Disclaimer: I own nothing. That is such a sad fact. I don't own any of
it!! Damn it!!!
A/N: Well, this is obviously an AU since everyone is human. It's a story I've been posting on Spuffy Archives (shameless plug for that site, check it out!) and decided to put it here. Hope you enjoy it and if you don't, be gentle with the flaming. So, you know, review once you read this.
He didn't want to be disturbed. As a matter of fact, all he really wanted was to eat a decent meal, smoke that last cigarette so he could open the new pack, take a shower, and go to bed. Not necessarily in that order. Just as long as he got them done.
The cigarette was coming first, William 'Spike' Giles decided as he threw his leather duster onto the foot of his bed. A moment later, his shirt joined it.
As he opened his window and went through the familiar routine of lighting a cigarette, Spike shook his head. Sometimes he really wondered why he had become a journalist in the first place. Oh yeah, now he remembered. It was that rush, the danger faced when he went to other countries or states to get the story and see the situation for himself. That burning desire to tell people what was really going on in the world.
This time had been no different. He'd busted up some secret meeting held by a ponce named Parker Abrams. Spike rubbed a hand over his jaw, which had been sore only this morning from a well-aimed punch the night before. He smirked. Good old Parker was probably still hurting, the bloody moron.
He'd gotten his story and now came the part that he looked forward to the most. Relaxation. He put the cigarette out and looked at the bed. When was the last time he had slept? He couldn't even remember.
That settled it. The shower and meal could wait. He was going to bed and sleeping for the next few hours.
It was just his damn luck that minute he closed his eyes some idiot decided that it'd be a great time to start knocking on his door.
"Sod off." Spike groaned burying his head under his pillow. Maybe they'd go away. There was more knocking. Alright, so the person had a death wish. He could deal with that. He'd kill them and then he'd go to sleep. Spike tossed the pillow off his head and launched off the bed, storming towards the door. Cursing under his breath the entire time, he threw open the door. "What?" he demanded.
Buffy Summers froze, her fist raised to knock again stopping centimeters from his bare chest. She watched as a look of shock passed through his cerulean blue eyes and almost panicked. Then the questioning look came and she allowed herself to relax. He didn't recognize her. After all, she looked different now. She wore her hair much shorter than she had back then. It now stopped above her shoulders and flipped out at the ends when she didn't have it clipped up as she did now. She actually wore a little make-up now and of course there was the business suit she now wore. Her battered briefcase dangled from her hand.
She would've recognized him. He hadn't changed all that much since high school. He still bleached his hair so that it was a white blonde, his eyes were the same beautiful.um, nice.shade of blue. He still had the same sharp, prominent cheekbones. He was still tall and lean, but Lord, had he filled out. He hadn't lost the British accent that had caused all the girls to lust after him.
Damn, he was sexy.
Shut up Buffy! Bad thoughts! You will not think about Spike and how absolutely lickable he looks.STOP!
She straightened her shoulder as he cocked an eyebrow in an all too familiar expression.
"Well? Something I can help you with, luv?" he asked, smirking.
"Mr. Giles?" she asked, certain that he wouldn't realize who she was.
"Who's asking?"
"I am." she replied pulling a small business card out of her pocket and handing it to him. He took the card, amused. Smart-ass little chit, wasn't she? Opening the door further he allowed her to come in. As she sat down on his couch he stared at her. Spike glanced down at the business card in his hand as he sat down.
E. A. Summers
Social Worker, Department of Social Services
"What's the 'E. A.' stand for?" he asked her, watching her while she responded.
"Easily Annoyed." she told him without missing a beat. He smirked at her, while inside something had clicked with him.
He knew her. He didn't know how but she was familiar. He stared a little harder at the tanned blonde sitting across from him.
Her blonde hair was up with one of those clips that women seemed to like and her hazel eyes stared steadily back at him. The end of her nose tipped up a little, keeping it from being too straight or perfect. Her skirt stopped at her knees, but hell, he still liked what he saw.
She raised an eyebrow at his frank appraisal, mirroring his earlier expression.
"Do I know you?"
Something flashed across her face before the indifferent mask slipped back over her face.
"No, Mr. Giles, you don't know me." The lie fell easily from her lips and he readily accepted it.
"Well, then, what's this all about luv?" At the use of the endearment said so casually, her eyebrow rose. He merely smiled.
