Behind Closed Doors

by Jane Davitt

Notes: This revised version of Behind Closed Doors owes a huge debt to Kindkit, who took on the task of beta reading it at a very late stage and made so many invaluable suggestions and comments. Thanks also to Kyllikki who gave it one last read through for me and Psychodragon82 for the beautiful picture.

He left me on the bed and told me not to move. He did that sometimes; never for long and it wasn't a problem, not really. Staying still when he was in the room and I could see him, hear him, feel his scent in the air like - oh, like Giles, warm and strong and dangerous - that was trickier. He smelled like my coat looks and sliding into it always got me hard because it smelled of him. Should have done. He'd fucked me on it often enough.

Trouble was, while he was getting himself a drink (one glass of wine usually, that he drank slowly while he was getting me how he wanted me, so that seeing the glass ready to be washed, with the dregs lying like a puddle of blood at the bottom, made me remember, made me ready), the phone rang. Instead of telling them he'd call them back later, whoever the fuck they were, he started talking. Bastard. He knew I was waiting, knew I was lying there on the bed, his bed, our bed, arms by my side, legs spread just a little, nothing to stare at but the ceiling, nothing to listen to but his voice. He didn't even sound impatient. Lots of long silences as he listened and then his voice giving instructions, orders...if I wasn't already hard, that would've done the trick. So I waited, being good, well, being obedient, knowing if I was I'd get a reward and, yeah, wanting to please him, because that's what it all came down to in the end.

He laughed. Lying there with my cock stiff, my balls getting tight and he laughed as if there was all the time in the world to chat. Then I got to thinking. He left me much longer, I was going to come about three seconds after he touched me, three seconds after he brushed against me with that mouth of his or laid his hand flat, the way he does just before he - and if I came now, I'd last that much longer and that'd please him. He was still talking; I had time.

Never been too bright. I closed my eyes after my fingers curled around my cock. Had to. Just felt so good, wanking, listening to him, thinking about what he'd do to me...about to come and thinking that I'd have to be careful, clean up fast, using tissues so he wouldn't taste it in my mouth...and the bugger walked in on me.

Vampire senses are handy, but just because you can hear something doesn't mean you're listening, and I was busy.

He stared at me, a flicker of anger in his eyes, and I shivered and went very still, not even daring to let my hands go to where they should be. He was holding the wine and it seemed darker tonight, almost black in the dim light. I waited, cursing myself, him, the jerk on the phone. But I'm stupid sometimes, and I liked to push him and watch him come back at me stronger, harder than ever. He never let me down. Oh, shit. That made me feel guilty.

"I'm sorry, Spike," he said, his voice dry and quiet. "I hadn't realised that extending the time you had to wait by, what, three minutes or so, would place such a burden on you. I do apologise." Sarcastic bugger.

I shrugged, which was a mistake as my hands are attached to my arms and they moved when my shoulders did, which meant my cock got a nice little tug. Chalk it up to decades of practice in survival, but I managed not to come. "Was just making sure I'd last longer later on," I said.

Will I ever learn to shut up? Doubt it. The spark of annoyance flared into temper, real, pissed off, irritated temper. Fuck. He turned and began to walk away, face cold and I called out. "Giles? Where are you going?" I wanted to follow him but I hadn't been given permission to leave the bed.

He paused, didn't turn around and said, still in that fucking quiet voice, the one that rubs against me like his fingers do, "I'm punishing you, Spike. Finish jerking off if you like. Do whatever you want. I won't be here for the next -" He paused, considering, and then said, "Twenty four hours."

The indifference in his voice had me close to begging. Angelus could make me plead after torturing me for hours, but that's not much of an achievement after all; Giles found out that I can put up with anything as long as I'm not being forgotten, ignored, left out...When he said he wasn't going to be there, he didn't mean he was leaving the house. He meant he was going to act as if I had. No touching, no talking, no eye contact. If I got in his way, he'd step around me; if I tried to touch him he'd add on an hour...he'd done it before, but never often and never for that long. I didn't think I could do it, but what scared me the most was that I wasn't sure he could either.

And that terrified me. He'd painted himself into a fucking corner here and it was all my fault. Guilt. Love and guilt. Go together so wonderfully fucking well they do.

I left the bed, knowing he'd make me pay for that; he never forgot anything and that was part of why I loved him, knowing he wouldn't let me get away with anything, no matter how small. Left it, got in front of him, not touching him, held his eyes for a second and slid down to my knees. He was dressed, always was until he set the glass aside, and I wanted to take the clothes off him slowly, feel his body against me, feel his heartbeat thud gently against my chest, let my hands touch him, the hair on his chest tickling me, the muscles under the skin moving as he twisted and arched and said my name and -

Didn't know what to do, just looked up at him and put it all into my face; the panic, the desperation and yeah, little bit of sorry, because, fine, I'd been...not good.

His face didn't soften, not even a little, thank Christ. My Giles. Mine. No one ever knew me this well and he's so fucking good at this.

"Isn't this charming penitence a little theatrical?"

It didn't matter what he said, as long as he was talking. I dropped my eyes so he didn't see the relief and heard his breath hiss out angrily. Quickly I raised my eyes and didn't hide it, any of it, saw him nod. "Better," he commented. "So; you want a second chance? You want mercy and forgiveness and all that crap?"

"Want you," I whispered and really, there wasn't anything else to say.

His fingers drummed against his leg and the cloth of his trousers moved, brushing against my face. I swallowed then and clenched my fists, starting to shake. He let me stay like that, kneeling, wide open and then he jerked his head.

"Bed. On your stomach."

He didn't say `now'. Giles never bothered with the unnecessary words. But he told me he loved me every day.

And he left me. Left me with arms and legs spread wide, drifted a line of talcum powder around me so he could tell if I'd moved, and didn't come back until he'd finished the whole bottle of wine.

And when he did he wasn't carrying his glass; he was empty handed. All the better to spank me with. And he did, his hand landing with a crack, his voice whispering to me, telling me exactly what he was going to do when my arse was red enough to suit him and I lay there knowing that his hand would end up sore, but he wouldn't use anything else on me, wouldn't let the pain swallow up the shame. And when he was done, he rolled me over and wrapped that hot, stinging palm around my cock and I came then, came when he smiled at me, came when he kissed me.

***

The next night, we were in the graveyard patrolling, just us. It was always an adjustment, leaving the house; Giles let me say and do stuff outside or in company that would have got me in trouble when we were alone. I had to be careful not to push it too far though; it wasn't like he wouldn't remember it once the door was closed behind us and we were alone again.

We'd been discussing the rise in numbers of horned demons, and I was telling him about a clan of them I'd run into before he was born, just chatting, our version of shop talk, when he said, "I want you to come for me tonight."

I stopped and swung around to stare at him. "You say that like it's a challenge. Since when -"

He smiled and shook his head. "You'll see," he said mildly.

I narrowed my eyes and took a step towards him. He hesitated - which puzzled me a bit as there was no one lurking - and then let me get in close enough to kiss him. His lips were hard and hungry but he didn't rush it. He kissed me up and ready, hands all over me, pulling me against him so I could feel his cock. He was rock solid. Knowing he'd been walking beside me like that and hadn't let it creep into his voice made me feel wary and impressed all at once.

He let me go, grinned, pulled me back for one last kiss, bruisingly fast, his tongue arrowing inside my mouth, his teeth nipping at my lip, and then took a step back and nodded at the path. "Let's keep going, shall we?"

We carried on walking and I waited. Ahead, I could hear voices. Xander and Anya. Fuck. I wanted to take Giles somewhere, take care of his problem, and let him take care of me. Giles leaned in, not touching me and said quietly. "Did I mention you're going to have to come without being touched? By anyone or anything?" He let that sink in and then said casually as they sauntered up, "There's a time limit of course."

I just had chance to say, "How long?" through gritted teeth, before they descended. Giles looked at me, and his eyes were fucking twinkling. "That's on a need to know basis, Spike, and you don't. Just do your best."

I was all set to argue but his eyes went flat as if he'd been waiting for me to try, and I looked away.

"Spike giving you trouble?" Xander said, giving me one of his glares. Demon world talks of nothing else around the campfires. Scary eyes they are. If you're three years old maybe.

Giles smiled. "He wouldn't dream of it, would you, Spike?"

I smirked at him. He hates that look on my face, but Christ, he'd asked for it tonight. Giles pursed his lips and told them to piss off. Didn't use those exact words, which means it took twice as long, but same result. As soon as they were out of earshot, he put one finger on my shoulder and pushed down. It wouldn't have popped a soap bubble but I went to my knees.

"Spike, are you under the impression that your lack of focus the other night pleased me? Or that I've forgotten you left a place you'd been told to stay in?"

Fuck. I fucking knew he'd bring that up. I shook my head. It was tilted back. He liked to see my face, didn't like giving me anywhere to hide. He doesn't switch the lights off until he's ready to sleep and he doesn't blindfold me unless he's feeling kind.

"Good. Well then. This is an exercise in focus. Since you seem to be confused, I'll repeat myself. I dislike that. It wastes time. You will come for me because this -" He raised his foot and pressed the toe of his shoe against me, not hard, enough to make my cock twitch and stir. His Master's voice. Oh, yeah. "This is my toy, not yours. You played with it and didn't ask me. That's really not good enough." He smiled. "It's not easy to come without being touched, Spike. You know that. Visuals and imagination can do so much but your cock doesn't really care about anything but my hand around it, squeezing tight, my mouth on it, sucking it hard, my cock against it." The smile went almost prim for a moment. "Perhaps we can teach it to be a little less...dependent."

I must have groaned, something, because his lips twitched and yes, the bastard was amused. The dew wet grass was soaking my jeans, my cock was hard but nowhere near coming and there was a clock ticking and I didn't know when it was going to chime.

"Two questions?" I asked. He considered this and then nodded agreeably, motioning me up. "How long and what happens if I can't?"

Giles sighed. "Do you really think knowing the penalty for failure will help to spur you on?"

I thought. I'm pretty good at stuff like this. Probably because he never asked for anything I couldn't do and he knew what that was better than I did. That means he hadn't had to punish me often for failing. I sometimes wondered if he even bothered to think the punishments up until he needed them - but this was Giles. Git probably had a list somewhere, in perfect alphabetical order. I started to think what would come first and drifted off a little. His annoyed cough brought me back and I smiled at him, being as charming as I could. It worked enough to smooth the irritated frown away but that was all.

"Tell me," I said, trying for meek, settling for curt.

"The time limit is set. You don't need to know it."

"What the fuck-?"

He wasn't going to touch me again, I knew that, but he wasn't going to let me get away with that either. Giles caught in a dilemma. That's a sight to see. Except I couldn't, because he moved behind me, swung his foot brutally hard into the hollow behind my knee and brought me down, teeth clenched to stop from howling.

"You will mind your manners, Spike. Is that clear?"

A dozen snappy answers crawled into my mouth and lay there, bitter and poisonous. I spat them out - not literally; didn't want him taking it for defiance - and looked up at him. "I'm sorry."

Those words - and three others - fucking killed me to say them sometimes. Saved me this time from anything worse than not getting my questions answered, though. He walked off as the others came back, squabbling noisily about something so dull it'd send you to sleep if you listened for more than a minute, with an impatient flick of his fingers to get me moving, and I followed him to where Xander and Anya were waiting, still baffled.

Xander and Anya were ready to go home and I wasn't going to stop them. I was still hard; Giles hurting me did that every time if he was doing it right and that qualified, but though I was concentrating I really didn't think I could give him what he wanted. Wasn't even sure what it was. They buggered off finally and Giles glanced around. "Quiet tonight," he remarked.

Conversation? Well, OK. Talking I was good at. I opened my mouth and he smiled at me kindly. "That was more of an order than an observation, by the way."

Ah.

He set off, walking fast and I followed. That set up some nice friction, not enough to do the job but tight jeans can be your friend and this was one of those times. Giles caught on after one glance at me. He stopped dead, glanced down and reached for me, unzipping my jeans, and folding back the material until my cock was getting some fresh air. He nodded thoughtfully and then stopped me as I tried to huddle my coat around me. "I don't think that's a good idea."

The December air was cool, tickling and teasing my exposed skin, but that was the least of my worries right then as I strode along, praying to assorted deities that we wouldn't meet anyone I couldn't kill very fast, as my arms were folded behind my back, holding my coat tucked behind me. Felt like a total wally but Giles looked smugly pleased and the look in his eyes when he glanced down at my cock was enough to make me feel warm, no matter how cold it was. He told me once that he couldn't look at me without wanting me. About as poetical as he gets, but it stuck with me when I can't remember past "mellow fruitfulness" after a century of reading Keats.

He took me to the last place I expected: my old crypt, and pushed open the door as if he knew it would be empty. He'd gone out earlier in the day without saying where. The place was a mess but it looked as if he'd cleaned out a nest. I recognised the signs of a fight. I turned on him, angry as hell. "Did you come here by yourself?"

His eyes widened. He'd told me to be quiet; I was already in deep shit and I was shouting at him? Then I suppose he saw the worry and I knew this once he'd forgive me. Well, that was the theory anyway. His hand lifted and for a moment I thought he was going to hit me and tried not to flinch with shock. It hovered and he stroked the air by my cheek, not touching me. I leaned into it like a cat, eyes closed and then snapped back to attention.

He pointed to the slab of stone I used to sleep on sometimes, back when this was my home. It was covered in a thick quilt. The one from our bed. "Strip and lie down over there," he said, pulling up a chair and sitting in it. I did as I was told, wanting him, wanting this to be over with so I could hold him. Being kept away from someone who drove insane with lust by the way he turned the pages in his fucking books...that was more than I could take. I wanted to be by him, near him, able to touch him. Starved me when I couldn't. He still hadn't told me what he'd do if I failed but there was one thing I knew wasn't on that list; he might punish me by ignoring me sometimes but he'd never made me sleep away from him. I'd spent nights lying next to a coldly turned back but he was still there, still breathing softly, still giving off heat and still with me. And his anger never lasted into the morning.

I lay there and he said softly, "Breathe in." I obeyed him and the scent poured up from the soft material, rich and warm. Giles is fastidious and we get this quilt messy, but I won't let him wash it as often as he wants. Sleeping surrounded by our scents is like being fucked all night. The scent now was mostly him though and I looked at him, my eyes widening.

"I stayed a little after I dispatched the vampires."

Stayed and jerked off, thinking about what he was going to do. Stayed and came all over where I was lying. I pictured him doing it, trousers pushed down just enough, both hands moving fast, ruthless, impatient hands, his hips jerking, his face set and then he'd have made that noise, that gasp he does...

"Good."

I looked at him in surprise as he spoke and realised that my hands were fisted in the fabric and my cock was quivering.

"You're ideally suited for this. Senses honed, vampire enhanced abilities; really you've become terribly lazy, you know. You don't need a helping hand at all."

I couldn't agree with that, but I had enough sense not to argue. I closed my eyes to concentrate and he began to talk.

"No, you don't really need me at all. Don't need my hands on you, sliding over your body, finding every place that gives you pleasure, remembering every place that gives you pain...don't need my tongue and mouth and teeth dragging out even more sensation from that pale skin of yours, skin that marks so well but forgets so fast..." The marks faded, but he was wrong if he thought I forgot. "Or perhaps you do need me, Spike? You may answer that."

I was so hard...his voice was driving into me like his cock did, every word a stroke, every sentence hitting home. "Need you, Giles. Always need you." Thank God he never made me call him anything but Giles when we were doing this...saying his name filled my mouth the way fresh blood did, warming me, feeding me, making me feel alive. "Giles? Let me talk? Please, I can do it if you -"

I was pleading, not asking and he knew it. He came over, close enough to feel him surround me and knelt beside the stone bed so that our faces were level. "Talk to me," he said.

I closed my eyes for a second and then opened them, looking at him. I never knew how hard it was for him not to look away, ever, but he never did, always kept his eyes on me. If he could do that, so could I. Not that he gave me a choice.

"I need you and you know it. Need you to touch me, hold me, but not just to come. Christ, Giles, that's nothing! Last night I wasn't bothered about coming - I was bored, I was angry, I didn't want to share you. I'm not...I'm not good at waiting, sharing. I'm hard now, just like you wanted. You've made me this way, the things you've said, the way you've looked at me, controlled me. You fucking own me, you know? I trust you more than I've ever trusted anyone. I'd die for you; I'd die of fucking love for you if you sent me away. I'm yours, Giles."

I was empty and I couldn't see his face anymore so I blinked and felt cool wetness slip down my face.

He leaned in, so close that his lips were mine if I moved, but I held still.

"And you're mine, Spike," he said. "I love you." He stared at me. "Come for me."

I closed my eyes and I just couldn't...quite... "Help me, Giles. Please? "

He sighed with satisfaction and laughed quietly. "I thought you'd never ask."

I was there expecting a touch, a kiss, now that I'd solved his riddle. Instead, he lay beside me, still not letting me feel him, and said, "I've been hard for hours thinking of you. I've been watching you, talking to you, hard all the time. It's hurting me, I want you so badly. I'm aching, I'm hurting...and I'm not going to come until you do." I stared at him in disbelief. "When you come, I'm going to be on you faster than even you can move. I'm going to be inside you while you're still coming, going to bury myself in you and fuck you until you're screaming out my name, and I'm crying out yours. Until we're one. Now will you come, you stubborn, infuriating ..."

So I came and afterwards, as we lay there, with Giles' shoulder under my head, I looked at the walls that used to keep me safe and remembered the last time we'd been here together and how this had started, and my hand clutched at his arm, just remembering how his blood had stained the summer-warm air.

***

Never pegged Giles for suicidal. If I'd thought about it, and I hadn't much; too taken up with chasing after his Slayer to see him as more than an easily jumped hurdle, I'd have admitted that he had a strength to him that made me wary, but that was all the more reason to expect him to be the one who held them all together after she was gone. I expected some weird reactions from them all once the shock of the Slayer dying wore off; was prepared for the Bit sobbing all over my shoulder, Xander raising his game from sarky comments to downright vicious jabs...expected all of that and got it. Not like it really mattered any more. I helped out with the killing, got drunk, picked fights - and spent more nights than I want to remember sitting in my crypt waiting for her to kick open the door and tell me I was a bastard and she needed me.

No one needed me then and yes, fucking self pity was just oozing out all over me, but I didn't give a shit. Somewhere between the smashing stuff and the drinking - I knew how you mourned the dead, even if they didn't - I'd realised what I'd lost when she died. Not a lover, no. I'd dreamed of that but would she have ever been weak enough to want me and if she did, would I have still wanted her? She was unattainable, a princess to my ploughboy, and I was long past believing in happy endings. I was stupid, yes, but not so stupid that I couldn't see that I was repeating old mistakes. I always went for what I couldn't have, moth to the flame, just waiting to smell the burning wings and feel the pain. Got off on it in fact. So, no, not as a lover that I missed her. Not even as a friend; don't think she ever really trusted me enough for that. No, I'd lost a chance to change her mind about me. Wasn't sure why it mattered so much what a Slayer thought of me, but it had and it did and now it was set in fucking stone and nothing would ever alter it. Beneath her for ever, just as she lay beneath the ground, and the longing for her changed somewhere in the endless nights to be a loneliness I couldn't shake. Emptiness scared me. A century of being part of a group and these last few years I'd been so alone. The chip had sealed the deal. Now no one wanted me; not my own kind, not the humans.

Giles, though, he was always there, holding them together, doing the grown up act, making sure life went on, looking at me as if he couldn't quite work out why I was there but he wished I wasn't. That didn't help with the feeling that I wasn't needed and I'd have gone, don't know where, if it wasn't for my promise to Buffy that I'd take care of Dawn. Of all of them, really. She loved them and that came to mean I cared too, enough that irritating as Harris was, I wouldn't have watched a demon take him apart on patrol, enough that I shoved back my own feelings and got involved with their plans, just as if she was still there, still in charge.

After a while, when the hints that they could manage fine without me got broader and the shoulders colder, I pulled back. I still watched them some nights to make sure they weren't getting in over their heads, still stayed with Dawn until Tara took over and gently showed me the door. Wouldn't have been surprised to have called by and found myself needing an invitation to get in one dark night.

Hurt a bit. Silly really. Buffy dying hurt more of course, but that was different; she'd died all heroic, done just what a Slayer should, and I couldn't grudge her that ending. Going out killing a hell goddess and saving a million dimensions; that's classy.

But I missed her and I felt guilty and I got drunk and I was lonely. Pathetic sodden heap of misery and no hope of things getting better in the near future. Not the only one in town with that problem though. On my way home one night in June, I ran into Giles. He was surrounded by vamps; must have been five or six of them, and he had a stake in one hand that looked like a splinter with delusions of grandeur and was only alive because they were laughing too hard to go in for the kill.

Felt something then, felt it break through the bubble walling me off from the world, suffocating me slowly. Anger. Disgust. Pity? No. He didn't need pity. Needed bloody saving though and I waded in and did the job, picking up a nice collection of cuts and bruises, insults and curses. Mostly off him. Seems he didn't want fucking saving and certainly not by me. Didn't help to calm me down, though it was no more than I was used to from them all.

"Get up, Giles."

He gave me a stubborn glare and shook his head, curling up, arms wrapping around his knees. I thought about just grabbing him and hauling him along but it seemed like too much effort. Wasn't exactly sober myself, though the fight had cleared my head a little.

I tried being subtle. "Got myself hurt saving your arse. Least you can do is slap on a plaster or something. Back's killing me and I can't exactly use a mirror to see the damage, can I?"

He stared at me, sighed and let me help him up, guilt being a good motivator to a man like him - and I noticed the reek of whisky. Well, I wasn't going to deny a man his poison of choice, and I was a long way from being teetotal myself, but -

"Giles, why the fuck are you out here, pissed out of your skull and with no more sense than to run into a pack of vampires?"

He looked at me as we went into my crypt. "You're so smart; you work it out."

Took me a few minutes, but I managed it. "You're trying to off yourself without it being obvious."

I was sitting cross legged on the stone slab in the centre of the crypt and he was dabbing at a nasty slice down my back with a wet cloth and making it hurt twice as much as it had been because he wasn't steady handed enough to do it gently. Or didn't care.

"I suppose I am," he said.

Took me by surprise. Normally, he'd have shared his toothbrush with me sooner than admit that he'd given up. Made me realise that he hadn't just been grieving these last few weeks; he'd been digging his own grave beside her. Eternal rest just around the corner. But I was thinking he wasn't feeling all that good about himself either; it wasn't just losing his Slayer that was getting to him. I knew who'd killed that doctor bloke. Helped drop the body down one of the cracks left by the opening of the portal and I'd seen Giles' face when Xander wondered aloud why Glory had changed to Ben after Buffy killed her. Didn't blame him - shouldn't have thought any of them would, but it had to be troubling him, no matter how necessary it'd been.

If he'd sounded angry or sad when he admitted he'd tried to kill himself, I'd have kept my mouth shut, but he laughed when he answered me. Fucker laughed and I turned around, grabbed him by the hair and tilted his head back. Done that so many times and then gone in for the kill; couldn't use my fangs, but words work fine as weapons too.

"Why don't you just let me bite you, Giles? How a Watcher should go, right? One on one with the enemy. Guess I spoiled that tonight, but I can make it up to you." He didn't even twitch. "Oh, Christ, at least look scared of me!"

