EPISODE FOUR
"Out of the Loop"

Spike sat on the back steps of the Summers house and regarded the starry sky with a dispassionate gaze. It was a beautiful night, fine and mild with the slightest of breezes, just perfect for patrolling. On a clear night like this you could see the vamps coming for miles, and yet he couldn't find any motivation to get up and do anything about it. He fumbled about in his pocket for a cigarette, methodically lighting up and blowing a stream of smoke into the air.

Ha! Not so clear now, was it?

He cocked his head, scenting another presence. "Hello Rupert."

"Spike." The Watcher lingered in the kitchen doorway for the briefest of seconds, before he closed it behind him and moved to stand on the uppermost step, right next to the dejected vampire. "I'm surprised to see you here."

Spike let out a cheerless snort of laughter. "Got nowhere else to be have I?"

Giles stared down at the bowed head, the crown of pale hair bathed in moonlight. Spike looked very lost and very alone. It was rather disconcerting to see him so vulnerable. "You're smoking," he observed. "You haven't done that for a while."

"Not since I found out about the Nipper." Spike inspected the glowing tip of his cigarette as if it were the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen, then sighed resignedly. "Can't say as I missed it." He tossed the half-spent butt out onto the path and watched its arc into oblivion with casual indifference. "I'm losin' her, you know," he said suddenly, his voice soft, almost hesitant. "She's slippin' right through my fingers and I can't do a sodding thing about it."

The Watcher was startled, he hadn't expected that the vampire would confide in him. "Last time I checked that was impossible," he said. "The link is permanent, and the Powers That Be..."

"Don't give two-bloody-hoots about little ol' Spikey and his problems. Semi-souled half-vampires don't rate overly high in their books."

"Good Lord, you really know how to wallow in it, don't you? Angel brooded, but he wasn't a defeatist."

Spike's entire demeanor changed. He glared up at Giles, wintry eyes glinting with hostility, the darkened smudge of bruising around the right one only accentuating the fury within. "So, you'll be takin' her side. Should have figured." He shot to his feet and pointed an accusatory finger at the Watcher. "It's because of you that she's pushin' me away. You and the blasted Scoobies."

"Whatever are you blathering about, Spike? Buffy wouldn't..."

"Oh, wouldn't she?" Spike's brows arced incredulously upward. "Whether you want to admit it or not, you're the sole most important influence in her life now Joyce is gone. The Scoobies run a close second but even they look to you for guidance, they see what you think and they follow. And she knows you've never accepted me, any of you. Spike's not good enough for the precious Slayer, never gonna be good enough..."

He gritted his teeth, not wanting to travel down that particular route just yet. "But that's not the be-and-end, is it? Main problem behind all this is she's scared, Rupert. She's so bleedin' terrified that she can't think straight. She won't share, but I can feel it in here." He thumped a fist against his breastbone. "It's been festerin' all these months, eatin' away her insides. Now she's given up on the pretense and let it surface."

"Let what surface?" Giles massaged a temple with agitated fingers. "I don't understand."

"The link has been weakening as this pregnancy has gone on," Spike explained. "It was perfect at first, like my own bloody fantasy world come to life. The two of us together, as thick as thieves, peas in a pod... well, you saw. Too good to last, eh?" His head dropped back, eyes closing for a second. His expressive face showed frustration and anger, and shockingly, profound heartbreak.

"Couple of months ago Buffy started losin' all that extra power she'd got, dwindled away right quick it did, 'til she'd come down to being about as effectual as a fledgling. Had to rely on yours truly for her strength, use the link like she did in Pylea. But then she got distracted and distant, started shutting me out. That whole thing about the Nip bein' alive for example? It's only just now comin' to light, but not once did she ask me about it. Not once."

Giles was growing increasingly concerned. His failures in his duties as Watcher were expanding exponentially as the day wore on. He'd made such a huge cock-up things, holed up in his impenetrable fortress of moral high-ground, wrapped in a cloak of prejudice and loathing, and they had been struggling through on their own. Struggling and failing. He found himself feeling sorry for the anguished vampire, feeling an urgent need to apologize, to offer atonement for his faults.

