Mortal Allies Series

Episode 5

War and Roses

By: Passion4Spike


Chapter 5: Unto the Breach


Chapter Notes:

Thank you for reading, and extra special thanks to everyone who has stopping in to comment! They are spicy blood for my muse!

Thanks also to MissLuci and All4Spike for their beta skills! All mistakes are mine because I keep fiddling. I tried to add in some 'extra' reminders of what happened in the previous story so you'll remember why, for example, Giles has a limp and a cane. If there is anything you can't remember that I missed, feel free to ask!


Despite Spike saying he could do his own nails, Buffy had insisted on returning the favor. After hers had dried, she'd lacquered his in the Oxblood Black she'd purchased. Her efforts weren't as flawless as Spike's had been, and it irked her a bit for him to be better at applying nail polish than she was, but she attributed it to the century of practice he'd had. There hadn't been any more sexy shenanigans, what with waiting for their nails to dry and her furry friend watching their every move like some sort of vampire-crunching voyeur. Buffy couldn't say she was completely unhappy about that, even if she was feeling just as unfulfilled and aroused as she imagined Spike was.

When darkness fell, they headed out, and, because the evening was the perfect mix of cool salty breezes and leftover warmth from the sun, they decided to walk to the Scooby meeting.

The closer they got to the high school, the more Spike's stomach knotted with nerves. At his side, Buffy also seemed tense, though she managed to carry on a mostly one-sided discourse about Lydia—or in Buffy's words, 'Lily'—and her so-called liaison-ness.

"She wants to see us spar, but when we do, she freaks out. You'd think she'd never seen anyone get strangled before, for god's sake. It's not like you were gonna kill Faith... much. And it's not like Faith didn't deserve a little ass kicking—how stupid can someone be to let the master vampire chose the weapon? Speaking of weapons... Lily wants to see them, makes snide remarks about how crappy they are, but I haven't seen any new ones magically appear. And did you see her in the training room? You'd think she was gonna catch something just from standing in there. God, I wish I could get out from under the stupid Council and their stuffy tweed suits and snooty noses that keep getting poked into my business," she ranted as they walked.

On Buffy's right-hand side, the giant furball pressed against her hip comfortingly, lending his complete support to her litany of complaints.

At her left, Spike cringed internally, hoping that the deal he'd struck with Lydia had been the right thing to do—trading his story—an 'interview with the vampire'—for a proper employment contract for his Slayer—salary, benefits, holiday time—the full nine yards. Buffy had already agreed to keep working for the Council. Was she thinking of backing out on that now? Or just venting her frustration?

He glanced over at her. "You thinkin' of reneging on your deal, then?"

Buffy's face twisted in frustration. "No," she admitted dejectedly. "Not if they don't break it first."

The vampire took a deep, relieved breath. If she was gonna work for the berks, then she deserved t' be properly compensated for it. In which case, he was doing the right thing with his 'interview with a vampire' schtick. He just prayed Buffy never found out about his role. That would defeat most of the purpose of it. His small relief was short-lived, however, as he remembered where they were going and Buffy's grand plan for the evening. She was going to hijack whatever agenda Lydia had set and tell her friends and her Watcher that they were a couple. A pair. Dating. Boyfriend and girlfriend. In a relationship.

Spike had no worries about the wolf or the witch, but the Watcher and the Bob-Vila-wanna-be were another thing. Not that Spike cared one way or another what anyone else thought or said, but he knew Buffy did. These were her mates... more than mates really, her extended family. If they gave her a rash of shite, he'd... well, he wasn't sure what he would do. The truce precluded him from ripping their throats out and leaving them as steaming heaps of cooling meat on the floor. Maybe he could just cut their tongues out so they couldn't talk. He frowned, considering. He glanced over a Buffy who had started ranting about Travers now. He shook his head. Probably tongue cutting was out too. Bugger.

The knot continued to draw tighter, making Spike's intestines feel like they were in a violent tug of war between two Fyarl demons. He refused to let anything happen that would drive a wedge between himself and Buffy. Things had been going swimmingly the last couple of days... particularly this afternoon with the nearly jean-creaming hand job. Bloody interfering mutt!

They'd even added a fifth rule that morning—blood-boiling good mornings—and had been following all the rules religiously: mind-numbing goodbyes, knee-wobbling hellos, and wet dream inducing goodnights. At some point he really wanted to make that last rule irrelevant, replacing it with utterly spent and sated exhaustion, but until that day came, he would content himself with what they were doing and look forward to more. Overall, Spike was a happy vampire. Well, he was mostly happy. He'd vowed to be patient, and even though, for him, it was like vowing to listen to nothing but Barry Manilow for the rest of his unlife, he was doing it. It was important to Buffy, and he knew it wouldn't last forever. He had time; they had time. Assuming her friends didn't make Buffy doubt her heart, that is.

He'd tried to talk Buffy out of making a sweeping announcement about their dating status, but she'd been insistent about, 'Buffy lies lead to badness and hiding is lying, so we are not hiding our relationship. It'll be totally fine, don't worry'. Which of course made him even more nervous. So, here they were, mounting the steps of the high school, heading into the lion's den. Would the lion rip Spike's heart out? Would Buffy decide that keeping the peace with her friends and Watcher would be more important than the fledgling romance they had started, notwithstanding the brilliant snogging? She said she cared about him, she'd even given him her blood—but was that out of guilt and gratitude, or was it real? Her actions the last couple of days made him think it was real. That she genuinely cared about him, not just what he'd done for her and her chums. But was it enough? Would she cave under the pressure this would put on them? Would this be the end of him... again?

