Goodbye, Mr. Giles
Title: Goodbye, Mr. Giles
Author: Aamah
Pairing: S/B
Genre: Post NFA ~ General
Warning by chapter: Chapter 34 ~ NC-17 ~ Explicit Spuffisex
Betas - nightshift and cloviss
Based on characters created by Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. No copyright infringement intended. Original characters are products of my imagination.
Chapter 34 ~ Thoughts, A Penny’s Worth
Buffy was concerned that they might not be up in time to start the turkey. Since that was her only responsibility as far as the meal was concerned, it weighed heavily on her mind. With no alarm clock in the cottage, she remembered that the radio had been a great alarm on the first morning with Spike. Before she prepared for bed, she crept out to the little parlor and turned on the radio, volume full up. The station had gone off the air so it was a gamble, but it was better than nothing.
~~
After leaving the cottage that night, Giles was anxious to return to his office to begin research on the box. Originally, he had hoped that Leah might invite him in for a nightcap. It had been a long time since he’d had a romantic encounter with a woman. He was sure Leah was sending signals that she might be pondering an encounter herself. Not tonight, he thought.
~~
The drive over to the dorm was so short, that Xander suggested that they walk over instead. He planned to drive Dawn around the campus during the day when she could appreciate its charm. Honestly? Tonight he’d like to have a little alone time with her. Old friends, after all. She was the sister he never had…she was…Dawn. He wouldn’t admit to her, or anyone for that matter, that he was lonely. He knew he was an adult and life had moved on. Still, to connect with someone who was so much a part of his life for so long made him … warm. Yeah. Of course, this line of thinking led him to admit he even had warm feelings for Spike. What? No…no-ho no warmness for the dead thing. Friends … Spike was a friend now. Right! That’s it. Friends. Just friends. OK, where was I? Oh yeah, Dawn was a grown up too. Oh yeah, definitely grown up.
~~
Dawn pondered, it was funny being here with Xander. He acted all cute when he offered to drive me to the dorm and then decided to walk. Oh yeah … a chance to talk…. Right. Is he serious? I saw the way he looked at me tonight, and the concept of little sister never crossed his mind. I can remember when I thought he was the hottest thing on the planet … but then I was the only one noticing the hotness. I’m thinking he’s noticing now and I have no clue how to act. I don’t know what to think about him. After he dissed me for the bodacious Cordelia and demon Anya, I stopped thinking of him … at all … and now here we are … both totally adult. The eye patch is cool. Except he really has no eye, and I don’t know if I’m enough of an adult to deal with that? He has a whole new grown up body now too. He was always pretty buff … but then, (giggle) so am I. He’s clever and funny and a whole lot smarter than back then, but then, I always thought he was smart. It was just that nobody ever gave him a chance … same as me. I didn’t come over here looking for anything, but now … I’m thinking there may be possibilities. Too soon to go there though.
~~
Leah leaned against her door and kicked off her shoes. She needed to calm herself, take a few deep breaths, and gather her thoughts. In the kitchen she saw the two wine glasses on the tray and said, “Damn!” I was so sure that I would be able to have some time alone with Rupert, and now the sodding council is meddling in my life again. .I should have insisted on a professional relationship only. She sighed as she continued sharing her thoughts with the empty apartment. Nevertheless, he’s such a damn decent bloke. Behind his stuffed shirt there was this fun bad boy. I liked him then, dammit, and I like him now. She had the conversation with the furniture as she downed a couple of glasses of the expensive wine she had opened before he picked her up this evening. By now, with all the wine she had had at the cottage, and these two glasses, she was feeling very warm, very mellow, very horny and considerably annoyed that Angel’s box was the only one he was interested in. No point in letting the evening be a total loss. As the bathtub filled, she poured another glass of wine and removed her clothing piece by piece as she made her way to the bathroom with several candles and some matches. She’d just have to do the best she could to please herself without a man. With a wicked smile, she turned on soft music and went to fill the tub. .
~~
Xander and Dawn walked along the lighted footpath. They’d only just left the cottage and apparently, they’d already run out of things to talk about. Awkward much? thought Dawn.
