even speak to me.'

'Ah. No.'

'So… how's about I hear something this time. Beggin' would be good.'

'I'm not sure I do begging very well.'

Spike pouted and began to untuck Giles' shirt, sliding his hands up onto the warm chest. He ground his erection into Giles' and, through the layers separating them, Giles could feel the urgency of the vampire's need. He groaned lightly. 'Please.'

Spike smiled but shook his head sadly. Giles coughed softly and added, 'I want you.'

A raised eyebrow encouraged another, 'Please.' A hand cupping him drew forth a more desperate, 'Spike, please.' He couldn't beg when Spike was kissing him, but when the cool lips withdrew with a small smirk, Giles said raggedly, 'I want you inside me.' Slow unbuttoning of Spike's jeans didn't add anything - the pause before getting himself out did. As Spike watched him through lowered lids, his hands just hovering over his opening, Giles hissed between gritted teeth, 'Now, for God's sake, Spike. I ache for you.' It was Spike's turn to look slightly flustered at this, and he rewarded Giles by exposing his swollen erection, bringing it out into the cool moonlight that illuminated the crypt. Giles moaned at the sight, and when a small drop of clear precum oozed out of the dark tip, the moan turned to soft curses of desire. Spike took Giles' mouth again, pressing the human back so he could feel the twitching and straining of the warmer erection still encased in soft material. He grinned into the kiss when Giles murmured against his lips, 'Just take me, Spike. I can feel you already. Make me cum.'

He turned Giles around and just pulled his trousers down as far as his knees. Spike hissed at the erotic sight of the human's arse, pale in the moonlight, exposed, ready for him. He felt into the crack and rubbed some of his own precum over the puckered skin. Giles arched his back at the feel of Spike's fingers playing with him, and he breathed softly, 'Lick me again.'

Spike cursed and fell to his knees, plunging his mouth onto the hot skin, nibbling into the edges of the hole just enough to make the human curse, too. He eased his tongue through the tight muscles, coaxing it to relax with gentle probing and licking. When he was in, he pressed his whole mouth to Giles' hole and blew onto the wet skin. Giles laughed and groaned in the same breath, so Spike did it once more, this time with his hands around Giles' erection, rubbing the tip very gently onto the cold stone of the tomb. Giles hands flew down in an instinctive response to monitor and control this dangerous activity, but when the soft blowing stopped and the tongue withdrew, he was forced to replace his hands on the top of the tomb. Spike rewarded him by thrusting his tongue in and out of the hole for a while, still rasping the tip of Giles' exposed cockhead against the cool marble.

Giles felt an orgasm swelling in his balls and put a hand around to find Spike. 'Inside, now, please.' He would have begged more; he would have begged until he had no pride left, but he physically couldn't speak as the repetitive rubbing of his erection took breath entirely from him. Spike rose to his feet and stood leaning into Giles' spread backside. He knew Giles was coming; he could feel the tension in the cock and the swelling in the balls when he cupped them swiftly. Instead of rubbing Giles over the marble, he took the warm cock in his hand instead and clamped down on the root with preternatural strength. Giles howled with frustration and shock; he'd never had anyone do that before, but when Spike began to tease his hole with the tip of his cool penis, the human was utterly silenced, entranced by the level of his need to be penetrated. When Spike finally pushed in on the slickness of his own precum, Giles began to pant his need in urgent, ragged words, 'Yes. That's it. Oh. God. In. And out. Yes, oh yes. Harder. Find… ahh. Ahh. Ahh. Oh.' Spike grinned.

'Like that? Yeah, so do I. God, Giles, your arse is so hot. I wanna cum in you, deep in you. Do you want that?'

Giles spread himself as far as his half-mast clothes would allow and groaned a desperate reply. 'Deep. Yes. Please, let me go. Let me cum. Go, cum. Now. Please.'

'Beg me for that, too.'

'Oh, God, I'm begging you, Spike; let me go. I'm so hard, and I want to… oh!' Spike suddenly released Giles and, crouching down slightly, came at him from an increased position of strength, using all the muscles in his strong thighs to drive his cock into the spread backside. Giles was propelled over the tomb until his feet were off the ground, and he hung impaled on Spike's cock. He cried out as his penis was crushed beneath him, but then gasped as it jerked and erupted a stream of hot cum against the uncomfortably cold stone. Spike saw the trickle of cum escape and run darkly down the side of the tomb, and the sight made something give deep in his groin. The orgasm he'd been controlling until then overwhelmed him, and he shook his sperm so deep into the human's body that, for one moment, he expected it to join the small trickle and flood to the floor through the human's own orifices. He couldn't stop jetting sperm as if he emptied a lifetime's need for release though this one orgasm. He cried out as the rhythmic thrusting drew more and more fluid out of him. Giles suddenly reared back and regained his spread-eagled position, and as he braced himself to the thrusting, he thrust back slightly. Spike swore, took him around the waist and began a rapid jerking that rattled Giles' teeth and made his semi-hard and still leaking cock sway and swing into the tomb.

At last, Spike stopped. On an inward thrust, deeply embedded, he stopped moving and just stood in a pool of cum that dripped off the tomb and out of Giles.

A sudden silence hit them both, and they both realised at the same time that they had been making a considerable amount of noise. Spike chuckled and, with a small warning tap on Giles' head, he pulled back, allowing a huge flood of cum to wash out. Giles groaned, and they both knew that some of the pleasure had gone out of that sound, but he chuckled, too, and pulled up his trousers, fastening them with a grimace of distaste. Spike hopped up onto the tomb as he did himself up, and when he was as decent as he ever got, he lit a cigarette. He watched Giles out of narrowed eyes then said teasingly, 'Nice line in begging there, Rupert.'

Unperturbed, Giles attempted to get onto the tomb alongside Spike. He managed the hop up, but winced when his backside encountered the hardness. Spike pouted and after a moment's thought, offered him his cigarette. Giles looked surprised but took it and smoked for a moment before handing it back. He made a face. 'God, another addiction I don't need.'

Spike grinned and, before he could fish, Giles added softly, 'And yes, I think addiction is a very good description of how I feel about you right now.'

Spike turned away, pretending to study the empty crypt, but he handed back his cigarette, and Giles took it once more. They sat for a long time just enjoying the silence and the closeness. Their thighs lay against one another and, every so often, one or other of them would move slightly, pressing them closer together. Eventually, Giles lay his hand on Spike's thigh. 'Come back with me tonight. You can't stay here; it's not safe.'

Spike nodded. 'When we going?'

'Tomorrow, as soon as it's dark. We can wait for the flight at the airport. I shall feel less uneasy about you there.'

Suddenly, shockingly, Spike turned to him and, grasping the back of his neck in a tight hold, he kissed Giles deeply, then pulled away, saying lightly, as if it were of no matter, 'Love you.' He hopped off and swaggered toward the door. 'Coming then? Cus I'm fucking starvin'.'

Too shocked to do anything more than follow, Giles trailed behind the vampire, as he made his way arrogantly out of the place where he was so vulnerable. Giles chuckled to himself as he watched this show of bravado and finally jogged to catch Spike up. He pushed him slightly in the back in a familiar gesture and said, 'I do, too, and let's not discuss this again, yes?'