Spike felt his chest join his guts, twisting with apprehension and vulnerability as they walked together down the hall toward the library doors. A vision of his human-self perched on a settee, heart in hand, making himself vulnerable, openly declaring his love, sprang unbidden to his mind...

'I know I'm a bad poet but I'm a good man and all I ask is that... that you try to see me,' he'd entreated.

'I do see you. That's the problem. You're nothing to me, William. You're beneath me,' Cecily had replied.

Spike shook his head, trying to clear the old memory and all the pain and self-doubt that still surrounded it. He stuck his hands deep in his pockets and pulled his leather armor tightly around himself. The scent of Buffy wafted up from the duster where it seemed to have soaked the silken lining, filling his nostrils with her heady perfume. She'd certainly slept in it, and done much more. He'd wrapped up in it as soon as she'd gone off to school that morning and the scent of her arousal and release had kept him hard all day. Now he called on that feeling to bring the cloak of 'big badness' up and around himself, a protective shield from whatever the tossers in the other room had to say. He wouldn't give Buffy up without a fight. He wasn't a sniveling ponce anymore. He was the Slayer of Slayers, Big Bad, William the sodding Bloody. Spike nodded to himself, his face slipping into a mask of arrogant confidence as Buffy pushed the doors open and led him onto the battlefield.

'Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more.'

-X-

Giles looked up when the doors to the library swung open and Buffy stepped through them. His eyes flicked to the clock. Half-hour late for the meeting that Miss Chalmers had called. Even Faith had managed to be on time... more or less. He did a double take when both Spikes came in just a step after Buffy. He hadn't been aware the vampire had been invited to this meeting. His brows furrowed as he watched the two blondes cross the intervening space between the doors and the research table where everyone had gathered. Spike said something, leaning in very close to Buffy's ear, that made his Slayer—Giles would always think of Buffy as 'his Slayer'—laugh and blush all at once. He watched as their shoulders bumped and their hands brushed together in a causal, yet clearly intentional, move. Then their eyes met and held for a couple of steps before Buffy looked away to greet her friends.

'Oh, dear Lord,' Giles moaned to himself, realization dawning. He'd seen that look on his Slayer's face before—with Angel. By the time the three latecomers had reached the table, he'd removed his glasses and begun scrubbing them vigorously.

"So, what's the up? What have we missed?" Buffy asked brightly, coming to a stop at the head of the table.

"The meeting began thirty minutes ago," Lydia informed her haughtily. "If you had been on time, you would know what was up."

Buffy shrugged. "I'm guessing the deciding of toppings and ordering of pizza took most of that time."

"Which is why the Buffster gets the big bucks," Xander piped up. "That keen intellect and pitch-perfect instinct."

"We put you down for pepperoni, mushrooms, and extra cheese," Willow supplied. "And extra pepperoni for Spike... the furry one. We didn't know the other one was coming. Hi, Spike!" she greeted the vampire with a friendly grin and a little wave.

"'Lo, Red," Spike drawled back, coming to a stop just behind Buffy and to her left. "Reckon the mutt can spare a bit o' his for me."

The dog looked up at the vampire and gave a little growl, baring part of a canine fang in the process.

"Be polite," Buffy admonished him. "Remember who took you for cheeseburgers."

The dog huffed out a breath and flopped down on the floor with a thud and a sigh.

Buffy remained standing at the end of the table as she did a quick survey of the room. Lydia had taken the chair at the other end, while Oz and Willow sat together to Buffy's left with Xander to her right, leaving only one empty chair, the one next to Xander. Faith was sitting on the stairs leading up to the upper level where she made a show of examining her nails in utter boredom and complete disinterest. There was no seat for Spike, clearly no one had expected him to come to a Scooby meeting. Giles was just hovering around, scrubbing his glasses as usual. His leg still had not fully healed from the bullet wound inflicted by the Council's wet works team, so his cane leaning against the nearby counter. He'd probably not been officially invited either, but since it was his library, it was hard to kick him out.

"Good evening, Mr. Bloody. To what do we owe the pleasure?" Lydia asked, smoothing back her flawlessly coiffed hair with one hand.

"Just reckoned I'd see how the other half goes about things. Thought I might pick up some pointers, see what cards the white hats have up their sleeves," he replied easily. "Thus far it seems that melted cheese on bread is the secret weapon o' choice."

"Never underestimate the power of pizza," Xander agreed. "I'd hate to think what would happen if the evil dead got wind of our ace in the hole. Egads! They have!" the brunette exclaimed in mock horror, looking at Spike. "Quick, Buffy! Stake him before he reveals our top-secret plots to the evil masses."

Buffy rolled her eyes as she set her purse down on the end of the table opposite Lydia. "Spike's on our team now, so there will be no staking," she asserted as she turned and moved to grab one of the extra chairs from against the wall. Spike saw what she was doing and beat her to it, hauling it across the floor and positioning it at the head of the table in direct opposition to the woman from the Council. Buffy gave him a fond smile as he held it out for her to take her seat, then helped her slide it up to the worn wood.

