Just Enough: Part 3/5
The pain in his head subsided to a dull throb, less even than the sensation left by the coupling, but another pain began to rise in his chest, related to what had just occurred. Spike was hardly against angry, empty sex-that could be fun, sometimes even oddly fulfilling-but this time it had been different. This had been about forgetting her absence and filling the hole left in their lives by the death, if even for a moment. Neither of them had managed to banish the memory, however. Instead, they’d profaned it. What would she have said if she knew?
He looked around surveying the devastation of the living room caused by the crash of the bookcase and the earlier overturning of the coffee table. His chest constricted painfully, and he felt the tears prick his eyes, as they had so many times since that dawn at the bottom of Glory’s tower. The jeans slipped from his nerveless fingers, and he remained naked, not feeling the cold from their lack. When he was finally able to get to his feet, he felt the moisture wet his cheeks for her once again. He looked at the bathroom door longingly, knowing that poor as it was, it represented the only companionship he’d had for quite some time. Spike didn’t want to leave; not like this, but he knew the Watcher seemed to want to be alone.
Still, it seemed wrong just to leave the mess for the other man to clean up, particularly since he knew Giles would probably be regretting what had happened far more than he himself was. For Rupert Giles, it wasn’t just a matter of seeking escape, it had also been a matter of sullying himself by seeking it in the very thing he’d dedicated his life to destroying. Spike didn’t know why he cared, but he did and found himself feeling a strange kinship with the Watcher. In profession they were enemies, but in pain they could be equal.
It didn’t stop the tears, but it at least gave Spike a sense of purpose as he propped the bookshelf back up. He knew that Giles most certainly had an organization system that he’d have to restore himself, but he picked up the books two and three at a time with shaking hands and shoved them into the shelf anyway, almost afraid to leave them on the floor. To Giles, books were precious-friends who did not lie, leave, or betray. Spike understood that; most of his own vices were based on the same principles.
That thought made him crave a cigarette, but as he picked up his discarded jeans once more and felt in the pocket, he only found an empty wrapper. “Well, that’s damn symbolic,” he muttered, as he crumpled it in disgust before turning his attention to the coffee table, uprighting it and placing the items back on its surface in a haphazard way. In the bathroom he could hear the shower turn on, and momentarily stiffened at the reminder of the other presence in the flat. It was so tempting just to leave after all, go back to the crypt, and have yet another good cry before finding the exhausted fitful sleep that always eventually overtook him those times he thought about his failure and about her.
He found himself leaning against the door, listening to the comforting sound of the water, and promising himself he’d leave before Giles came out and found him still there. As much as Spike craved the companionship, he didn’t fancy invoking further anger just then. The wood was hard, but smooth, and he pressed his cheek against it, letting himself slide to the floor as the gentle noise soothed his mind. He wiped the moisture from his cheeks with the back of his hand and, as he grew calmer, the tears lessened.
Refusing for the moment to think beyond the present, he concentrated on the ache in his ass that told him he’d been claimed and on the warmth that was beginning to seep through the door. Patiently, he waited until it began to occur to him that the water had been on a good twenty minutes with no sign of abating. Spike knew from his own time living with the Watcher that showering normally didn’t take him half that long. He knew he should just leave, but he couldn’t help the urge to check and see if everything was all right.
The feelings of concern surprised him, but, recalling his own words earlier in the evening that if anything happened to Giles, Spike would be blamed, he justified his thoughts to himself and stood. Slowly he opened the door, praying it wouldn’t creak and announce his presence even over the sound of the rushing water, which immediately grew louder as the crack formed. Instantly, he could feel the steam pour over him, claiming his naked form in its embrace as it escaped from over the bar that held the curtain above the tub.
If Spike had had a heart, it would have been racing as he suddenly grew nervous. He knew he couldn’t go further without announcing his presence. “Rupert?” he called once, and then again, each time receiving no answer. That seemed reason enough for apprehension.
Preparing himself, Spike closed his eyes momentarily, then carefully moved the edge of the shower curtain, trying to avoid letting the water droplets escape onto the floor. Giles’ form became instantly visible. The Watcher was standing directly under the spray, bracing his hands against the wall and breathing heavily in way that parodied Spike’s own position during their rut. His brow was to the tile beneath the mounted showerhead, and Spike wondered if Giles had yet noticed his presence, despite his attempts to call out to him. His mind hesitated briefly before coming to a decision.
Spike opened the plastic drape further and then stepped into the tub with the other man, closing the curtain behind him. He could feel the steam and the heat of the spray warming him rapidly and knew that to the human it had to have been nearly scalding. Carefully, he laid a hand on the scarred shoulder, realizing as he took in the crisscrossed lines that showed white against the hot red skin of the Watcher’s back, he was seeing the damage again for the first time since it had been inflicted, and inwardly he winced at the memory. This was what Giles had tried to hide, but Spike was now invading the man’s private space and denying him the opportunity to do so. Normally, Spike wouldn’t have cared, but now, for some reason, he did. Nevertheless, it was too late to turn back now.