"Do you know Drusilla Evans?" Buffy asked him. She really hoped he made this easy on her.
"Who?"
She just barely kept from rolling her eyes. No, of course he wouldn't make it easy on her. They were going to have to do this the hard way.
"Okay, what I should say, is do you remember Drusilla Evans? I believe you knew her in London." A thoughtful look passed over Spike as he started thinking back before another smile crossed his face.
"Oh, you mean Dru! Yeah, course I remember Dru. How is she anyway?" Spike asked. Buffy bit her lip and Spike's eyes were drawn to them immediately. The minute she noticed, she stopped and took a deep breath before she gave him the news.
"She's dead."
Spike's eyes widened and he drew back quickly as if she had hit him. Only a few moments passed before he blinked.
"When? How? And also, not that I mean to sound insensitive, why are you contacting me about it? I haven't seen Dru in almost fifteen years." Spike said.
"It happened a last week. She was in a car accident. Drunk driver." Buffy told him softly. "And the reason we're contacting you is because of Dawn."
"Dawn?"
"Dawn Giles. Your daughter."
This time Spike's eyes almost popped out of his head. Then before he could stop himself, he started laughing. Buffy frowned.
"I'm sorry.really, I am." Spike gasped, waving a hand at her. "But I could have sworn you just said my daughter." Buffy allowed the sigh to escape this time.
"I did, Mr. Giles." Almost immediately, the laughter stopped.
"Well then, sorry, pet. But you've got the wrong man. I don't have a daughter."
"You are William Giles, aren't you?"
"Yeah, what of it?" Spike's blue eyes narrowed. "So what?" Buffy reached into her briefcase and pulled a folder out. She flipped it open, then turned it around to show him the birth certificate inside. Giving her a dirty look that let her know exactly what Spike thought of all this, he took it. His face changed completely when he read it.
"Dawn Giles. Mother, Drusilla Evans. Father, William Giles." Buffy said even as he absorbed the information. He glanced at the birth date and quickly did the math, realizing that the timing was right. Which meant that he had a fourteen year old daughter he never knew about because while Dru may have been a little batty, she had never slept around.
"A daughter.I have a daughter." Spike repeated slowly, getting used to the idea.
"Congratulations, Mr. Giles. It's a girl." Buffy said dryly
A/N: Well, this is obviously an AU since everyone is human. It's a story I've been posting on Spuffy Archives (shameless plug for that site, check it out!) and decided to put it here. Hope you enjoy it and if you don't, be gentle with the flaming. So, you know, review once you read this.
He didn't want to be disturbed. As a matter of fact, all he really wanted was to eat a decent meal, smoke that last cigarette so he could open the new pack, take a shower, and go to bed. Not necessarily in that order. Just as long as he got them done.
The cigarette was coming first, William 'Spike' Giles decided as he threw his leather duster onto the foot of his bed. A moment later, his shirt joined it.
As he opened his window and went through the familiar routine of lighting a cigarette, Spike shook his head. Sometimes he really wondered why he had become a journalist in the first place. Oh yeah, now he remembered. It was that rush, the danger faced when he went to other countries or states to get the story and see the situation for himself. That burning desire to tell people what was really going on in the world.
This time had been no different. He'd busted up some secret meeting held by a ponce named Parker Abrams. Spike rubbed a hand over his jaw, which had been sore only this morning from a well-aimed punch the night before. He smirked. Good old Parker was probably still hurting, the bloody moron.
He'd gotten his story and now came the part that he looked forward to the most. Relaxation. He put the cigarette out and looked at the bed. When was the last time he had slept? He couldn't even remember.
That settled it. The shower and meal could wait. He was going to bed and sleeping for the next few hours.
It was just his damn luck that minute he closed his eyes some idiot decided that it'd be a great time to start knocking on his door.
"Sod off." Spike groaned burying his head under his pillow. Maybe they'd go away. There was more knocking. Alright, so the person had a death wish. He could deal with that. He'd kill them and then he'd go to sleep. Spike tossed the pillow off his head and launched off the bed, storming towards the door. Cursing under his breath the entire time, he threw open the door. "What?" he demanded.
Buffy Summers froze, her fist raised to knock again stopping centimeters from his bare chest. She watched as a look of shock passed through his cerulean blue eyes and almost panicked. Then the questioning look came and she allowed herself to relax. He didn't recognize her. After all, she looked different now. She wore her hair much shorter than she had back then. It now stopped above her shoulders and flipped out at the ends when she didn't have it clipped up as she did now. She actually wore a little make-up now and of course there was the business suit she now wore. Her battered briefcase dangled from her hand.
