Made for fun, not for profit. The Buffyverse belongs to Mutant Enemy and Joss Whedon, I just like to play there.
A/N: I'm trying something out. I've come across some interesting quotes recently (been on a Criminal Minds bender), and l've added them at the beginning of chapters if I feel that the quotes fit well with a theme of the chapter. Please let me know if you feel that this is adding anything to the story, or if its just cheesy. Thanks for all your great feedback so far! It means a lot and encourages me to keep plugging away at this monster. Please read and review!
"No man deserves to be praised for his goodness, who has it not in his power to be wicked.
Goodness without that power is generally nothing more than sloth, or an impotence of will."
~ François, Duc De La Rochefoucauld
8 – The Smart Thing
Giles walked towards his apartment, glancing down at his wristwatch along the way. He shook his head. Nearly eleven o'clock. It had been a longer evening at the dorms than he would have liked. Willow's spell hadn't yielded a clear location for the errant werewolf, but it also hadn't gone awry, which was a great relief. Despite his initial annoyance with Sam for thrusting him into the role of babysitter for a lovesick adolescent witch, it had felt good to be needed again. Being able to help Willow with researching spells had reminded him of a time when he wasn't unemployed and at loose ends in terms of what to do with himself. Lately, it seemed as though he had nothing but free time and very little to occupy himself with.
He unlocked the door and shook his head slightly. Inside his home there was an infamous vampire who had turned himself in to the Slayer's custody and offered himself as an informant. An informant who, so far, had not given them any useful information. He adjusted the plastic bag in his hand. It contained two gallons of waste blood from the butcher. While he was looking for the correct herbs at the Magic Box, Willow had ducked out and bought the butcher's blood for him to take home. That made two witches who were oddly concerned for the well-being of his vampire house guest. He only hoped that Sam's apparent fondness for Spike wouldn't put her in any danger.
The front door opened with a slight creak, and he stepped inside. The place looked much as it had when he left it, except that the table had been cleared and dinner dishes were piled in the kitchen sink. Giles didn't hear anything odd as he hung up his coat and headed towards the kitchen. In fact, he didn't hear anything at all. There were no sounds from either of his house guests; no voices, television or music. He could almost believe that he was alone in his home. It was still fairly early, at least by Scooby standards, so he had expected that Sam would still be awake. Of course, after a long day of traipsing through airports and flying halfway around the world, he wouldn't be surprised if she had decided to turn in early.
A flash of movement by the couch caught his eye. When he stepped closer, he saw the back of Spike's head resting against and partially obscured by the cushioned backrest. The vampire didn't speak or otherwise acknowledge his presence, so Giles guessed that William the Bloody Pain-In-The-Arse must be asleep, too. Just as well. The former Watcher wasn't in the mood to deal with any more puerile nonsense. He simply wanted to put his 'groceries' away and quietly retire upstairs. He would have preferred to have Spike chained up in his study during the night, but Giles didn't relish the thought of waking the vampire up just to restrain him. The odds of that going over well were almost non-existent, especially without Sam to act as a buffer, so he decided to let sleeping vampires lie.
Giles skirted the living room area on his way to the fridge, not paying much mind to anything other than putting the blood away, but on his way back he noticed a pair of feet propped up on the arm of his couch. The feet were much too small to belong to a man, so he stepped closer to get a better look.
The feet belonged to Sam. She was sprawled on the couch, unmoving, her head turned slightly to her left and resting in Spike's lap. Her right arm was hidden by her torso, the upper part of her left arm rested by her side and her forearm dangled off the seat of the couch. Her torso lay flat, but her hips were turned sideways so that her legs lay one on top of the other. The tableau was eerily similar to how Jenny Calendar had looked the one and only time she had been in his bed, and suddenly, Giles found himself incapable of rational thought.
Spike was dragged back to consciousness by a pair of hands hauling him upright and an irate voice shouting at him. He couldn't tell what his assailant was saying, just that whoever it was sounded royally brassed off. His eyes popped open as he came fully awake to find that Giles had him by the shirt and was shaking him. Hard.
"Bloody hell, Watcher! What're you playin' at?"
Giles pulled him closer, radiating anger, and gave voice to something which resembled a growl. "What did you do to her? What did you do!?"