The gesture wasn't missed by Giles who coughed very pointedly, as if choking on the musty air. Spike turned to give him a challenging, narrow-eyed glare, which Giles returned as he slipped his glasses back on his nose. Spike shot him a quick, almost casual, two-fingered salute, hidden by his body from the rest of the group, before he turned and took the empty seat to Buffy's right, next to Xander.

"Is that so? Blood-breath's turned his coat? Looks the same to me," Xander pointed out, eying Spike's duster. "Though it does smell better than it did the last time I saw it."

"Can tell I'm on your side on account of the fact that your head's still attached to your shoulders, short bus," Spike pointed out, flashing fang at the boy.

"Guys! Seriously, do I need to bring out a paddle?" Buffy admonished.

Xander's eyes went wide as he looked at Spike, who was sniggering with a smirky smile on his face, while, from behind them, Faith snorted.

Buffy felt a blush creep up her neck, but she steadfastly ignored them all as she put both arms flat on the table and clasped her hands. "So, was there a topic for this meeting, other than pizza toppings?" she wondered, peering at Lydia with a saccharine sweet look.

Giles rolled his eyes when Buffy's booted foot slid over and pressed against the vampire's beneath the table. It was clear that Joyce had not had any luck in either getting rid of Spike or preventing her daughter's affections from running away with her. Something he would need to rectify in short order.

Lydia cleared her throat and adjusted her glasses. "Indeed, there is. I would like to go over your patrolling schedules, review the maps of your routes, and see what changes might be made to streamline them to increase your effectiveness and efficiency."

Buffy arched a brow. "Patrolling schedules and maps," she repeated dubiously, shooting a glance over at Giles. "We don't have a schedule... or a map. We're map-less. We just... patrol."

"Then how do you know you've covered the relevant regions surrounding the Hellmouth? I had assumed the town would've been divided into sectors which were then ranked by their relative risk factors from most volatile to least. Then, the higher ranked areas would be delegated between yourself and Faith, and perhaps the Sku-Bees would take the less hazardous sectors, thus preventing both overlap and neglect."

"You know what they say about assuming. You make an ass out of you," Buffy provided, giving Lydia a sweet smile.

Spike chortled.

Willow looked confused. "Isn't there more to that saying?" she wondered.

"Nope," Buffy replied, her tone brooking no argument.

Lydia cleared her throat imperiously. "So, how do you patrol, if I may ask?"

Faith stood up from her seat on the stairs. "We go out, kick demon ass, then party. Why do you tweed-types want to take all the fun out of everything? We don't need maps and plans. You can't swing a stake around here without hitting a vampire. Case in point," she declared as her hand, clutching a stake, swung toward Spike.

"Faith!" Buffy exclaimed, her arm shooting out to catch the brunette's, but she was too slow. A flashback to Faith trying to stake Angel during the fight over the Glove of Some Old Demon Guy raced through Buffy's mind. What the hell was with this bitch trying to stake Buffy's boyfriends? Not that Angel had exactly been her boyfriend then, but the point still stood.

Luckily, Spike was not too slow. His fingers closed over Faith's forearm, stopping the stake several inches above his chest. "Tsk, tsk, Annie. Bit slow on the draw, cowgirl, and still telegraphing your shots," Spike chided, plucking the stake from her fingers with his free hand, their sparring match from just a couple of nights ago still very fresh in his mind. Clearly the 'too cool for school' Slayer hadn't gotten over that little skirmish and had taken his lack of dustiness personally.

Faith growled, twisting her arm from his grip. "I would've taken you if the little blonde do-gooder hadn't saved your ass," she insisted, reaching over to snatch the stake back from him. "And the name's Faith."

"Someone's a sore loser," Spike taunted, curling his tongue against his teeth.

"I didn't lose," Faith insisted angrily.

"That giant chip on your shoulder says different, Annie," Spike continued to needle.

Faith scowled, her eyes shooting daggers at Spike—wooden daggers—as she clamped her fingers tighter around her stake. "Easy way to settle it. C'mon, big boy... let's go, right here, right now," she challenged, backing up and curling her fingers in a 'come hither' gesture, her brown eyes dancing with feral hunger.

Spike arched a brow at her as he started to rise from his seat. "Really want t' embarrass yourself in front of your mates?"

The dog roused himself from his sacred 'waiting for pizza' position, looking between the white rabbit and the dark huntress, clearly getting danger-vibes from one or both.

"Okay, enough, both of you," Buffy declared, putting a hand on Spike's shoulder and pressing him back down. "God, it's like Romper Room in here. Faith's right—she could've dusted you," Buffy put in, glaring at Spike. She turned her hard eyes on Faith. "And Spike's right—he could've drained you before you'd gotten your shot. Let's call it a draw and move on."

Faith glowered at Buffy but moved back over to sprawl casually on the stairs, grumbling something under her breath about 'goody-two-shoes', while Spike settled back into a lazy slouch in his seat. The dog, too, sank down into his well-practiced waiting-for-pizza position.

"I feel like I'm majorly with the missage of something important here," Oz interjected.

