Made for fun, not for profit. The Buffyverse belongs to Mutant Enemy and Joss Whedon, I just like to play there.

Spoilers for 7X17 "Lies My Parent Told Me"

"Nothing that grieves us can be called little: by the eternal laws of proportion

a child's loss of a doll and a king's loss of a crown are events of the same size."

~ Mark Twain

3 - A Little Night Music

Xander came back down a few minutes later to find Giles standing by the weapons chest and unloading the bolts from his crossbow. He looked around the room but didn't see Spike anywhere. He was walking over to Giles, about to ask where the vampire had disappeared to, when he caught sight of Spike standing in the kitchen and staring intently at something. Spike's back was to the stove and Xander could hear the microwave humming. Spike raised his head, aware that he was being watched, and aimed a glare at Xander, who nervously dropped his eyes and stepped over to stand by Giles' shoulder.

"Look," Xander cleared his throat, glancing over at the kitchen again before continuing. "I've gotta get to work. You okay here?"

Giles quirked an eyebrow and smiled good naturedly at the young man. "I'll manage. Will you be coming by tomorrow?"

Xander shrugged, "If you need me. I have plans with Anya, but Sam wants to meet her, so we might drop by in the afternoon if its okay."

Giles nodded and put aside the crossbow, sparing a look towards the kitchen and his undead houseguest. "Fine, but please call first if you decide to stop by."

"Will do." Xander headed for the front door and watched Spike out of the corner of his eye as he grabbed his coat from the rack of hooks by the front door and shrugged it on. He shut the door behind himself, leaving Giles alone with Spike.

The microwave 'dinged' and Spike wasted no time in opening the door and bolting down the mug's contents. "Ugh, soddin' pig's blood," he groused before polishing off the mug.

Giles heard a door open upstairs and footsteps moving along the second floor hallway. He glanced over at the kitchen, where a now vampfaced Spike had just finished refilling his mug with butcher's blood and was moving to put it in the microwave. Reaching into the trunk for supplies, Giles put a stake in his left pocket, a bottle of Holy water in his right and tucked a largeish wooden cross into the waistband of his pants before heading towards the kitchen. He stopped by the breakfast bar and looked at Spike thoughtfully.

"I suppose it would be expecting too much if I asked you to reimburse me for the blood?"

Spike snorted, briefly taking his eyes off of the rotating mug in the microwave. "You suppose right, Rupes." He turned to look at the microwave again, watching the timer count down the seconds until his blood was warm enough to drink. "Don't have any money, an' if I did, I wouldn't give it to you. Protection and food for info, that was the deal."

Footfalls on the stairs caught Giles' attention, and he turned in time to see Sam coming downstairs wearing a grey hooded bathrobe. She had two towels draped over her left arm, and carried a small shower-caddy in her right hand which contained bottles of shampoo, conditioner, bodywash and a puffy object which vaguely resembled a sponge. He turned back to see that Spike was staring at the young woman and practically licking his chops. This was possibly due to the fact that the hem of her bathrobe fell to just above her knees, and each time she took a step down, a generous portion of her forward-most thigh was briefly visible. On the plus side, the vampire had shifted back to human face.

"Spike," he addressed the vampire in a low, menacing voice without looking at him, "if you do anything, anything to harm this young lady, I will -"

"Can it, Watcher. Couldn't hurt her if I wanted to." The microwave dinged and he removed the mug of blood, taking a swig and making a face afterwards. "Y'know, I thought heatin' it up enough would help it taste better," he shrugged, grimacing at the lingering taste, and stared at the mug in annoyance, "but it doesn't do a damn thing."

Sam came closer, pausing in the doorway to the kitchen and smiling pleasantly at both of them. "Giles, I'll probably be about half an hour, if you were wanting a timeframe for getting the food ready." She looked at Spike and the smile faded slightly. "Erm," she gestured awkwardly at her own face with her towel-laden arm, "You've kinda got a blood-mustache going on." Sam adjusted her hold on the towels to allow for more gesturing. "Now, if you could pull off the handlebar look I'd be impressed, but as it is the look is kinda sloppy." The critisizm was greatly softened by her lop-sided smile.

He licked the blood from his lips, furrowing his brow slightly and wiping away some of the 'mustache' with his thumb. Spike stepped towards her, the mug in his hand forgotten as he regarded her curiously. "You're not afraid of me?"

She shrugged, "sorry, I'm not," and broke eye contact to stop the belt of her robe from coming loose. Sam looked up again, lop-sided smile still in place. "I mean, I'm more useful in a fight than Willow is, so if you couldn't kill her, I figure you can't kill me." She shrugged one shoulder and fidgeted, trying to gauge his reaction.