Don't know why I said that. I wouldn't have bitten him if I could, not even then when I was angry with him for giving up and a little scared. If he went - I couldn't watch them by myself, couldn't take care of Dawn the way I'd promised. No; I wouldn't have drained him, but I didn't mind trying to jolt him out of it, the way seeing him close to copping it had jolted me.

"You can't hurt me," he pointed out. His hand came up and tapped the top of my head, the drink making his movements exaggerated and over-precise. "Chipped and rendered harmless."

Even drunk, he didn't mess around.

"Suppose I could?" I said, letting go of him. He was standing in front of me, between my legs, and I didn't think I'd been this close to him before. Oh, fleeting moments, when he'd been chaining me up in his fucking bath, or the time he'd grabbed me and threatened me after Dru and I had taken Buffy ...but he tended to keep his distance from me. I hadn't realised how worn out he was. Tired, sick eyes that told me he'd given up running. I'd seen them before, many times, but there was always one last little struggle, one final spark when I bit down. I wanted to see if I could get that out of Giles.

He frowned. "I don't understand."

He swayed a little, put his hand out to brace himself and ended up groping my thigh. Could have been an accident, but his fingers gripped and held me. I glanced down, said nothing, and smirked. "Always wanted to know if I could feed from someone who let me. Might end up writhing in pain; you might end up dead, because to be honest, if I started, I don't think I could stop."

Wondered if he'd buy that; I wasn't lying exactly; I'd dreamed of it in the early days of the chip; finding a vampire groupie - plenty of them around in this town - getting them drunk, taking my time...never gone through with it though. Knowing for certain it wouldn't work would have taken away the pleasure of imagining it. Stared at his neck, just where I'd bite, and smiled slowly.

He looked at me then, a question in his eyes, and I put my hand over his where it lay on my leg, not pressing down, because I didn't need to, and answered the unspoken query. "Wouldn't stop because you look fucking tasty, Rupert, you know that?"

He tried to move away but I followed him, step for step until his back hit the wall and he was out of places to run to. "Spike...please..."

Pleading and that wasn't right. Giles shouldn't - I saw him tortured and he didn't beg then, no matter what Angelus did to him. I didn't touch him; you didn't interfere with Angelus when he was playing, but I watched. I saw. Took it all and still had enough guts left to stick two fingers up at Angelus and now he was giving up? I felt anger rise and spill and let it out, enjoying it because it was real and raw and red and a world turned grey was no place for me.

"You coward. You fucking washed up, pathetic coward. You let your Slayer die and now you're going to leave the rest of them to get along without you, too?" I don't know when I started shouting but I didn't care. He blinked at me, his face puzzled and defenceless and it was maddening. Giles shouldn't have been like this; shouldn't have been sad and defeated, shouldn't have come that close to dying and -

"You could've been turned! Is that it? Not death you're after but a chance to stop feeling the pain, stop caring? Look at me! Giles, don't you fucking dare think about it! You'd go straight for them, you'd kill Dawn, you'd, oh God, Giles, tell me that's not what you were going to do?"

Fuck. Sounded like a girl, but I was seeing them, seeing their faces, seeing what he'd leave behind when he was through with them. Not long since I'd have been smiling at that but things change. I'd changed. Not enough to be socially fucking acceptable and God knows I'd have given up a decade of existence to be able to thump Harris right on his sneering mouth before he died, but they'd stopped being prey a long time since. Wouldn't have killed any of them, chip or no chip. Can't say the same for the other billion people on the planet but, yeah, wouldn't kill them.

Giles shook his head, horrified, stammering. "I never - never thought they'd do - never expected - Spike, how dare you!" Oh, right, I thought. Work it around to being my fault. "Be like - like you? Bloody wouldn't. Never. Goes `gainst every, everything, every lesson - filthy, evil bloody vampire? Me?" He was sobering up. "You self righteous little prick!" OK, maybe not. "How dare you lecture me? How dare you take it upon yourself to save me? She's gone and I have no place here. I'm not needed and I can't - I don't want to feel that way."

"Just told you you're needed. Try again. Something's got you going. I get that you're tired; been a hellish month. Get that you're worried, trying to keep on top of it with just the robot and God knows, the `bot's more trouble than it's worth sometimes. Get all of that but you're strong-" I reached out and stroked his cheek, feeling stubble scratch at my fingers, "- stubborn and too mean to give up the ghost to a pack of vamps so new they still had dirt under their nails. Where's your pride, Giles?"

He stood still under my hand and I couldn't help it. I kissed him, no warning, no build up, just leaned in and tasted him, wanting to see what he'd do. And I wanted to kiss him as well, though I wasn't sure why. Because I'd just come close to losing him and that bothered me maybe. Because he smelled good. Because there'd always been this curiosity about him, ever since I watched him suffer every twist of Angelus' imagination, ever since the nights I spent living at his place. Chained me, fed me from his hand, well, mug, walked around half undressed while he took a piss and cleaned his teeth in front of me as if I didn't exist.

He never did a thing back then; never let his hands stray, never looked below my belt, but I wasn't so polite. Started out teasing him for my own amusement, but by the end it wasn't much fun, knowing he was hard every time he came near me but would never touch me, knowing if I tried anything, mood he was in he'd stake me. Spent hours lying there imagining him in bed, what he'd fuck like, how he'd taste. Thought about feeding from him, how his blood would be almost as special as a Slayer's, watched him shave hoping he'd tear his skin just enough that I could smell it; fresh blood, human blood, Giles' blood. If he had, I think I'd have snapped those chains and gone for him, but he was too careful.

He scared me too, just a little. Most vampires would admit to being wary of the Slayer if they were being honest but we older ones, we know who makes her a killer, beyond the power, beyond the instincts. The Watcher was in the background. Didn't mean he was insignificant. This one, it was a miracle he hadn't staked me with all I'd done. Wasn't quite sure why he hadn't. Though I knew he'd been bloody pleased I'd helped run off soldier boy. Not so pleased about me chaining Buffy up though...

So kissing him was dangerous, was risky and I realised I'd been wanting to do it for months - and I wanted to do more than kiss. I wanted to grind against him, wanted to feel his cock jump under my hand, hear him moan. Got a knee in the balls instead and a backhand that sent me spinning.

"You don't ever do that without -"

He stopped and I filled in the blanks. "Without what, Giles? Permission?" I reached out and ran my hand over his cock, felt it stir under a layer of denim. "Think this is permission enough, yeah?"

He whispered, "Don't..." and made it sound vaguely threatening. I did it again and this time got the moan I'd been waiting for.

"Giles - let me - Look, it's bad for all of us, not just you. Stop fucking hiding it." I tried to kiss him again and when he turned his head away I put my palm against his face and turned it back. He didn't resist much and I kissed him, trying to be gentle but not doing it well. He smelled of blood and he tasted of tears and it was enough to make me push him too hard. For a moment his tongue met mine and he kissed me with an edge of desperation that stopped me cold - then he pushed me off him violently.

"Now what?" I said. "Going to pretend you're not fucking hard? Going to add it to the list of things Giles feels guilty about and wishes he hadn't done?"

Low blow, bringing up Ben but I was past caring about hurting his feelings. I watched his face, waiting for him to stare at me with disgust or hit me again. Either would have been better than the emptiness I saw.

He closed his eyes and when he opened them again his face was filled with a calm I'd seen before. It was what came after that final struggle, when the human I was holding sensed that the swallow I'd just taken had been the last I needed to drain them. He brushed past me as if I wasn't there and made straight for a bottle I'd left in a corner.

"It's empty, Giles and haven't you had -"

I was getting worried. He wasn't acting the way I'd expected. I'd wanted him angry, not still lost in despair. That's what had got him in the graveyard, drunk, in the first place. Didn't like him like this and he was scaring me. A Giles who'd kiss me back, even for a moment, wasn't in his right mind, couldn't be. Then I heard the bottle shatter and I swear I heard his skin rip open, heard the sound the glass made as he brought it across his wrist. Spray and drip, spatter and stain. The air was drenched in the smell even before I got to him.

I swore, cursing him, trying to get him to hold still, and he pushed me away as best he could, beyond speech, silent and determined, clinging to the pain as if it was all he had left. Eventually I stepped back and held up my hands. "Fine, Giles. Bleed to death. Mind dripping into a bowl so I can at least have a taste?"

He glared at me and shoved his wrist in my face, offering himself up. My fangs came out and I grabbed his arm, holding it steady. If I was careful...if I didn't bite...then I sighed, drew back my fist and thumped him. We both hit the ground together but I got up first and he stayed down. Paid for it with a headache that stayed with me for hours, but I made the punch count and the state he was in I had time. Managed to get him bandaged up; the cut would need stitches maybe, but it'd stopped bleeding. He opened his eyes and looked up at me and then winced; his arm must have been throbbing and hurting like hell. Served him right.

"Spike?"

"Should get you seen to, Giles. Think you can walk?" He sounded less like a sleepwalker and more like himself which was something.

"No - I mean, yes, but not just yet. Need to rest." His face was a nice match for the grey, stone walls but I wanted to get him to a doctor. Didn't have much on hand in the way of supplies.

"You can rest later," I said, trying to sound firm.

I went to pull him up, but he stopped me. "You didn't feed." Not a question. "I thought you would. I even wanted you to. Why aren't you letting me die, Spike?"

Simple question that I didn't have an answer for, not then. "I don't want you to die, that's all. Be a waste. Besides, sort of used to you after all this time."

He arched one eyebrow. "You'd miss me?" He laughed. "I must be hallucinating." He glanced up at me. "I'll do it again, you know."

Shook my head, looked as bored and indifferent as I could manage. "Doubt it. You'd have regretted this in the morning, when you woke up dead, I'll bet." Not very funny but I was still shaken up. Blood and violence and sex. They went together too well for a vampire, even one like me. Especially one like me. Giles had offered me his blood and no matter how much I tried, I couldn't forget that. Made me feel close to him, linked by more than grief and past hatred. Nothing mystical about it, just a bond of sorts.

"You think?" He tried to stand up, made it and then leaned back against the stone slab. "Do you know the statistics on Watcher deaths, Spike? No, of course you don't. The average life of a Watcher after their Slayer dies is five years. That's useless as an indicator though. Simpler to say that we fall into two camps; those who shrug, take a desk job and forget and those, like me, who want nothing more than oblivion. We try to go out being useful of course. There's always some way of dying a hero."

The bitterness was there but he still sounded detached, distant.

"Forget dying for one minute, you morbid git. You're just bored." Not the right word but I was hoping he'd correct me and take an interest in what I was saying. Boredom was the least of it, though I sometimes thought it'd be the one thing that would drive me to step out into the sunlight one day.

"Want me to take up a hobby?" He nursed his arm to his chest, glaring down at it as if it'd gone off and hurt itself.

I considered Giles knitting for long enough to smile and then said casually, "How about a bet?"

"What?"

"You need someone to give you an interest in life, Giles. You need to do some fucking instead of just getting fucked. You need to be aggravated, annoyed and pissed off on a daily basis." I grinned at him. "And I need to be the one doing it, because you're not dying before I've had you, Giles. No fucking chance."

He studied me. "Had me? If you mean my blood -"

"You know I don't." Wasn't going to let him get away with pretending. He'd been pretending he was fine for the last few weeks and look where it had got him.

"I'd lie and tell you I wasn't interested but I suspect that would be futile." I smirked at him and blew him a kiss just to watch him glare. More emotions, filling up the spaces...good to see. "What's the bet? What are the stakes?" He grinned sourly. "If you'll forgive the expression."

I was used to thinking fast but I was definitely being put on the spot. Couldn't tell him to come back another day though; if I let him leave here with nothing, he'd never make it home. So I thought about how to appeal to him, how to keep a Watcher from feeling he was useless. Put like that, the answer was simple. You gave him someone to train, someone to fight, someone to love. Or someone to fuck, because I couldn't see him loving me. I was as strong as Buffy and as mean but I didn't think I was all that lovable. Not given my past record. But if it was just sex, I imagined I could keep Giles happy without even trying after the dry spell he'd had the last few years.

"I bet in six months I can make you want to live again. If I lose, I'll help you die; even fix it so you can go out against a real big nasty and I'll lie to them all so they won't know you did it on purpose."

He nodded thoughtfully but I could tell he was just humouring me. "What if you win?"

"You let me have what I passed up on tonight; a taste of you. Might end up dead anyway if I take too much and then we can all have a good laugh, right?"

"Just how do you propose to make the skies turn blue and banish the rain cloud over my head, Spike?" He swayed slightly, but the stone he was leaning against kept him vertical.

"Oh, you're feeling better. Sarcasm's back. Old fashioned way, Giles. Show you a good time." Shouldn't have still been talking - he was getting paler by the minute - but I reckoned he was tough enough not to pass out on me. "I'm moving in with you," I said.

"You bloody well are not!" That was automatic; his eyes told a different tale, sharpening with interest and making me smile to myself because you don't need to be a fisherman to know when someone's hooked.

"And we're going to fuck the misery out of each other." That shut him up. He gaped at me and I noticed that he still had enough blood left to get hard. Promising. "Now we can play this different ways but I'm thinking you're not the sort to take kindly to being on your knees to me -" Flicker of interest but nothing else, "and we're not equals, never have been, never will be -" and he could take that anyway he liked, "so that just leaves - this."

Went to my knees, bowed my head and waited. Done that before, but never to a human. Felt just the same though. First there was the awkwardness, the fear that I would look like a total prat and he'd laugh - except I was ideally placed to see that amusement wasn't his first reaction. Then came the struggle not to jump up, tell him to forget it, because the weight of it all was settling down on my shoulders and I wasn't sure I could bear it, not the way I felt right then. I stayed on my knees though and Giles' arousal, the knowledge of what me like this was doing to him, well, that was incentive enough to stay, stone bruising knees, as my own cock stirred and waited, remembering what came next.

Submission. The tension left me as the moments passed by without me being rejected, and I relaxed, waiting for an order. I could wait for hours if I had to. Done it before. Would he take it all from me, because he needed that weight of responsibility, was used to it in a way I never was and never wanted to be? Would he see what I needed and be strong enough to give it? How much did he still hate me for what I was and what I'd done?

How long was it before he touched my head, told me to look at him? Long enough for him to get his voice under control again, because it didn't waver and he never asked if I was sure or if I wanted to change my mind, not then, not later.

I looked up, saw him for the first time if you like, and watched his lips shape one word.

"Mine."

And I smiled up at him, and wondered just what he was going to do with me.

***

When we got back to Giles' house, after getting his arm seen to at the hospital, I stopped outside. I had an invitation, sure, but it didn't feel right to walk in, not now. It was different. He looked around, as if he was wondering why I wasn't following him, and then smiled faintly.

"Good manners. I'm impressed." He shrugged carefully out of his jacket, trying not to jar his arm and watching me the whole time. Then he said deliberately, "Come in, Spike. If you're mine now, you stay with me. Is that understood?"

I nodded and stepped forward but he held up his hand to stop me. "Answer me properly, please." First time we did that little runaround, but not the last. "'Is that understood?'"

"Yes...Giles."

He tilted his head a little as though he was testing the words, measuring their sincerity. I suppose they passed because he nodded, relaxed a little, and walked in, kicking off his shoes and heading for the kitchen. I heard water running and guessed he was getting a drink. I needed something with a kick to it - it had all happened so fast - and I could still smell his blood which wasn't helping, but I decided not to push it by asking for a proper drink. Giles didn't need any more in him either.

He came out, glass of water in hand, drank from it and set it down. Then he looked at me standing there, feeling awkward. He walked over to me and put his hand against my face, touching me for the first time since we'd left the crypt, his eyes serious. "You want me to make this easier for you?" he said.

I started to shrug, and then remembered he didn't like that. "Maybe. I don't know. Not used to easy."

He arched an enquiring eyebrow. "Used to it hard instead?"

I grinned, looked down, checked him out. By the time I got back to his face, the eyebrows were both up and the temperature had dropped. "Spike, when I'm talking, I want your eyes on my face."

He waited a beat until I answered him. "Yes, Giles."

"You say that but I'm not sure you really mean it." He looked at me, thinking aloud. "It's late, and I'm more than a little tired, but still..." He told me to take off my coat and boots and showed me where he wanted them to go, making me line my boots up neatly but not making a big deal out of it. Then he sat down suddenly, looking paler than I did, and I almost wished he'd just bugger off to bed and start this in the morning. Course, if he had, I might not have been there. Might have had second thoughts. He knew it had to begin while we were both still wound up, knew it'd make it easier in the end. Giles was smart.

He sat on the sofa, leaned back and said, "Stand in front of me, Spike."

There was a moment where I wanted to go, just leave him to it, pretend it hadn't happened. I'd saved him; he'd be fine, no need to do this. Then I realised that he was watching me and waiting for me to do just that, his eyes wary. If he'd repeated himself I would have gone, but he didn't. He waited and his face changed until it was full of a certainty and expectation that I'd obey him. Made me shiver, made me want him. I tried to believe it was curiosity that kept me there, but it wasn't. He was stronger than I was right then; injured, tired and sad and he still had enough in him to keep me to my bargain, make me do as he said, hold me to that submission.

When I obeyed him, walking slowly, he didn't let any relief show, just nodded and said, "Now strip and don't look away."

I started with my t-shirt, took hold of the hem and began to pull it up. He spoke again. "Work out how you're going to get that off without it going over your head, Spike."

I rolled my eyes, knowing that only left one option. Guess that counted as not looking, because he said, "One."

Fuck. One? One what? Could guess, but I began to think no matter what I expected, Giles would come up with a twist. I grabbed the neck and tore it down the middle. Cotton's hard to rip but this was old and worn; one of my fucking favourite shirts too. Let it slide away to the floor, careful not to watch it go.

"Obvious but effective," he commented.

I wriggled my jeans down and wobbled just enough when they were around my knees that I lost eye contact again.

"Two."

He sounded calm, almost bored. I stared at him. Didn't mind being naked when he wasn't. Didn't mind being given stupid orders. Did mind having to look at him so he could see everything I felt, everything I was feeling. Exposed just about covered it. Kicked off jeans and socks and by the time I was done the count was up to five as it got harder and harder not to look away. The last one I got when I blinked slowly, just to extend that split second of darkness. Knowing he was so aware of me that he could spot something that small sent a shiver down my body.

He broke the eye contact and looked at my body, long and slow, not lingering on my cock, not avoiding looking at it either but I could tell when he did. His whole body shifted from relaxed to ready. If he'd crooked a finger when he looked like that I'd have crawled to him bare knees over gravel, but he didn't. He just whispered, "Turn around," into a silence that was humming in my ears, making me feel like screaming to shatter it.

I should have been glad to stare at the wall but I wasn't. I heard him get up and come towards me, his footsteps slow. Standing still as he approached, not turning to look at him, nearly killed me. Turning your back on danger wasn't usually a good idea and Giles smelled of blood but he didn't smell like prey. Felt him wanting me, needing me and I swayed, trying to brush against him, just a little.

"Stay still."

I tried, thought I could, but he ran his fingernail down my back, nape of neck to top of arse, and I cried out, arching my back. Wasn't expecting that and I was so primed that even the thinness of a nail scoring my flesh felt like his whole body touching me. My skin ignited, one thin line of flame spreading out until I was burning. He hadn't even broken the skin and I was burning. Fuck.

"For that, I double it. Ten."

"Ten what?" I said. God, I sounded desperate. Hadn't expected this; thought we'd have a quick shag to tie it down and go to bed if we hadn't managed to make it up the stairs before we fucked. Even wondered if he had the balls to take it all the way and I'd end up fucking him. Stupid of me. Took a while to let myself trust him but he had me safe right from the start. My Giles.

"Minutes, of course." He sounded surprised, as though I should have known.

"Heh. Thought you meant you were going to hit me ten times or something."

He laid a hand flat against my backside and I bit my lip trying not to react. "And just what do you think I'll be doing in those ten minutes, Spike?"

Oh. Good point.

His hand moved, sliding over my arse, moving up over my back, just his right hand, going to my neck, squeezing gently, down my side, the fingers wrapping around my hip, close but not close enough to my cock which was so close to coming I really wasn't sure how much longer I could wait. He stood behind me and both hands came around and gripped my thighs, pulling them apart slightly. Think I gasped, whimpered, something, because he leaned in and whispered in my ear. "You want to come, Spike? Want my hands on you?"

Most pointless question I'd ever been asked. "Yes." I hated to say it but I had to. "Please?"

"Next lesson. I come first and that's in everything and every way, including the obvious. Think you can wait?"

His fingers dug in and I managed to say, "I'll try."

"Not good enough. Eleven. Try again."

"I can wait."

"'Giles'" he prompted.

"I can - oh God - I can wait, Giles." The extra words were because he bit down just where my neck met my shoulder as he waited for me to get it right. Felt his teeth against me and his tongue and shuddered, wondering if I'd ever get to feel them around my cock. Shouldn't have thought about that. Didn't make it easier to concentrate.

"Well, it's your lucky night, Spike. You have permission to make me come as quickly as you can. It won't always be like that, but -"

I turned and kissed him, needing the taste of him, doing it so fast he was still speaking, so his lips moved against mine before I bit them to keep them still. Once he'd said I could do it, I went calm. I could come when he had. He hadn't said that exactly but that was the way I took it. I decided that was going to be in under a minute if I could just...

I unzipped his fly while I kissed him, took his cock in my hand and pumped it fast. Then I paused. Could tell by the way he felt, the way he was moving, that he was as close as I was. I could get him to come just like this but it didn't seem right. He'd been working for something and I wasn't going to cheat him out of it. I broke the kiss, held his eyes for a second and then slid down slowly, kissing him through his shirt, undoing each button, taking my time. By the last one I was on my knees and his cock was waiting for me like a reward. Held him, took him in my mouth, tasting him, wanting him. Felt his hands come up to stroke my head, just like he had done in the crypt a few hours before. Looked up at him and saw him open, waiting, mine. Kept looking as I cupped his balls, and worked him with my mouth. Watched him come, heard him cry out my name - and came a split second later, just from that.

Ended up in a tangled mess on the floor, wrapped round each other. Which ended up with me getting hard again and Giles seeing to me, using his hand, kissing me the whole time, not stopping until I came.

When we'd recovered enough to get up and clean up, he took me upstairs and pointed at the bed. "I take this side."

"Fine." Looked at him sideways. "Eleven minutes?"

He smiled, running his hand down my bare back to my arse and letting it stay there, warm against my skin. "You're reminding me? Not wanting it to be forgiven and forgotten?"

"Would you? If I asked?"

He looked at me. "Not even if you begged."

Why that made me happy, I didn't know.

He yawned. "Remind me again, tomorrow," he said. "I want to hear you beg anyway."

I did, but it didn't work. Said I wasn't trying and made it twelve.

***

The next two days were spent fucking. Giles ate from time to time and I got through a few pints of blood that I'd stolen from the hospital when he'd been getting his arm stitched. I know we slept because I dreamed of Buffy falling off that fucking tower and woke to find Giles watching me, his eyes thoughtful, but mostly we spent it naked and close, Saturday and Sunday, with no one visiting and the door locked and the curtains drawn.