Spike stared at him incredulously. "'Do'? I didn't do anythin', mate." Spike looked over to Sam, and saw that she was blinking awake. Commotion probably woke her up. He sighed, putting it all together. The man must've seen them on the couch with her sprawled out all awkward-like and thought he'd hurt her or summat. No wonder watcher-boy was blinkered. Spike put his hands up in the universal gesture for 'surrender'. Best to explain things, quick, if he wanted to keep all his bits attached. No reason to mention the kissing, though, since he didn't have a dust-wish. He spoke slowly and clearly and tried to sound calm despite the stake which had suddenly found its way into Giles' upraised hand.
"We watched telly an' fell asleep, Rupert. That's all. No need for the pointy stick." He might be able to dodge away safely if Giles tried to dust him, but with the cramped space and his leg the way it was, Spike didn't like his chances.
A sleepy, puzzled female voice joined the conversation. "What's goin' on?"
As soon as Giles heard her, he released his grip on Spike's shirt and turned to look at her. "Sam." Giles sighed in relief, briefly closing his eyes and giving a faint smile as he let his head fall forward. "You're alright."
Spike took the opportunity to shift his weight off of his hurt leg. It wasn't actually bothering him yet, just a dull ache which he could easily ignore, but he wanted to make sure the lack-of-pain lasted as long as possible.
Meanwhile, Sam had stood up, stretching her arms above her head until her shoulders popped slightly. "Yeah, I'm okay." Sam looked curiously from Giles to Spike, her eyes traveling back and forth like she was watching a tennis match. "Course I'm okay. Why wouldn't I be?" Her eyes suddenly narrowed as she caught sight of the stake in Giles' hand and she grabbed it from him, glaring and waving the deadly bit of wood under the Watcher's nose. "What the hell are you doing with this? Huh? That's no way to wake someone!"
Giles gestured helplessly at the couch, obviously flustered and trying to justify his actions. "I-I saw you lying there and I thought Spike had… well, that he must have…"
Sam stared daggers at her host, her chin jutting out obstinately as she tilted her head back to glare at the tall Englishman. "No, Giles, you didn't think. That's the problem." She faced Spike and her expression instantly softened, her worried eyes quickly traveling over him as she laid a gentle hand on his arm. "Are you okay?"
He nodded and gave a fond smile, warmed by her concern. "Yeah, pet. No harm done."
She glanced sideways at Giles, her eyes turning steely again when she saw that the man had started moving towards his nearest weapons chest. "Lets try to keep it that way."
Giles nodded, reaching the chest and opening it. "Precisely my goal." However, he seemed to have misunderstood her meaning. Spike was almost certain that Sam had meant 'avoid harm done to Spike', but if the reappearance of the leg irons was anything to go by, Giles had thought she meant 'avoid harm done by Spike.'
"Sam, when I came in, I initially assumed that you were asleep upstairs, and that being the case I did not want to disturb you-"
She rolled her eyes, muttering, "With the wake-up you just gave us, the 'not disturbing me' ship has pretty much sailed."
Spike let out a breathy chuckle at that.
Giles continued undaunted. "However, since you are awake now, I would greatly appreciate your assistance in… securing Spike for the night." The man retrieved the crossbow which he had menaced Spike with earlier that day.
Sam crossed her arms, entirely out of patience. "Drop the euphemisms, Giles." She yawned behind her hand, blinking afterward and shaking her head slightly. "I'm waaay too tired for pretense."
The former Watcher loaded a bolt into the crossbow, making a slight cluck-cluck noise back in his throat as he did so, and once the bolt was in place he rose to his full height. "Very well. Until we have ascertained whether or not Spike is actually capable of inflicting harm, I will not have him roaming loose unsupervised in my home." He fixed Sam with a stern, Watcher-ly glare for emphasis. "Especially while we sleep."
She sighed, rubbing the heel of one hand against her forehead. "I think you're wrong, but it's your house and, yeah, you have the right to feel safe here."
Spike watched the exchange closely but didn't speak, wary of doing anything which might incur Giles' wrath. He almost felt frozen in time, wondering what would happen next and fervently hoping that whatever happened wouldn't involve any pain, physical or otherwise.