"Just a little sparring match getting taken way too seriously," Buffy provided with an exasperated sigh.

"Sparring which got out of hand by a good measure, I must say," Lydia added. "Faith was nearly strangled... and Mr. Bloody was nearly staked."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Keyword being 'nearly'. Getting back to the point... Faith's right. You can't swing a stake around here without hitting a vamp. Don't really need maps and compasses, just walk down the street or through a couple of cemeteries and, voila!" Buffy snapped her fingers. "Instant patrol fodder."

"That seems a decidedly haphazard practice. You could easily miss a convergence of demonic activity with that approach. I'm quite surprised at the lackadaisical tactics your Watcher has allowed—"

"There is nothing lacking in our tactics, Miss Childers. We've gotten the job done," Buffy defended automatically, crossing her arms over her chest.

"It's Chalmers, Miss Summers."

"Whatever. My point is you should take note of the lack of world-endage," she stated, waving her arms out to encompass the room and the world in general.

"Buffy has been quite adept at discovering plots and schemes," Giles added, limping over to the table, sans cane. "I believe allowing her to follow her instincts is a vital component to her overall training, and has proven to be quite effective. Too much structure would dull her reflexes and stultify her resourcefulness, making her less effective overall."

Buffy looked back at Lydia smugly. "What he said."

Giles gave Buffy a small smile before continuing, "I believe you will find having a Slayer who can think for herself and trust her instincts, rather than a schedule-following, by-the-book automaton, will provide a considerably more stalwart barrier between the darkness and the rest of the world."

"Wouldn't hurt if she had all the proper weapons she was due," Spike interjected. "The Phoenix Flame sword, for example. Know it must be a dilly to have it collecting dust there at Wanker Central, but I reckon it'd be a bit more use in the hands of the Slayer."

Lydia paled, one hand going nervously to the collar of her high-necked blouse, her eyes darting around as if trying to find an escape.

Giles asked, "What is this sword? The Phoenix Flame?"

"Apparently a magical sword made for fighting demons. Supposed t' be brilliant at making them dusty," Spike explained.

"And you know of this because...?" Giles asked, his brows furrowed as he looked down his nose at Spike.

Spike touched his scarred brow. "Was what gave me this," he explained. "Buffy did a bit of research on that Slayer..." Spike looked over to Buffy, his eyes narrowed, head tilted in question.

"Xin Rong," Buffy supplied.

Spike nodded and looked back at Lydia, though he was answering Giles' question. "Apparently after I offed her, the sword went missing for the better part of the century. Understand the Wee Willy Wankers found some Chinese berk to diddle and got it shipped to Merry Old. Does make one wonder why it's collecting dust instead of being put to proper use."

"That is beyond my scope of expertise or knowledge," Lydia defended, straightening her glasses. "What we are here to evaluate is the patrol regimen of the two active Slayers, the Guardian of the Twilight, and what role, if any, the Sku-Bees have in it."

"Pizza's here," Spike and Oz announced almost in unison, interrupting whatever else anyone was about to say. Cujo scrambled to his feet and turned to face the direction of the enticing aroma, his tail wagging eagerly, as his eyes fixed on the double doors of the library.

A few seconds later the door swung open and a pimply-faced kid in a red and yellow uniform came in holding three pizzas. "Uhh..." he stammered, coming to a dead stop when he saw the giant, salivating dog.

"It's okay," Buffy assured the delivery boy, standing up and putting a hand on her dog's thick mane. "He won't hurt you... he just wants the pizza."

The boy swallowed and looked down at the ticket. "Is he... Geels?"

"Giles," the former Watcher corrected in exasperation. "And no, that would be me. Dogs don't generally order pizzas, do they?" he wondered, motioning for the kid to put the pizza down on the counter.

Oz pointedly cleared his throat.

"You'd be surprised at the things that order pizza in this town," the boy responded, keeping a wary eye on the dog as he moved over toward the checkout counter. Spike's eager, brown eyes followed the movement intently, but he didn't make any move to approach, taking the hint from his hooman's hand on his back that he should stay put.

The vampire snorted. Buffy rolled her eyes. Giles said, "Actually, I doubt anything would surprise me anymore," as he dipped his hand into his pocket for the money. He pulled out an empty fist, frowning, then began patting down his other pockets. "I, er, seem to be a bit short..." he stammered.

Spike rolled his eyes and rose from his seat, pulling out a wad of bills from his pocket. "No worries, gramps. Allow me t' bail you outta the kettle yet again."

Giles glared at him. "I am not your, nor anyone's, 'gramps'," he insisted stiffly as Spike swept past him to the kid, who had placed the pizzas on the checkout counter as Giles had indicated.

"Must'a confused you with another tightwad I know... who was that again?" Spike asked, eyes roving skyward as if pondering the answer carefully. "Oh yeah... Angelus."

"I am not a tightwad! And I have nothing whatsoever in common with Angelus! I simply... must've left my cash in my other trousers," Giles defended. "I will make certain to repay you tomorrow."

"No need. Can just add it to the tab, eh?" Spike suggested, handing the delivery boy the money, along with a nice tip. "Whaddya reckon savin' your life is worth, then? More 'an a few boxes of greasy cheese bread, I'd wager."