They turned out of the parking lot and were met by one of the guards patrolling the campus. Xander recognized him immediately and said, “Hi MacGregor.”
“Good evening, Mr. Harris. Odd for you to be out and about this time of night. Anything I should know about?” he said, his accent as thick as ever.
Xander replied, “No, no. Um … this is Buffy’s sister, visiting for the American holiday.” Deciding to be formal, he turned to Dawn and said, “Dawn, this is MacGregor. One of the school’s guards … um … he helps with other stuff too. MacGregor, this is Miss Dawn Summers, Buffy’s sister.”
Dawn and MacGregor smiled at one another and shook hands. Nothing in her demeanor gave away that she knew immediately he was a vampire. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. MacGregor.”
“Oh no, miss. Just MacGregor will do.” They both laughed.
Xander said, “Sorry, I probably should have said that in the intro. It’s kind of a thing with him.”
Think you might have left out something else too, Dawn thought. They must not want me to know for some reason. OK. I’ll play. “Fine. Just MacGregor, that’s quite an accent you have.” MacGregor looked gobsmacked. Dawn saw it immediately and said, “What? What have I done?”
MacGregor answered, “Oh, nothing, miss. It’s just that I’ve always been a bit sensitive about my speech. I’ve spent a lot of time and study trying to rid myself of it.”
Dawn’s eyebrows shot up, “Why? I love it. It’s great.”
Both MacGregor and Xander were taken aback. Xander because he couldn’t imagine anyone understanding MacGregor that easily. The way he heard the story, even other Scots struggled. MacGregor, well, even his own kin couldn’t understand him.
“Don’t look so surprised Xander. Languages are my speciality,.” Dawn said, bowing her head to MacGregor as she accentuated the English pronunciation of specialty.
Xander countered, curling his lip, “Hello? Demon languages. Scottish is different, but not demon!”
“Technically you’re right, but its derivation is ancient. So there.”
MacGregor watched the exchange and was fascinated, jealous even. This easy camaraderie was a wonderful thing.
Dawn went on, “I’ve brought some of my textbooks and notes with me, I’ll show ….you … Oh … oh no. We’ve forgotten my bags.” She turned on Xander, “What were you thinking?”
“What was I thinking? Wait just a darn minute there, missy …” Xander retorted.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re right. Well, we just have to walk back.” Dawn said, not relishing the idea. They were half way there already and she was tired.
MacGregor was trying to keep up with this conversation without words that seemed to take place between the two. “Perhaps I could help, Mr. Harris. I can continue to walk Miss Summers to the dormitory while you walk back to the cottage to fetch her luggage, get your car and drive over.”
Dawn said, “Now that sounds like a great idea. It’s silly for all of us to walk back and for us to just stand here waiting for you. Go on, Xander.”
Bursting with reasons why he didn’t like the idea, Xander, the adult, held his tongue. “Fine!” Bending over and dropping one shoulder, he said in a thick Germanic accent, “I’ll just be Miss Summers’ butt-monkey and fetch her bags.” He turned and headed back toward the cottage laughing maniacally.
Dawn just smiled and MacGregor looked confused. “Odd sort, Mr. Harris.”
“Not really. That’s kind of normal for Xander.”
MacGregor saw Dawn to the dorm, their conversation brisk and dotted with humor. She had no trouble understanding MacGregor at all, a fact that filled him with wonder.
~~~ Second thoughts ~~~
Buffy stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror and thought for a minute. It was insane. How many times had they been together? Hundreds? At least! Why am I so nervous? You’d think I was a virgin … as if … or a … newlywed. She watched her face as it started to glow red. Quickly, she splashed cold water on her face. She heard Spike come in from having his cigarette and she felt the pitter patter of her heartbeat pick up as it always had when he was near. What now? Is he going to go right into bed? Maybe he’ll have a drink. He knows where I am … probably thinks I’ll be a while. She wrinkled her forehead as she thought. Why would he think that? Does he think I’m primping for him? She laughed at herself. Maybe because I’m primping for him.