"But you appear to be so deeply connected..."

"'Appear' being the operative word there, Rupes. Most of it's front, Buffy puttin' on her big brave Slayer face for the adoring masses." Spike slouched against the porch railing and cast a furtive glance at the door as if he expected Buffy to come charging out any second, weapon in hand. "There's occasional flashes of the old link magic, but not nearly as powerful as before." He jammed his hands in his pockets and inspected his feet, scuffing one absently against the top riser. "Best I can figure is that the link's not permanent at all. We've all been played."

"What possible reason could there be for -?"

"To get the Slayer up the duff. They needed me human for that, and now the stork drop is imminent, I'm expendable. Sever the link and let Spike drift off in a cloud of dust."

Giles stared. "That is utter bollocks."

"Is it?" Spike's chin lifted a fraction. "Think about it. What happened the last time someone yanked out the link's power cord?" He watched enlightenment dawn on the Watcher's face and nodded. "That's right. I almost died - again. If Red hadn't busted up your little party, I'd've been a decorative layer of powder in my bloody Sire's boudoir. The thing is there's no magical antidote this time 'cause it's happening all on it's own."

Giles shook his head, unable to accept what the vampire was telling him. "No. This match was predestined I've no doubt of that. I've had the opportunity to observe you both over the years, and as much as it pains me to admit it, you're a far superior force when you're together. You complement and balance each other, test each other's boundaries, expand each other's horizons. One is not whole without the other. And she does love you, more than I think even she realizes. Losing you would destroy her."

Spike matched the Watcher's stare, though his was shaded with a hint of wonder. "Well, there's somethin' I never expected to hear. 'Specially from you."

"I may be a stubborn old git, but I'm not blind," Giles retorted dryly. "Not this time. Buffy has always been reticent about expressing her emotions, but that's because she feels them so very intensely." He gave the vampire a rueful glance. "But I'm not telling you anything you don't already know, am I?"

Spike waved a dismissive hand. "Don't let that stop you. I need all the help I can get." He squinted at the Watcher suspiciously. "You are helping?"

Giles twitched. He hadn't thought of it that way. "Apparently." He leant against the opposite rail, mirroring the vampire's pose, and eyed him appraisingly. "You don't believe you're worthy of her either," he said incisively. "Do you?"

As Spike gaped at him, astonished by his perceptiveness, Giles was struck with a curious impulse to cry, 'A hit, a palpable hit!' The vampire's clear blue gaze was raw and unguarded, exposing a raggedy patchwork soul that was far more fragile than any of them had suspected, but then he blinked the protective shutters back into place. Nevertheless he remained as candid as always. "No I don't."

He scavenged about for another cigarette, not so much for the nicotine fix as for something to occupy his hands. His inherent restlessness had been kept in check up to now by frequent physical contact with Buffy. He'd spend hours playing with her hair or mapping the texture of her skin. That avenue wasn't exactly open at the moment so he'd picked up his old habit and then some, he'd almost gone through an entire pack since that morning.

"Know what I did downtown today?" he asked conversationally, as though they were two average geezers having a pint at the local. He lit up and took a deep drag, watching the smoke drift away into the darkness. "Scared the hell out of some unfortunate old bird just by looking at her."

Giles shrugged. "Most people do find your appearance rather odd."

Spike scowled at him, but otherwise ignored the slur. "You're not gettin' the point. I nearly went game face on a member of the blue-rinse set and I enjoyed it. What does that say about me?"

"Forgive me, Spike, but you are still a vampire. I'd be worried if the demon in you didn't enjoy that sort of thing." He smiled nostalgically. "I seem to remember doing something similar when under the influence. It was almost worthwhile being turned into a Fyarl demon just to terrorize that dreadful Walsh woman."

"Hello? I was there." Spike rolled his eyes. "But jollies aside, what kind of example is that to be setting? I love the Nip, but I'm going to make a horrible Dad. I know it. You know it. They'll both be better off without me."

Giles straightened as the vampire's ramblings began to come together in his head. "Oh for the love of... This is why you are so disinterested in the prophecies, isn't it? You don't think they apply to you."