Spike shifted his weight to his rear foot, canting his head at an angle and studying her curiously, but not speaking.

Her expression turned apologetic and she glanced at Giles for guidance, but he offered none, so she focused on Spike again. "No offense."

He kept staring at her wordlessly, assessing her, and finally Giles cleared his throat to break the uncomfortable tension. "I'll get everything ready, Sam. Why don't you start running your bath."

She nodded and continued down the hall, disappearing into the bathroom.

Spike watched her go, listening to her heartbeat past the sounds of running water as she started filling the tub. He smiled to himself as he looked down the hall after her. Despite her bravado, her heart was beating faster than it had been when she first came downstairs. He wasn't sure if that meant she was indeed afraid of him, but it gave him something to think about as he headed out to sit on the couch. He limped slightly along the way, pressing a hand to his hurt leg, and when he finally sat down he propped his left foot on Giles' coffee table. He was raising the mug to his lips again, warm pigs blood was definitely more palatable than cold, but not by much, when the blood he had wiped off with his thumb caught his attention. He considered his bloodied thumb for a moment and then licked it clean, quickly moving on afterwards to finish the mug.

"Interesting girl," he commented to Giles.

Giles moved into the hall and frowningly regarded the bathroom door for a few moments. "Yes, she is." He shook his head and continued into the kitchen. "Oh for god's sake!"

Spike cringed inwardly, but appeared unconcerned by the outburst. "Problem, Rupes?" He set the empty mug aside on an end table by the couch and his eyes lit on the remote for Giles' tv. He switched the set on, smiled to himself and settled in to watch telly.

Giles' angry muttering moved out of the kitchen and towards the couch where Spike sat happily channel surfing. "By any chance were you planning to tell me that you spilled blood all over the floor in front of my stove?"

Spike shrugged, not looking away from the tv as he spoke. "You found it, didn't you? Now go on," he made a shooing motion with one hand. "Take care of it."

The man's jaw clenched and he closed his hand around the bottle of Holy water in his pocket. "I refuse to spend the duration of your stay cleaning up after you and playing nursemaid. It's your mess - "

"You think I wanted to spill it?" Spike made a disgusted sound and finally looked up at Giles. "It's food, you berk. My food. I don't wanna waste any of it," he paused, running his tongue along the outside of his teeth. "No matter how foul it tastes. The bag slipped in my hand when I was pouring, 's all."

He shifted uneasily in his seat and hissed in pain when the motion jostled his hurt leg. Since he'd been starving he wasn't at full strength, and combined with his injuries and fatigue from being on the lam for almost a week, his coordination was pretty much shot. The bag hadn't actually slipped. His hands were shaking so badly that when he tried to pour out, most of the blood had landed on the floor instead of in his mug. Not that he was about to tell Giles that. He didn't trust the man to care, let alone help, so he kept the truth to himself.

"An' seein' as I'm still full of arrow holes, I'm not about to crawl around on your floor with a sponge. Just clean it up like a good little white hat an' leave me be."

Giles closed his eyes for a moment, slowly counting to ten, and glared at his houseguest. "Fine," he spat, grabbing Spike's empty mug from the end table. "Just be more careful from now on." He stalked off, heading down the hall to grab cleaning supplies.

Spike watched him go, mildly surprised that the man hadn't put up more of a fight, then shook his head a tiny bit and turned his attention back to Dharma and Greg.

The show went to commercial a few minutes later. "Figures," Spike grumbled, "Rupes an' I prolly had our verbal tussle durin' most of the set-up for this episode. I hate missin' the set-up." He glared at the telly, annoyed at the universe in general, but for the moment he focused his displeasure on the abrasively cheerful Meow Mix jingle. He stabbed the 'mute' button with his thumb and sighed, briefly wondering if this was what his unlife would be like for the foreseeable future. He only wondered about it briefly because as soon as he caught himself sounding like the maudlin version of his grandsire, even for a moment, he growled at himself. No matter what had happened to him, and no matter what might happpen to him down the line, he flat out refused to start acting or even thinking like Peaches.

Spike blinked at the tv, hoping the commercial break would end soon, and absently listened to the sounds of Giles mopping the floor. The man didn't grumble or mutter while he went about it, so the only thing to be heard was the whispering of paper towels wiping up the mess, followed by the faint slap of a wet sponge hitting linoleum. A different sound caught his attention, and this one was much more pleasant to listen to. It was Sam, and she was singing in the bath.