~~~
Spike closed the door and took off his duster, hung it on the coat rack and stood a moment, listening to the quiet. He learned a lot as he listened. Being a vampire had its advantages. Buffy had finished the washing up, and put all the chairs back in place. Warm moist air wafted from the bathroom. All the fragrances in the world could not mask what was on her mind … and she was nervous. Ha! She was nervous? Some wise bloke said women had it easy. All they had to do was be there. That tosser knew what he was talking about. Pressure. So, what do I do now? Sit here all quiet and wait for her to get into bed? Shit! I’m hopeless. It’s William all over again. OK. This is it, old man. Chin up. You can do this. To bed.
~~~~
Giles stopped by the Main Building to pick up some books from the library. The box, or more importantly, its contents, were the only thing on his mind. He had a niggling feeling that it might be another portent of evil. It seemed over the years, that each time they had a rendezvous with an apocalypse or other life-endangering event it had come to them quite by accident. He knew that, in reality, it came to them by design. He had never quite decided whose design. They were pawns in a game. The question was whose?
~~~
Leah, fresh from her bath, and well-satisfied, decided to forego her nightgown and slipped nude between her satin sheets . She sighed and thought who needs men anyway?
*~~~*
Lying awake, next to Buffy, Spike senses told him that soon it would be dawn, the beginning of a new day … but not yet … Now was that in-between time just before the first gray light of day. The air is fresh, unspoiled, damp, smelling of earth, birth and renewal. For generations, he knew this as a time of desperation as he ran daring the sun to catch him before he found refuge for another day. Not today though, now his senses were filled with warm skin smelling of sleep and clean sheets and a very different kind of desperation. Buffy curled next to him, her bum pressed against his middle warming his very core. He pulled her close. She was too thin. This whole episode had taken a terrible toll. He sighed. More guilt. Everyone was worried about him. Who was worrying about Buffy? She had carried the load for far too long. He was the one who was supposed to ease her burden. He paused, understanding that if he kept up this line of thinking he would soon be wrapping himself in a cloak of self-pity all over again. He couldn’t allow that to happen. He needed to put his mind somewhere else.
Buffy was stirring and aware that Spike was awake and beside her. With the effects of the chasm that had formed between them the past weeks, they had been timid and cautious the night before and fell asleep in each other’s arms.
Spike breathed in Buffy’s erotic aroma. He was terrified, but putting this off wasn’t going to help one bit. His greatest fear was that he would experience sudden pain, like when the chip went off … only this time in his bits. He remembered screaming like a girl when the chip fired. It wasn’t a happy memory, and he shuddered to think what Buffy’s reaction would be if he screamed like that when he came. Well, he thought, face your fear to conquer it.
A sleepy slayer murmured, “Hello,” as she wiggled her bottom against him and then began a slow turn to face him.
“Hello yourself,” Spike replied, his voice throaty, thick in anticipation. Little Spike was standing tall and at the ready. Standing tall was as far as Little Spike had gotten since the accident. One thing certain, when he finally did let ‘er rip it was likely to be something neither one of them would ever forget. He hadn’t gone this long without a wank since before he was turned. He knew he was a Mama’s boy, but what Mama didn’t know didn’t hurt her. He just didn’t want to fail Buffy.
“How’re you feeling this morning?” Buffy asked.
He nestled her neck and said, “Randy.”
“That was so the right answer. You get a cookie” she purred as she reached around and raised her hand to the back of his neck to pull him into a deep, soulful kiss. “Mmmm, I’m in charge here, mister,” Buffy said as she climbed onto Spike, straddling him. She pressed herself into the very erect rock hard cock that was nestled against her soft curls. She knew he was worried. She intended to take care of everything.
Spike, for what might have been the first time in his life, was speechless. He reached up, tenderly caressed her breasts, and lifted his head to take one nipple in his mouth while teasing the other with his fingers. Buffy moaned, the sound thrilling him. He grabbed her bottom to pull her onto him. Buffy gasped, groaned and poised herself over his rigid cock. She wrapped her hand around his shaft and ran her thumb over the head to his favorite spot. Now it was Spike’s turn to moan. Buffy was wet, swollen and ready. She moistened it using her own juices and slowly slid down onto him.