The boy scurried away, keeping one wary eye on the salivating dog until his back hit the swinging doors.

"Never hurts t' have a Watcher in my debt." Spike grinned at him wickedly.

"I will pay you back tomorrow," Giles repeated through clenched teeth. "Since I'm certain you will be leaving town shortly... going back to your evil ways and your enteral love, Drusilla."

Buffy cleared her throat pointedly.

Spike froze. That would be her cue, no matter how unintended it had been from the Watcher. Oz had gotten up and retrieved the pizzas from the counter, bringing them back to the research table.

"About that," Buffy began, a small hesitation in her voice. She dug her fingers into her dog's thick fur for one last fix of courage before releasing him. He was on Oz's heels immediately, nose in the air, sniffing out the pepperoni ambrosia the wolf carried. "Spike will be staying for a while... for the foreseeable future, in fact."

Giles snarled a curse under his breath, just loud enough for the vampire standing near him to hear.

Spike turned and gave him one of those glacial glares that Buffy had mentioned, a clear warning in the frozen depths of his gaze.

Willow squeaked happily, curling her fists into small exclamations of victory.

Oz, as usual, said nothing, just began opening the pizza boxes and sliding them along the table to be near their ultimate devourers.

Lydia seemed unsurprised by the announcement. Of course he would be staying a while longer, he had interviews to complete.

Xander chuckled darkly. "What happened? Get a 'Dear Evil Dead' letter from Deranged Drusilla?" he asked sarcastically. "Oh! Maybe that's where Angel went!" he suggested, an almost maniacal gleam in his eyes. "She dump you for her ex... again? Wow, that just never gets old," he taunted, taking a slice of pizza and sliding it onto a napkin.

Spike growled, his hands curling into fists as he turned away from the Watcher to face the boy. "Not bloody likely," he rumbled in denial, though the boy's words sliced into an old wound, one he doubted would ever heal. Spike took a threatening step away from the Watcher and toward the table, but was blocked when Buffy slid over in front of him.

Buffy tried to put herself between Spike and everyone else, but Giles was standing apart from the others, so she couldn't quite manage it. Since Xander was being the problem at the moment, she decided to address—and protect—her friends first. "Actually, he and Dru broke up before Spike came back... way before Angel went missing. But that's not really the point," she explained, her heart racing, her nerves jittering like antsy ants in too-tight pants.

"Oh! Pointiness. My favorite!" Xander drawled gleefully. "Is this point on the end of a wooden stick?" he asked hopefully before picking up his pizza and taking a bite.

Buffy rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. "Nooo, we've already covered that. Keep up, Xander," she chastised. "The point is..." Buffy glanced over her shoulder at Spike. There were so many emotions flashing through his expressive eyes that she couldn't pin any one down. She thought she knew how he felt because she was caught between exasperation and apprehension herself. It really hadn't been that long ago that she'd been standing in this very spot defending her choice to keep Angel's return from hell a secret, and her decision to go off with Spike to rescue Dru. It was unnervingly familiar. She deliberately didn't look at Giles, but turned back to her friends. "The point is, Spike is staying in town because he and I are dating."

Faith sighed as if bored out of her mind. Xander choked on his pizza. Willow squealed giddily, giving her friend a radiant smile and another fist pump. Oz just said, "Cool," as he dropped a few pieces of pepperoni to the dog. Lydia looked between the two and made an interested humming sound.

Behind Buffy, Giles muttered, "Oh, dear lord."

"Dating?" Xander finally croaked out, his eyes watering, presumably from the bread and cheese that had lodged itself in his throat. "You and... him?!" he squeaked.

Willow kicked him under the table, landing a hard blow to his shin. "Ow! What was that for?" Xander demanded, looking at his friend as he reached down to rub the lump that was forming.

She widened her eyes, as if they'd talked about this before. "Ixnay udgyjay," she muttered warningly.

Xander scowled. "I'm not being udgyjay... I'm just..." He flailed his free hand around helplessly, looking between Willow and Buffy. Both girls raised their brows, waiting. "Okay, maybe a little bit with the judgy, but... it's Spike!" he finished, as if that explained everything.

"And?" Buffy demanded.

"He tried to kill us all!"

"Well, who among us hasn't done that?" Willow pointed out, scowling at Xander.

"Yeah, but... demon!"

"As if you haven't dated demons," Willow reminded him haughtily.

"Giant praying mantis woman," Buffy provided.

"Inca mummy girl," Willow added.

"Didn't Drusilla say your face was a poem and offer you eternal life that one time?" Oz asked, drawing an arched brow from Spike.

"That never went anywhere!"

"Cordelia," Buffy put in.

"Hey! Cordy wasn't a demon... strictly speaking," Xander pointed out.

"Couldn't prove it by me," Willow argued. "Plus—Oz—hello! Witch dating a werewolf right here. And he's in a rock band! I mean, that's a way more 'bad boy' vibe than Spike."

"Oi!" Spike objected, but everyone ignored him.

"But... but..." Xander stammered.

"Anyway, no one's asking you to date him," Buffy asserted.

"As if I'd date a wanker like him," Spike scoffed.

"Hey! I'm date-able! I'm very date-able!" Xander protested.