Giles nodded at Sam and gave her a tight smile. "Glad we can agree. Now, if you would be so kind as to discourage our guest from trying anything foolish while I fasten his restraints…" He handed Sam the crossbow.
Spike tensed, and a cold, sinking feeling of betrayal settled in the pit of his stomach as Sam took hold of the weapon. She raised her eyes from the weapon and turned to face him, looking as though she had just bit into a rotten lemon. Her hands fidgeted on the crossbow stalk and she swallowed, looking pale and suddenly very fragile.
Was she afraid of him? Was that what he was seeing on her face? She hadn't seemed the least bit frightened of him since they had met, even though that had only been a few hours earlier. He'd hardly been at his best the whole time, but she hadn't seemed phased by anything that had happened so far. He'd vamped out and yelled at her, and not too long afterwards they had fallen asleep cuddling, for Christ sake! Surely that had to mean something. Had the fondness truly only been one-sided, or was she having second thoughts courtesy of Giles? That didn't seem likely either. The affection he had felt from her had been real, he was sure of it, and, stubborn as she was, it would take much more than Watcher-boy's hyper-vigilance to change how she felt about him. So why was she still holding a weapon?
If she was afraid of him, or even if she was starting to have doubts, he'd understand. She was a white-hat, through and through, and he'd been stupid to think that a few hours of good behavior would be enough to make her overlook all that he'd done during the past hundred-plus years. He hadn't even considered all the flak she was likely to get from the Scoobies for even caring about him, and as much as the notion of them braving the storm of disapproval appealed to the romantic in him, he knew that she probably wouldn't take a gamble like that on someone she had just met. Hell, she hadn't even committed to him beyond two kisses, a cuddle and saying that she wanted him. They were barely lovers, just starting out, really, and he couldn't be sure what she would do once the chips were down.
Spike squared his shoulders. Well, he'd just have to prove Watcher-boy wrong, and trust that Sam would do right by him. After all, she hadn't let him down yet.
Sam looked from Spike to the crossbow several times, threw a glance over to Giles, and then gave her head a determined shake as she shifted her focus back to the vamp. "I'm sorry."
Spike nodded tightly, disappointed but not surprised that she had sided with the watcher. He hunched his shoulders slightly and kept his tone nonchalant, hoping that he didn't let on how hurt he was. "'S alright, pet. Can't say I'm thrilled, but-"
She shook her head again, a confused expression briefly passing over her face. "No, I was talking to Giles." She smiled at Spike and put the weapon down on top of one of the low bookshelves. He blinked for a few moments in stunned surprise, just watching her hands withdraw as she left the weapon to sit harmlessly atop the books, and he felt a relieved and grateful smile split his face as his eyes trailed up to meet hers.
Giles narrowed his eyes at her, coming forward and stopping slightly closer to the young woman than an English gentleman strictly should. "Sam, what are you-"
She cut him off. "Giles, if you want to chain Spike up, fine, it's your house, but you'll do it without my help." She interrupted herself with a yawn, but held a hovering hand over Giles' mouth to keep him quiet until she could resume talking. Spike grinned at that but didn't let out a peep. "We've been over this. The only way you're gonna get any info outta Spike is if you stop treating him like crap, so I won't help you lock him up since it's A) wrong and B) counter-productive."
Another yawn interrupted her, and she blinked copiously afterwards. This time, Giles took advantage of the moment to speak. "You wont help? Despite the danger he poses?"
She rolled her eyes, "I won't help you figuratively shoot yourself in the foot. And if he was as dangerous as you think, don'tcha think he would've snacked on me while you were out?" She shivered slightly and yawned yet again, struggling to not lose her balance as the tired breath shook her. She crossed her arms, running her hands over her sleeves as thought she was trying to warm herself up. "Look, I'm too tired to keep going 'round in circles about this. Either you'll see that I'm right or you won't, but either way I have to go fall down."
Spike gave her a tender smile, but since the crossbow was within an arm's length of Giles, he refrained from reaching out to touch her. "Go on and rest, luv. Rupes an I will be fine."
She smiled back at him on her way to the staircase, then shot Giles a quick glare. "I hope you're right about that."
Giles nodded. "Sleep well, Sam. I'm sure we'll continue this… discussion in the morning."
Sam paused on the stairs with another eye-roll and gritted out, "No. More. Euphemisms. You're maxing out my bullshit tolerance."
