Part Seven:
A few days later…
Giles sat comfortably on the couch leafing though a book. Cordelia walked in with his 'kiss the librarian' mug filled with blood. He smiled at her as he took it from her grasp and stared into it with contemplation.
"This will take some getting used to," he sighed.
Cordelia face filled with guilt as she opened her mouth to apologize.
He silenced her quickly by saying, "No, Cordelia, I know you're sorry. Please don't say it again."
She had refused to leave after what happened to Giles. She felt completely at fault for it and had spent the last few days cleaning his house, sun proofing every window and doing her best to aid him in any way she possibly could. He was thankful for her help but starting to get annoyed by her incessant apologies. Everyone was surprised at how well he seemed to take the news of his massive life change. Buffy on the other hand was so furious with Cordelia that she couldn't even look at her. She definitely blamed Cordelia for everything. Spike walked in and handed Giles a box of Wheat-a-bix.
"This will give it texture," he offered with a smile.
Giles looked at the box with disgust and placed it on the coffee table. Spike shrugged and poured a glass of bourbon. He went back into the kitchen taking both the glass and the bottle of bourbon with him. Doyle was standing near the refrigerator, hesitantly sniffing an open Chinese food box. Spike handed him the glass and drank a gulp out of the bottle.
"Looks like I have competition for the most ragging alcoholic around here," Doyle observed.
"I've been thinking about something," Spike said.
"Oh, yeah?" Doyle responded sipping the bourbon.
"How is it that when I slammed into you the other night, my chip didn't blast off and give me a migraine?"
"I'm half demon," he answered simply.
"I thought I sensed something funny about you." Spike smirked. "Does the fashion plate know about this?"
"No, as a matter a fact she doesn't," he sighed.
Spike scoffed and took another chug of the liquor.
"And you're not going to enlighten her," Doyle warned.
"Oh, really?" Spike countered.
"Yeah," Doyle stated throwing away the Chinese food.
"What makes you so sure?" Spike asked.
"Let's just say I've noticed you and the red head making puppy eyes at each other," Doyle replied, "Now, I don't know this Buffy character very well, but I'm thinking she would not like that one bit."
"You know what? I like you," Spike smirked at him.
"Aye, but keep those puppy eyes on the red haired lass," Doyle joked.
Spike chuckled as Cordelia walked in carrying the empty mug. Doyle quickly stiffened at her arrival.
"There are entirely way too many accents flying around in this room," she muttered as she washed out the mug in the sink. "For someone who doesn't like pig's blood very much, he sure did slurp that cupful down pretty fast!"
Spike gave Doyle a knowing glance and left the room. Doyle watched Cordelia do the dishes in silence. He soon noticed she had tears running down her cheeks. He leaned in and wiped then from her face with his thumbs. She looked him in the eyes, her lips trembling. He smiled weakly at her and pulled her into a tight hug.
"It'll take time, princess, but the pain will fade," he soothed.
"What do you know about guilt?" she asked bluntly.
"More than you'd think," He sighed. "There are some things I need to tell you."
She looked up at him expectantly.
"I don't know how to tell you this," He started slowly, "but I'm half… half demon."
He averted his eyes quickly frightened by what her's would revile. She stepped back and rubbed her tears way. She considered him for a while then sighed.
"Figures," she stated simply.
"I'd understand it if you were disgusted," he said quietly still staring at the floor.
"Please," she said, "Remember, I grew up on a hell mouth. It could be worse. You could be short, or fat."
He looked at her in surprise; this was not the reaction he expected from her.
She smiled and said, "Don't take what I'm about to say to you as any hope that you might have a chance with me, but you're still Doyle, my badly dressed super hero. You're still the nicest guy I know and one of the few people I haven't down anything horrible to as of late. So what if you have demon blood in you? Angel's a demon and I work for him. What made you think I'd be disgusted?"
"Well, you don't seem like the type to not be disgusted."
"I'm a little insulted but I can see how you'd think that," she said with a smile, "So this big secrete is why you know all about guilt? In my opinion, I think what I did was ten times worse."
"There's more." he sighed and continued, "When I first discovered what I was, I was completely disgusted with myself and very confused. It ruined my marriage to Harry. Right after I drove her off, this demon came to me for my help. I turned him away because I was too frightened of my other half to help him. He and his family were murdered because of me. I caused lives to be taken. It was more guilt than I could bear."