"Yeah, Dru's right discerning on who she 'dates'. Then ya got praying mantises and mummies? What'll it be next? An oozing green pus demon?" Spike shot back.

"No! And ewww!" Xander replied.

"While this is all very enlightening," Giles broke in. "I would like to have a word with Buffy in private, if I might."

Buffy felt her heart lurch and her stomach tighten. More reckless, disappointing Buffy, coming right up. She knew she shouldn't care, she should be detached-Buffy, she should just tell Giles to... to sod off, as Spike would say. But her stupid heart wouldn't let her do any of those things. She still wanted his approval, even after everything he'd done, and she knew she wasn't going to get it.

"Don't think so, gramps," Spike cut into her thoughts. "You wanna have a word with someone, it can be me."

Giles' eyes narrowed, the usually buried Ripper part of him shining hard in his steely gaze. "Very well, then," he agreed, waving a hand at his office door.

"Age before beauty," Spike insisted, extending his hand out for Giles to go first.

"Afraid to turn your back on me?" Giles wondered.

"Well, the Slayer's got me on this special diet, doesn't include tweed and mothballs. Hate to have to break it 'cos you tried to stake me in the back just 'cos you owe me a bit of dosh."

"Believe me, that isn't why I'd stake you," Giles muttered darkly, though he turned and limped towards his office.

"Spike," Buffy started, putting a hand on his arm. "I'll go—"

"No," Spike insisted. "His problem's with me, not you. Have a nosh. Be out in a bit."

"Spike," she said again, this time a warning tone in the name.

Spike rolled his eyes. "I get it, Slayer—no breaking the geezer. Just gonna have a friendly chat."

Buffy looked at him doubtfully. "Friendly?"

Spike shrugged and headed for the office where Giles was waiting. "A chat, at any rate."

Buffy chewed her lip, watching him go, his big bad swagger on full display. She trusted Spike. He'd always kept his word. But... Buffy swallowed hard and made herself look away from the office door as it closed behind her boyfriend. He'd promised more than once that he'd keep the truce. She had to trust him no matter what her distrusting Slayer half might feel, this wouldn't work otherwise.

Buffy cringed as raised male voices exploded from the small office. The words themselves indistinct through the walls, but the meaning more than clear. There was no friendliness to the chat.

Faith jumped up and started toward the source of the yelling, but Buffy intercepted her before she could even get to the counter. "They're fine—leave it," Buffy insisted.

"You have a funny idea of 'fine', Twinkie," Faith snarled, making to push past her.

Buffy blocked Faith's advance. "Faith! I don't know what bee's flown under your saddle, but I'm telling you Giles is fine—Spike isn't gonna hurt him. They're talking..." Another boom of raised voices echoed through the library. "... loudly."

"Oh, he won't hurt the G-man like he didn't hurt me?" the dark Slayer scoffed, coming to a stop only inches from Buffy. "Cos I'm kinda remembering it differently."

"You're a Slayer! You were sparring with a vampire! What did you expect? He'd cuddle you to death?" Buffy defended. "Sparring with a kitten isn't going to teach you anything!"

"Oh, so that was Spike the Professor? What was the lesson? How crappy a Slayer I am?" Faith retorted.

"You aren't a crappy Slayer! You just... you need to train more, is all. And don't let the vampire choose the weapon... and stop dropping your shoulder and telegraphing your punches," Buffy insisted.

"Pretty sure he could've just told me that," Faith pointed out. "Didn't have to..." her hand went to her throat. The bruises were gone, but the memory clearly remained. Faith's expression grew guarded, defensive. "Didn't have to humiliate me," she growled, her mask of anger quickly covering any other emotions she was feeling.

"I've been telling you that for a while and you never seemed to hear me! Maybe you need a little humility," Buffy retorted.

"Fuck you, B," Faith cursed, as she started to push past her.

"Damn it, Faith, wait!" Buffy protested, grabbing the other girl's arm. "Listen!"

Faith drew her free hand back in a fist, ready to strike out at her sister Slayer when she was suddenly pushed back by a giant bear and pinned against the edge of the checkout counter. The Guardian's big, slobbery, pepperoni-scented muzzle was up in Faith's face, his oversized paws on her shoulders. A low rumbling growl of warning vibrated from his chest.

"Get off me, dog breath!" Faith demanded, making to push the Guardian off, but Buffy clamped a hand down on her arm and stopped her.

"Listen!" Buffy demanded again, waving her free hand at the closed office door.

"I'm not listening to you," Faith declared, trying to wrench free of the other Slayer and get the big dog away at the same time.

"I'm not asking you to listen to me! Just fucking listen!" Buffy repeated. "The yelling! It's stopped."

Faith scowled, turning her face away from the panting dog, and listened. There were low male voices—it sounded like murmuring through the closed door, but more likely they were talking in normal tones.

"Giles is fine," Buffy summarized. "Spike isn't gonna hurt him. He isn't gonna hurt anyone. You need to take a pill, have some pizza, and chill," she advised, releasing Faith's arm. "Down," Buffy ordered the dog, who pushed off Faith's shoulders and dropped back to all fours.

Faith's expression was sour as she squared her shoulders, tossed her head, and started brushing dog hair off her clothes. Shooting the door one more murderous look she announced, "Going to get this shit off me," before whirling away and heading out of the library.