"Upon one summer's morning, I carelessly did stray,
Down by the Walls of Wapping, where I met a sailor gay,
Conversing with a bouncing lass, who seem'd to be in pain,
Saying, William, when you go, I fear you will ne'er return again."

She had a warm, clear voice which echoed pleasantly off of the tiled floor and walls, giving the sound a slightly ethereal quality. Spike frowned thoughtfully as he listened to her, forgetting about the tv for the moment. When she first saw him and recognized his nom de guerre, she had also called him by his alias, William the Bloody, to confirm who he was. He idly wondered if it was a coincidence that the sailor mentioned in the song shared his given name.

"His hair it does in ringlets hang, his eyes are stormy blue,
May happiness attend him as long as he stays true,
From Tower Hill, to Blackwall, I will wander, weep and yearn,
All for my jolly sailor bold, until he does return."

The tv show came back from commercial, so he hit the mute button a second time and canned laughter spilled from the speakers. By now Spike was more interested in listening to Sam's singing than he was in watching tv, but he had noticed Giles watching him when Sam came downstairs. The man had seemed tense and uneasy about how much attention Spike was paying to Sam. Add in the fact that Giles had threatened him soon after, and Spike figured the safest bet was not to pay too much attention to Sam when Giles was around. Or at least not to be too obvious about it. He turned the volume on the tv down slightly so he could hear Sam better, but kept it loud enough to preserve the illusion that he was focused on the show.

"Come all you pretty fair maids, whoever you may be
Who love a jolly sailor bold that ploughs the raging sea,
While up aloft, in storm or gale, from me his absence mourn,
And firmly pray, arrive the day, he home will safe return.

"My name it is Maria, a merchant's daughter fair,
And I have left my parents and three thousand pounds a year,
My heart is pierced by Cupid, I disdain all glittering gold,
There is nothing can console me but my jolly sailor bold."

The sound of something landing in a bucket of water came from the kitchen, and Spike turned around in time to see Giles put a towel on the floor. The man shook his head, but didn't seem annoyed as he finished up drying the now clean floor. "Sam?" he called, "why are you singing an old sea-song?"

Spike heard her chuckle softly before she raised her voice to reply; "I really don't know. Just in the mood for ye olde music. Besides, its easier to sing that kind of thing and sound good than to do a solo vocal version of rock or jazz. And for my next selection..." She trailed off, splashing happily, and Giles winced, muttering something under his breath about how he hoped that she wasn't getting the bathroom floor too wet.

"Of course," she rejoined, "maybe the sea-songs are just because I'm in water."

Spike smiled to himself, amused by her antics and curious to see what she might do next. "What are you singin' next, luv?"

First she replied with more laughter, then said, "one of the oldest songs I know," swiftly following it up with a sweet, sad melody.

"Early one morning just as the sun was rising
I heard a young maid singing in the valley below;
Oh, don't decieve me, oh never leave me
How could you use a poor maiden so?"

Spike drew in on himself, unconsciously hunching his shoulders and pressing his eyes shut. He had recognized the song before she even finished the first line. It was something his mother used to sing to him before he was turned, and he had even given her a music box which played that melody for her fortieth birthday. She had come out of the shadows in the drawing room, holding that music box the night she had risen. That was just before... before things went very wrong. More wrong than a fledge turning his consumptive mother in a misguided attempt to save her life. He hadn't heard the song since that night, having smashed the music box soon after dusting his mother, and hearing Sam sing it... he really didn't know what to feel. It brought up bittersweet memories, most of them extremely painful and confusing.

"Remember the vows that you made to me truly,
Remember how tenderly you nestled close to me.
Gay is the garland, fresh are the roses
I've culled from the garden, to bind over thee.

Here I now wander alone as I wonder
Why did you leave me to sigh and complain.
I ask of the roses, why should I be forsaken,
Why must I here in sorrow remain?"

He gave his head a slight shake, eyes still closed, and tried to ignore the painful memories he associated with that song. "It's just a bloody folk song," he muttered to himself. "No call to get riled up about it." It had been so long since he had heard it that he had forgotten the lyrics after the first verse, and hearing those verses now he couldn't help but think about how things had ended with Dru. He growled to himself, annoyed by the fact that he was casting himself in the role of a forsaken maiden.

"I'm not some bloody heartbroken sap. I'm not!"

He glanced back at the kitchen self consciously, wanting to know if Giles had noticed him talking to himself, but Giles seemed oblivious to anything outside of the kitchen. The man had finished cleaning up and was taking various containers of food out of the fridge, setting them out on the counter in preparation for re-heating their contents. Spike had made no offer to help get dinner ready, which was hardly surprising, really, and Giles was busily going about his business; putting pots of leftover mashed potatoes, stuffing, and gravy on the stove, and reheating turkey cuts in the oven.