"Doyle, I'm so sorry," Cordelia said softly touching his arm.
"Soon after one long drunken bender, the powers that be gave me their blessing. Now I'm helping people. It doesn't change what I did but it eases the pain a little. Luckily for you, you're already in a position to help people, by helping Angel." He finished locking his eyes with hers.
She smiled and kissed him softly on the cheek.
"Thanks," she whispered.
He stared at her for a minute, slightly shocked by her lips touching his cheek. She went back to washing the dishes and he continued to watch her in awe. He leaned over like his was about to kiss her back when she stopped him by lifting her hand up.
"I told you not to get any ideas," she said quickly.
"Right, where ever would I get these crazy ideas from anyway?" he asked raising his eyes to the ceiling.
She finished cleaning up and left the kitchen without responding. Doyle finished his glass of liquor in one gulp.
Willow stared at the lap top screen intently trying to decipher the ancient text in one of Giles' smelly old books. She was beyond frustrated with how long it was taking her. The book boasted of being able to return a soul to a vampire permanently, with out a clause like Angel's gypsy curse. Stacks of reference books surrounded her on Giles' desk as she endlessly plugged words into an ancient text translator web site. Willow hadn't stopped researching since she used the curse to get Giles' soul back. She was desperate to give him some sort of life, even if he was a vampire, he deserved to love and be loved. The gypsy curse was a poor substitute for that and she wouldn't rest until she found something better. Maybe she could do the same for some of the other vampires around here if they wanted her to. She groaned and rubbed her forehead, which had a rapidly expanding headache growing inside it. Suddenly she felt two unmistakable cool hands on her shoulders. She smiled as the owner of the hands began to softly massage her.
"Spike," she said her smile growing.
"You feel a little tense, love," he murmured softly.
He leaned in over her shoulder to read what she was studying. She shivered inside because out of the corner of her eye, she saw that his face was only inches from hers.
"Could it be all this reading you have been up to?" he inquired turning his head slightly to look at her, "Souls, curses and vampires? Pretty heavy stuff. What exactly are you trying to do, Red?"
"Give Giles' his soul back," she answered stoically.
"News flash, you already did that," he replied.
"In a really crappy way!" she cried, "I want him to have a semi normal life, and if he can lose his soul that easily, well we're all in danger."
"I wouldn't worry too much about any one getting horizontal with that tweed infested bugger," Spike assured.
"I wouldn't be so sure," Willow smiled slyly, "When I cracked into his e-mails…there were some pretty steamy ones in there!"
"Willow! You little pervert," Spike teased.
"I didn't read them!" Willow cried, "On purpose…"
Spike laughed and asked, "Are you sure they were from a woman?"
Willow narrowed her eyes at him and replied, "Unless you know any guys named Olivia!"
"Well, I guess he's got that Liberian thing going for him, some birds are really into that smart guy routine," Spike said looking pensive, "And I know I've heard him playing guitar and singing that god awful free bird song. I'm not one for drunken biker music myself, but he's not bad."
"Giles?" Willow asked him skeptically, "Are you sure?"
"Yeah, you'd probably swoon over it," he commented running his eyes over her face.
Willow wrinkled her nose, "Eww, I would not! Giles is like a father figure to me… an out of work Liberian father figure, but a father figure none the less."
"Look, you want to go some where?" Spike asked her suddenly.
She stared at him blankly.
"With me?" he tried to clarify.
She continued to stare at him in disbelief.
"Come on, Red," he encouraged her, "You've been at this research crap for two days now, you could use a break, and I'm bloody tired of all the drama going on around here as of late."
"I really need to finish this, Spike," she sighed tearing her eyes away from his blue ones with difficultly.
"Red, don't tell you're not fed up with the Irish bloke following the cheerleader around with puppy dog eyes while she spills out incessant apologies to the watcher who is keeping up with his depressing pseudo-brave front as the slayer whines about droopy boys injuries, and to top it all off, the poof being all extra poofy?!" Spike rattled off without pausing to take a breath.
"First of all, don't make fun of my friends," Willow warned him, "second of all, yes I really am!"
"So, you want to get shit faced?" Spike asked her with a devilish grin on his face,
"No, but I can watch you," she smiled softly.
"If you're going out for a night on the town with Sunnyhell's finest, you're getting shit faced!" he laughed and grabbed their coats as he pulled her out the door by the arm.