"I said it before when all this rot first came up. I'm not cut out for the Guardian business."

"And I'd say you were spouting utter bollocks, but I'd just be repeating myself," Giles muttered.

Spike flicked his still-burning cigarette at the Watcher. It bounced off his tweedy sleeve and onto the porch. As it was being crushed out, he scrutinized this erudite man who was by all intents his father-in-law; carefully sizing him up, weighing the chances that what he said next would get him slain. Deep breath and out with it...

"Want to know the real kicker?" he asked. "My chip's not working."

Giles had the grace to look somewhat alarmed by the announcement. "It ... uh, a-are you certain?"

"Whatever Buffy did with the whole zap-tastic blinding thing? Busted more than just a vessel. I think it shorted out. Hasn't given me a lick o' trouble since."

"You've tested it?"

"Couple of times." Off Giles' apprehensive look, he waved a conciliatory hand. "Relax, they were criminal sorts and I only roughed 'em up a bit, some surface bruising and the like. I haven't fed on anyone for a good long while and I don't plan to start up again." He snorted at the irony. "Buffy wouldn't like it."

"Does she know about this?" Giles was shaking his head even as he asked the question. "Of course she knows. The link."

"What link? I told you. That's not working proper either. Cut off completely this mornin' right after she contacted me."

"You mean-?"

"Went down in a great heap of undead Spike-meat. Could've exploded into cinders and not felt a sodding thing."

Giles made a face at the imagery, but was more concerned about the recent turn of events. "I was right here in the house and she didn't say a word."

"Probably didn't even realize what had happened. A tad self-centered these days is the Slayer." Spike smiled tightly, pulling out yet another cigarette and tapping the filter against the cardboard packet. "Actually, more like Nip-centered. Everything revolves 'round the little bloke. I'm out of the loop."

The Watcher, who had been observing his actions with a preoccupied air, reached over and deftly snatched the pack from his grasp.

Spike lunged after him, growling. "Oi! Give 'em over, you thieving wanker. I can hurt you now, you know."

"I also know that you won't." Giles stood his ground, his features stoic, and slipped the spoils into his pocket. Judging by the weight, Spike had stashed his lighter inside the pack, too. "The chip wasn't the only restriction placed on your demon. You have a soul."

"Do not," Spike scoffed, backing off and tucking the stray cigarette behind his ear. "Have William's antiquated Victorian morals, is all. Don't be calling it what it isn't, 'specially without Buffy to close the circuit."

Giles frowned, not having considered that. With the link acting up for whatever reason - he wasn't convinced that Spike's theory was correct on that score - the full soul was not active, and the vampire was only retaining the emotional core of his vital spirit. But then, that had been enough of a deterrent thus far... with the chip's help. Oh dear. He had a sudden urge to polish his glasses.

"Stumped you, did I?" Spike inquired smartly.

"Stop being such an obtuse prat."

The blonde vampire morphed and sneered, distorted upper lip exposing his fangs. "Obtuse isn't a problem, mate. All sharp and pointy on this end."

"You're deliberately trying to annoy me, aren't you?"

"Is it working?" Spike tipped his head, his human features sliding effortlessly back into place. It was almost as though he couldn't hold the other for any length of time, a false face that he'd long ago given up hiding behind.

"I've survived years of provocation by individuals infinitely more troublesome that you."

"The Harris whelp?"

"Among others."

Spike grinned. "You mean Buffy."

"Yes, well ... she can be quite, uh..."

"She's a firecracker, that'un. Don't know how you kept her in line all that time."

The sappy grin on his face was a sketch in absolute adoration, and if Giles had been harboring any doubts about Spike's feelings that expression alone would have changed his mind. Not that the vampire had ever been reluctant about sharing; he wore his emotions like a badge of honor, his heart on his sleeve. It was quite glaringly obvious that Spike worshipped the ground his Slayer walked on. Buffy's feelings were more of a mystery however. She loved him, yes, but was that enough?

"I learned early on that it was best to allow Buffy the freedom to make her own choices, no matter how... ill-advised."