Buffy’s eyes locked onto Spike’s and they began a slow, sweet, slippery dance. As he filled her, she threw her head back and uttered unintelligible sounds. As slowly as she could stand, she slid up and down; taking him in completely as Spike’s hip rose and fell in the rhythm that she set. Driven with passion, Buffy squeezed hard with her vaginal muscles.
“Oh no, Buffy. Don’t! Don’t do that.” Spike’s eyes flew open, desperate.
“What? Am I hurting you?” she said, dragged out of her rapture.
“No! It’s just …”
All Buffy did was move the slightest bit and Spike cried out, with sucking breaths in between each expletive, “Fuck! Yes! Oh, fuck. Oh, I’m sorry. Oh, I couldn’t wait. Oh God. Buffy.”
For a split second, Buffy was terrified, and then as she felt his fluids seep from her, she realized Spike wasn’t broken at all. “Sorry?” she said. They looked at each other and laughed. She fell into his arms. He rolled her over and burrowed himself between her legs and told her he loved her again and again, covering her with kisses until he was hard again. She spread her legs and took his hand to slide his fingers over her slick opening. She moaned at the contact. His cold fingers just touching her hot, hard, aching clit brought her off and she cried out as she throbbed. Fingers of electricity stroked up and down her legs leaving them limp. He felt the strength of her orgasm around his fingers as they swam in her comings.
“Oh Buffy, my precious pet, can you ever forgive me?” he said as his fingers spread her outer lips and slid up and down her inner lips, his finger reaching under the little hood that covered her clit. “Hot, sweet pussy, once more like that luv and I’m done.”
Spike had finally known his sweet release. There had been no pain, only the thrill, the completion and then peace.
He took her face in his hands, and saw there were tears. When their eyes met, he pulled her to him and kissed her tears. “Oh, pet, baby, love, I’m so sorry,” he said.
A puzzled expression came across her face, “Sorry?” she giggled, confusing Spike. “Sorry? ...For the world’s most spectacular orgasm? I don’t think so. You silly, silly man, these are tears of glee, of relief, of delight. Spike,” she said slowly, tenderly, “these are tears of joy. Don’t you see? Don’t you understand? You’re all right. You’re well. We’re going to be fine … and … and I love you so much.”
He caught her in a bear hug that would have killed any other woman. Who said they weren’t meant for each other? “Breathing …” she squeaked, “Need to be breathing … Now!” He eased up his hold and they laughed. Their laughter turned into more kisses, sweet loving, adoring kisses and it was Buffy who suggested that they call the others and cancel Thanksgiving.
Spike smiled in agreement, “We’re in England. What have we got to be thankful for?” He no sooner said it than he stopped cold and their eyes met. As one their mouths met in passion. His hands caressed both breasts and teased her nipples. As they hardened under his attention, Buffy moaned. Spike filled his mouth with one pert breast then the other and said, “You gonna call or shall I?” when the chimes of Big Ben thundered out from the radio.”
“Bloody hell,” Spike said, “Slayer, what have you done?”
She jumped from the bed, “It’s time to put the turkey in the oven,” she said innocently, “We don’t have an alarm clock. It was the only way I could think of to be sure to wake myself in time.” She busied herself running a brush through her hair and throwing on a pair of jeans and one of Spike’s tees.
He watched her every move adoringly, “What, no shirts of your own, you have to nick one of mine?”
She grinned , “I like the way they smell.”
Feeling every bit the domesticated man of the house, Spike said, “Can I help you?” without really wanting to help. He wanted to lie in this warm bed and wait for his woman to come back and pick up where they left off. There was time to be made up for.
Buffy came back over to the bed, climbed over Spike, and kissed him on his nose. “No, you beautiful man. You need to rest up, this won’t take me long and I’m coming right back,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “Besides, if what the kitchen sends today is anything like they’ve been sending, all I’ll have to do is turn on the oven and put the turkey in.”
Spike returned her kiss, trying to turn it into a deeper kiss. She was not to be diverted and so he finally said, “Don’t take too long,” and closed his eyes.
~~~
DI Arthur gave Carruthers a wake up call at 0630. They had a few errands to run before they began their interrogations today and he wanted to get an early start. Carruthers was his right hand man, and he could count on him for anything, but he was a slow starter in the mornings and was rarely, if ever, on time. Arthur had gotten to the point of lying about appointment times. The same way some people set their alarms ahead so they can use the snooze alarm and get extra forty winks. It rarely worked.