Found out some things. Giles didn't go in for the fancy stuff. Cuffs, yes, because I've got the strength of ten and it didn't take a fucking pure heart to give it to me either. He needed some way of holding me in place before he taught me to stay still no matter what he did. Even then, he still used them. He said he liked the way I looked wearing them, the way my muscles moved as I pulled against them. Could get quite detailed when it came to telling me stuff like that. The lube was plain; no flavours, no scent, didn't glow in the dark or play a tune when you flipped the lid. No toys. And if his hand got sore, which it did at first when I was testing every limit he set, there were plenty of wooden spoons in the kitchen and a riding crop he swore he'd had for years. I believed him, and if I hadn't I wouldn't have dreamed of being stupid enough to call him a liar. Well...unless I was bored of course. In that mood, I'd do just about anything. I think Giles caught on to that pretty early on in our time together.

That first Monday, morning came around too fast. I was knackered; been up half the night while Giles took his own sweet time about coming and wouldn't let me until he had. He cursed when the alarm went off, but he could have managed to leave the house more or less on time if I'd let him. We hadn't - quite - worked out what we were doing but I think that day got us on track. I was tired, yes, but when he came back into the bedroom to get dressed, naked and minty fresh, he looked too good to waste on Anya. Besides; I'd just realised that I was going to be in the house alone all sodding day and I wasn't looking forward to that. Or to Giles having second thoughts once I wasn't around to be taught the error of my ways.

So I grabbed him when he walked by and tried to pull him back to bed. He wanted to, I could tell, but he started going on about opening hours, deliveries - the time he spent yapping, I could've had him half way down my throat. Fucking waste. After I got bored of arguing, I rolled back and started to do the job myself. I was hard, he wasn't doing anything about it so what did he expect?

"- you to have a little more self control and a lot less -"

"Oh God, Giles. Fuck off to your shop, you boring git. Spend the day picturing me doing this -" slow, gentle stroke for effect, "and if it gets you hard, stay behind the counter."

I was watching him when I said that. Wanted to see what he'd do. Fuck me? Hit me? Stalk off in a snit?

None of those. He looked at me. Stood there, cock hard, stark naked, folded his arms and looked at me. God, if anything was needed to get me harder it was Giles with the still face and the cool, angry eyes. He looked fucking unpredictable and that was just perfect. I'd wanted to shake him up, jolt him and it looked as if I had.

"You have a choice, Spike. Or, I should say, you had one. Remember making it a couple of nights ago? No, don't speak; I think you've said enough. A nod will suffice." Gave it him, curious and so fucking hard. "I see I've been at fault. Been too willing to overlook your...lapses because -" and I've never seen him smile like that, never even knew he could. I remembered Angelus with a neck to bite - hungry and happy and fucking scary. That was Giles smiling. "Fucking you is so delightful a distraction, just as you promised it would be, that I became...indulgent. I do apologise. This isn't achieving what we want at all, is it now?"

I opened my mouth to ask what it was that `we' wanted because all I wanted right then was him inside me, and he slashed his hand across my face, hard enough to jerk my head sideways, then laid one finger across my lips. "I'm not minded to let you talk, Spike. In fact, until I release you, I want silence. Anything that sounds like a word in any language I know and I'll be most annoyed." Started to try and think of the demon languages he was likely to be fluent in and gave up.

"Rules. I didn't want to bother with anything set down in stone; so tiresome. In fact, I don't think we will. The rules are simple, Spike, so simple even you shouldn't have any trouble grasping them. You do what I say. You obey. You endure. You serve me. You make me happy."

He knelt by the bed, wrapped his hand around me and I moaned, thrusting up into his fist.

"Was that a word, Spike?" He frowned at me. Bugger knew it wasn't. I shook my head, saw that smile again. "Oh, I'm fairly certain I recognised it. Possibly the Kratchian for, `I'm very sorry, Giles for being so disrespectful, importunate and forward'?" Uh, yes, fair enough. If that was what he wanted. I nodded eagerly, hoping it would get his hand moving because those warm fingers were driving me fucking nuts. I knew what they could do and they weren't doing it.

His eyes widened. "So it was a word? Oh, dear, Spike. If you're having trouble remembering an order I gave you just a minute ago..."

Oh, bollocks. A month later, a few weeks even and I wouldn't have walked into that one. Underestimated him and the way he could take advantage of every opening, every weakness. Made him a hell of a dirty fighter and some times, just some, a battle was just what we had going on.

Cuffs, crop, my backside. Giles seemed to think they went well together. Six strokes, just to be traditional, just enough to show me he wasn't messing around. Didn't make a fuss, didn't fuck about with timing it, making it drag on. Didn't want to be any later to the shop than he had to be. Just slashed it down against my arse, waited long enough to see the mark rise up against my skin, ran one finger down it thoughtfully and then briskly set to making it a nice, round number.

He'd done this before. No hesitation on the first stroke, no wild flailing around on the others. Precise, careful and neat. And bloody painful, even if the marks would be gone long before he got home.

"I think you need time to reflect, Spike," he said kindly. Oh, that just took the biscuit; feeding me straight lines like that when I was under a vow of fucking silence. "I'll try to pop back at lunchtime." `Try'? What did he mean, `try'? "Hopefully, you'll be clear on matters by then." He put his hand on my hip and rolled me onto my side. It hurt because it tugged on my cuffed wrists but I wasn't complaining because he stroked my cock with the tips of his fingers; once, twice...

"So want to fuck you, Spike," he murmured. "Not sure you'd stay quiet though and I don't want to have to punish you twice in one day." Eyes can be eloquent but he wasn't looking at my face, unfortunately or he'd have seen me trying to say, `Thanks for nothing'. I'd have taken a dozen more strokes if he'd fucked me and done my best to be quiet for him.

He stood up, let me roll back onto my stomach and gave my arse a brisk pat. "See you later, Spike. Oh, and if you come while I'm away, it'll be the last time you do all week, so make sure you enjoy it."

He twitched at the curtains to make sure they were shut, got dressed and left.

He came back at lunchtime. To come in my mouth, with me spread out beneath him, touching him because if I hadn't been able to do even that, it would have been too much to bear. I didn't get to come though. I had to wait until after the shop closed, he said, and he took me back there with him to make sure I did. He didn't trust me then, which was sensible of him.

But he was deep in me before the bell had stopped jangling behind the last customer and the next morning, he set the alarm early.

***

Giles didn't make me wait on him as a rule, didn't expect me to cook for him or do the laundry like bloody Harris did when I stayed with him. There were times I spent hours naked, kneeling and waiting for orders if I'd done something to piss him off - or even just because he wanted me like that, but that was different.

On the Wednesday of that first week with him, he decided he wanted tea. He really did drink that stuff, even when no one was looking. A taste for it was something I lost too long ago to remember, but I knew how to make it and I could make it with tea leaves like he preferred. Trouble was they clogged the sink up. When he saw the mess I'd left he asked for another pot. Too weak. Made me throw it away, start over. Next one; too strong. By the time he'd finished impersonating Goldilocks, I'd made him six bloody pots.Finally he took one sip, set the cup down and nodded, all nice and cool. "That's fine, Spike. Thank you."

His eyes went back to his book and I waited for about thirty seconds. He lifted his head and gave me a puzzled smile. "Yes?"

Absolute innocence, not a hint of anything else. I'd made him a cuppa and he'd said thanks. End of story. I peeled off my t-shirt and dropped it in front of him. That got me a lifted eyebrow and a polite, surprised look. "Damp," I explained. "The kitchen's all foggy."

He laid his book down after closing it. Knew he wasn't really reading it; no bookmark. I watched as he reached for the shirt, picked it up and felt it.

"Seems dry enough to me," he remarked, tossing it aside.

"Well, if you want me to catch my death -"

"Oh, no," he said, his face serious. "Please, do get out of those damp things."

He let me get tangled up in my jeans, trying to work them over my feet without hopping around, and grabbed me just as I kicked them off. He moved fast when he wanted to. As soon as I felt his hands on me I stopped, stood still and waited. That was what it was like back then, when he was still raw, still healing. I'd never know when it would all change: go from summer day calm to eye of the storm. He wasn't angry with me right then but he wasn't playing either.

He stood behind me, his right arm curled around my waist, his other on my left shoulder. I waited to hear the rules, knowing there'd be something I had to do, not do... "Hands by your side." They were anyway and I felt the muscles in my arms tense as if I was already fighting his command, already wanting to move, to touch him.

He slid his hand across the nape of my neck; made me shiver and lean back against him. His hand carried on moving, clamping down on my right shoulder hard enough to hurt and then slipping back to lie flat against the side of my neck, forcing my head to the side with a steady push. Done it a thousand times myself. If I let myself I could almost hear that tiny noise skin stretched tight makes when fangs pierce it, could almost see the dark blood well up, almost see the moment when it flashed from blue to red as the air altered it, almost taste it pouring, spurting, filling me, making me real, just for a moment.

Giles' teeth grazed my neck and I felt my hands clutching at air, my hips jerking forward as his hand slipped from waist to cock. So delicate...teeth and fingers touching, teasing when I wanted them to - his teeth sank in, biting down as his fingers curled tightly, possessively, working my cock with rapid, hard strokes and I think I screamed because he moved his mouth to cover mine, letting me taste my blood on him, while his hand kept moving and I fought to keep my hands by my side because I knew if I moved, if I reached back for him, he'd stop and I'd -

He pulled his mouth away, and turned me around so that we were facing each other, taking his hand away from my cock. Thought for a moment he was going to leave me like that, sit back down, and pick up his book. Really don't know what I'd have done. He'd timed it so that I was on the edge of coming, hurting with it, aching and desperate. The bite mark on my neck was throbbing as if his teeth were still there and I started to count each throb, willing myself not to come, not to beg, not to howl. Got to five and he grinned, a wicked, gleeful grin.

Then he sank to his knees, grabbed my arse and pulled me to him, taking me deep, sucking hard while his fingers dug in. I wanted to hold his head still, fuck that blood smeared mouth hard - Couldn't do it. My hands stayed in place, I came when he let me, and when he rocked back on his heels, smiling up at me as he wiped his hand across his mouth, he looked just the same as he looked when it was me down there. In control. Giles wanted to taste me, he did it, end of story.

He stood up, sat back in his chair and looked at me. "I think your clothes should be dry now, Spike. Perhaps you'd like to get dressed?"

Sometimes he needs saving from himself. I picked up the cup of tea and sipped it. Lukewarm. Tasted awful. "If I tipped this in your lap, what would you do, Giles?"

"Put my trousers in to soak; tea stains terribly." Scary part was that I think he meant it.

I sighed. "After that."

"Oh, you mean the part where I don't spend the next hour fucking you because I'm too exhausted from applying, hmm, let me see...my belt perhaps? to your impudent little arse?"

"Just asking."

"Of course."

"Hypothetical"

"Indeed."

"Going to fuck me, Giles?"

"Oh, yes."

Knew I could convince him.

***

We fought of course. Fought about everything from what to watch on T.V to who'd left the top off the fucking toothpaste. Never real fights though, the kind that ended with me walking out or being thrown out. We were getting along well, or at least I thought we were. Giles had lost that air of not really listening and I felt surrounded by attention, with Giles not letting me think about anything other than pleasing him because it paid off so well when I did. Fools paradise really; we both still had obligations and responsibilities and locking ourselves away from them was just painting over the rust.

Then he decided to tell the fucking Scoobies. He had to tell them, I knew that; hard to hide me living there, though he'd come up with some excuses that worked the first few times they'd visited. I just didn't expect him to do it so soon, less than a week after I'd moved in. He called Xander to tell him to get the others and come around, with me standing beside him, and managed to keep his voice steady as I slid down and started to suck him off - then gave me hell when he came off the phone. I expected him to at least let me finish him off but he glared at me when I tried and told me to get dressed, his voice icy. Lesson One. Don't try and make Giles moan and beg for more when he's got Harris on the other end of the line. Well. Couldn't blame him for that, I suppose. Wouldn't want that surly git to get the wrong idea.

They all trooped in obediently, giving me the look that said `Why is he here?'. Dawn was the only one who smiled, Tara the only one who looked me in the eyes. Giles had made me put my coat and boots on so I guessed I wasn't going to get to listen to the shrieks of outrage. Pity.

Giles let them sit, ran through a few plans for a patrol rota that had them yawning and then mentioned that I'd moved in for a while.

It didn't go down well. The obvious question was `why?' and Giles didn't have a good answer. He tried to make it sound as if I was a lodger, about it being convenient in case I was needed to have me under his eye, somewhere with a phone...Dawn looked puzzled but not very interested, but the others weren't fooled.

The shock wore off and they started to push him, ganging up on him. Made me sick to listen. I knew what he was capable of, knew what he'd gone through, and these...these fucking children were yammering away at him, making him stammer, making him retreat, making him tell the truth. He couldn't lie well to them and they knew it. Besides; didn't take a genius to work it out; one bedroom, I was hardly likely to be in the bloody bath anymore, and if I had been sleeping on the couch that wouldn't have been half as scandalous so they never even considered it.

Finally Willow nailed Giles with a direct question, one he couldn't side step, all tight - lipped and flashing eyes, certain I'd done something to her precious Giles. "Where's he sleeping, Giles?"

He stood up. "Spike? It's dark now. Please go and get yourself some more blood; you're running low, I noticed."

He reached into his pocket but I held up a hand, "I'm fine for cash, thanks." I hesitated, not wanting to go, not wanting to leave him to face them alone, but his face hardened and he jerked his head at the door. I went. Not far, but I went. Then I doubled back and listened.

"- money? What's he doing you have to pay him for, Giles? Or don't you want to tell us?" Xander always brought everything to such a sordid level.

"Probably sex. Vampires make excellent lovers; lots of stamina, no inhibitions -" Anya. I'd have blamed her for Xander's attitude, but he'd always been like that.

"What? Giles! That's so gross! Tell them it isn't true." Dawn's voice was high enough to shatter glass.

"It's a spell; that's it. Giles, I'm on it. Don't worry. Xander; go after Spike, tell him not to come back or you'll stake him. Make it convincing."

"Why don't I just do it, Will? Solves all the problems." And there I thought they were getting to like me. Not like I'd fought by them, saved their lives...oh, wait. Yeah, I fucking had. Bastards. Almost worth the sting to hear Giles lose it though, get back to the Giles I'd been living with the last week.

"You will all be silent. Xander, get back here. Now! Willow, thank you for your concern, however misplaced. I am not under a spell and yes, I know that's what I'd say if I were." He took a deep breath. "None of you have commented on the bandage I had on last week." Course not. It was only Giles, no need to fuss over him. "I was injured at Spike's crypt - Xander, if you take one step towards that door I will be seriously annoyed with you - and no, he was neither the cause nor did he do anything for which he deserves staking." Giles breathed in, slow and steady. "I tried to ... that is, I hurt myself last week, put myself in danger -" Heard Niblet gasp. Felt for her then. She'd gone through enough. "Spike stopped me, took care of me -"

"I'll bet he did." Mean spirited little rodent. Couldn't see it - fuck, I'd have paid high - but Giles grabbed Xander and slammed him against a wall by the sounds of it. God, he'd been asking for that. Wanted to go in, but I was getting so hot just listening to him rip into them, I'd probably have jumped him and that wouldn't have helped.

"Spike is staying with me because I can't cope without ...some company now that Buffy's dead. Don't you see how empty - how lost I feel?"

`Dead'. They didn't say that much. Scared of the word, scared it'd be true if they said it. She was `gone'; she'd `left'; all stuff that meant she could come back. Just wasn't going to happen.

Xander sounded as if he had a hand wrapped around his throat but he managed to croak out, "Company? Spike? You hate him, Giles. You can't be telling us - what are you telling us?" He wasn't a kid like Dawn, but either he was hiding from it - he's good at that - or he wanted to make Giles spell it out just to see him squirm. Bastard.

Giles dropped him; heard the slither and the crash, and sighed. "Dawn, this might be a little embarrassing. Forgive me for speaking bluntly. Spike and I are -"

"Like Willow and Tara?" Heh. Nice one, Bit.

"No!" Red sounded like she'd been stung by a bee, she yelped that loud. "We love each other, we're a couple. Giles, you hate Spike, you know you do. He's evil..." She nattered on and I tuned it out. Heard it all before.

Giles lost it again and that told me he still wasn't anywhere near normal. All the years they'd known him, and I doubted he'd ever let them see this much of him as a person. Grief, anger and toe-curling embarrassment were making him brutally frank.

"My private life is not, and never has been, your concern. I have never interfered in your choices, however ill advised they might have been -" I wondered who he was looking at when he said that? "and I expect a similar courtesy in return. I'm only telling you because it's something that's impossible to keep a secret now I know it's not going to be temporary." That made me pause. I'd been on probation? On trial? Didn't bother me too much; I could see his point. "Spike is here, is with me as my guest - yes Anya, as my lover, I don't mean to be coy - and I am responsible for his behaviour. If you have a problem with him, you come to me about it. You have a problem with that, save it. I don't want to know. Now get out. And send Spike in as he's bound to be listening." Oops.

They stood up and there was lots of crying and wailing until Tara and Dawn turned on them. Pick of the litter, that pair. Tara told Willow that Giles' aura was clear of spells but she could see what he'd been going through. Sob, sob, should have noticed. Dawn chirped about me being good company for Giles because we were both old and English. Er, yeah. Right. Going spend hours chatting about cricket scores and the Shipping Forecast. Anya jumped ship and ranted at Willow for suggesting demons didn't make good partners and Willow abandoned Xander and accused him of being prejudiced. Xander cracked, lip wobbles all around, and did the manly hug thing (I was peeking through the window at this point; thought I might as well get my money's worth as Giles knew I was there).

Giles was looking pale and they wouldn't just shut the fuck up and leave him be. Jesus. How did they ever kill anything when they talked this much?

I walked in and told them to fuck off. That got them out the door because they were too freaked by the idea that Giles and I were fucking to face me. Finally. A way to shut them up. Xander grabbed my arm as he went by, last one out, and pulled me outside. "You hurt him, Spike and I'll kill you."

"I found him going up against six vampires last week, so drunk he couldn't see straight; where were you then, Harris?"

He flinched. Glad it bothered him; we had that much in common at least. "Don't want to see him die any more than you do," I told him.

"Since when?"

Good point. "Since now."

"It's sick and disgusting and you know it's not the guy thing I mean."

No, it's the jealousy, I thought. You might not want his cock, but you want his attention. Tempted to say it aloud, but two things stopped me; Giles wouldn't like it and that was starting to be important to me; more of a leash than the bloody chip, plus it'd only get Xander trying to convince me I was wrong and that would interfere with him leaving. "Whatever. Just don't say that to him, Harris. Understand? Man's gone through enough without you making it worse. "

Got one last sneer, half hearted though, and he went. Blessed, blissful silence.

I went back in and met Giles' eyes. Make that, ominous, scary silence. Giles didn't like me disobeying him by the look of it, but the hell with that; what he'd been saying concerned me too. Looked at him and decided not to point that out. He didn't seem to be in a reasonable mood.

"Shut the door, please. Lock it too. I think I've had enough company for one night."

I did as he'd asked and then hesitated. "Want me to push off as well? Give you some, uh, space?"

He smiled, looking almost bemused. "Some space? So I can get in touch with my inner child? You've been in California too long, Spike." The smile dropped off. "And no, you're not going anywhere now." He stood up and walked to me, pushing up his sleeves. "Didn't I tell you to leave?"

"I did."

"We both know you were disobedient, Spike; save the sophistry. Curious? Was that it?"

He was standing just in front of me, close enough that he filled my vision. Hard to lie to him like this. "Little bit. You knew I would be."

He grinned. "Of course I did."

I frowned. "Testing me?"

He snorted with amusement. "What would be the point? I knew you'd fail." He saw me look frustrated and reached out, hooking two fingers into the pocket of my jeans, tugging me towards him. "Tell you what, Spike; tell me why I told you to do something I knew you wouldn't, and I'll let you come tonight, even though you don't deserve to."

Hmm. Figuring Giles out got harder the more I knew him, but that wasn't tricky at all. I slid my arms around him and leaned in to kiss him, just under his ear and working my way down his throat. "You wanted an excuse to punish me."

"Go on."

He sounded interested and he tilted his head so I could get to his neck. I made him shiver as my mouth marked his skin, making it flush red and fade, like a cloud at sunset. "You like doing it but you want there to be a reason. But you don't mind cheating."

"I never mind cheating," he agreed, putting his hands on me, one sliding behind my neck and holding me still, the other moving down to unzip my jeans. "Do you have a problem with that?"

I glanced down. "Apparently not."

"Wouldn't have mattered," he said, his hands busy. Felt good, but he wasn't even trying to do more than get me off fast and I was so primed, it wasn't going to take long and then - oh shit.

"Uh, Giles? When you said I could come, did you mean just the once because that's going to be in about - oh God."

He smiled at me just to show he had teeth that could bite. "Oh, I'm sorry, Spike." He wiped his hand down my shirt. Charming. "I did mean just the once. Should have said something sooner."

Bastard.

"Spike?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm allowed to cheat. You aren't. Remember that next time, hmm?"

I remembered it all through the next hour, with Giles taking his time, pushing me back against the pillows, tasting me, exploring me with fingers and tongue, getting me so frantic he ended up cuffing me because I couldn't hold still any longer. Couldn't figure out what he was waiting for, why he hadn't come either.

"Giles?"

He leaned over, grabbed the lube and I felt my control began to slip just thinking about him inside me. "Yes, Spike?"

"Would it help if I said I was sorry?"

He considered that for a moment, slicking himself up first and then sliding his fingers into me fast and hard. I yelped and his lips twitched, the way they did when he was trying not to laugh. "No. You wouldn't be sincere. The only thing you're sorry about -" Another finger. Christ, he was killing me. "Is that you didn't get to watch me hurt Xander."

"Well..." He leaned in and kissed me, biting my lip hard and then pulled back, waiting. "Fine. Not sorry. And Giles, if I come, I'm telling you now that I can't help it."

Cock replaced fingers, one slow thrust in that had me holding my breath, and he let his eyes flick over to the side. I twisted my head and saw what he was looking at. 12.03. "Oh, for fuck's sake! I could've come for the last three minutes because it's tomorrow now?"

He began to move. "No." He stopped playing, slammed into me hard and fast, getting a rhythm straight away. "Only when I say, Spike. Only then."

Still cuffed so I could only beg. "Say it, Giles. Please. Let me come."

Knew I was close and I panicked. "Giles!"

He paused, reached down and wrapped his hand around me. It was all I needed.

After, when we lay together, he said, "You sounded almost...frightened at the end there. Why?"

I couldn't believe that he didn't get it. "You'd told me not to come; didn't think I could stop myself."

"You disobeyed me earlier and it didn't seem to bother you."

He sounded curious now and I realised he really didn't get it. "You expected me to stay and listen, remember? Coming before you said ... "

Couldn't say it right.

"Would be letting me down?"

Glad it was dark. I felt his arms pull me in close. "Something like that."

"You'll have to trust me to know your limits," he said.

Thought about it. "Does the idea of that scare you as much as it does me?"

He sighed and rolled away from me, taking most of the covers with him. "Good night, Spike."

"Tell me."

He didn't turn back but after a while, just when I thought he'd gone to sleep, he said softly, "What terrifies me is that I'll expect more than you can give me. I seem to make a habit of that."

Fuck. "You won't, Giles." He didn't answer and I reached over, put my hand on him. "I trust you, O.K? I fucking trust you."

"You're so fucking eloquent, Spike." Cool, amused voice, as he rolled over and kissed me - but the air tasted of salt and my eyes were dry.