Giles didn’t flinch, or even seem to notice as his body continued to heave in what Spike now recognized as an ill controlled attempt to hide the sobs that wracked him. Feeling the ache in his own chest as the tears renewed, fueled by the other man’s pain, and continued to flow, mingling with the spray, Spike let his fingers spread along the other’s shoulder, breaking the cascade and the rivulets that flowed along the skin. Slowly, he let the weight of his hand pull itself downward in a caress along the spine.
When Giles felt the hand reach the small of his back, he gathered himself enough to turn around, and was shocked to find a face as devoid and despairing as his own must have been.
“I can’t…I can’t scrub you away,” Giles rasped hoarsely.
The two men looked at each other for a moment, the connection haunted and thick though the steam. Finally, Spike sidestepped slightly and reached out to take up the washcloth from the bar it had been tossed over before reaching further and turning the knob slightly. “No,” he stated solemnly. “You can’t.”
Even the slight change in the water temperature felt shockingly cold, but the imagined chill allowed the Watcher to regain his awareness a bit more. As Spike started to reach toward him with the washcloth, he caught the vampire’s wrist. When he spoke his voice was sharp, and his eyes had cleared and hardened, “I told you to leave. Why the hell are you still here?”
Spike stood still for a moment, formulating his answer. “’Cause I couldn’t stand to leave like that,” he finally answered, knowing it was the most honest thing he could find to say. “And because I needed…” he glanced away, feeling vulnerable and hating himself for it, “I needed it to be alright.”
Giles tightened his grip, knowing he couldn’t do the vampire any real damage anyway. The washcloth dropped down to find its way to the drain. “It is NOT bloody all right, and it won’t be. That? What we did? It’s disgusting.”
Spike looked up, hurt evident in his features. “Bugger. Figures you’d see it that way.”
“How the hell else am I supposed to see it?”
“It’s…a way to hide from the darkness.” He let his eyes wander to the bite mark that had caused him such pain and saw the blood slowly continuing to well up as the water pinked and washed it away. Fortunately, his saliva in the wound was already clotting it and stopping the flow. Still, he felt the prick of his hunger rise ravenously within and had to force it down.
“By giving into it? You ARE the darkness, Spike.”
“No, damn it! It’s about comfort and forgetting. The others? They all have each other and their pretty little lives to get on with. But you and me? We’re alone; same thing I said before you fucked me. When she died, we both lost the most important thing in our lives, but there’s no one to fill that hole she left behind. And I don’t know about you, but it’s tearing me apart. It burns, gnawing away, and every day, it gets just a little bit worse. But tonight, for about fifteen minutes, I forgot. There was only pain and pleasure and the feel of your cock in my ass. Even your words-they hurt, but they took my mind off the deeper pain. It hurt that she rejected me, but it hurts worse that she’s gone. I…I can’t take it much longer, Rupert,” he admitted, voice cracking slightly. “And I don’t think you can, either.” As he talked, he felt Giles’ grip grow slack and saw the fire go out of his eyes.
“You truly believe you loved her?” Giles asked so quietly, Spike saw the words on his lips more than he heard them over the rushing water. “You have no soul…how is that possible?”
“Sod all if I know. I didn’t ask to. It just happened, and it was more intense than anything I felt before-in death or in life. Still is.” Spike was quiet for a moment, passively meeting the Watcher’s gaze as it searched his face for clues that he actually felt what he claimed. Finally, he seemed to pass some sort of test and received a slight, curt nod.
Spike felt the impulse to speak again before the other man could find another reason to hold him off. “So how about you, Watcher? What was she to you? You even think of her that way? The way I did?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Just know that if it’s true, you never would have told anyone. Stuffed shirts at the Council and all that. Thought you might like to, though. Believe it or not, what you say here, stays here, alright?”
The old instinct came up again, screaming in the negative, but Giles forced it aside and tried to answer honestly, thinking that all things considered, he might as well. The vampire’s words were so convincing that he found himself wanting more than anything to believe. Searching the other’s eyes and posture showed no signs of deceit, and he admitted to himself that Spike was right. Odd as it might seem, it appeared that the two of them had more in common with each other than either of them did with the rest of the group in this matter. “I…I don’t know. Maybe. I never,” his voice broke slightly, still hoarse from earlier. “I never let myself think…but I do know I loved her though, in one way or another, so much it hurts in a way that the pain just won’t go away, that the world doesn’t seem right without her in it. You’re right; I can’t forget.”