Spike let out a delighted giggle, a sound that was both incongruous and disturbing. "Ever the polite one, eh?" He collapsed bonelessly back into position on the steps. "You love her too."

Giles sat down beside this bizarre, unpredictable creature that had miraculously become family and allowed himself a moment to reflect. "I'd dare say it's impossible not to."

"Bloody sadistic lot those Powers," Spike asserted, nodding. He tugged the cigarette out from behind his ear and twirled it between his fingers.

"I doubt they had much to do with it. Whom one chooses to love is a matter of free will."

"No such animal. Any rate, already got the prophecy laid out for us didn't we?"

Giles pursed his lips. Gotcha! "I thought those didn't apply to you," he said carefully.

The incessant twirling came to a halt and Spike glared at him from the corner of his eye. When he spoke, though, his tone was more affectionate than malicious. "Sometimes I really hate you."

"Only sometimes? I find that rather disappointing."

Giles retrieved the cigarettes from his pocket, flipped the top and offered them back to the vampire. Spike's silver lighter sat inside, surrounded by a handful of crumpled smokes, a silent peace offering.

Spike took it, but then shook his head and squirreled it away. "Best not, eh?" He stared back out at the night, contemplative now. "So, what'd you have to say to the Slayer 's'mornin' anyway?" he asked. "Never did catch the conversation."

"It was essentially a recapping of the information you already had about the Pylean prophecies. The major points I had to make were about the child."

The Watcher found himself pinned to the porch railing with an inhumanly powerful and unrelenting hand clamped around his throat and only the ghostly stirring of the air to indicate that Spike had even moved.

"You want to try that again with a little less indifference? That's my son you're talkin' about."

A meaningful squeeze of the fingers, tight enough to set off tiny panicked explosions behind Giles' eyes, and then the vampire was sitting back on his side of the steps as though nothing had happened.

Giles spluttered a while, his throat working but no sound coming out. He turned a particularly entertaining maroon shade before finally regaining his composure. The glasses came off immediately afterward.

"S-sorry," he whispered, polishing the lenses intently, not looking in Spike's direction. "Terribly, terribly sorry. I understand your reaction, of course." He swallowed painfully. "It's simply that from my standpoint Seth has remained firmly in the abstract. He is not yet real to me."

"Oh, he's real. So real that I..." Spike exhaled heavily, his posture hunchbacked and tense. His fingers flexed spasmodically, reliving the sensation of having the Watcher's life in his hands. Once again, he was troubled by his brief enjoyment of it. "Apologies for the throttling." He, too, avoided looking in the other's direction. "Gonna have an imprint there for a time. Marked you but good."

"Yes, well." Giles rubbed at a throat that was indeed showing an angry red handprint, the thumb on one side of his Adam's apple and a neat four-fingered row on the other. "As I said..."

"Yeah, as you said. What of Seth then?"

"There are a few things. For one, his name worries me."

Spike's head came up at that and he fixed the Watcher with baffled eyes. "His name? This is about his bloody name? Only decided on last night and now it's interferin' with his future?"

"I realize it's difficult to take in, but the meaning of it, Spike. You can't tell me you haven't noticed the correlation to the prophecies. That entire 'Guardian thing' that you are so dismissive of?"

"Hadn't occurred actually. To either of us." Spike's brows furrowed over eyes gone stormcloud dark. "God damn it!" He suddenly launched up and out, and into a bout of pacing, his booted stride taking him in a tight loop back and forth in front of the stairs.

"We didn't want this," he stressed, crude London accent almost obscured by the strength of his emotions. "Wanted something for the Nip that didn't involve prophecies and vamps and big lumpy demons that want to destroy the world. I figured he'd be more likely to get that if I wasn't in the picture, but this brings up a whole other..."

He trailed off, his body folding in on itself, hands fisting into the whitened hair of his temples and pulling at it in frustration. "Aargh! Buggering Christ, does nothing in this town ever go right?"