***

We were on our own in the shop, about a week after he'd told them I'd moved in. Been an interesting week, with me finding out more about the way he liked to do things. There were rules but Giles didn't always spell them out. He didn't need to. Inside the house, when we were alone, it was him in charge, in charge of me, and that was simple enough. Most of the time. It was getting easier to obey, to be perfect for him, and yet sometimes it built up until all I wanted to do was grab and bend and break everything he said, every request that was really an order, squeeze through every loophole, no matter how small. He let me too, let me wriggle until I was stuck tight and hey, look at that, I was arse up and ready.

Anya was off at the supplier; middle of the day so the girls were at school, college, whatever, and Harris was flexing his manly muscles building things that would probably fall down before the paint had time to peel off. I was feeling bored and Giles was irritable. Never a good combination. I knew what the matter was but I wasn't sure how to fix it. If we'd been at home I'd have had a dozen ways to solve both problems but here I knew better than to try unless he started it. Off limits, the shop was, at least most of the time. He told me to go and sit in the corner and not to touch anything. Giles didn't need to touch me to get me hard but he wasn't using that tone of voice and his eyes were - I couldn't look at his face for long. Not without wanting to hit something. Which explains why I took it out on a box I thought was empty, kicking it hard and breaking some tacky statuettes of the goddess Xinra. Ten a penny, but Giles lost it when he heard the crash, charging over to me, face tight and sour.

"A new consignment that I've been waiting for for weeks and you've broken half of them you clumsy idiot!"

Testy. I went for the pout and the upward glance. I looked cute like that. Not like I could practice in front of a mirror but I knew the effect it had usually. Giles glared at me, without showing any signs of it affecting him, and pointed towards the storeroom. "Get in there and get out of my sight."

He was definitely losing it. Dreaded to think what the night would be like if he kept it up. Fucking nightmare. The storeroom was dark; a jumble of stuff on shelves, a table in the centre of the room. I sighed, perched on the table and waited for Giles to come to his senses. The bell went over the shop door some time later and I heard Giles start the old chit chat, being charming automatically and getting the usual response. The way some of the customers started getting all silly when they heard his voice, you'd think they'd never heard anyone speak English before. Though come to think of it, it was California... Heard some old biddy ask for something obscure and Giles assured her he could put his hand right on it if she just gave him a moment.

I'd been in that room for thirty fucking minutes and I was leaning back against the table, hand down my trousers, entertaining myself quite nicely. Figured if Giles caught me at least he'd snap out of his bloody awful mood and into a temper instead. Do him good.

Had to admit, I wasn't planning on him having customers when he found me though. He came in, took one look at me and froze, his face indignant and cross. I was still a long way off coming but I closed my eyes and moaned just a little, running my hand slowly up and down my cock so he could get a good view. Heard his breath hiss out and knew he'd never believe I didn't know he was there, so I opened my eyes and smiled at him, keeping my hand busy.

"Spike. Stop that."

I let go at once, pushed my jeans down just enough and turned around, leaning over the table. Not subtle, but effective. Couldn't spread my legs much but I did the best I could and threw in a wiggle as I got settled. I heard him walk up to me, past me, and the clink of bottles as he reached for what the customer wanted. I folded my arms in front of me and rested my chin on them. Watched him ignore me and watched his cock get hard enough that he really wasn't going to be able to hide it.

"She's going to think you're really happy to make a sale if you go out like that," I said.

I thought he'd keep on ignoring me and really, I hadn't said anything much, but he snapped. Thank fuck for that. Apathetic misery I just couldn't handle. Giles was hurting and in my world you cured that by hurting someone else worse, by getting angry. I was the closest target, though his mood was none of my doing, and if Giles wanted to take it out on me, well, if it made him feel better, I didn't mind. In fact, knowing it was something I could offer him made me feel, oh, useful. Needed. He couldn't get that from anyone but me and the way I saw it, it was making him feel better as much as fucking me did. Never occurred to me that he'd feel guilty about hurting me later on, when he wasn't furious anymore.

"And whose fault is that, Spike?" He slammed his hand down beside my face and I winced.

"Mine?" Figured I'd skip to the good part.

"For once in your overly long life, you're perfectly correct. Well...your fault, you fix it."

"Quite willing to do just that," I assured him, turning my head to grin up at him. That grin was hard to keep on my face when I saw his expression, but I held it there, looking like insensitive, annoying Spike who needed to be taught a lesson the best I could.

From the shop I heard the high pitched twittering of a woman who was gagging for her eye of newt. Giles raised his voice and called out something reassuring at just about the same time as he put one hand in the small of my back, pressing me down against the table. He was in me before he'd finished telling her he'd seen them only yesterday, honestly and why didn't she browse around the scented candles while she waited, in me dry, first time ever, forcing a scream out of me that his other hand swallowed. When he was in me all the way and not moving, the pain stopped clawing at my throat and receded, taking the scream with it. I bit his hand, hard enough for the chip to jitter and spark, and waited.

He leaned over and said, "Still willing?" in a voice I didn't know and didn't like at all.

I moved my head and his hand lifted enough that I could speak. "Got nothing better to do, so, yeah."

We hadn't talked about it, but Giles knew he could hurt me and have me good as new the next day. There weren't many humans I'd trust with that power over me and a Watcher should have been the last person to think of a vampire as having feelings, but I trusted Giles not to go too far. No matter how pissed off I made him. It was just something else I could offer him; fucking me might make him smile, but he needed more than hearts and flowers in a mood like this; he needed blood, sweat and screams. I had my own idea about who should be supplying them, but Giles wouldn't have agreed and if I'd told him straightforwardly to get it all out of his system and thump me, he'd have said `no'. Wouldn't have made me the scapegoat, wouldn't have hurt me without a reason. Would have just carried on brooding and feeling like shit.

Which was why I gave him a good reason by jerking off in the storeroom and answering him back. Wasn't being a total fucking doormat or a saint; what we'd had the last couple of weeks was trembling on the edge of crashing to the floor in a thousand pieces. If I could shove it back on the shelf, safe and sound, at the cost of a few bruises and a sore arse, it was worth it. I liked being with Giles. Suited me - and even if it didn't, even if he'd changed his mind, it was going to be something we decided between ourselves, not forced on us by Xander fucking Harris.

So I gave Giles a mouthful and felt his restraint snap like a twisted neck. He put his hands on my hips, jerking them back so that my cock wasn't touching anything. I knew why he was doing it but I was glad; table was full of splinters. He was breathing hard, slamming into me, hurting me and not seeming to care. I said his name, trying to be quiet, and got a hand slapped across my mouth again. I started to struggle, wondering if he'd stop, starting to wish he would, and felt his fingernails bite deeply into my side and my face.

The woman called out again, getting impatient, her voice a querulous whine that made my teeth ache. Or maybe that was the clenching them hard enough to splinter enamel. Was not going to beg Giles to stop. Wasn't.

Until I did, a frantic whimper that barely made it out of my mouth and past his hand. That was all it took to bring him back.

He was deep in me, hard and nowhere near coming. Wondered afterwards if he would have. Not really what he got off on; straightforward violence and pain as a way of control. He'd hurt me plenty of times with that fucking crop, but never more than I wanted him to, and there was no contempt, no hatred behind it. Not for me, not for himself. I was being trained, disciplined and used; never felt like I was being abused. Maybe being a vampire made me see it differently but I didn't really give a fuck about that. I was fine with it and so was Giles. But he'd never got a sound like that out of me before, and it stopped him dead.

He went very still then I felt his hands drop away from me and he stepped back, pulling out of me. I turned and watched him fasten his trousers, tucking his shirt in without looking at me. He grabbed the jar, went out there, served her and then locked the door. Anya was going to give him hell about closing the shop early if she came back.

I waited until I was sure he wasn't going to come to me and then eased off the table. I didn't bother with the zipper, just pulled my jeans up and went after him. He was in the loft, sitting in the chair he put there, surrounded by the scary books.

"No, Spike. Not now."

I wasn't expecting an apology. Just as well really.

"This is stupid, Giles. What they think doesn't matter. They're fucking stupid if -"

His fist was moving before I finished speaking. Felt my lip crack open and took three punches before he broke and fell to his knees, with me going after him and grabbing him. When I held him, he didn't push me away. I'd have let him break bones if it got us to that point. I wasn't complaining.

"I can't - can't do this, Spike." He sounded lost, just like he had that night in my crypt when we'd started this.

"You've got to, Giles." I stopped, hating myself and then said what needed to be said. "You going to break this promise too?"

His head jerked up. No tears, eyes glazed with self reproach. "Please, Spike..."

Not expecting this but I wasn't going to crack, even though hearing him like that, imploring, pleading, was enough to make me shake with the wrongness.

I bent my head and kissed him, soft as I could, working at it until I felt the tension go, felt him relax against me. My hand went to his cock, hidden behind too many clothes, and I fumbled with the zip, got it out, started to stroke it hard. Didn't take long, and he was moaning as he kissed me, lying across my legs, his hands grabbing onto me as his hips jerked.

"In me, Giles. You're going to come in me..."

He shook his head but I wasn't going to let what had just happened spoil anything for us and I wasn't going to take him, though he'd have let me, I was sure of it. I pushed him back, my mouth on his again, swallowing his protests and reaching back to hold his cock. Slipped it inside me, welcoming the burning rasp, and I felt the change as soon as I was around him. He held me, began to move, began to make me move, taking us both somewhere we didn't need to talk. After a while he put me beneath him and finished like that, his head against my neck, his eyes leaking tears.

If I could have, I'd have hurt Xander. Not killed him. Just hurt him, the way he'd hurt Giles the night before.

It had been a week since he told them about us and they'd done nothing, said nothing. Thought they'd accepted it. Giles knew them better than I did and he didn't seem concerned, so I relaxed. Should have known payback was coming.

Giles had been invited around to Xander and Anya's place; special dinner, six month anniversary of swapping spit or something. I could have cared less if I'd missed it, but I tagged along, both of us thinking he meant me too. Harris had mentioned it when I was there, said they wanted the whole gang over...I was even carrying the fucking gift. Never occurred to me that toleration only went so far and with Harris it wouldn't stretch to cover the head of a fucking pin.

Wouldn't let me in. Looked at Giles who'd already stepped over the threshold, smiled at me. Cold eyes, spark of cruelty in them. Said something about standards. Giles' face...shock, hurt...then Harris pushed it that little bit too far. Giles would probably have bought the whole not inviting me in, who knew when I'd turn, can't risk the woman I love, bit. Why not? Ignoring it cost him that teacher Angelus killed, after all, but then Harris had to get smart, had to mouth off, with all of them clustered behind him, faces horrified or stunned.

"You can manage without him for a few hours can't you, Giles? He can wait in the alley outside; might be able to earn a bit of pocket money so he can buy his own blood. Out of interest, what do you charge a trick, Spike?"

Dawn gasped, her eyes all wide and Giles cracked. Pushed past me and went.

I wanted to kill Harris. Really wanted to. I could imagine it and the smell of his spilled blood was so thick in the air my mouth watered. Then I heard Giles throwing up outside and I held out the present, let it drop just as his hand reached out for it automatically - crystal glasses, set of four, Giles always did have good taste - and grabbed his hand to tug him to me, so he was outside his threshold. Such a careless boy. Oldest trick in the book that one. Couldn't hurt him and didn't want to take the time for an argument, not with Giles throwing up yesterday's breakfast by the sound of it. So I ran my hand down his cheek and kissed it gently before pushing him away like the trash he was.

"Night, Judas."

Lost on him, but I hoped he spent the night scrubbing his face raw before crawling in next to his pet demon.

Got Giles home, put him to bed, lay by him as he stared silently at the ceiling, got his back when I tried to hold him, got nothing but empty, averted eyes in the morning and an endless, nervous babble from Anya at the shop that mercifully ended when she left on her errand.

I stopped thinking about the night before and concentrated on the present. We were all tangled up and Giles still hadn't said anything. I eased him off me and he rolled onto his back, eyes open and blank.

"Giles?"

He whispered it but he might as well have screamed. "What have I done? To you, to them..."

"What you had to. Don't worry about me; I pushed you into that; thought it'd make you feel better."

He looked at me, incredulity shouldering away shock. "You thought that making me lose control until I had sex while there were customers in the shop -"

"Only one and I don't think she noticed."

" - and brutalising you when you'd done nothing to deserve that level of -"

"I'm a vampire, not a bloody china doll."

"Spike, will you shut up? I - this isn't working. I can't - you saw how they were last night. You didn't deserve that and they don't deserve -"

"Fuck them! What about you? You don't get to do what you want, while they're off shacking up with vengeance demons and getting into scary witch stuff? Did either of them ask you about that first? Willow and Xander ... what are they anyway? Your fucking parents?"

"They're family."

"And what am I?"

He just stared at me. Buggered if I knew, either.

***

I woke up hurting and in all the wrong places. My right arm was blazing with pain but I couldn't move it. Maybe someone had ripped it off and beaten me over the head with it, because that hurt too. Then I managed to open my eyes and the first thing I saw was Harris. Torturing me was one thing but making me hallucinate him was going too far. I made an effort and managed to spit out, "Fuck off," before my eyes closed again. Heard him charge off, yelling for Giles and felt worse. Didn't want to see Giles. Knew it would hurt more than my arm. Pain was bringing the memories back. Pity. Amnesia had its plus side.

I remembered everything I'd said before I went out the night before; yelling at Giles, cursing the fucking Scoobies, fuck, I'd even told him I wasn't coming back, not even if he did pay me. I'd let him hurt me in the shop and it hadn't worked and I had run out of ideas. He'd gone back to being silent, even when we were home; wouldn't touch me, wouldn't look at me, and after a few hours I'd lost my patience and stormed off to kill something. Probably not the best decision in the world.

"He woke up and told me to...uh, go away," Harris babbled. The room felt full of people; I could feel them pressing against the air and I tried to push them away without looking at them.

"He moved his arm!" Yeah, I'm gifted, I thought. Christ. I forced myself to open my eyes again, focus, and speak distinctly.

"Fuck off - all of you."

Awkward silence. Faces were moving around; why wouldn't they keep still? Made me feel dizzy.

"Spike? We thought you were dead."

Dawn. For her, I made an effort. "Don't stick around after, pet. Go dusty, remember?"

"Give him some space. Everyone out. I'm going to start the spell." What the fuck was Red talking about?

"No, you bloody well aren't!" I snarled it out, game face on. Helped the pain a bit. The demon didn't care about suffering when there were people around who needed a good killing.

No one left. Guess I wasn't scaring them or they wanted to see Willow turn me into something she could step on.

Giles was standing at the back of the room, leaning against the wall, arms folded, head down. When I said that his head jerked up, eyes flat. He pushed them aside, came over to the bed and smacked me on the head. It hurt. Not hard enough to be more than a brush of his hand really, but my head throbbed viciously. "Fangs away, Spike, or I'll finish the job that demon started last night. You're hurt and this spell of Willow's will help. Lie still, shut up and behave."

"'Behave?' Going to make me, Giles? Guess you might find a few square inches with no bruises. Course; not all down to the demon are they? Made a few yourself, didn't you?" Meant it to be nasty and it was. Giles looked hurt. Lost. Then his lips tightened and I felt a flicker of apprehension. He looked pissed off again. I wasn't sure I was up to dealing with him angry when I felt like this.

I shut my eyes again and heard people finally leaving. One heartbeat stayed behind and I sighed and took a look. Harris.

"I saved your life last night," he said.

"I remember." He'd come out of nowhere and called out a warning; meant the demon's clawed hand had missed my head and just sliced into my arm instead.

"I carried you here. You bled all over me. You were unconscious by then or you'd probably have been cursing me. Spent the night going after whatever Willow and Tara needed to patch you up. Called in sick because I'd probably hammer my hand flat I'm so tired today." He did look rough.

"This the part where I say `thanks' and we bond with a hug?"

"Not if you want that arm to stay attached." He stood up, hesitated. "Spike. I hate you. I really do. Don't hate Giles though. If he wants you, he can have you, though I still don't know why - never mind."

"Not up to you to say."

"No. No it isn't. We owe him an apology for trying." He didn't sound convinced about it.

"Owe me one too."

"Don't hold your breath waiting." Now that was said with conviction.

"Vampire. Don't breathe."

"You are sick, aren't you? That was lame." Harris had a point. My head was aching and I wanted to sleep, but I had a feeling I might not wake up if I did. If Red was set on doing a spell, God knows how I'd end up. Enthusiastic amateurs were a pain.

"Sorry. Come back later and I'll tell you just what I think of your schemes and plans and fucking selfish behaviour."

"Save it. I got it from all the others after you and Giles left the party. Never seen Willow so angry and Dawn -"

"They didn't know you were going to do that? Set Giles up for a fall?" Shouldn't have made me feel pleased - what did I care? - but it did.

"No, they didn't. Don't get thinking you're Mr Popular though. They were bothered about Giles, more than anything."

"Giles."

"Yes. Remember him? The man you just kicked in the teeth, metaphorically speaking." Xander sounded more sure of himself; course he'd just managed to work the conversation around to something I'd done wrong.

"Doesn't want me anymore. Not if it means you lot getting on his back. Shouldn't have brought me here, back to him. You should have taken me to my crypt."

He sighed. "Stupid little bloodsucker, aren't you? Wouldn't say that if you'd seen his face when I brought you in. Or if you'd seen what he did to the demon who hurt you."

That got me trying to sit up which was a terrible fucking idea. I didn't have the energy to scream but I tried. Harris grabbed me and pushed me back. "Giles told you to stay still."

"Fuck that! He went after that thing? By himself? And you let him, you tosser?"

He poked me in the chest, hitting a sore spot, not that he had much choice. "Wrong. We went after it. Want to see my back? Gone an interesting shade of bruise. Giles took a hammering too."

Let that sink in. "You killed it?"

"Giles did. Eventually."

"Gave him some trouble?" It had given me plenty - course, I'd softened it up a bit for them ...

"Trouble? No. I think he just liked hurting it." He looked vaguely admiring. "Giles was angry with it."

I closed my eyes. Too much to think about. "Get Red back. Tell her she can do the healing spell."

"Want Giles too? He could hold your hand." He said it with an effort and I could tell he was trying to make a joke, not get in a dig.

Shook my head. Wanted it more than a relief from the pain but didn't want to see the disappointment in Giles' eyes because I'd let him down by leaving, given up so easily. "Tell him -"

"Not your fucking messenger, Spike."

He got to the door before I could say it but I got it out eventually. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it. Please."

Still a git.

Red patched me up, bit of chanting, way too many candles and something to drink that was mostly blood but tasted vile enough that I guessed she'd doctored it up. She didn't say anything but she smiled at me when she left. Tried to remember the last time she'd done that. Couldn't. Maybe she never had.

Heard the door open and close as they all left and the house settled down. Giles was moving about a bit, but he didn't come near me and I went to sleep after a while, feeling my body healing and taking all my energy to do it.

Woke up when the cuff snapped around my wrist on the arm that hadn't got hurt.

"Giles?"

He ignored me, pulled my arm up and fastened the other part of the cuff to the bed.

"What are you playing at?"

He looked at me then. "I'm not playing, Spike. I never was. Can you lift your injured arm?"

I tried; still stiff but it felt attached again. "Looks like it."

"Good." Snap, snap.

"Uh, Giles ..."

"Shut up."

"No!"

He reached out and grabbed something, held it up. A gag. Fine. I settled for glaring at him and he waited long enough to be sure I wasn't going to talk and then sat down on the bed, looking down at his hands.

"You left. Without permission. You got brought back by Xander covered with so much blood -" His voice was level, almost bored, but his hands were shaking. "You required the efforts of four people to keep you from losing your arm. You also needed blood and there was no time to get it."

I opened my mouth to tell him I was sorry and his head lifted, eyes widening in a warning. He rolled up his sleeve; showed me a mark. "You couldn't feed. We drew blood and spooned it into you."

`We'? He knew what I wanted to know and he told me. "Tara, Xander and myself. Dawn wanted to but it wasn't needed. Willow was too busy with the healing."

"Why, Giles?" Didn't care if he gagged me, as long as he told me.

He stared at me, looking almost shy. "They ... did it for me. I never quite realised how much they -"

"Love you?"

He ducked his head, uncomfortable with the thought that people he'd known for years might care about him. "Something like that."

Felt tired. I was glad Giles had sorted it out with them; he'd lost Buffy and I didn't think he could stand losing them too, but I wasn't sure where it left me. Two weeks and I'd got them thinking about him again, and about sodding time too, but did that mean he didn't need me now? Fuck. What about me? I think that was the first time I admitted to myself without trying to hide it, that the bargain wasn't all for his benefit. "So, it's all sorted and it's soppy families all around. Great. Couldn't be happier. If you'll just let me go, I'll bugger off and you can all pretend this never happened."

"Is that what you want, Spike?"

I shrugged as best I could with my hurt arm, staring at the window. Sunny, from what I could see through the curtain. I'd have to stick around a few hours yet.

He took hold of my face in one hand, turned it to him. "I believe I told you not to do that. Answer me properly, please. Do you want to go?"

Had enough of drama and I owed him for treating me like I meant something, even if it hadn't lasted. I lied to him, meeting his eyes the way he liked, trying to make it easy for him to chuck me out. "It was fun, but I've had enough, Giles. No hard feelings?"

"None whatsoever, Spike." Cool, polite, vintage Giles.

He stood up.

"Where are you going?" I pulled at the cuffs to remind him that I wasn't going anywhere until he unlocked them.

"Lunch. A rather late one, but still..."

"Let me go, then." I felt pinned down, with that faint quiver that came from being tied by Giles making my body wake up and take notice. Started to wonder what was going on. Cuffing me - if he wanted me out of his house, he was going about it a funny way. Looked at him, but his face wasn't giving anything away.

"No, that's not going to happen, Spike. I could say it's because you're still sick, but you're well on the mend. I could point out that it's daylight, but I do have blankets you could borrow. No. You're staying because I don't want you to go. If you try, when I eventually stop being so angry that tying you up is all that's saving you from a beating, I'll drag you back here. If you tell me you hate me, I'll ignore you; if you misbehave, I'll teach you manners." He paused, looked back at me and said softly, "If I thought it really bothered you, I still wouldn't let you go."

"Why?"

His face went still and his eyes held the same expression the demon must have seen as he died. "Mine, remember?"

"I didn't mean to do it, Giles." Fuck. I sounded pitiful. What had Willow given me? I didn't - quite - believe the last part. He wouldn't keep me against my will and he couldn't, not really. But I liked hearing him say that, hearing him claim me, and he knew it. That's when I knew he'd forgiven me for saying I was going.

He sighed and the tension dissolved. "You never bloody do."

He walked back and leaned over, kissed me hard until I nearly broke the bed post trying to get my arm around him to bring him closer. "I killed it, you know," he said abruptly, getting us away from what we'd been saying before we said something we'd regret.

"Harr -Xander told me. Left out all the details. You tell me."

"Well - you should rest." Would have sounded more convincing if he hadn't sat down on the bed and got comfortable.

"Fuck that. Tell me how you killed it."

He grinned, looked about ten. "We found it by the Alpert crypt -" he began.

"Uh, Giles? Going to take these off first?" I rattled the cuffs again.

He looked at me. "Why?"

"I could pretend to be the demon," I offered, waiting for the smile I knew I'd get, the reluctant, slow one.