Spike relaxed against the couch cushions again, still feeling conflicted, and, cranking up the volume on the tv, he tuned out Sam's singing and tried to focus on the tv show. The episode seemed to be about the two fathers in law trying to play golf together, and the silly interplay between a burned-out hippie and a Republican fat-cat was amusing enough to distract him. By the time the end credits were rolling, he felt a bit better.

He heard a door open down the hall, followed by wet footsteps trailing towards the living room, and he turned to look. Sam was wearing her bathrobe and had her hair done up turban-style in a towel. A few stray drops of water were snaking their way down her legs to drip onto the floor. She had stopped in the kitchen doorway and was commenting to Giles about the lovely smells coming from his stove.

"Well, actually Buffy deserves the credit for how well it all turned out. I provided some assistance, but she did most of the cooking."

"Really?" Sam sounded surprised. "Wow, I didn't think she knew one end of a spatula from the other."

Spike smiled, letting his eyes rove over her body. "Slayer's full of surprises."

She turned and grinned at him when he spoke. "So, did you enjoy my singing?"

He shrugged, carefully maintaining an air of indifference. No need to tell her that she had picked possibly his least favorite song in the world. "You have a good voice, luv. I was payin' more attention to the telly, but what I heard was nice."

Her mouth turned downwards in a thoughtful frown. "Thanks, I guess." She came towards the couch, studying him closely enough to make him uncomfortable. "I know that you were from Victorian times, so I guess I'd hoped that you might enjoy a little nostalgia."

Spike set his shoulders, turning to face the tv again and trying to sound nonchalant. "Don't really go in for that, pet, but thanks for the thought." He glanced back at her when she didn't reply after a few moments, and found that she was studying him through narrowed, calculating eyes.

"Didn't you like the songs?" She sounded curious, and perhaps a bit put out by his lack of enthusiasm.

"They were fine, I guess. Just not my taste." He flipped to another channel, then smiled to himself and looked at her side long. "Give me the Ramones or Sex Pistols any day."

She nodded to herself, he wasn't sure why, and removed the towel from her head. Wet curls fell down around her face and over her shoulders, and she draped the towel formerly known as turban over her right arm. "Ok, if you don't want to talk, I can't make you. I just..." She sighed, shoulders slumping in a defeated way. "You were pretty cheerful when I went in there," she indicated the direction of the bathroom with her thumb, "and when I started singing, but now you seem kinda down." Sam shrugged and headed for the stairs, pausing once she had gotten to the first landing. "Was it..." She abandoned the half formed question and shrugged again. "I dunno. See you at dinner?"

Spike watched her carefully as she went, wondering if she had suspected the source of his melancholy. Well, even if she did, it hardly mattered. Nothing a little misdirection couldn't fix. An evil glint came into his eyes when she mentioned dinner. "Don't suppose you want to be my main course?"

Giles' face tightened and he glared at Spike, gearing up to give the vamp a piece of his mind, but Sam just smiled ruefully and shook her head. "Sorry, you're stuck with bagged blood. It's a pity, really. I've been told that I'm quite tasty." She chuckled at her own wit and was about to press on when she caught sight of Giles' disapproving frown and tried to force the smile from her face. She failed miserably at that and continued up the stairs more quickly, teasing Spike along the way. "You need to stop flirting with me," she sounded anything but sincere, and the fact that she was grinning like mad further proved that she didn't actually resent his comment. She shook her finger at him in a faux-scolding gesture "…and stop staring at my neck."

Spike grinned wolfishly. "Wasn't your neck I was lookin' at, pet." He was pleased that the provocative comment had worked to change the topic and pleasantly surprised that not only had she not been offended by it, but that she had actually furthered his innuendo. Maybe not all of the Slayer's friends were the insuffrable goody-two-shoes type.

Endnote: For you finicky people (and I am one of you), the inclusion of Dharma and Greg and "My Jolly Sailor Bold" are not anachronistic. D&G premiered in 1997, and the song which PotC 4 drew inspiration from first appeared in 1891 in a book by John Ashton, entitled Real Sailor Songs

Sourceage: .

I changed "black as sloes" in the second verse to "ocean blue" so it would fit Spike better, and tweaked the second line of that verse to preserve the rhyme sceme. I didn't include the full lyrics because this isn't a songfic, but the page linked above has the full text of the song.