She would've recognized him. He hadn't changed all that much since high school. He still bleached his hair so that it was a white blonde, his eyes were the same beautiful.um, nice.shade of blue. He still had the same sharp, prominent cheekbones. He was still tall and lean, but Lord, had he filled out. He hadn't lost the British accent that had caused all the girls to lust after him.
Damn, he was sexy.
Shut up Buffy! Bad thoughts! You will not think about Spike and how absolutely lickable he looks.STOP!
She straightened her shoulder as he cocked an eyebrow in an all too familiar expression.
"Well? Something I can help you with, luv?" he asked, smirking.
"Mr. Giles?" she asked, certain that he wouldn't realize who she was.
"Who's asking?"
"I am." she replied pulling a small business card out of her pocket and handing it to him. He took the card, amused. Smart-ass little chit, wasn't she? Opening the door further he allowed her to come in. As she sat down on his couch he stared at her. Spike glanced down at the business card in his hand as he sat down.
E. A. Summers
Social Worker, Department of Social Services
"What's the 'E. A.' stand for?" he asked her, watching her while she responded.
"Easily Annoyed." she told him without missing a beat. He smirked at her, while inside something had clicked with him.
He knew her. He didn't know how but she was familiar. He stared a little harder at the tanned blonde sitting across from him.
Her blonde hair was up with one of those clips that women seemed to like and her hazel eyes stared steadily back at him. The end of her nose tipped up a little, keeping it from being too straight or perfect. Her skirt stopped at her knees, but hell, he still liked what he saw.
She raised an eyebrow at his frank appraisal, mirroring his earlier expression.
"Do I know you?"
Something flashed across her face before the indifferent mask slipped back over her face.
"No, Mr. Giles, you don't know me." The lie fell easily from her lips and he readily accepted it.
"Well, then, what's this all about luv?" At the use of the endearment said so casually, her eyebrow rose. He merely smiled.
"Do you know Drusilla Evans?" Buffy asked him. She really hoped he made this easy on her.
"Who?"
She just barely kept from rolling her eyes. No, of course he wouldn't make it easy on her. They were going to have to do this the hard way.
"Okay, what I should say, is do you remember Drusilla Evans? I believe you knew her in London." A thoughtful look passed over Spike as he started thinking back before another smile crossed his face.
"Oh, you mean Dru! Yeah, course I remember Dru. How is she anyway?" Spike asked. Buffy bit her lip and Spike's eyes were drawn to them immediately. The minute she noticed, she stopped and took a deep breath before she gave him the news.
"She's dead."
Spike's eyes widened and he drew back quickly as if she had hit him. Only a few moments passed before he blinked.
"When? How? And also, not that I mean to sound insensitive, why are you contacting me about it? I haven't seen Dru in almost fifteen years." Spike said.
"It happened a last week. She was in a car accident. Drunk driver." Buffy told him softly. "And the reason we're contacting you is because of Dawn."
"Dawn?"
"Dawn Giles. Your daughter."
This time Spike's eyes almost popped out of his head. Then before he could stop himself, he started laughing. Buffy frowned.
"I'm sorry.really, I am." Spike gasped, waving a hand at her. "But I could have sworn you just said my daughter." Buffy allowed the sigh to escape this time.
"I did, Mr. Giles." Almost immediately, the laughter stopped.
"Well then, sorry, pet. But you've got the wrong man. I don't have a daughter."
"You are William Giles, aren't you?"
"Yeah, what of it?" Spike's blue eyes narrowed. "So what?" Buffy reached into her briefcase and pulled a folder out. She flipped it open, then turned it around to show him the birth certificate inside. Giving her a dirty look that let her know exactly what Spike thought of all this, he took it. His face changed completely when he read it.
"Dawn Giles. Mother, Drusilla Evans. Father, William Giles." Buffy said even as he absorbed the information. He glanced at the birth date and quickly did the math, realizing that the timing was right. Which meant that he had a fourteen year old daughter he never knew about because while Dru may have been a little batty, she had never slept around.
"A daughter.I have a daughter." Spike repeated slowly, getting used to the idea.
"Congratulations, Mr. Giles. It's a girl." Buffy said dryly