"I killed the demon, Spike. How far do you want me to go with a re-enactment?"

I tried pursing my lips and looking wistful. "Just want to get a good idea of what you did to the ugly bastard. Talking's not the same as a visual."

"Really?" He sounded sceptical.

"No. Well, yes, but it's not just that."

Giles frowned. "So why do you want me to uncuff you?" His eyes widened. "Are they hurting you? Willow will kill me if those stitches break before you've healed."

"Relax, Giles." Wasn't going to trick him into unlocking them. "Not hurting me being like this. Just - just want to -"

"What?" he prompted. "Spike, just tell me. Brutal frankness may not be one of your most endearing qualities, but it has its uses."

I stared at him. I could beg him to fuck me, and not care how loud I screamed his name when I came, but telling him I wanted the cuffs off and him in bed beside me so I could just fucking hold him, get my hands on him when I thought I'd never get chance to do it again... couldn't say that. Not that I was embarrassed; whatever Willow had made me drink might have been magical, but I would have put money on it being backed up with good old fashioned drugs; I felt as inclined to run off at the mouth as I did when I'd drunk too much. No; didn't want to say it because it wasn't fair on him. Two weeks and I wanted to fucking cuddle as if we were - no. Might be the drugs talking, might not, but I didn't want to scare him off either way. Scared me, too.

"Oh, fuck. Giles, I just want to know you trust me not to run off, that's all. And I can't sleep like this and my eyes are closing. Red doped me up good and proper."

He studied me. "I think there's more to it than that, but very well." He stood to unlock the cuffs and then hesitated as if he didn't want to leave. "I'll let you rest."

"Don't have to go." He frowned and I said, "I still want to hear about the fight." Couldn't help it; I reached out and took his wrist, tugging him back down on the bed. His hand turned and closed around mine for a moment, reassuringly warm. It was enough.

"You were mad going up against it alone. Did you see the size of it? Eight foot, easily."

I nodded. "Tricky part was that claw. Razor-sharp, that was."

He moved to lie beside me, pulled me close without commenting on it at all, and started to describe a fight that got more epic with every sentence. I drifted off to sleep with Giles' voice soft in my ear, telling me about blood and guts, slicing and dicing, and slept like a baby.

***

The next day and night I spent in the house but Giles said I was fit enough to go out as soon as the sun went down on the second day, so I stopped complaining. He was lying on the couch reading, his feet in my lap, and I was trying to decide whether rubbing them would count as tickling or a come on. Either would make him put down the book but they'd have entirely different results. Well, I supposed they'd end up with me in the same position - face down, stark bollocks naked ...

Then I remembered something and sat up straight, making Giles tip his tea all over him.

"Spike! Good lord, man!"

"My coat!"

"My shirt?"

"Oh, it'll wash. Giles, my coat; it got sliced up too; you didn't throw it away, did you?"

Must have sounded panicky because he took his feet off me, went over to the cupboard and pulled it out. "Here you are," he said, tossing it over and going to mop up the spill. "Good as new."

I stood up, caught it and looked it over. It smelled too clean, but that would wear off, and the sleeve, which I remembered being in tatters, was repaired so well I had to peer at it to see the stitches.

"Who did this?"

Giles sat down and stretched out again. "Dawn sponged off the blood, with many exclamations of disgust, and Tara did the sewing. I, uh, emptied the pockets first." He looked mildly embarrassed. I thought back to what I usually keep in there and grinned.

"Bet you did. God, I could kiss them!"

"A thank you note should suffice," he said, all prim and proper.

"You don't think they'd prefer a kiss? Maybe even a hug -"

Best innocent look, but it was wasted as he didn't look at me, didn't even move apart from flicking over a page in his book. "I say where your mouth goes, Spike. Not you." And we were back in that place again, as if we'd never left, the place where Giles's hand was resting lightly against the back of my neck and I never knew quite when he was going to tighten his grip.

"You do?"

"Always." He gave me this considering look, as if he was hungry and trying to decide on the best place to start nibbling. Got me hard every time, that look, but I always knew he'd beaten me to it, because by the time he was looking like that, he was ready to fuck me and I had to catch up fast because he didn't like waiting.

He crooked his finger, jerked his head, and I went over to him. Lazy git didn't even sit up, just grabbed my wrist and pulled me so I was straddling him, with one knee wedged between him and the back of the couch, the other about to slip off.

"Want to go upstairs?" I said. "Not enough room on here really."

"If I wanted suggestions I'd have told you to make them."

I didn't have time to work that one out because he sighed and shoved me onto the floor. I landed in a heap and he threw two cushions beside me, lay down with his head on them and looked at me expectantly. I got back where I was before, sitting astride him, and waited.

"Quite comfortable now?" he asked.

"Hard on the knees."

"Not on mine," he pointed out.

"And your comfort's all that matters."

He rolled his eyes. "Finally, some light dawns."

I leaned forward, putting my hands flat on the floor and asked him just where my mouth should be. Could feel how hard he was and I wondered how long it would take for it to be on his cock. Waited for him to tell me what to do, feeling everything narrow to a point and disappear until it was just us.

He brushed one finger against his lip and I bent down to kiss him there, fighting down impatience. Been so long ...he hadn't done more than hold me since I got hurt. Wanted more. Wanted him. Wanted him to stop thinking and stop treating me as if I would break, as if he had to hold back. He didn't. Not ever, not with me. That was one thing I could give him and he wasn't taking it, not really. Now and then, like when he fucked me in the shop with that old biddy waiting, but he held back even before I was hurt.

Fuck. Not like I wanted him to turn into a monster, channel Angelus at his worst. Didn't. That kind of cruelty wasn't in him. Ruthless, yes; sadistic, no. But there was as much darkness in a Watcher as there was in a Slayer and it needed feeding, needed attention. Knew all about that and if I couldn't hand it out any more, taking it was just as good. Nearly. Problem was going to be getting what I wanted from Giles without asking for it. If I asked, he'd have to say `no' because he was still on edge. I'd had time to think in the last two days, with Giles being gentle all over the place. He wasn't exactly spoiling me or pampering me, but I'd got used to him controlling me, guiding me, making me do everything his way. Taking that away had left me blind. I wanted him back, full force, no hesitation. If it was bothering him that the last time he'd fucked me he'd hurt me, I wanted to tell him it didn't matter, because I understood why he'd needed that and deliberately encouraged him. Wasn't sure if he'd already figured it out though. Or how he'd react to being manipulated if he hadn't.

So I kissed him, tongue flickering against his, gentle and soft, letting the ache build up because I needed something to be hurting me right then.

He pushed me back and looked at me, little bit puzzled, little bit curious. I wriggled, letting him feel how hard I was, and he laughed.

"What?" I said.

"You're so impatient sometimes, Spike. Do you know how much fun that is? When you're practically quivering?" Said it like a joke, but I wasn't smiling. He leaned up on his elbows and looked me over. "Stand up. Strip," he said.

"No `please'?" I said, letting out some of the frustration with a dig at him. He'd been working on my manners since I moved in, as if we had a garden party to go to.

"Oh, I do beg your pardon, Spike. Please stand up. Please strip for me. Please get your arse back here as quickly as possible because apparently we're in a terrible rush to get it beaten and buggered."

He sounded amused but he was starting to simmer. I turned up the heat, standing and moving a few steps away so he could watch me without craning his head. "Thought you'd forgotten how to do either."

"You're still remarkably over dressed, Spike," he said pointedly, ignoring my words, letting his eyes roam over me.

Cool voice, bored eyes. Not going to get a reaction. Right. I peeled out of my clothes, dropping them beside me. He glanced at them and I waited to be told to pick them up and fold them, or something else that would make me want to scream and break things. Want to. Didn't mean I would.

"Turn around and kneel down."

Did it, trying to relax and just let him set the pace, but still filled with impatience that had me quivering with the need to skip all of this and just get to the part where he took everything away but him. Three days since I'd come. Three fucking days and two nights sleeping beside Giles and he hadn't touched me the way I wanted him to. He came up behind me and brought my arms back, crossing my wrists behind me. "Think you could keep them like this for long?"

I didn't answer. Didn't want games, though Giles could come up with some good ones. Wanted fucking and to know that we were back to normal. I was so hard that pulling my jeans off had nearly made me come for God's sake, and Giles was messing around - what was he doing anyway? What was the point of this, when I could tell he was as ready as I was? Tried to think but I was naked and kneeling with Giles right there beside me and that just wasn't helping. Any more of this and I wouldn't be able to remember my own name. Three minutes ago I'd been working up the energy to reach for the remote. Now I was ready to kill something if I didn't come soon. Giles had that effect on me. Made everything matter more and did it so fast ...

"I asked you a question." Getting a nice edge to his voice.

"Tie me."

Came out sounding more like an order than a plea and I felt him hesitate, the way a cat does just before it pounces. I didn't mean it to be so abrupt but I needed help staying still. If he didn't do something, I'd break, grab him and then he'd have to walk away; I knew that much, even the way I felt, I knew he wouldn't -couldn't - let me get away with that. He moved away and opened a drawer, came back with -

"Cotton thread?"

Three strands wrapped around me, cutting into my wrists, making me go still as they'd snap so easily and he'd never believe it wasn't on purpose.

"Not meant to hold you; just to remind you where I want your hands. You could break anything I used, if you wanted to."

"Yes, but -"

His hand slipped around and covered my mouth. "Stop talking. You're supposed to be kissing me."

I bit his finger and ran my tongue over it. He bent his head, smiled against my shoulder and slid his finger between my lips. By the time I'd finished with it, if his finger could have come, it would have, and he was biting the back of my neck, marking it with his teeth, his arm round me so I could feel his heart beating against my back. Fast. Should have been. I was good at this.

He stopped me, lay back against the cushions and told me to turn around, with his voice low and husky. I managed it without snapping the thread and knelt beside him. I don't know where he'd found the time, but he'd got rid of everything but his shirt. It was still buttoned and his cock was framed against white cotton, making him look more naked than I did.

"Where now, Giles?" Make it your fucking cock because I'm dying here, I thought, looking at him and imagining bending forward and using my tongue on him as he lay very still, his hand on his cock, holding it up for me to tongue and taste, suck and swallow...

"Anywhere, Spike. Just don't make me come, or you won't get to."

I think he made it up as he went along. The daydreams fled and I glared at him. "What?"

"I've lost count of how many times you've argued with me or been slow to obey in the last ten minutes." He was starting to sound pissed off.

"You're not making any sense." Frustration gave my words an edge and his eyes narrowed.

"Whining isn't an attractive mood and in anyone over the age of two, it's unforgivable. You're not trying to understand. You just want me to fuck you."

"There's something wrong with that plan? You're as ready as I am; why are you waiting?"

He rolled his eyes. "I'm waiting for you." Cold voice now with a hint of warning but I was past caring.

"Huh? I'm right here, Giles. I'm fucking here. Want me to beg? I'll beg. Want me to whimper? I'm seconds away. Been so long. I need you. I need you in me right now. You're driving me fucking crazy."

"Teach you to go out and nearly get yourself fucking killed then!" Knew we hadn't quite worked our way past that one, despite all the cups of blood in bed. Giles didn't swear much; too many years minding his language around the brats. He'd been all sweet reason and consideration; should have seen this coming because if there was one thing I knew after a century with Dru, it was that an argument with a lover never ended until someone was bleeding. With Dru, it had been literal and it was usually my blood. With Giles, I was fairly certain I'd still end up losing but I doubted he'd get quite as creative with a skewer.

"So this is your way of punishing me for that? Get me so hard I can't fucking think straight and then yell at me for wanting you? Because it sucks."

Just like that, he went back to level voice, calm curiosity, research man. How he managed it when he was half naked, I don't know. "Tell me what would hurt then. Tell me what would punish you, as you don't seem to be disputing that you deserve it. I'm interested."

I floundered. "You could - you could - fuck, I don't know. Thrash me. Yeah. Get out that crop of yours and - "

He snorted. "You'd love it. Try again. What do you hate me doing the most?"

Took me about thirty seconds to admit what it took no time at all to figure out. "Ignoring me."

"Want me to do that?"

"No."

"Isn't this better?"

"Suppose."

"Then stop whining and do as you're told." He didn't sound angry any more and I relaxed a little, thinking that I'd got my point across and any minute now he'd be slicking himself up and sliding in me.

"Kiss you anywhere?" I said, not wanting to make any more mistakes. He nodded. "But not make you come. So I can't kiss you anywhere interesting."

He closed his eyes for a second as if he was in anguish at my stupidity. Had a Latin teacher who used to do that, but I never had the urge to kiss him when he had his eyes shut.

"Are you trying to be insulting about 90 percent of my body?" he said finally, opening his eyes and giving me a hard look.

"No, but -"

He rolled over, stood up, walked off. "Giles? Where are you - oh."

He unlocked the chest he keeps his weapons in and took out the crop he uses on me. "Think of this as a commercial break, Spike," he whispered in my ear, kneeling me up so my head and shoulders were resting on the couch, my hands still behind me. "A way of relieving my considerable irritation with your continuing -" He paused for thought and then brought the crop down as hard as he could, "complaints."

A cloud of dust came up. "You hit the couch."

"It's hard to miss at this range."

"Not my backside."

He slipped the crop between my knees, running it along the inside of my thigh until it rested against my balls, making me gasp and shudder, back arching inward. "Does that explain why? As you weren't paying attention earlier when we discussed just what punishes you and what you get off on?"

"Giles, I don't know what you want me to do." Frustration had stopped being an emotion and felt like a second skin, tight and suffocating. Desire and arousal were spreading and swelling inside me with nowhere to go, until I felt like a balloon about to burst.

"Yes, you do." He sounded calm, adamant and unsympathetic. If I hadn't seen how hard he was, the head of his cock glossed over and wet, I'd have thought he couldn't care less if we fucked now or waited another three fucking days.

"Tell me? Please?" I waited and then added, "Help me?"

Didn't ask him that often. Heard him sigh and then he knelt beside me, fisted his hand in my hair, yanked my head around and kissed me hard, letting it melt into something sweeter when I kissed him back. God, his mouth on mine was all it took to stop the teeth-grinding ache in my balls from being unendurable, because I knew one more nip from his teeth on my lip, one more slow thrust of his tongue and I'd come and -

He pulled back suddenly, breathing a little faster and ran his tongue over his lips. "I don't think that did help. Sorry." He didn't sound very sorry to me. "Start over, Spike. You do ... do what you want to. Anything. To me. Now."

I opened my mouth to ask a question and he glared at me. I shut it again. Anything I wanted but no more questions? I could do that. I thought about it. Anything? Did that include getting my fucking hands free? Because it would make it much more fun...

He got back on the couch and sat there, waiting. I stood up, turned around so my hands were in front of him and tugged my wrists apart, being very careful not to break the thread. He circled my wrists with his hands and said, "If it's what you want ..." and pulled his hands apart, freeing me. He had to do that. He'd put it on me; wasn't up to me to take it off, no matter how much the rules had changed. Not that they had, not really. I was still doing what Giles had told me to do. That ran under everything, like a river under the desert.

`What I want'? Why wouldn't it be? I knelt down and wrapped my hand around his cock, feeling it heavy and full in my hand. Had to taste it, just had to ... and if I did, I wouldn't stop and he'd come and it would all be over and - fuck.

I looked at him. "Want to say something."

He didn't say not to, so I carried on. "Going to make you come. You need to. Doesn't count, right? I won't, I promise, but you, yeah, you need to."

He closed his eyes and I took that as permission, bent down and took him in, nearly coming just from the taste of him, the feel of it, the smell of arousal and need. Tried to do exactly what I'd done to his finger, trying to remember how I'd licked and sucked at it, wondering if he'd notice what I was doing. The way his hips were jerking and the sounds he was making, maybe not. I pushed him down with one hand on his leg, keeping the other on his cock, took him in deep and felt that pause as his cock got harder and he came. Knew he'd been close. I looked up at him and his eyes were open again and he was watching me, face still not back to normal, but it never bothered him.

Giles never hid, not from me. I've seen him come. I've seen him...and he never shut me out, always let me share it, feel it with him.

Now he was looking at me and he smiled. "I think you were right," he murmured, his voice husky again, catching in his throat. "So, is it your turn now?" He leaned back and spread his legs, just a little, but with him that was as blatant an invitation as it got.

Sat back and looked at him. Knowing I could fuck him - and yeah, that was what he was offering - was tempting, but when I fucked Giles, I wanted it to be on a bed. And I was going to take my time.

I'd also had time to think. `Start over'. I'd asked for help and he'd given me a second chance. Do what he wanted and no talking back - or do it my way, show him what I could do when I put my mind to pleasing him.

Yeah. Let myself dream on for a minute and then sat down beside him, pulled him around so his feet were back in my lap and smiled at him.

His eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled back at me and he said, "Come here."

So my knee got wedged again and I waited patiently. He sat up and wrapped his arms around me and kissed me ...love, approval, appreciation ... all there, and then there was nothing but heat and we were on the floor and we were rolling and biting and grabbing and his skin was warm under my hands and he was moaning in my ear, even as his teeth bit down on it, and his fingers were in me and it hurt just enough to make me want to tell him to do it again but by the time I managed to say it, he'd already done it.

***

Opening the door to see Xander on the other side, a week later, wasn't what I called a nice surprise, but at least he hadn't barged right in. Giles was too soft on them when they did that. He locked the door a lot more after I moved in though. Had to, really, or they'd have got to see more than any of us would have liked.

I stared at him without speaking and he opened his eyes wide and asked if he was allowed in, making it clear he was being sarcastic. Needed to practice that more. I stepped back, looking him over in case he had a stake tucked under his shirt. Which meant I had to look at the shirt. Giles' place is full of muted, soft colours; lad stood out like a parrot in a flock of starlings. Pitiful, really it was.

"What do you want, Harris?"

"You're such a gracious host, Spike."

"Not my house. Means you're not my guest. Giles isn't here."

"You and Anya both do that blunt, no words wasted thing, do you know that? Old as the hills, centuries left to live in, and you talk as if words were in short supply."

Comparing me to his vengeance demon was a good way to piss me off but I didn't rise to it. I reminded myself that ten days ago he'd saved my life and let it pass.

"And I know Giles isn't here," he went on. "I just left the store; he says he'll be another hour maybe. Has to finish the monthly accounts or something."

"Huh. He could've picked up the phone; no need to send you."

"No. I mean, yes, he could."

He went quiet then, looking at me as if he wasn't sure what to say. Didn't feel inclined to help him but I didn't really want him hanging around either. "You've not come for anything deep and meaningful, have you? Because as far as I'm concerned, we can go another decade without one of those conversations."

He grinned. "Finally we agree on something. No, it's not - oh, hell, yes it is."

He sat down on the couch and I bit my lip. Giles had fucked me in just about every room in the place, but that couch - well, it had got to the point where just sitting on it got me hard. I'd been bent over it so often, holding still, being quiet, focusing on something, anything - the marks my nails were making as I drove them into the back or the arm, my body one thrust away from coming, my mouth dry because if I closed it there was no way I could stop myself moaning too loud for it to be allowed - or feeling its smoothness against my back as his cock went in deep and hard and I was wrapped around him, staring up into his face, giving him all he wanted in the way of begging - or gripping the wooden rail along the back as that fucking crop slashed down against me and the burn traveled from my arse to my face and I wanted to beg him to stop, or to go faster, get it over with - but I'd been told, not a sound, not yet, and he'd never spared me a single stroke or a single second of whatever he'd decided I deserved so there was really no point anyway.

And now Harris was sprawled on it and I didn't know whether the joke was on him or me.

"Spit it out," I said impatiently.

He looked down at his hands, fingers tangled in his lap, and then back at me. I sighed, sat down in a chair and stopped trying to loom over him. I had a tea towel tucked in my pocket so I probably didn't look all that threatening anyway. If Giles got back and I'd let the dishes stack up in the sink, well, it's not something that made him smile, especially if there's dried-on blood involved. And I liked him smiling when he came in and saw me.

I went with him to the shop most days but it was almost worth spending the day apart just for that first few minutes when he got back. He would take off his coat, hang it up, and then stand there looking at me, doing all those things I don't think he knows he's doing; taking off his specs, smoothing back his hair - and then he'd smile and I'd grin back like an idiot and go to him and he'd pull me in and kiss me and I'd have someone to touch and someone to be with and start doing more than existing.

Not always like that though; sometimes Anya or the customers had got him so wound up he was tight and tense and his lips were a hard, thin line. The coat got chucked across the banister, the glasses got tossed on the table and I was on my knees before he'd finished snapping out my name, waiting for his hands to move; one to his zip, one to my head.

Thinking of that made me determined to get Xander gone before Giles came back. Chasing stray dollars and cents? He was going to be irritable.

"Spit it out, Harris - Xander, I'm not going to bite you - oh, you know what I mean. Owe you for the other night and Giles seems to think you've got more to you than you'd think, so -"

"How did it start? You and him?"

"What? Fuck off, Harris. Not spilling my - our - private life for you to pick at."

He opened his mouth, took a deep breath and swallowed whatever he'd been about to say. "I'm not being -"

"A nosey bastard?"

"Yes. I'm not. Can you just forget for a minute that we've loathed each other for years and I humiliated you and talk like we're, uh, like we just know each other?"

I smiled at him, making it nice and friendly. "Xander, I tried to kill you for years and I was probably a lousy house guest, so I don't blame you at all for hating me. Humiliating me? Well, I'd say you're the one ended up looking stupid, not me, so no hard feelings there either. Okay?"

He nodded, looking relieved and a little surprised that I'd caved in so easily. I let my smile broaden and - what the hell - went into game face, timing it perfectly so that his mouth was just opening with whatever question he had next on his list. Give him credit; he didn't flinch and his eyes went to the weapons chest straight away.

"What's with the fangs, Spike? Thought we were good?"

"Said I was fine with what you did to me, Xander. I am. What you did to Giles? Different story."

"I said I was sorry!" he protested. "Giles isn't holding any grudges, why are you?"

"Do you know what he did to me the day after your little get together? Know why I was out there getting chopped up by the demon?"

He looked uneasy. "You - had a fight?"

I wondered how his face would change if I went into detail about Giles buggering me and beating me up. Tempted; would have liked to have made him turn as green as the stripes on his fucking awful shirt but Giles wouldn't appreciate it one little bit so I resisted temptation and tucked my fangs away. Not like they were scaring him.

"Yeah, we had a fight. Never mind. Look; forget it. Just push off. Don't want you here when Giles gets back."

Xander looked puzzled. "Why not?"

God, I was going to end up with a fucking halo at this rate. Gritting my teeth before I could tell him exactly what I had planned as a tension reliever for Giles, I settled for an enigmatic smile and watched the pretty blood rush up into his cheeks.

"Look; I still want to know how this all began. Please. It's important." Points for persistence.

"Why?"

"Because I need to know if there was something I could have done to stop him."

"Stop him doing what? Bringing me home or trying to top himself?"

Got a flash of his teeth then. "Both," he said tightly. "I really can't see how any good'll come from screwing the undead. Didn't go so well with -"

"Don't," I warned him. "Don't even go there." I eyed him. Still felt like telling him to mind his own bloody business but his face was all screwed up as if he really wanted to know and it'd cost him asking. Besides, Giles had told them most of it. I sighed. "You know already what happened. Found him near my place, about to be supper for some vamps. I got hurt fighting them; we went back to my crypt and ..."