~~~
Buffy opened the door and found several baskets, one with a note attached. It explained the size of the turkey and how long it needed to be cooked and at what temperature. It was already brined and seasoned and aluminum foil was included to prevent the skin from becoming too dark. The rest of the “fixings” would be delivered around half one.
She opened the basket and found a lovely, largish turkey, all ready to go and in the right pan. She lifted it and found she had to struggle. It was heavier than she thought. “And I’m the slayer … who lifted this thing into the basket? Don’t want to meet him … or her in a dark alley.” She wasn’t going to let worries about her health spoil this day.
Spike got out of bed, freshened up, climbed back into bed, and listened to Buffy puttering around the kitchen. She was even singing … not one of her strong suits, but symptomatic of a mind at ease, and only slightly off key. He smiled and thought about what she was doing. He knew she cooked some in Sunnydale, but the kitchen there was very modern. This little kitchen, while being efficient, was designed and built in the 1940’s. He thought about the old gas ovens and how temperamental they could be and was overcome with a sense of impending doom.
No sooner did he have the thought than the little cottage shook with the force of the explosion. He ran to the kitchen and found Buffy on the floor, stunned but intact. Her face blackened and her hair singed. The little kitchen window had blown out but nothing was on fire. The force of the blast must have consumed the oxygen, preventing a fire.
Buffy looked up at Spike with tear filled eyes looking for all the world like a naughty six year old and said, “Oops.” It melted his heart.
Spike took a place on the floor beside her. He wanted very much to tell her how stupid she was and that he thought for sure she’d killed herself. Instead he draped his arm over her shoulder, pulled her close and in a quiet, tender voice, he said, “Are you alright? Nothing broken? Nothing bleeding?”
She nodded, “Mm hmm.”
He nodded in response, “Good. I’m glad you’re not hurt. Now, you know you did a very bad thing, right?”
Buffy replied, “Mm hmm.”
“Good.” Spike went on, “Have you learned anything?”
The answer came again, “Mm hmm. You’re not supposed to turn on the gas until you’re ready to light the oven.”
Buffy started to get up and found she hurt herself more than she thought and groaned, “You can stop talking to me like I’m a child anytime now.”
“And I will, as soon as you stop acting like one,” Spike replied. “It was a bloody stupid thing you did, Slayer. You might have been killed. Wouldn’t that just be a hell of a note after all we’ve been through, you go and blow yourself to bits? I’ve half a mind not to forgive you for this one.”
“You’re right about one part.” Buffy said.
“And that would be?”
“You’ve got half a mind,” she laughed aloud and bolted out of the kitchen.
He caught her at the door to the dining room where they both caught sight of the turkey. It had landed right in the middle of the dining room table. They looked at each other and burst out laughing.
Spike rolled his eyes and wrapped her in his arms. “OK, Slayer, now you admit you needed my help?”
“Yes,” she answered as she noticed his state of undress and said, “Maybe you should put some pants on, as much as I enjoy the view, there’s something icky about cooking a turkey in the nude.”
He looked down at himself. “Icky?”
~~~
The jangle of the telephone woke Giles at the point that his dream was about to be most satisfying. He let the damned thing ring while he reached for his glasses with one hand as he consoled his rapidly deflating erection with the other. “Pity,” was all he said. He grabbed the phone to end the infernal ringing and was determined to sound civil. “Yes.”
“Giles? Is that you? Did I wake you?”
“’s a matter of fact you did. Hello Willow.”
“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry. It’s a workday. I called your office and got voicemail. I never imagined you’d be sleeping in on a workday.”
“Yes, thank you. Ordinarily, that would be true, but surely you know that today is Thanksgiving.”
“You don’t celebrate Thanksgiving, Giles, you’re British.”
However true that might be, the comment annoyed him. “You do if your American friends are visiting.”
“Riiiight. Well then, I have some news to report and I think it might be important,” adding quickly, “which is why I kept trying to find you instead of leaving a voicemail,” Willow went on in defense. If Giles wanted to be pissy, let him. She knew she was right.