Giles waited until Sam's footsteps reached the upstairs hallway, and then he reclaimed the abandoned crossbow, aiming it at Spike's chest. "Walk past the kitchen and down the hall."
Spike tensed his jaw. He couldn't even bring himself to be surprised, really, and since he didn't want to add another injury to his collection or kick up a fuss which might postpone Sam's much-needed sleep, he started towards the hallway. He hadn't been on his feet long, and he'd managed to keep most of his weight off of his bad leg, but after just a few steps he found himself limping slightly.
Giles kept the crossbow trained on Spike as he escorted him into the study. Spike stopped just in front of the radiator. "So that's the grand plan, Rupes? Truss me up in here, outta sight, outta mind?"
"Only when you are on your own. On a related topic, I'm hardly pleased by how… attached Sam clearly is to you, but if she can ensure your good behavior, I suppose it isn't such a terrible state of affairs. As long as it doesn't go any farther than it already has, I won't be forced to intervene."
Spike shook his head at the man's overabundance of caution. Wasn't it bloody clear that he couldn't hurt any of them? Sure, on paper it helped his tattered Big Bad persona to be treated as a potential threat, but being chained to a soddin' radiator was hardly his idea of a good – let alone comfortable – way to spend the night. Not to mention how much it rankled that Rupes had somehow managed to both dismiss Sam's feelings for him as merely a useful tool to 'ensure good behavior' and threaten to quash their budding romance in the same breath. Cripes. God forbid anyone ever have a good tumble in Giles' flat. He turned to face Giles, a quip about celibacy loving company ready on his tongue, when his leg buckled – again – and everything went dark.
Giles frowned. He wasn't entirely certain what had just happened. One moment, Spike was upright, and then he seemed to have lost his balance somehow. As he fell, Spike's head had connected with part of the radiator, and now the unconscious vampire lay in a crumpled heap at Giles' feet. There was an ugly gash on Spike's temple which Giles could clearly see without needing to get any closer, and a mess of blood was sluggishly oozing out of the wound. The impact had made a sickening sound not unlike a cut of meat landing on a tile floor. As awful as the sound had been, Giles knew from past experience that vampires could easily sustain much more grievous blows to the head without losing consciousness. His frown deepened. Perhaps Spike had not been exaggerating how weakened he was when he first arrived.
There was no way to be sure whether Spike would wake up again before the morning, and although he was clearly no threat to anyone at the moment, being injured hardly decreased the danger he might pose upon waking. On the contrary, having been injured might very well give him cause – legitimate cause, even – to either leave the premises, taking his knowledge of the commandos with him, or increase his hostility towards his captors, and that made him more dangerous.
Giles set aside his crossbow and ran the manacle chain around a thick pipe which attached the radiator to the wall, glancing at Spike's inert form every so often. He told himself that chaining Spike up really was a two-person job, so it was just as well that the vampire was out cold while he got the restraints in order, but part of him felt that shackling Spike in his current state was wrong, somehow. Giles had to push and tug the unconscious vampire closer to the radiator pipe before he could get the manacles on. Until they were absolutely certain that Spike was harmless, Spike had to be either supervised or restrained at all times. That was the best, and the safest course of action, not only for Giles himself, but for the young people who were unofficially in his charge. He shook his head, setting aside his doubts, and quickly locked the manacles around Spike's wrists. This was what needed to be done.
He shook the chains slightly, making sure they were fastened well, and stood up. The window in his study faced east, and it was directly across from the radiator. Giles stepped across the room and arranged the curtains so that they would block any stray beams from entering the room come sunrise. A dusted hostage was of no use to anyone.
Giles headed for the hallway, grabbing his crossbow en route, and briefly paused in the doorway to glance at his study's sole occupant. Spike's head was lolled onto his shoulder in what couldn't possibly be a comfortable position, and he was awkwardly slumped against the wall. Spike didn't stir or make a sound, and again Giles felt that just leaving his prisoner chained and bloodied on the floor went against some code of ethics, but he had committed to this course of action, and he would see it through.
Without another look back, the ex-Watcher headed off to bed.
A/N: A cookie for anyone who remembers what Giles' 'cluck-cluck' noise means. Think back to season 3. It was something Willow said.