I stopped there. Not about to share more than that.

"And? You don't want to tell me, do you?"

"Don't and won't. Between me and Giles."

"He said he was going to kill himself, Spike. Do you know how we all feel that we didn't see that coming?"

"Like the self-centred gits you all are?"

Got a smile but not a particularly happy one. "Something like that. Look, I'm not trying to get details of you and - God, even thinking about you two makes me - "

"Horny? Jealous?" That got me the look of death.

"Sick."

"Oh, fair enough. I don't have that effect on Giles, but whatever. Just don't throw up on the couch. If Giles has spent the day doing accounts, odds are we won't make it upstairs for a while." That last bit just slipped out. The longer he was there, the harder it was getting to keep my mouth shut.

He breathed out, slow and steady. "Not the gay thing; I'm fine with Will and Tara, it's just...Giles. He's so, well, you know and you're ...Oh, forget it!"

He stood up and headed towards the door. "Sit down." Giles used that voice on me and it worked like a charm. Looked like I'd got the hang of it myself, because he stopped dead and turned back.

I waved at the couch. "You've got something on your mind, I'd rather know about it. Yes, Giles and me, we're fucking. Get your head around it and move on. Is that all, or was there something else? I'm thinking there must be; you can't have imagined we're still at the holding hands stage."

He perched on the arm of the couch and looked as if he'd rather be anywhere else but here. Got me curious. He was hating this, so why do it?

"How long have you been in love with him?" Lad just blurted it out and it took me by surprise.

"Love? Who said anything about that?" Panic and denial. Perfect partners when you're caught. Love...me and Giles? Lust, yes, in spades. Giles could get me hard with a look, aching with a touch and coming on command by then. Wanted him and I couldn't see that changing any time soon. Liking, which was a lot more rare, yes, I'd admit to that too. He was good company now we weren't at each others throats; he'd got me talking about my past, drawing stuff out until I'd say he knew as much about me as I wanted to share and maybe a bit more than that. We talked a lot, sat there silent a lot. Both were ...nice. But love?

Wasn't going to think about it any more. Not in front of Xander. "It's been less than a month. Getting ahead of yourself, aren't you?"

He relaxed, as if that was what he'd wanted to hear, and slid off the couch. "So you're just using him, then. Place to stay, free blood and, you know. Sex. Thought so." Self satisfied prick.

"What? No! Look; this thing between us, it's complicated, right? We're both ... I'm helping him ..."

He looked at me. "Helping him do what? Lose any chance at a normal life? Put a barrier between him and his friends? I'm not trying to be cruel here, Spike, I'm really not. I saw how he looked when we brought you back, I'm giving you credit for thinking that for once, yeah, maybe you're not being a complete bastard, but I can't see that you're helping Giles. Not really."

If he'd been sneering or shouting I could've handled it but his voice was quiet, almost sad and he looked at me with something like pity.

I gave back as good as I got. "Xander, your head is so far up your fucking arse, it's no wonder you can't see what's in front of your nose. You've all got yourselves someone and you think he can get by without? Oh, and good luck on him finding a human to fuck, because that ended so well with Jenny and that bint from England, didn't it? You don't know him. You don't know what he needs, and if you did you wouldn't want to give it to him, no matter how many tricks your demon girl's taught you, and you couldn't take what -"

"Spike. That will do."

Giles. In the doorway, looking tired and annoyed. I shut up and found I was wrapping that fucking tea towel around my hands, trying to hide the way they were shaking.

"Xander? Would you care to explain why I've walked in on a scene unpleasantly reminiscent of one of the soaps Spike seems to be addicted to? One of your failings as a boyfriend, Spike, but I suppose we all have our foibles."

Boyfriend? Xander looked as sideswiped by that as me and his mouth was hanging open. Can't have done that in front of a mirror, ever, or he'd know it made him look like a fish. A stupid fish.

"I came to talk to Spike, to..."

"You came to interfere. Please don't do it again. If you have anything you wish to say - though I can't imagine why you should - I'd prefer it if you came to me. Well?"

He waited and Xander floundered for a second and then his head came up and his shoulders went back. "Giles, you shouldn't be with him. I'm not trying to tell you what to do, I'm not passing judgment -"

"Yes. You're doing just that, Xander. Your motives aren't bad ones and believe me, I'm touched by your evident concern, but I know what I'm doing. I'm asking you to trust me. I'm telling you to back off."

"He's a vampire, Giles. You and Buffy... at least Angel had a soul! It's not right." He sounded desperate and if it was in me to sympathise with him, I would have.

Giles sighed and took off his glasses. "Xander, I know this. I know all of it. It just didn't matter when this began. If a rope's thrown to a drowning man, does he get picky about what colour it is?"

"He might once he's on dry land. You're not going to kill yourself now, are you Giles? That's not an issue?"

"No."

"Then why is he still here? And what could he do to stop you feeling that way? I don't get it. Sex? Was that all? A quick fuck and Buffy stops mattering?"

He was lucky he got to the end of that sentence. I threw myself forward, snarling, fangs out, this time for real - and the chip slammed down a wall of pain and I hit it head first. Could see Giles and he looked ... never wanted him to look at me like that. Never. His head turned and he looked down at me. I was on the floor. Hadn't even touched Xander, but the chip didn't care. Smug pile of junk. I moved enough for Giles to decide I'd live and watched him take Xander apart, inch by quivering inch.

My head hurt. I don't think Giles touched him but Xander was backed against a wall, eyes dark and scared and Giles was all but yelling into his face, a stream of words just pouring out of him. Stopped being entertaining when I saw they were both crying and didn't know it.

Not about me, after all. I walked out into the courtyard, closing the door behind me.

I missed her too, for lots of different reasons. Hadn't stopped hurting but she was one of the things I'd talked about with Giles; not much, not often, but enough that the sting had gone out of it and it was getting to the point where her name didn't bring that little silence after it. Seeing Giles go to pieces like that, I stopped fooling myself that he'd miraculously got over her death in a couple of months. He hadn't. I was helping him cope but no more. Better than nothing, I supposed.

I wanted to go off, get drunk, and kill things. Traditional but effective way of dealing with moments like this. Didn't. My head still hurt, but that wasn't why I was leaning against a wall, far enough away not to hear more than a low murmur of voices, close enough that if Giles needed me, I'd know. Didn't want to listen. The way they felt about the Slayer dying was between them. They were her friends. I'd never really been that.

One other thing kept me there. Giles hadn't said I could leave the house; if I went any further away he'd - God, I hoped he would. Giles not caring if I left wasn't something I could handle.

Must have been an hour later when the door opened and Harris came out. I stayed well back in the shadows, but when he pulled the door closed behind him and I didn't see Giles, I didn't know what to do and I stepped forward. He looked around and said my name, as if he knew I'd be there, staring at me when I walked over to him. Xander looked tired but he looked happier too.

"Spike? Are you O.K?"

Nodded. Didn't hate him but I didn't want to talk either.

"I think - God, I'm sorry. Never meant to stir things up like that. Not big on the -" He made a vague gesture that I took to mean crying and I grimaced.

"I know." I made an effort. "You were just worried about him. I get that."

He nodded. "Still am but - I'm glad he's not alone."

"Even if it's me?"

Got a smile. "Even if it's you," he agreed.

I nodded and turned to go back in and he stopped me, reaching out to touch my arm. "Think Giles might want a bit of space so - do you want to go for a drink maybe? Shoot some pool? Not talk about anything?"

He sounded as if he meant it, which stopped me telling him to fuck off, but I still didn't want to go.

"Another time, right?" I glanced at the house. Light was still on but it was quiet. "Giles - look, I have to go to him."

"I really don't know if that's a good idea -"

I'd had enough. "I don't give a fuck what you think, Harris! I need him."

Got this weird look. "You do, don't you?" he said, all quiet.

"Yeah. I do." I stepped away and then hesitated. "Look - if you're right, I'll catch up with you, yeah? Walk slow."

He glanced over at me. "I'll do that."

***

Waited for him to go and then went inside. Didn't knock; I lived there. Giles was in the kitchen, messing about with pots and pans, getting himself something to eat.

How very fucking domestic of him. I'd been going to cook something for him; nothing fancy but I can manage steak and oven chips and a tin of those mushy peas he gets from the little shop with the dusty stacks of imported food from all over the world. Now it smelled as if he was doing one of those cast of thousands meals, with a pinch of this and a dash of that; the ones that take hours to prepare and leave every surface piled high with dishes. Normally he does that when he's in a good mood but tonight it seemed off somehow. If I'd come in to find him slumped on a chair, knocking back the whisky, I wouldn't have raised an eyebrow, but this seemed too calm after what he'd just gone through.

I crossed over to the hatch and leaned on my elbows watching him. Busy hands chopping away, head bent slightly, nape of his neck looking tanned against the stiff white collar of his work shirt. He'd rolled up his sleeves and the contrast between crisp cotton and strong, bare skin made me want him. Just that. Such a small thing to have me aching for him.

Made me realise how many hours I'd spent watching him that I could tell how tense he was from the line and curve of his back. Did he know me as well as I did him? I thought he did - but he wasn't turning to me, wasn't talking and he should have known this was killing me.

I opened my mouth, ran through half a dozen sentences and couldn't come up with one that would get those arms around me, those restless hands stilled as they clutched sheets, my hair, whatever he wanted to hang on to while I stripped the clothes from his body and the hurt from his eyes. Could have just said his name, made it a question, but that felt like cheating; it'd mean he had to come up with the first words, and for all I knew, he was having as much trouble with that as I was.

Fuck. I was lost. Usually I knew. Knew what would work, when to make him angry, when to step carefully...now I didn't. If I went up, slipped my arms around him, kissed him - would he step back, face cold and closed? Would he push me away from him?

I stood there, while the mountain of chopped pepper grew; precise, thin strips of red, and felt the weight of the silence push back every word that made it to my mouth, make it impossible to move anywhere.

He ran out of something to slash into little pieces and laid the knife down with a careful slowness that was scary.

He didn't look at me. "Spike. When I turn around I don't want to see you. Go upstairs, strip, lie face down on the bed. Pick a comfortable position as you're going to be there quite some time. Don't move, don't speak, don't touch yourself."

Started to say something and he cut me off. "You've said quite enough for one evening, Spike. Go."

I went, did everything he'd told me to do and was hard before I'd finished undressing. I hoped he didn't keep me waiting for long, but I wasn't counting on it, not when he'd had that edge to his voice. With nothing to do but think as Giles cooked, ate, cleaned up, I still couldn't work out what had got him this pissed off. In the end I drifted off to sleep, I suppose, because I didn't hear him come in.

I don't know how long he spent watching me before he raised his arm and brought the crop down with a force he'd never used before.

"Wake up, Spike."

I was awake. I think the hiss as it swept through the air woke me. If not that, the blow itself, meeting my skin with a flat emphasis, an uncompromising stroke that bit and burrowed deep enough to crack open my skin, splitting it and leaving scarlet behind when the crop rose back into the air to hover for a moment, as though waiting to see if I'd got the message. I felt the blood rise up and swell and spread, felt the pain hesitate and then explode and felt tears sting my eyes.

Because it hurt and Giles had never hurt me before. Not like that.

My fingers clawed at the sheets and I felt my body stiffen in shock and then I was moving, curling up, as instinctive a reaction as any animal in pain. If I'd been awake, if I'd had some warning, I could have held position but there was no fucking way I could lie still under that, not unbound.

I was making noises, soft little moans of pain and I couldn't seem to stop them. I rolled over and squinted up through wetness to see Giles staring at me. He looked ... I don't know. Not angry any more. Any satisfaction he might have felt at getting that reaction from me had gone by the time I focused on him, if it was ever there. His face was stiff with shock, as though what he'd done had been an accident, as if he hadn't expected me to react like that - but he must have known, he must have. He threw the crop aside and sat down by me, pulling me close and hugging me hard. I let him, feeling the shock and the pain fade enough for me to be silent not holding him back at first until he made a sound far back in his throat and then I did, arms around him to stop him shaking. Ended up with him stripping down and coming back to lie beside me, him on his back and me sprawled across him, head tucked in under his chin with one arm wrapped around me and the other stroking my back.

I felt as if every bone in my body had splintered, sharp, jagged edges driving into my skin from within. It wasn't the pain; one stroke, some blood, yes, it hurt, but I could endure far worse. It was Giles doing that, going beyond what I thought he was capable of. Being cruel.

Expected that from some people. Not from him. I couldn't speak; he hadn't said I could, and even though I'd moved without permission and he didn't seem to mind, I wasn't going to risk talking. So I lay there while he touched me, soothed me and stopped me shivering.

He spoke after a long while, his voice low and calm. "Are you -?"

I didn't let him finish. "What was that for? I don't get it." I was over the shock now and getting angry with him, though the way he'd come straight to me when he saw I was hurt helped to keep me from screaming at him.

His arm tightened around me. "Don't you? How did it make you feel that I'd do that?"

Thought about it. One word came to mind and as much as I tried to find an alternative, I couldn't, not if I was going to be honest with him.

"Betrayed." That seemed too bare, too stark. Found myself babbling. "You didn't, you didn't warn me. Didn't let me get ready. Meant I moved and you'd said not to. Hurt too, but not just my arse."

I stopped then because he was nodding, his face moving against my hair. "That's just what I wanted you to feel."

I tried to sit up so I could see him, but he wouldn't let me. "Why did you want that?"

"Because it's how I felt when I walked in and heard you telling Xander about our relationship." Felt bewildered, tried to remember... "You said, and this might not be exact, `You don't know him. You don't know what he needs and if you did you wouldn't want to give it to him', then something about Anya and then I stopped you, but it was a little late."

"That's it?" I said, the anger building. He'd done that to me because of a few words? "He was hassling me, saying I wasn't helping, that's all."

"Yes, and after we'd finished discussing Buffy - and thank you for leaving us alone; that saved you getting that stroke as soon as you came back in, and believe me, the way I felt, it would have been one of several -"

"Bloody glad I went, then," I muttered.

He smiled slightly. "After that, I had to endure an increasingly intrusive series of questions from Xander. He wanted to know what, beyond the obvious, you could do that he couldn't or wouldn't. I think his imagination provided him with some rather lurid scenarios, not limited to the idea that I was letting you feed from me, as Riley did with that female vampire. I half expected him to make me strip so he could check me for bite marks."

I snorted with laughter and couldn't stop once I started. Guess he might have found one or two bite marks at that. Giles cuffed me across the head but not hard. "That's quite enough of that. It got ...embarrassing."

I gulped back the laughter with an effort. Not really all that funny; just that or burst into fucking tears and Giles had had his shoulder soaked enough for one night. Besides, Giles had his arms around me and was petting me, for want of a better word, and I couldn't resist that. I didn't think anyone had ever done that to me before. I was still a bit lost but I trusted him. If he'd carried on whipping me after he'd seen how hurt I was, if he'd stayed closed off and angry - well he hadn't. Just like in the shop, when he was fucking me cold, he'd pulled back as soon as he saw he was doing serious damage. I was beginning to see that he always would.

Something occurred to me and suddenly it all made a lot more sense.

"I can see why you lost it, Giles. Only thing is, I don't think it was what I said that set him off."

Giles pushed me away so that he could see my face better. "What? What d'you mean?"

I poked his shoulder with an accusing finger. "Who sent Anya up here to get that book on binding spells you'd left on the bedside table? You did. Who -"

"You mean she took advantage and pried into drawers -"

He sounded shocked. Sweet but stupid sometimes. "She probably would have but she didn't bloody need to, did she? You'd left the cuffs attached to the bed and she brought the wooden spoon you'd used on me back down with her and put it into the kitchen. Bet Xander got an earful as soon as they got home. Look she gave me, he might have got more than that; not one to mind experimenting, is Anya. You might have put ideas in her head."

Giles stared at me open mouthed. Rare sight that and I don't mind saying I loved every second of it. Got me back to normal, the chance to make him wriggle a bit. "So, got something you'd like to say to me?"

His eyes narrowed. "Spike, if I am marginally to blame for tonight's interrogation -"

"Take it like a man, Giles. Totally to blame."

His breath hissed out in an aggravated way and I wondered if I'd gloated a bit too much for safety. Tried the innocent smile, but couldn't resist adding, "Tell you what; kiss my backside better and we'll call it quits."

His mouth thinned and then I watched the corners quirk up in a reluctant smile. Thought about that mouth on me and shivered happily. Truthfully, there wasn't much of me he hadn't kissed or licked. I remembered one spanking when he'd let the final slap fall, placed his palms, one cool, one scorching, on either cheek and pulled them apart, before running his tongue over every bit of reddened skin his hands didn't mask. Then it had wandered and darted inside me, teasing little prods that had me begging and squirming until his fingers and cock took its place.

I'd come in that mouth, too, though never fucked it; standing or lying down, while Giles took me as deeply as he wanted or made me come without ever letting me inside until the last moment, using tongue and teeth and fingers while I waited, hands by my side, hips longing to thrust and snap.

All that...and it had all been his choice. The image of him doing anything to me because I'd told him to made my cock harden until it was aching and wet and he knew it.

"You want recompense? A quid pro quo?" He paused. "You can't hit me, of course." Not just because of the chip either, though that was what he meant, I think.

"Wouldn't want to."

"Really? Why is that?"

He sounded curious and I ran my hand over his arse, watching his eyes get that intent, interested look. We'd been lying here naked together for getting on for half an hour without either of us being hard. Wasn't natural but I had a feeling we were going to be back to normal very soon. "Don't want to hurt you, Giles. I'd like to make you beg, though."

"Do you ever wonder why I like to do both?"

"Dunno. Did Xander?"

He bit my shoulder for that, but I could feel him laughing silently. He lifted his head after kissing the skin he'd reddened, smiling as I shivered and rubbed up against him. Giles biting me always made me ache from fangs to cock. "He did, yes, without actually saying it quite so bluntly. I managed to avoid answering - none of his bloody business after all - but I don't mind discussing it with you."

I shrugged. "Don't need to. I don't care why you do it. I just like it when you do."

He stared at me. "Not because you like the pain as much, but because -"

Too much talking. Wanted him. "Because it's you, Giles. That's all." It wasn't, but it could keep. His cock was hard against me and I wanted him.

He studied me and nodded, accepting it. "I thought you deserved this," he ran his hand over the welt on my backside, "and I still think you were indiscreet, but...fine. I should have spoken with you first, let you explain. I'm very sorry, Spike. I regret it more than I can say."

I kissed him for that. No half measures with Giles, no grudging admissions of guilt. "It's O.K.. Really." I grinned at him. "Besides, you can make it up to me, yeah? Make yourself feel better."

He stared at me and then nodded. "Very well. You get to choose something you want me to do to you, or you to me." He lay back and relaxed, tucking his arms behind his head and smiling at me lazily. "You do the hard work for a change," he said.

I propped myself up on my elbow and looked him over, running a finger from the hollow at his throat to his cock, circling around it and not touching it.

"Going to fuck you, Giles." His gaze never wavered. Don't think he even blinked. "Going to get inside you, going to be me who joins us, me who comes in you. Going to show you what you've made me feel these last few weeks."

I leaned in and whispered in his ear. "Do you trust me to make you scream, Giles? Just this once? Scream my name, until it's all you can think of, the way I do yours? Do you think I can do that to you?"

He turned his head so our mouths were an inch apart. "Do it now." Strong, commanding voice.

I shook my head. Waited.

"Please, Spike."

Fucking nearly came right then.

I'd always thought there'd come a time when Giles got curious enough to want me in him for a change, but it wouldn't have changed anything about the way we were together. A man who could be on his knees sucking me off and swallowing me down without ever, for a second, letting me feel as if I was in control could handle swapping positions without too much trouble. Giles tended to do things the way he wanted to. I had a vision of me behind him, cock up in him as far as it would go, two strokes away from coming and Giles telling me to stop and get him off first. I'd have done it too. He'd have seen to that. God. I shivered, wondering if I liked that idea or not.

"What are you thinking about? Your face just changed. You looked...hungry."

I sighed, knowing he'd get it out of me, and told him. He looked taken aback. "Oh. I'd never even thought about doing that to tell you the truth."

I nodded briskly. "Glad to hear it. Moving on -"

"It's an excellent idea, Spike."

I watched him file it away for a rainy afternoon and growled. "Focus, Giles."

He gave me an indignant look and then caught himself. "Sorry." His eyes darkened. "You were going to make me scream. I - yes, Spike. Please?"

It was so good to hear the words that it should have been enough, but it wasn't. Giles sounded suspiciously meek and pliant and it was too soon. He wanted this - knew damn well he did, or I'd never have got the chance to ask for it - and he wanted me to get on with it. Saying `please' in that calm, dignified voice wasn't enough. I wanted him howling it, whimpering it, gasping it out as his body writhed and arched under me.

Was going to get it, too.

I lay beside him and started to kiss along his jaw line, listening to the pulse beating strongly in his throat. I went to it, pressing my lips against it and sucking hard, marking him the only way I could. I felt his hands come up to hold me and raised my mouth up just enough to tell him to lie still. Wasn't going to do this just the way he did to me, but I was damned if he was going to take over. Not tonight. His hands dropped back after the smallest hesitation and I grinned. He wasn't going to find this easy after so long being in charge.

"'Please' means two things, Giles." I quirked an eyebrow at him. "It's a request and it's a verb. Tonight I want you saying the first and doing the second. Pleasing me any way I tell you." He looked a little stunned and I laughed, running my hand over his chest, enjoying the freedom of touching him as I wanted. "You thought this would be fast? I've got you until you fall asleep, Giles. You're mine until then, understand? Say it. Make me believe it. Then I want your mouth on my cock."

He met my eyes and waited long enough for his answer to be real. "I'm yours, Spike. All yours." Sincere, but just enough arrogance and challenge lurking under that to make this fun.

I lay back against the pillows, sprawled out and relaxed. As he watched I took my cock in one hand and worked it slowly. Utterly forbidden that, usually, and I smiled at him lazily. "Told you what I wanted you to do, Giles. Watching me wank wasn't it. Come here."

He crawled between my legs and waited. "Do I have to draw you a bloody diagram?" I tried to sound stern but I don't think I did a good job of it because he glanced up at me just before my cock slid into his mouth and his eyes were amused.

Let him get away with it and let him set his own pace too. I was planning what to do next. I knew what got him hot, but that was when he was in charge. This was different. Except maybe not, as I still wanted to make him happy. Just wanted to do it my way. Didn't want revenge; tomorrow morning would come soon enough and Giles had a good memory. He wouldn't make me pay for anything I did tonight - wouldn't be fair - but I wasn't keen on leaving him feeling creative when it came to restoring the balance.

I felt his tongue get rougher, long, dragging strokes against my cock, and then he bit down so that his teeth circled the base, digging in gently, and held it in place, flickering his tongue like a hummingbird's wings but not sucking at all. Maddening, it was, and I couldn't think, not when he was doing that....then I cottoned on to what he was doing.

"Giles. Stop arsing around and make me come. When I do is my decision right now, get it?"

True, coming after Giles had brought me to the edge and pulled me back a few times was the kind of experience that gives torture a good name, but I was willing to settle for something a bit more immediate rather than have him still trying to be the one calling the shots. Fuck. Going to have my work cut out for me here. Giles was being obedient, sucking hard, using his hands to cup my balls, letting the sensations build steadily and fast, but he was telling me, clear as day, that I was going to have to watch him.