"In my experience, no." Giles winced sympathetically, both for the vampire's obvious torment and the damage he was inflicting on himself. It was rather painful to watch. "Realistically, Spike, you know that you can't shield the boy. He is destined to be special, unique. You're a vampire. Buffy is the Slayer. You live on a Hellmouth. How can any of that be perceived as normal?"

Spike gazed at him pityingly, as though the Watcher was being particularly naive. "You ever had this conversation with Buffy?"

Giles balked at the turn in topic. When had this become about him? "I beg your pardon?"

"Have you ever sat down with the girl and pointed all that out, or have you just let her make her own assumptions? 'Cause she thinks that's how it should be, you know. Family ties, tight-knit set of pals, and a boring cardboard cutout for a boyfriend." He was warming up to his subject now, arms waving animatedly. "She can't consort with the enemy, be with someone who might actually be up to the challenge. Heavens no, that's not normal. Normal." He spat the word like it was poison. "Like being the same as every other household in the country is something to aspire to - average job, white picket fence. She figures Seth's a great step on the way to that. Me, I'm... not."

"The very antithesis of normal," Giles supplied meditatively.

"Well, yeah. Startin' to see it now, aren't you. You've seen the signs."

"Basically what you're saying is that Buffy is using her friends, including myself, as an excuse to push you away?"

"Double points for the Watcher! He advances to the bonus round!"

Giles ignored the sarcasm. "Tell me, how does this fit with your theory about the Powers?"

"They were in on the Nip's inception, I know that much. The rest is her doing. And yours." Spike stopped in front of the other man, his very proximity forcing him to look up. "So, what you're gonna do now is fill me in on what the lover wiccans unearthed about this AI rot, and then I'm volunteering for the LA jaunt. Buffy needs... a bit of perspective maybe, distance. Could make the heart fonder if she dun't kill me in the meantime."

He stared intently at the Watcher. "I can't fix this, Rupert," he said soberly. "She won't let me close enough to try. I'm trusting she won't do the same to you."

~[*]~

Spike leant against the frame of the open kitchen door, early morning sunshine spilling past him onto the tiles, and hooked his thumbs into his belt.

"I'm skippin' town for a bit," he said, attempting to make light of the announcement. Like his heart wasn't damn near shattering in his chest.

"I know." Buffy kept her back to him, her spine ramrod straight, shoulders squared and defensive. "I was kinda worried when you didn't come home last night. Then I sensed you with Giles, getting the lowdown on the fairy sitch."

"Allowed yourself a peek, did you? Don't knock yourself out on my account."

She sighed and rested her hands flat against the breakfast bar as if for support. "How did we get here, Spike?"

He shrugged, wanting desperately to go and comfort her and hating himself for the weakness. "Dunno, pet. Everything was blood and peaches for a bit 'n then it all went pear-shaped."

Buffy snorted and peered at him over her shoulder. "What's with all the fruity metaphors?"

Spike managed a rueful smile. "Found it's best to stick to a theme when you're unsure of yourself. Don't want any mixed messages."

"I'll miss you." She turned to look at him then, and his eyes were drawn immediately to the curve of her belly. She seemed to have grown bigger overnight. "We'll miss you."

He tipped his head to one side. "Will you, now? Won't be 'out of sight, out of mind' then? You'll keep us in touch?"

Buffy held out her hand. After a slight hesitation he took it in his own and allowed her to draw him in. She stared at their entwined fingers for a minute, then gazed up into his eyes.

"I love you," she said. Her voice was soft and deadly serious. She didn't want to mess this up anymore than it already was. "I really, really love you."

"Yeah, I love you, too. Doesn't seem to help, does it?"

A/N: For those who were wondering... [i.e. gyrlfrend] When I started this story I had to develop a little AU history. To that end, sometime during that amorphous period between Seasons 4 and 5, a number of significant things happened. Firstly, Riley left. I don't know why, I don't care, I just wanted him gone. Secondly, Joyce died (accident, aneurysm, you be the judge). It was also during this period, helping Buffy through her grief, that Spike realized how he felt about her, setting in motion the events of 'Shades of Grey'. These historical events will be mentioned in passing by different characters, but I won't be going into any great detail about them. Hope that clears things up. Dee.