Buffy sighed and patted Spike's big head. "Good boy," she acknowledged. "C'mon, let's get some pizza." She didn't have to tell Spike twice. He led the way back to the research table and the smorgasbord of Italian delight. Buffy's eyes were on the window that looked into Giles' office. Though the blinds were mostly closed, she could see Giles standing stiffly, leaning against his desk, his arms folded over his chest as Spike paced back and forth in the small area. She could hear her vampire's voice, but not the words. On the plus side, Giles seemed to be listening and clearly not dead. Yay?

-X-

As soon as the inner-office door closed behind Spike, Giles whirled on him. It sent spasms of agony through his injured leg, but he was beyond feeling it or caring. "Just what the hell are you playing at?!" he demanded of the vampire.

"I'm not playing at anything, you tosser!"

"I don't believe you!" Giles retorted.

"Well, I don't give a flying fuck what you believe, I'm telling you, I'm not playing here!" Spike shot back, curling his hands into fists at his sides as he stared the other man down. "Me and Buffy—we're together now. A couple. In a relationship, t' use her words. Ya best get used to the fucking idea or you'll lose her for good."

Giles scoffed. "You honestly believe she'll choose you, a demon who's tried to kill her numerous times, over me, someone who's been here for her since she was sixteen?"

"She already did, you blighter! There's one thing Buffy can't abide, and that's betrayal. If you don't know that, then you don't know a sodding thing about your Slayer! Let me think now, who's the one who betrayed her? Oh, that would be you. Who's the one who sold her out to the fucking Council? You again! Who's the one that shot her and her mutt up with drugs? Wait, don't tell me! You! Who's the one who saved her mum and, in case you've forgotten, your sorry arse too!? Who's the one that never stabbed her in the sodding back? Who's the one that's always been straight up with her? Here's a clue—that would be me... the soulless demon. So just what does that make you?"

Giles winced as if struck with a physical blow, but continued his accusations as he faced off with the vampire, "You can't honestly expect me to believe you've done all this out of the goodness of your heart! Everyone knows that vampires are incapable of selfless acts. Everything must benefit them in one manner or another, and you're no different. So just what is it that you're after here, Spike?"

Spike threw out his hands in exasperation and began pacing in a tight circle in the small office. "Can't be selfless? Are you bloody serious? Hate to break it to ya, gramps, but whatever the Wankers Council's been feeding you about vampires is utter bollocks. The sodding world isn't all black and white, good or evil. We all have choices—including soulless vampires. All have the capacity to do good or evil if given the right circumstances—you included, if you hadn't noticed. Might be a thumb on the scale leaning us one way or the other, but that doesn't mean we can't choose to fight it, make a bloody choice on our own. Or is that just too much for your lack brain to handle?"

"You're telling me you have no ulterior motive for the heroics you've displayed?" Giles asked skeptically.

Spike sighed and came to a stop in front of the man, who had leaned back against the desk, apparently to take weight off his leg. "I dunno... do you call wanting to have friends an 'ulterior motive'? Or not wanting to see your friend shattered when her barmy fucking Watcher gets himself shot full o' bullets in her front garden? Or not wanting to see someone you care about hauled off t' the motherland for 'reconditioning'? I'm evil, after all, maybe I just don't understand how that all works. Why don't you sodding explain it to me? You being the expert and all."

Giles sighed, shaking his head. He removed his glasses and set them down on the desk beside him as his lids fell closed. He rubbed his eyes tiredly with thumb and forefinger for several silent moments before looking back at Spike. "The Slayer can't afford to think in greys. It will get her killed."

"Too late for that, Rupert," Spike informed him. "She's been drowning in grey since you and the berks who were supposed to be on her side fucked her over, and her mortal enemy fought for her."

Giles sighed again, guiltily shifting his gaze from Spike's, knowing that the vampire was likely correct. "Why are you doing this?" he asked after a moment, looking back at the blond.

"Wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me."

"I care about the chit, alright? Buffy's sodding... Christ, she's sodding glorious," Spike declared, beginning to pace again, his duster swirling around his legs. "Never met anyone like her before. No one with so much kindness, so much strength, so much goodness, so much heart. God, she glows with it, like sunbeams shining on fields of summer flowers. She... she makes me want to make a different choice, alright? Give up anything just to be near her. Already have, haven't I?"

"She deserves better than you," Giles stated flatly.

Spike stopped pacing and snorted, meeting the Watcher's gaze levelly, his hands planted on his hips. "Not telling me anything I don't already know, Watcher. She deserves better than the both of us. But ya got the same promise I made to her mum—won't turn on her, won't break the truce, never intentionally hurt her, do everything in my power t' keep her safe. Even if things go tits up between us, won't betray her for giving me a chance."

"You've spoken to Joyce about this?"

"Last night," Spike confirmed.

"And she's...?"

"Given her blessing for me to date her daughter, yeah."

Giles drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly as he picked his glasses up and slipped them back on his nose. "And what if Buffy... what if she meets her end? What of the truce then?"

Spike's chest tightened just with the suggestion of Buffy meeting her end, and his hands curled into fists at his sides. "Truce'll stand, no matter what. Wouldn't sully her memory. But, having me at her back, someone who's near her equal in a brawl, I'm thinking that end might not come for a good long while. Was with Dru over a century... that wouldn't be enough with Buffy."