I came, feeling Giles' hands on me, sure and strong, holding me steady as I closed my eyes and made the sounds that try so hard to be words and never quite make it. Felt him kissing my stomach, his head resting in the hollow of my hip, his palm against my thigh.

"Come up here," I said. I held him to me and kissed him, brushing against his lips, letting my tongue slide between them. We lay there, just kissing, his cock warm and hard against me and I was almost happy enough to just let it go at that. Almost. I think he'd have been disappointed if I had, though and I know I'd have regretted it come morning.

Gave him one last kiss, noticing that we both tasted exactly the same now, and pulled away.

"Giles. Something tells me I'm not getting your full cooperation here."

"I don't think that's quite fair," he said.

"I don't think you get to decide, pet." Felt his body stiffen at that. I'd called him `pet' once, not even thinking about it, and he'd lectured me for five very long minutes on acceptable forms of address (`Giles' seemed to be about my only option as far as I could make out) and then made me bend over and touch my toes while his leather soled slipper got applied to my backside. That brought back so many memories of school I'd had a sudden yearning for crumpets and honey.

"Go and pick up that crop you left lying on the floor. Bring it here."

He almost argued, but he's not stupid. Me, I'd have been reminding people about chips and trying to be distracting, but Giles just stared at me for a moment, with a question in his eyes, and then shrugged - which was going to fucking cost him - and did as I'd told him.

I held it, slapping it gently against my palm, feeling the weight of it. Then I smiled at Giles. "Lie down. On your..." I thought about it. On his back, I'd get to see his face; on his stomach, he wouldn't know what was going to happen. Choices, choices... "On your back. Hands by your side, palms up."

He looked fucking good lying there. Positioned by my word, vulnerable, open, cock so hard it was all I could do not to fist it until he came, with mercy so very low down on the list of motives. Instead I said, nice and soft, just the way he did to me, "Hold that position, Giles. You don't get a second chance."

His face seemed to shift then, as though for the first time he'd stopped playing and started behaving. Without being told, he spread his legs, just slightly, his hips lifting off the bed a bare inch in mute supplication. I gripped the crop hard enough for it to leave a mark on my palm and reminded myself of every time Giles had given me what I needed. I was beginning to see why he'd described this as hard work.

I raised the crop and brought it down, hearing it slice air and carve a path for itself. It was aimed to land across the top of Giles' thighs, and that's just where it hit - after I'd killed the speed at the last moment so that when it touched his skin, it was with a tap that wouldn't have cracked open the shell on an egg. Course, Giles didn't know that, and chip or no chip, when you've got something coming for your balls, you don't think twice. His hands came up and if he'd had chance, he'd have rolled out of the way too.

I sighed sadly, shaking my head. "Going to try that again, Giles. And again, until you do as you're told."

He was speechless for a second and then I saw the anger rise up in his eyes and he started to struggle up. Being careful but moving fast, I pushed him back, straddling him and pinning his hands above his head. "You're disappointing me, Giles. I expected better than this."

"Spike, you bastard, that was ..."

"What? Not fair? Don't even bother saying it, if that's all you've got."

Watched him struggle for control of his emotions and then he met my gaze and nodded in resignation. "Do it again."

"Oh, I will, count on it, but not just yet. What did I tell you about second chances, Giles?"

He didn't want to say it, but I waited and I got it from him eventually. "I don't get them."

"Right. Which means before we do that again, you pay for that bad behaviour."

I moved off him and sat cross-legged beside him. "Touch yourself, Giles. Want to see how you jerk off." He gave me a startled look. As close as we'd become, it was still something I'd never seen him do; not that I'd left him with any surplus energy. I could see him thinking that he could do it, it wasn't so bad, and after all, he was so near to the edge that it wouldn't take long, and he'd get to come...his hands went down, settling into place with no hesitation or fumbling, as familiar an action as cleaning his teeth. Or his bloody glasses. I let him get started and then spoke again. "And while you're doing that, tell me what you're thinking, Giles. Close your eyes. Tell me what you see."

"I ... can't." He sounded anguished but I gripped his wrists, stilling his hands.

"Close your fucking eyes. Good. When you do this, who are you thinking about? Who's in there with you?"

I felt the bones shift in my grip. He was getting away from self-conscious but not fast enough. I twisted around, bent down, and took the head of his cock in my mouth. One lick, one fierce, hard suck, and I pulled back. His eyes were open again and glazed, the way they get when your world's narrowed down to the need to come and if it ends three seconds later, so fucking what.

"Giles, you need to send a thank you card to the Initiative, because if it wasn't for this bloody chip, I'd be raising welts on your arse that'd take a week to fade. Shut your fucking eyes."

"I'm sorry, Spike. May I - may I say something?"

"If you make it fast." God, the sound of his voice, halting, almost hesitant...real, as nothing else he'd said had been since we started this.

"I wasn't expecting this. Wasn't expecting you to do more than fuck me. I wasn't ready. Can we just start again?"

I knelt beside him and cupped his face. "Forget this punishment, you mean? Let you off it?" Shook my head. "No, and do you know why? Because you'd never forgive me. Stop fighting me, Giles. It's not amusing me anymore. Give me what I want. Trust it to be what you need."

He turned so that he could kiss my hand, doing it slowly enough that I could have forbidden it if I'd wanted.

Then he closed his eyes and started to talk, his hands moving slowly, not trying to rush, and I sat back, watched and listened.

"It's not always you, you know. Not even always a man, though recently, well, when it's you, it's always the same; that time I came in to unchain you when you were staying here and you'd managed to get your zip down and your cock out. I shouted at you, called you every name under the sun, wouldn't feed you for hours...and I was so hard -"

I reached out and then hesitated. He hadn't stopped and his face was tense, a frown getting deeper. "I wanted - Spike, may I open my eyes? Please? I want to see you, I don't need -"

I'd thought I was making it easier for him. "Open them."

He did. Grey-green eyes. Sky and sea meeting; English sky and sea, of course...and I realised if his eyes were open he'd be able to see me, and I couldn't look away. Being able to look made his voice smooth out, still quiet, but powerful, intense. "Wouldn't let myself go off and do this. Scared you'd hear me and laugh, punishing myself for getting aroused by you...but when you were asleep, when I was sure, I couldn't help it. Lay there seeing you, imagining how you'd look spread out on this bed. Everything I've done to you, I've done first in my dreams, Spike. Hating you, angry with you sometimes, despising myself, but loving it all the more. I'd come with your voice echoing in my head, begging me to hurt you, begging for release." His hands paused and I could see he was close. "I don't do that now, Spike." He grinned wryly. "Don't do this much either; you tend to take care of me too well for it to be necessary, but sometimes- " His hand moved, as though his body was impatient and he gasped silently, driving his teeth into his lip. "Sometimes I do and it's never about hurting you now. It's the way you look when I'm in you. Should see yourself, Spike. Should see - oh God, yes!"

I was on him as he came, kissing him, taking in every word, feeling them feed me, fill me. His hands, sticky and wet, came up to hold me and I felt my face shift. He looked at me and begged, no other word for it, pure need and appeal. "Fuck me, Spike."

Looked at him, seeing him as the demon did, feeling the lust rise. "Like this?" I demanded.

He ran his finger over my mouth and thrust it inside. I felt the skin tear and the drops of blood well up. I waited for him to snatch it back but he didn't. My hand went around his wrist and I pulled, careful not to hurt him anymore. I held his hand and stared down at the gash, letting the blood trickle and drip.

"Spike?" He sounded hurt, confused and I couldn't stand it. Bent my head and licked it clean with three eager laps of my tongue, and then turned and grabbed a handful of tissues from the box beside the bed and held them in place until it had stopped bleeding.

"I don't understand. If I offer it, it doesn't hurt you, does it?"

"No. Just don't want to think of you that way, Giles. Not as food. Just as you." I grinned down at him. "This your way of distracting me? Picked up some of my tricks?"

The worry vanished from his face. "If you think you ever succeed in your attempts to avoid well-deserved punishment, Spike, you can think again."

I reached out and found the crop. "Fine. Neither will you." I ran the crop across his leg, watched him shiver. "You're out of position, Giles."

I used that crop on him for a long time, flicking the skin, stroking it, teasing his cock and balls until he was hard again and then not going near them after that. Had him on his back, on his stomach, kneeling up with it across his throat as I knelt behind him, making him twist his head around so his lips were there for me to kiss, on all fours as I posed him, made him hold a position until his body was trembling and his eyes were wild because the crop wouldn't let him be, wouldn't leave him alone...

I laid the crop aside eventually and looked down at Giles. His eyes were open but he wasn't focusing on anything. When I touched him, laying the flat of my hand against his face, about the only part of him I'd avoided, I felt his skin quiver as he unclenched his teeth.

"You did well, Giles," I said, pitching my voice low, though the room was so quiet it sounded loud. "Never flinched, not once, never moved. Proud of you."

His eyes closed for a moment and when they opened, he was there again. I nodded. "You can move now and talk, if you want. Take a minute, yeah?"

If he'd rolled away from me, I'd have broken right then, would have known I'd failed him. But he didn't. He came to me, curling into me, wrapping his arms around me. He was taller, heavier but lying down it didn't matter. Kissed him and held him, running my hand over his back, warm and damp, his skin alive, humming with sensation.

He hadn't come and I hadn't let him. I was done playing now. I wanted him.

"Giles? Look at me. It's getting late. You're tired. Going to fuck you to sleep, right?"

"Why does the thought of you in me not make me feel remotely sleepy?"

"Because thoughts and cocks are two different things altogether, Giles."

Cracked him up. He stared at me and started to laugh, his head going back. Wouldn't stop giggling, so I shut him up by pushing him onto his stomach and running my hand over his arse. When he felt my finger press against his opening, he went quiet.

"Tell me, Giles," I said, reaching over for the lube and noticing with relief, that it was nearly full, "how long has it been since you did this?"

Drizzled lube over him, holding his cheeks apart with one hand. That got a flinch from him as the cool wetness hit his skin. He felt warm, fever -hot and I didn't know whether to curse the chip because I wanted to fuck him till he saw stars, or be glad that it would make sure I didn't hurt him. Not that a bit of pain's always a bad thing ...and if the fucking thing couldn't tell that anything I did, I was doing for him...oh bollocks.

"Giles? How long?" Slid one finger in. Tight and he was tensing up...

"Long time," he said. He wasn't relaxing enough. Fuck. I bent forward, keeping my hand where it was, and kissed him as far up his back as I could reach, long, soft kisses, running my tongue over his skin, tasting the salt, whispering to him, telling him what I was going to do, how he looked, how he felt, how he tasted.

"Going to move in you so slowly, Giles, until I'm in you and there's nothing outside, nothing left out. Think I could come just from that, just from sliding inside you and feeling your heat around me, feeling you squeeze me, but I won't. I'll pull out, and you'll make that noise, the one I make, even though I know you'll be back in me in a second, even though you never pull out altogether. Going to have to go fast too. Want to slam into you, Giles. You'll need that, you want that edge, that power, just the way I do, want to feel it build and crash over you, take you under until everything's gone but the darkness and my cock in you, always in you. So relax, Giles; that's it. Let me fuck you. Trust me. I want you. Won't hurt you. Don't let me hurt you, Giles."

That last bit - I was warning him but I didn't need to. The chip would slap my wrist before Giles could speak, but some part of me needed to tell him and to make sure he was on guard.

Felt the tension subside and added a second finger, moving so slowly, so carefully that I was trembling. I was as turned on as he was and the demon was screaming at me to take him, tear him open, feed. At times like that, I could feel the control slipping and I wondered what would happen when I was in him. He'd kept me safe; made me safe; he wouldn't be able to do that now.

"Spike?" He murmured it so low, I could hardly hear him. "Trust you. Always have since you saved me."

I slid into him a moment later and felt him help me, felt him move and tilt his hips, watched his hands fist the quilt and heard the sounds he made as I moved inside him.

It couldn't last long, not the way we both felt, but I got to go slow and I got to make him beg for me to fuck him hard, harder, please, with the last word a howl of anguished need that pierced me the way a stake will one day, sending me out of my body and somewhere new. Felt myself start to come, that tightening, that pause just before it's all too much and your body isn't yours to control anymore. Managed to slide my hand under him and felt his cock leap and shoot as soon as I touched it, as if he'd been waiting for me, waiting for permission.

I remember lying there with him, afterwards, cleaned up, because we needed to, just talking. There had to be something, a bridge between what we'd done and what we'd do tomorrow and that was it. Didn't talk about our feelings, or even what we'd just done, though I don't recall a moment when he stopped touching me with his hand or his mouth, almost as if he was scared I'd vanish. Felt the same way. Relaxed, sure; could still feel the warmth I got when I came, same as the way it felt when I fed...but a little shy maybe.

The talking stopped after a while. Started kissing instead, feeling it build up, feeling that sharp pull of need. Didn't need words, didn't need to bargain; Giles moved on top of me and we fucked, face to face, no orders, no constraints, just us.

Felt good. Not for always, no; too soon. Maybe someday we could be like this and it would work. Didn't know - but right then, it felt good and that was enough.

***

He woke me the next morning, just before he left to go to the shop. I squinted up at him; shaved and fresh, shirt and tie, ironed and pressed and remembered how it'd felt when that body was naked under mine, how that cool voice had shattered as he screamed my name, just as I'd wanted him to. He'd given me everything and he'd fallen asleep with me holding him. I could still taste his blood, was lying in sheets that smelled of come and sweat. He didn't, not now. Soap and toothpaste and coffee. Morning scents.

"I'm leaving now, Spike. You may rest a while longer, but I expect you at the shop as soon as the sunset permits." His gaze wandered over me, speculative and amused. "Last night was interesting, but -"

"Back to normal today."

"Quite." He grinned suddenly. "At least I know what to give you for your birthday. When is that, by the way?"

I thought about it. "What's the date today?"

"The seventh of July."

Grinned back. "Must have been the sixth then."

He frowned. "You don't want-?"

Shook my head. "Do want to try that again, just ...not for a while. Christmas, maybe?"

He looked at me and nodded. "Save me wrapping something up, anyway," he muttered.

I smirked. "Don't count on that, Giles."

His eyes narrowed and his hand went to his tie, loosening it. "You're going to be late, Giles," I warned, as his jacket landed on a chair.

"I'm not going anywhere until you swear you won't attach ribbons, bows, tinsel or mistletoe to any part of my anatomy."

Sighed regretfully. "You'll have to make me."

His eyebrow arched. "That's why I love you."

He made me. That's why I love him. And when I thought about him saying that, telling me for the first time, I realised he'd been saying it since the start.

***

Giles stirred beside me in the crypt and I looked across at him. Six months...been some changes but no regrets. He brushed his hand across mine and then we began to get dressed.

"Ready to go back home?"

"If you are. Seemed quiet out there, so I think we can skip any more patrolling. Nothing you need from here?"

I glanced around and shrugged. "No; I'm ready." We walked to the door and I stopped him. "Giles?"

He turned his head. "Yes, Spike?"

"I love you."

He blinked and looked at me. "You've never said it quite like that before," he said softly. "Those exact words."

"Tell me? Please?"

He brought his hand to my lips, running his fingers over them and then slipping his hand behind my neck and pulling me to him. "I love you."

No regrets.

***

I watched Giles sleep, a few weeks later, chewing my lip, trying to make up my mind. Giles had rules about when he was to be woken and how; never before the alarm, unless I wanted him in a bad mood, and if it was after, and I'd let him sleep in, I had to make being late for work worthwhile. I guessed, this being Christmas, he'd let me off waking him early, especially if I made the how as good as I could. He'd ended up sleeping facing away from me, sprawled out on his stomach. I eased the covers off him, studying the bruises left three nights ago when a demon slammed him hard against a wall, and pulled them down even further until his arse was bare. No marks on that, though I'd have given a lot to have been able to leave some. He made a sleepy, grumbling noise as the cool air tickled him and I grinned. Awake. If he'd really still been asleep he'd have - a hand lashed out and grabbed me by the wrist and he spoke without opening his eyes or turning his head.

"It's the middle of the night, Spike. If the house isn't burning, your backside will be."

"And happy fucking Christmas to you, too." I said.

The grip on my wrist tightened. "Rules don't apply today? Is that it?"

"You tell me."

He rolled over, blinking his eyes and grinning up at me, looking sharp and edgy and fucking sexy. "Some do."

Slid his hand behind my head and pulled me to him for a kiss, making it hard and making it sweet. The kiss ended and I started to move, wanting to show him what I could do when I put my mind to it. Stopped me, giving me one last kiss, nipping my lip with his teeth. "Lie back and think of England, Spike. Or don't you want your first present?"

Caught me by surprise, and I let him push me to my back and move down my body, his mouth eager and warm, getting to where he wanted to be but taking the long way around. His mouth closed around my cock and I just managed to ask: "Are they all going to be like this?" Couldn't talk after that. Not with his tongue swirling around and my cock hitting the back of his throat every time his head moved down on it. It wasn't that he never did this to me, but not like this. He did it his way; staying in control and making me stay that way too. Now it felt more as if he was just giving me the chance to decide how it happened.

Felt him chuckle, which made his teeth scrape down the sides of my shaft. Too good to bear, and I reached down and put my hands on his head, holding it still as I rocked my hips slowly, fucking his mouth nice and easy, wishing I could reach more of him. He'd taught me to be patient over the months and I didn't rush and he didn't try to make me. I felt his face flush hot between my hands and spread my legs wider. "Use your hands, Giles" I whispered. His hand cupped my balls, rolling them and tugging gently and I felt them tighten. Then his finger slipped back and nudged against me, slipping inside just a little and I stopped caring about patience.

After I came, after the darkness got starry and he took every drop, I said, "You didn't forget about us changing places sometime then."

I hadn't been ready for that in the summer. Not ready for moving past what we had when it was working and I could see him getting back that certainty that let him deal with everything that came at him and stay Giles, stay whole. Not ready to risk losing what we had. I'd gambled away money and never cared what side the die landed on, or what picture smirked up from a flipped card, but I wasn't risking losing Giles. Fuck. I'd be warming his slippers by the fire at this rate...

He nodded. "You said, `Not now; maybe at Christmas'. I decided that would do nicely."

I ran a hand over his chest as he lay beside me. "So you're mine for the day?"

Felt him smile even though I don't know how I knew. "Yes and no."

"Huh?"

"I am, but I suspect you might be hampered by our visitors?"

I stared at him. "Oh, fuck, Giles. That's just cruel. Can't we do this tomorrow instead? Once they turn up, it'll be hands off, right?"

"No. Has to be today. I've got plans for tomorrow."

"What?"

"You'll find out."

He looked solemn but he was holding back a grin. I snorted. "Fine. I'll get it out of you another way." Wrapped my hand around him and started to move, loving the way he arched up into my fist. Stopped about three seconds in. "What's going on?"

"Don't stop," he said. Pause. "Please?"

When Giles is meek, I know I can't trust him. Never. I growled and jerked him off so hard the chip sparked faintly in a warning. Pity. He was making some lovely noises, whimpers and moans, chanting my name... slid down and used my mouth on him instead, finishing him off, feeling him flood my mouth as he came hard, heels pushing down against the mattress, fingers curled into my shoulders deep enough to mark me.

We lay still for a while, and I listened to his hammering heart slow down and steady and forgot about tomorrow, plans and visitors. Our eyes met and we grinned at each other. Still early, but it was one of the best Christmases I'd had in more years than Giles had fingers and toes.

He flicked on the bedside light and squinted at the clock. "Nearly nine," he said. "Not so early, after all."

He reached into the drawer in the table by the bed and pulled something out. A flat box in a dark wood, unwrapped. He hesitated and then placed it between us.

"What is it?" I asked, feeling the uncertainty coming off him. Giles didn't do uncertain, not with me.

He looked at me. "You might not want this. It's not something I'd force on you but we're coming to the end of our arrangement, aren't we?"

I stared at him, trying not to react. Giles wouldn't tell me he wanted me gone, not like this, but what the fuck was he - oh.

"It's been almost six months?"

"More or less."

I thought back to the night in the crypt when I'd challenged him, kept him with me - with us, and the way I'd set it up.

"I bet in six months I can make you want to live again. If I lose, I'll help you die; even fix it so you can go out against a real big nasty and I'll lie to them all so they won't know you did it on purpose."

So, if the time was almost up, well, I knew he didn't want to die, but where did that leave me? He'd told me he loved me but I'd heard that before from people who'd walked away from me.

The warmth of the bed and his body beside me wasn't enough to stop the chill from spreading. "Got to know, Giles. You sending me away? You want this to end?"

His eyes went wide with astonishment. "I must be remarkably poor at showing my emotions, if that's the impression I've given you," he said.

Smiled at him, still feeling as if I'd been drenched in ice-water. "Then this is either my own door key..."

"No."

"Or a collar."

Don't know where that guess came from, but it stopped being a guess as soon as I saw his reaction. I watched his hand tighten around the box for a moment then he flipped open the lid and I looked at the black curve of leather and the dull gleam of a silver buckle.

"Why did you get me this, Giles?"

He tilted his head and looked at me. "Because you're mine, Spike. I wanted you to have something tangible to remind you of that. I don't expect or even want you to wear it in public, but even if you choose not to wear it, if that's taking this further than you want, I'm still going to fuck you once with it around your neck, Spike. Because that's been all I've been thinking about since I got it, to be honest." He let one finger slide across my throat, the rough skin on the finger tip from playing the guitar, catching and dragging, making me lift my chin, inviting more. His whole hand closed around my neck, holding me without force, and I closed my eyes until it slipped away.

Then I picked up the box and took out the collar, feeling the leather, supple and strong. It was smooth against my hand, heavier than it looked, and I still couldn't speak, couldn't say anything. This was Giles telling me that it wasn't going to end, telling me that he wanted me and I was lost. If he'd sent me away, told me he could manage without me now, I could have been angry, hurt but I'd have known how to deal with that. Nothing new about feeling rejected. Everything new about being wanted.

Giles sighed. "Or maybe I'm not. Forgive -"

"Shut up, Giles." The words came out, hurting my throat because it was closing up with tears I wasn't going to let him see, and they had to fight past them to be heard. "You don't say that, ever. Not when you're telling me you want me. You want to fuck me when I'm wearing your collar? Do you know how that makes me feel?"

He shook his head and I was on him, pushing him back, my hands slamming down beside his head. "Owned, Giles. It makes me feel fucking owned." I ghosted a kiss against his lips even as I thrust forward, rubbing my cock against the groove between his hip and stomach. "Does this feel like I hate that idea?" Carried on with the whispered kisses and hard, sliding thrusts of my cock until he was moving his head, trying to get to my mouth. I let him, biting down as much as I was allowed. "Does it, Giles?"

"No," he whispered. He kissed me then, one hand around my back, the other busy, reaching for the bottle of lube, slicking up his fingers one-handed. I felt cool fingers against me, oiled and slippery, and cried out as his hands pulled me open and slicked fingers slid deep. Then he held his cock steady and guided me so that it was resting against me in a moment that seemed never ending as the pressure built. He slid inside me slowly, inch by inch. I didn't want it slow, not then. He pushed up into me again, just as I slammed down and the pain was swallowed in the pleasure, feeding it like kindling feeds a flame and we were moving together.