“Tonight, just now. It’s the first time you’ve let yourself cry for her, isn’t it?” Spike asked with sudden insight. He knew Giles was the support for the others, and it figured that he would try to conceal his weaknesses, even in private, though all too often this summer it had taken the form of hiding behind the alcohol.
Buffy’s Watcher looked at him in surprise. “Yes. It is. I was afraid…if I started, I wouldn’t be able to stop.”
Spike put a hand over his heart and another over Giles’, feeling the strong heartbeat of the other man beneath the warm skin contrasting with the stillness of his own. “Right here. When you think about it and your chest gets tight, it’s always right here, isn’t it?”
Giles nodded and placed his own hand at the base of the other’s throat. “And here. It burns so that you cannot…cannot speak because the words hurt too much.”
Feeling the tension, Spike hesitated and maintained the contact. Ever so slowly, he brought his head closer. “Need to release it, Rupert,” Spike said, just loud enough to be heard over the water. “And so do I.” Then he captured the other man’s lips with his own.
Giles was still for a moment, then allowed himself to give in. As much as the thought of the vampire repelled him, the offer of companionship was too much to resist. At first, it started slowly; Spike’s mouth was pliable and soft against his own, warmed by the water and steam to the point that he couldn’t detect the chill of the undead. When he felt the tongue, sharp and pointed, demanding entry, he let his lips part and allowed the hand at the base of the vampire’s throat to find its way to the back of his neck and pull him closer. Their tongues greeted one another, alternately hard and soft, solid and velvet, as both of them became lost in it.
The washcloth Spike had dropped had managed to prevent the water from draining, and it now came above their ankles in the tub. Never breaking contact, the pair lowered themselves slowly into the water, letting it welcome them into its warmth as they went to their knees.
Spike slowly moved his hand down the chest, letting the hair scrape his palm in a way that delighted him and was new to him even after over a century of trysts. Giles didn’t notice the touch until it reached his lower belly and the fire in him stirred, invoking the beginnings of a strong arousal. He jerked away panting and used his hand to remove Spike’s. “No. I can’t. Not that. Not yet…”
Spike noticed a chill run through the other man and realized the water had grown colder as the heater ran out, though that which had collected in the tub was still warm. He reached behind him to turn off the shower and hit the lever to stop up the drain properly. “No, not yet,” he agreed. “We need to talk.” Something was happening, but they both needed time to know what. “Here, lie back,” he instructed, willing his own emerging erection into submission.
Giles blinked uncertainly, not sure he wanted to obey the vampire’s command. Still, he did as he was told and allowed himself to sink fully into the tub, deciding he’d rather obey than argue and break the fragile spell they’d created. Maintaining eye contact, Spike replaced his hand on the Watcher’s chest and proceeded to ease himself down as well, the volume of their bodies raising the water level to nearly cover them both as he settled himself in beside him. Giles allowed it and let his arm rest beneath the other’s body, drawing him in close.
They lay together for a while in silence until Giles finally spoke, causing Spike to feel the vibrations of his voice from where his head laid against the other man’s chest. “This can’t be a relationship, Spike. You are still my enemy, and that will never change…not completely. I can’t trust you, and I could never begin to love you.” There was a slight chuckle that rumbled in the vampire’s ear. “Hell, I don’t even think I like you.”
Spike didn’t look up to answer. “No, it can’t. Not like you mean anyway. And don’t worry about me getting all soft and starry-eyed over you because that ain’t gonna happen either. Bad enough falling for the Slayer, it is, but I sure as hell won’t be falling for you,” Spike agreed. “That doesn’t mean we can’t still have something, though. The others don’t quite get it, but you and me-we understand each other. Right now, we’re both empty, hollow-like, and rotting from the inside. Maybe we can’t fill each other or heal the grotty ol’ wound entirely. We’re both tired and we both hurt like hell, but maybe we don’t have to do it alone. Maybe we can do it together, and it’ll be just enough. For both of us, mate. The others never need to know.”
Giles considered, surprised by the vampire’s suggestion. Such creatures weren’t supposed to have depths or compassion, but Spike’s offer was tempting. He ran his fingers up along the other’s arm and shoulder until he was running them through the vampire’s hair, evoking a slight shiver. “I forget you’re older than I, sometimes,” he said seemingly irrelevantly.
Spike smiled, understanding his offer had been accepted. Giles just needed to get around to saying in his own way. “That’s just ‘cause I don’t act like it. No fun.”
“No, I suppose not,” Giles replied, slightly jealously, wishing he had so little responsibility. “Nevertheless, you’ve seen and done more than I. There is much we both need to forget, I think.”
“Yes,” Spike breathed, closing his eyes and sighing. He placed a soft kiss on the chest in front of him and then continued to let himself be lulled by the rise and fall of the human’s breathing.
Together they stayed like that, letting the warm water lull them into peaceful rest.
Continue to Part 4.