Giles slid over and sat on the edge of the bed, now interested. So far, Willow had put in hours of work trying to learn something about Eamon Binnemon and it had all gone for naught. “Really, what have you learned?” He pulled on his boxers as he spoke and went to the kitchen to put the kettle on preparing himself for the story Willow would have to tell first. Dear girl, she found it so hard to get to the point. He heard her take a deep breath before starting and rolled his eyes.
“Well, …” and off she went, describing in painful detail how she’d hacked into all manner of highly secure sites, looking for birth records, addresses, friends, neighbors, co-workers … anything at all to do with Binnemon. She’d sent out countless emails and snail mail letters to anyone who seemed even marginally connected with the man. Nothing. Except some rather rude comments about her being a nosy- parker . “Finally…”
Thank God, thought Giles.
Willow said, “I was able to get into his employment records, which told me nothing. I swear, these documents are so annoying. Lots of blah, blah, blah and no substance. If an employee is an asshole, you ought to be able to say that … oh, I know, in nice words and all, but …”
Giles set his tea to steep. “Willow. The point, please.”
“Right.” Excitement bubbling in her voice, “This is the good part. The employee record had the names of the actual co-workers. Up ‘til now I’ve only been able to find out who worked the same shift. I mean, really. The London Postal Service? Huge! It would have taken me forever just to get through the ‘A’s.”
“Willow …”
“Oh, keep your shirt on,” she giggled. “Oops. All right. Once a year, or more often if warranted, a co-worker is allowed to enter comments in an employee’s record. It seems that Mr. Binnemon was not a nice man.”
Giles felt like his head would explode. He stirred the milk in his tea and sipped. “This is what you’ve been rambling on about? Willow, we know he’s not a nice man.”
Willow answered, sounding very smug, “Yes, but you don’t know that his co-workers, many of his co-workers, went on at length about how slippery he was. One questioned if his wife’s death was natural, and one suggested he dabbled in the dark arts.” She paused, waiting for Giles’ reaction.
When none came, she shouted into the phone, “Giles?”
“Yes, yes, Willow. I’m here. No need to shout.”
Clearly miffed, Willow said, “You might have said something, you know.”
Giles replied, “Yes, sorry. I was thinking.” He took a deep breath. “Do you really think this is relevant? So he’s a dabbler. So am I and lots of other people.”
Willow felt absolutely deflated. After so many dead ends, she finally thought she had something to offer. She wished she had gone to England when this whole thing got messy. She didn’t like being on the outside. Well, not outside, but definitely peripheral. “Giles, I think this is important. This may not be an ordinary vampire. He may have skills the others don’t. He’s already proved himself to be ‘smarter than the average bear’ with his whole drinky without a kill scheme.”
Giles interrupted, “Um … ‘smarter than the average bear?’”
“Oh, sorry. Pop culture reference. It just means smart,” said Willow.
“Ah!” said Giles.
“So, he could have all sorts of magical weapons to thwart your attempt at capturing or killing him, or even messing up his dandy little network. I just think you all need to be extra careful, y’know? I’m not there to take care of you.” Of course, she thought whether or not she watched a football game affected the outcome.
Willow’s voice was so sincere, Giles couldn’t help but smile and feel the warmth from over the sea. “Willow, I don’t quite know what to say. I’m ashamed at being so abrupt. You were quite right in contacting me as soon as you did. Things could break at any moment.”
“Oh Giles, I knew you weren’t really mad. So, listen, when you see the others, wish them a Happy Day for me. Oooh, I wish I was there.”
“Thanks Willow. I’ll pass along your message, and you and yours have a happy day too.” Pause. “Willow?”
“Yes Giles, I’m still here.”
“Please, never think that you aren’t still an important part of the team.” Giles took a deep breath, for his heart was heavy. “I miss you.”
“Thank you for that, Giles. It means a lot. Gotta go. Love to all,” and she was gone.
“Ta-ta for now,”Giles said to the now dead line. He turned off the phone and thought about their little lonely witch.
~~~
Other Chapters may be found here.
X-posted: spike_fics, spuffy_fics, captured_kiss