"She is mortal. You realize that, do you not?" Giles pointed out.

Spike shrugged. "Is she? Any Slayer ever make it past thirty before some nasty came along and took 'em out? Slayer's not strictly human. Must know that, Watcher. Dunno what that could mean for her, but I'm keen on finding out."

Giles furrowed his brow, his lips pursing as he considered that.

"The Council bird says there've been other vamps teaming up with Slayers over the years. Supposed t' get me info on 'em," Spike volunteered. "Maybe I can suss out how to keep the girl alive by seeing what these other gits did wrong."

Giles brows rose at that. "Other Slayers with vampires? I—I've never heard of such a thing."

"Reckon they don't go spreading that around. Bad for the image, yeah?" Spike suggested. "Seems the chit has access to all the dirty little secrets, being a research muckety-muck... whatever the fuck she said she was."

"Archival Research Inquisitor, Second Class," Giles provided absently as he turned this information over and over in his mind. Officially, the Archival Research Unit compiled and reviewed Watcher's diaries, did post-mortem interviews and debriefings with the Watcher, sometimes performed in-depth investigations into Slayer deaths, if it was particularly interesting or unusual, or if there had been an apocalypse averted. They had a reputation for taking the most horrific circumstances of a Slayer's demise and turning it into a report which could bore a sloth to death. But they had information about vampire/Slayer liaisons? That certainly hadn't been in any of the reports.

"Yeah, that."

"You're completely serious, aren't you?" Giles asked, refocusing on the point of this conversation.

"As a Fyarl demon at feeding time."

"You believe you can refrain from killing for... well... the rest of your existence. If I'm hearing correctly, that's what you promised, is it not? To never sully Buffy's memory if you survive longer than her."

Spike flinched a bit, his eyes going wide, then narrowing. Was that what he was promising? To never kill again? Of course, if Buffy was with him, he could do it, but could it do it without her? Would he do it without her? He pursed his lips, considering and coming to a decision. "I don't go about spouting off bollocks I can't back up, gramps."

"I do believe you promised to kill Buffy on St. Vigeous," Giles reminded him.

Spike shrugged, hooking his thumbs over his belt. "Got bored. Came early... but did give it my best shot. Had her, too, if Joyce hadn't clocked me with that sodding axe," he excused, rubbing the back of his head as if he could still feel it.

"Fascinating," Giles muttered to himself.

"What's that?" Spike wondered.

"How you two never seemed to have been able to gain a clear victory over the other. Something or someone always stepped in to... to prevent it."

"Jus' lucky, I reckon. 'Course, didn't think so at the time," Spike admitted.

"Lucky... yes, quite," Giles mused quietly, looking up to meet Spike's eyes again. "I would like to see these other cases Miss Chalmers provides to you."

Spike shrugged. "Fine by me. We want the same thing, Watcher—for Buffy to be happy and stay alive. Dunno how else to say it, or prove it to you."

Giles shook his head, not in denial so much as confusion as his world tilted ever-so-slightly on its axis, spilling a bit of the Council Kool-Aid in the process.

"You told the bird that having a Slayer who can think for herself and trust her instincts, rather than a bleedin' automaton, was the best kinda Slayer to have," Spike reminded him. "Did you mean it, or was that just lip service? Cos this is Buffy thinking for herself... trusting her instincts, going with her heart."

Giles frowned, hating having his own words tossed back at him. "That is not precisely what I said."

Spike shrugged. "You say Giles, I say Geels."

Giles rolled his eyes. "You do realize that if you break your word, I will lock you in a room and force you to listen to the 'Saturday Night Fever' soundtrack on repeat for the rest of your miserable existence. An intravenous line would be inserted directly into your heart where it would pump just enough pig's blood to have you 'Stayin' Alive' and 'Jive Talkin' for eons. You will be chained to a metal chair in a metal room—no wood in sight, no sunlight, no sharp objects—just in case you are able to break the chains tying you down and get the idea to dust yourself to end the dance." Giles paused, the oft-hidden Ripper emerging to give the vampire an intimidating glare. "Do we understand each other?" he asked in a cordial tone, as if asking if Spike wanted sugar with his tea.

The overall effect was disconcerting and more than a little creepy.

Spike swallowed hard. "See what I mean about the capacity for evil?"

-X-


Chapter End Notes:

I didn't notice until just now that I used the same picture of Giles in both story boards! **facepalm** I did them over two different days, and clearly forgot which pictures I'd used in the first when I did the second. Oh well.

Will have more of this Scooby meeting on Sunday... more surprises are in store!

References:

Once more unto the breach: This phrase appears in Act-III, Scene-I of Shakespeare's play, Henry V. The scene begins in the middle of the blockade of Harfleur, as King Henry's army has blown up some French fortifications. He encourages his army to attack the city again by uttering these famous lines: "Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more; / Or close the wall up with our English dead."

Bob Vila is an American home improvement television show host known for This Old House (1979–1989), Bob Vila's Home Again (1990–2005), and Bob Vila (2005–2007).

Romper Room is an American children's television series that ran from 1953 to 1994. The program targeted preschoolers (children five years of age or younger).