The collar was lost in the covers but it didn't matter. I didn't think Giles would make it into a ceremony when he put it on me - not his style at all - and neither of us was in any state to be fussing with buckles. Then my hand brushed against it and I came, howling, at the touch of the leather and felt Giles writhe under me as he followed me.

I lay against him, feeling his arms holding me, not letting go. After a while he said, "I didn't mean for you to feel owned, precisely, you know."

I leaned up on my elbow and looked down at him, reaching out to stroke his face, making it gentle. "No? What then?" Didn't matter. I knew how I felt.

He turned his face into my hand and kissed it. His mouth was warm, lingering against my palm and then he moved his head enough to murmur, "Loved."

The moment hung, as fragile as a glass ornament on a tree, and then the alarm went off.

"What did you set it for?" I grumbled, almost grateful that we'd moved past the emotion. "Even Anya can't expect you to open the shop today before you cook her Christmas pudding for her."

"Because I had a feeling that this would happen," he answered. "Us in bed, not wanting to get out of it; five people about to arrive, laden with presents and expecting dinner at some point before the sun sets. I've got a turkey to cook." He rolled out of bed and reached for his robe.

I knew why they were coming and why he wouldn't let me persuade them not to; first Christmas after Buffy's death, too many memories, have it at Giles' instead; understood it just fine. Still hated it happening. Giles was looking at me, resigned, a little bit of the gilt rubbed off his gingerbread. Oh, fuck it.

I went over to him, kissed him hard. "Where's a blizzard when you need one? If I can't do this much when they arrive, expect me to make the most of you now."

He kissed me back, taking his time. "If you're not too full to do more than sleep, they'll be leaving well before bed time, I'm sure."

"Harris won't leave while there's still an After Eight in the box," I predicted. "So, how much time do we have?"

"I told them to come around eleven. Thought we could have breakfast in bed but ..."

"I think we did," I said, getting the eye roll I expected. "You have the first shower. I'll...I dunno. What do you do with a fucking, frozen hunk of meat anyway?"

"It's not frozen anymore and you do what I did before I came upstairs last night. It's all ready; just needs taking out of the ..." He paused and looked at me doubtfully. "You have the first shower," he decided. "I'll start it off. How are you at peeling potatoes?"

"Terrible."

"Good. You'll have an ideal opportunity to practice. I want mashed and roasted so we'll need plenty."

"Giles..."

"Yes?"

"Don't you want your present?"

He paused, letting the hurry and stress drop away, and smiled at me. "You have a - I wasn't expecting you to - well."

Loved seeing him like that, all pleased and confused. "It's not much. Tell you what; let's get ready first and -" He glared at me, folding his arms, and I grinned. "Were you like this when you were little? All impatient?"

He reached for me, hands sliding down my back, bending his head and biting at my shoulder, just where he knows I like it, just hard enough to hurt. "I've learned to wait." Not wrong there. "Doesn't mean I will."

Took a gamble. "Oh, you will." I took a fistful of hair and pulled his head up, then craned my neck to look at the marks his teeth had left. "You can kiss that better, for a start." His eyes widened as if he hadn't really expected me to take over his role for real, but he shifted his shoulders in the smallest of shrugs and kissed me obediently. After that, he arched his neck as if he expected my hand to fall away. It didn't. "And I think, as time's running short, we'll shower together." He looked as if he was going to argue; there wasn't really enough room for both of us in there, but I laid a finger over his lips and shook my head. "No more arguing, Giles. We'll be ready for them when they come, and you'll get your present before they do, but for now? You're mine."

Waited, letting my face look calm, not allowing the possibility that he would disobey to cross my mind.

"Yes, Spike."

I let go of him and kissed him lightly, approvingly. Then I undid his belt, walked behind him and pulled his robe off. Felt soft in my hands, warm from his body and I wondered if he knew how often I curled up with it in my arms when he'd gone to work, needing it to let me go back to sleep. I put it on and told him to fasten the belt, enjoying seeing his fingers fumble with the knot. It was a little big on me and I had to roll up the sleeves.

"Walk down the stairs in front of me. Slowly."

He shuddered and his head dropped just a little. Didn't need to look to know how hard he was. I'd felt it happen when I stripped him and I knew he was imagining the view I'd have in a moment. So was I. Could keep him naked all day and never get tired of looking at him, of touching him, light, soft, little touches when he was blindfolded until a feather felt like a strap, until the scrape of a fingernail was cause for crying out in shock.

Would have too. Would have done so fucking much to him and with him. Would have made this - ah, hell with it. He wanted turkey, he'd get it. Eventually. There was just enough time; wasn't like they'd starve if they ate an hour later...

"Off you go, then."

He set off in silence and I let him get half way down the stairs before I halted him, resting a finger on his shoulder. "Are you forgetting that I told you to go slowly, Giles?"

"No. I was going -"

My hand was over his mouth before he finished. "Because it's a special day, you get another chance. One. Try again." I let my hand drop and waited.

"I'm sorry."

"That's not answering my question."

"No, I didn't forget, Spike."

"I didn't think you had. Not really had time to, have you? So that means you were disobeying me. Turn around."

He did and his face...did I look like that when I was obeying him and trying to be perfect, then finding out it hadn't been enough? How the hell did he manage to fuck me after the punishment and not right then and there? I stepped back up one stair and then another and crooked my finger. He was fighting this, getting overwhelmed by it in a way I hadn't expected. Easy to say I was in charge but last time had been different; he'd been feeling guilty as hell and it was a good way of calming him down. I decided, slightly regretfully, that we'd have to stop this changing places. All or nothing. He couldn't give me a collar one minute and then have me giving orders the next. Too confusing. Then I looked at him and knew I wasn't going to tell him that right away. Not when he was giving me so much of himself. He'd lost his control and it was showing in his face, making him look younger. And even if he was being obedient he still looked unpredictable. Loved that about him. Like playing with a kitten and finding out it was a tiger cub when it clawed you deep. Safe wasn't something I had a lot of use for and Giles was never all that safe. I trusted him but I never made the mistake of thinking he was tame.

"Penalty, Giles. You're going to have to start again. Up you go." I moved to the side, so that he had to brush past me, and slapped his backside as he went past. I knew him; I could smack him soft enough not to trigger the chip and he'd still react as if I'd laid a cane across his arse. Grinned when his fists clenched and did it again. He walked to the top, turned and walked down to me, taking it slowly, watching my face and waiting for the signal that he could move down a step. When he was standing beside me again I kissed him, murmuring, "Don't move," just before my mouth closed over his. Kissed him while he stood still, resisted the urge to feel his cock in my hand and then wondered why and let my hand drift down. His stomach muscles jumped as my fingers tickled and teased but not enough for it to count as moving. Then his tongue slid into my mouth, darting and desperate, as I took hold of him, feeling him fight not to drive his hips forward. Now that counted.

I let go of him and sighed regretfully. "Not moving means all of you, Giles." I ran a finger over the head of his cock. Wet enough to coat my finger, but it wouldn't have mattered if it hadn't been; like the slap, this was symbolic. I held the finger out and told him to lick it clean; making him keep his head in place so he could only use the tip of his outstretched tongue. He was breathing hard by the time I said he could stop, face hot and so fucking ready ...wanted him more than I ever had, wanted to be off these stairs, with him bent over that couch, his hands where mine had worn holes, waiting for me to fuck him. Life really should be that simple.

"Walk. Slowly."

He lifted his chin, catching his breath, and then moved past me and down. When he stepped onto the floor he paused and looked up at me, waiting for instructions.

"If I kissed you, do you think we'd make it to the shower?"

He considered it. "Eventually."

"Yeah. No kissing. Shower, teeth, all the rest of it...clothes, food...we don't have time to kiss. Fuck. OK, time out and we'll forget showering together."

I shrugged out of the robe and held it out to him. "I'll be fast. Promise."

He pulled it on, taking his time, and turned towards the kitchen. I went past him and his hand halted me.

"Giles? Thought we decided..."

"That you have no self control? I knew that already. I, on the other hand, can kiss you - which will take thirty seconds at most - and let you carry on to the shower with no more time wasted."

"Oh, you can, can you? Go on then."

Infuriating, that grin he gets. He moved in, stopped with his mouth a bare inch away from mine and then dropped down and took my cock in his hand. "Start counting to thirty, Spike."

Well, if he was going to cheat... "Just kisses, Giles. And if you can't make me -"

"You're wasting time."

His first kiss was on the head of my cock, tongue darting out to lap at it, then pulling back, teasing and tormenting so I forgot what came after 'one'.

But after 'twenty' I didn't need to count anymore.

***

By the time the guests turned up we were dressed, the turkey was cooking, and Giles was peeling and chopping away at assorted vegetables I wasn't planning on eating.

I'd offered to help earlier on, before they arrived, but there wasn't much room in there and he'd quirked his eyebrow and told me to get out the good wine glasses instead. Told me. Because I'd waited until we were both ready for visitors and then told him that I'd finished playing with one of my presents and as far as I was concerned he could take it back to the shop, so to speak. He'd turned to look at me and I'm not sure if he was relieved or disappointed. Didn't matter. I wasn't budging on this.

"I said you could have the whole day," he pointed out. "You're sure?"

I kept my distance. I had a feeling that today I'd only have to get within arms reach of him to be wanting him, no matter how often we'd fucked, and I wanted to tell him this without interruptions. He had that little smile on his face, the one that barely lifts the corners of his mouth but changes his expression as dramatically as a grin. OK, maybe I shouldn't look at him either...

"Giles, it's not that I don't get off on you down on your knees for me." Could have phrased that better. His eyes went green, the way they did when he was concentrating on me, just me, and I stepped towards him before I could stop myself. "Fuck. Don't look like that."

"Like what?" He sounded interested and his voice was level but I could feel him react as if I was inside his skin. He wasn't hard again; too soon since the last time, but he was aroused, as much as he had been on the stairs a while earlier. I watched his hands, not his face. He could keep that expressionless without trying, but his hands gave him away. His fingers were curling closed, the nails digging into his palms and as he saw my eyes shift to them, he spread them flat and pressed them against the counter top he was leaning on. Then they curled and gripped tightly again.

"You know," I said, folding my arms to keep myself still.

"Spike, we've got a lot to do and no time for games. If you've got something to tell me, I suggest you -"

I cut him off. He'd made that sound bored, slightly impatient, but I'd long since figured out how fake that tone of voice was. He used it to goad me or to hide behind. He used it to make me think he was angry. Now? Hiding.

"Giles, face it. You're not set up for submitting, not to me, not to anyone. Listen to you; even before I told you I wanted to stop this, you were telling me you wanted side plates, making me refold the bloody napkins in triangles not squares. You were supposed to be obeying me, remember? Not just when you're being fucked; well, it never is for me. You want me to be honest here?"

His eyes glinted. "Anything else has never been an option for you under this roof."

"See? Listen to you! Giles, it won't work. Not for a day, not for an hour longer and I don't fucking want it. Not...right this way. Doesn't feel right."

"We can stop, Spike," he said, his voice soft now. "I hadn't realised how difficult it would be to swap places like this. I thought I could -" He stopped, shook his head ruefully and met my eyes. "I've spent so much of my life being told what to do, that you'd think I'd be used to it by now, but I'm not. The only way I can be persuaded to play along -"

"Not playing here. And I know what does it, Giles. Guilt. State you were in when this started, six months ago, I could have had you agreeing to obey me easily enough. Could have broken you, too, if I'd wanted that. Once I'd got you under me...oh, you'd have been sweet, you really would. But I didn't, did I?"

"No, you didn't," he agreed. His arms were folded now and he was tense, watching me carefully.

"That's because I'm not stupid."

"Did I ever say you were?"

I glared at him. "Well, yes. Often. Want details?"

"Spare me. So you don't think I housebreak well?"

Had to grin at that image. "Giles, I might have been able to break you when you were so fucking low you were ready to top yourself, no pun intended, but once you'd snapped out of it? No way."

He smiled at that, looking almost flustered. "That's - well, I'm flattered."

"By me telling you you're a stubborn git?" I sighed. "It wasn't exactly a compliment, you know."

"Coming from you, I rather think it was."

Like most of our meaningful discussions, this one had died a death. Didn't matter. I'd got Giles and me back where we belonged for now and it was getting late. I turned away, heading back to the table, wondering just how I could end up sitting close enough to Giles to be able to touch him and knowing I couldn't because he'd expect me to sit at the foot, opposite him. He said my name and I glanced back.

"Spike? My present...? It isn't something I shouldn't open in front of the others, is it?" He sounded casual but I could see him fretting, just a little.

I grinned. "Going to make you wait even longer, just for that."

He frowned and muttered something under his breath that I pretended not to hear and then said idly, "The collar wasn't the only present I had with your name on it, you know."

"It didn't have my name on it," I pointed out, keeping a smile off my face very carefully.

"Are you trying to change the subject? Or just in dire need of a spanking?"

I grinned then. "Hold that thought, Giles. I hear footsteps."

"God, it's like living with a guard dog sometimes."

"Except I can't bite," I said, opening the door. Giles joined me, taking advantage of the crush to smack my backside in passing, and started in on the usual greetings no one listens to or answers. I stepped back and watched the room fill up with noise and excitement. Not sure how much of it was real and how much for Dawn's sake, but she was beaming happily and shaking her hair back to show off sparkling earrings from Willow and that seemed genuine enough, though I could tell she'd been crying at some point.

Then someone spotted where Xander was standing. Right under the mistletoe. I'd snuck a bit from the shop just before Christmas. I didn't have to of course; Giles would have given it to me if I'd asked, but I couldn't believe how much Anya was selling it for. In England you could buy a big bunch of it, fresh and sticky, for a quid or two; she wanted triple that for a sprig of the stuff. Ripoff, so I stole some on principle and got Giles when he came home that night, kissing him before he had chance to say `hello' and not stopping until the only thing he had to say when I stopped was, "Upstairs. Now." Got to love traditions. He still spanked me for nicking it though, which definitely came under the heading of 'acceptable risk'. Or 'bonus'.

Xander tried to move but he got hit by a wave of girls, all over him until he was grinning like a fool. Then they remembered Giles and flocked to the kitchen, ignoring him when he pointed out that he wasn't under the mistletoe, so technically - then Anya grabbed him and I looked away before Giles caught me laughing at his expression of polite terror. Xander was standing still and I started to walk over to him, thinking I'd be a good host and dump the coats upstairs, out of the way. Then I stopped moving. He was looking at me, and as soon as he had my attention he glanced up at the mistletoe and then raised an eyebrow.

Fuck. It threw me and he saw it, giving me a smile that wasn't nasty exactly; think we'd gone past mutual loathing, but it wasn't friendly either. Git was challenging me. Huh. He'd have to do better than that. One kiss? Not a problem my end, though he wasn't my type. Took one step forward, planning on wiping the grin off his face and making him blush, and then hesitated. Giles wouldn't like it. Not Xander. That was all it took to make the whole pissing contest a waste of time. I shook my head, just a fraction, and watched him sneer faintly. Then he bit his lip and Giles' hand came down on my shoulder, squeezing it firmly. We stood there, side by side, with the chatter of the girls in the kitchen insulating us, locking the three of us inside a quiet space, cold and still, and Xander stared at us, still chewing on his lip, looking as if he was one breath away from growling.

God, that boy was more trouble than all of them put together. Giles let me go and walked over to him. Four steps, and Xander's face was all I could see, but it went from hackles raised to puppy- eyed fawning and I bet Giles' face hadn't changed at all. Giles rested his hand on Xander's shoulder and brought his other hand up, pulling Xander to him for a quick hug. "Happy Christmas, Xander," he said.

I went back to setting the table. If Giles kissed him, I didn't want to watch, and if Xander started sniveling I'd kick him out myself. Dawn was behaving herself and he could too.

The background noise of the girls getting drinks died away and I looked over at the kitchen to find them staring at me, four women, four identical looks of appraisal on their faces. Giles and Xander were talking, nice and normal, Giles complaining that one of the windows was sticking, Xander offering to sand it down sometime or something - all good stuff not likely to lead to drama even if it was a bit obvious. So, if they weren't picking up on the tension, and I don't think they'd noticed anything, why were they staring - oh, fuck.

"Vampires don't do Christmas," I said firmly. "It's against the rules. Besides, I'm nowhere near the mistletoe." Not that that had saved Giles.

Willow grinned and murmured a few words and looked up, smiling, at a ceiling covered with green and white. Tara sighed and then shook her head indulgently. "You will take it away again, won't you?"

"Eventually," Willow said pertly. Tara pursed up her lips and tried to look stern. Needed some lessons from Giles; that wouldn't have scared a two year old.

Willow came over to me and kissed me before I had chance to run. Warm little armful, but I could feel the power crackling off her and it unsettled me a little. Tara followed her and kissed my cheek, hugging me as if she wanted to, then Anya grabbed me and made the most of it until I expected Xander to come over and drag her off. She still tasted of Giles and that wasn't helping to calm me down. Dawn made it all better, looking up at me with that sweet little smile she has and trying to make her mind up what to do. Saved her the trouble; I put my hands on her shoulders, said, "Merry Christmas, Little Bit," and brushed her forehead with a kiss.

She stared up at me, pulled a face and grabbed me, planting a kiss full on my mouth and hugging me hard. "You're so old fashioned sometimes, Spike."

"Well, yeah. Comes of being born before your great grandmother, I suppose."

I was feeling happy. Hadn't wanted them all here but now they were - then I felt a tap on my arm and turned around to see Giles looking at me. "Is there some reason I don't get a kiss?" he said.

I glanced around. Anya and Xander and Tara and Willow were taking advantage of the magical mistletoe, which was slowly fading away, and Dawn had found the bowl of chips and was getting crumbs everywhere. "Can't think of one."

Giles kissed me, arms around me, a proper kiss but not making a production out of it, and I reached up to touch his face as he pulled back, smiling.

Looked around to see everyone was watching us and looking fucking sappy if they weren't Xander. He was staring at the floor. They'd all mellowed the last few months but it took Christmas to get that look in their eyes. Or maybe Giles had put rum in the eggnog after all.

"You two," Dawn said. "You're so big with the smoochies. It's gross at your age. Do we open the presents now?"

***

Wasn't a bad day, all things considered, but I was glad when they left around eleven, Dawn protesting that she wasn't tired even though her eyes were shadowed. She'd cried a bit, not much, when she'd finished opening her presents, looking at the heap of stuff as if she was expecting one more...but she'd not made it into a big deal. Felt proud of her.

Then the door closed and it was just Giles and me.

"That went well," he said, pouring out the last of the wine into his glass and raising it to me in a toast.

I stared at the dishes heaped up in the kitchen. "I'll agree if you tell me we can tidy up tomorrow."

He smiled. "Just this once." He raised the glass and studied it, looking casual. "Er, Spike?"

"Yeah?"

"It's customary to exchange gifts on the day itself, you know."

"Only in modern times," I pointed out. "When I was a boy -" He just looked at me and I sighed. "You're never satisfied, are you? Got all those socks and you're after more?"

"Not really."

I went to him and knelt down beside the couch in front of him. He cocked his head and looked at me. "No thank you; I already have a Spike."

"Funny man."

I reached under the couch and hauled out his present and passed it to him. His eyes widened. "You hid it there? I looked - well, that is, I - "

"Giles, I'm shocked."

"Really?"

I pursed my lips. "Little bit."

He moved forward and I put my hands on his thighs, liking that I could touch him now after hours of being careful not to, not to push it past that one kiss earlier, no matter how well that had gone over with the others.

"Poor, disillusioned Spike," he murmured. "I shall have to make it up to you; restore your faith in my utter lack of interest in all things material." He reached for his present. "In a moment or two, anyway."

I sat back on my heels to watch him open it and he paused, frowned and reached out for me, pulling me up beside him. I'd used the gift wrap from the shop, fending off Anya when she tried to help and growling at her when she'd fussed about ribbons and bows. Might not be able to make it look fancy but even I could wrap a flat square. Giles tore the paper away and stared down in silence.

"I looked through your records when you were at work. Worked out your favourites, what was missing or scratched to hell...sent off for these and got them delivered to the shop. Anya knew. Helped me get them. Would've got more but -" I touched his arm. "Say something. Oh, wait." I reached out and took his glasses off carefully and polished them on my shirt. "There you go. Saved you the trouble."

He took them from my hand and put them and the records on the table beside the couch.

"Thank you, Spike." He looked at me. "I'm - a little lost for words."

"Doesn't matter. You like them, yeah?"

He nodded without taking his eyes off me.

"Want to play one? See how it sounds?"

He hesitated and then grinned, running his hand over my chest and down. "I was about to be very ungrateful and say 'no' because I've been patient enough, don't you think?" His fingers found my cock, hard, as it had been since the door closed, and touched it lightly. "It occurs to me though, that in the time it takes for me to put one of them on, you can strip and be waiting for me. No time wasted and I get to fuck you to music. Very civilised."

"You'll still need to get undressed though," I pointed out.

"That won't take long," Giles said. "You can wait."

Looked him over - trousers, sweater, socks and shorts - shrugged. "Suppose so."

Three tracks and one side later and though everything else was in a heap on the floor, he still had the sweater on, the sleeves shoved up, the wool tickling me when he moved against me, kissing me in patterns, touching me everywhere. I'd come, shouting out his name as he smiled down at me, eyes fierce and triumphant, but he hadn't, not yet. Trying to prove something, I suppose. Fine, but I wanted him in me, deep inside me. He slipped to the floor, leaning back against the couch I was lying on, his chest rising and falling as he breathed in deeply.

"You look hot, Giles."

He lifted up his head and smiled. "Thank you."

"Not like that - well -" I looked down at him; long legs sprawled out, cock hard and ready, that fucking sweater rucked up and his arms and throat bare. "Yes, like that, but -"

"You could just say, 'Take off your sweater, Giles, stop arsing around and fuck me.'"

I laughed at his innocent expression. He'd done that before, just playing around and leading me to my doom, but I wasn't falling for it twice. Or three times. "I say something like that to you and you'll either get all stubborn and make me wait longer -"

"I wonder why that sounds so familiar?"

"Or you'll tell me I'm being cheeky and -"

Giles studied his hand and said, "Yes?" very politely as he flexed his fingers.

"Or you'll think of something else entirely," I finished, giving him a dry look.

"I exist only to keep you in a perpetual state of perplexity by the sounds of it. Might I point out that you're the one delaying matters?" He picked that moment to lay a hand on his thigh, fingers spread and then moved his hand upwards slowly, brushing against his cock and looking up at me.

I threw my head back and groaned, trying not to laugh. "Fine. `Take off your sweater, Giles, stop arsing around and fuck me'. There; satisfied? Do your worst."

He skinned it off over his head and smoothed his hair back down. "Are you tired, Spike?"

"Huh? Seriously, or do you just want to go upstairs?"

"Both."

"Creature of the night, remember? I'm good for hours yet. Besides; it's only just gone twelve."

Giles arched an eyebrow. "So it has. If this is Boxing Day, you're underdressed."

Sometimes I think he's three steps ahead of me. I lifted my hand slowly to my neck, feeling the ghost-weight of the collar there already, and watched him smile. Made me shiver.

He led me to the bedroom and then stood there with the collar in his hand. I didn't even wait for him to tell me to kneel and I didn't take my eyes off his face as he slipped it around my neck.

"Mine," he said softly. I remembered him saying that to me the first night. I hadn't answered him then, but I did now.

"Yours."

"Yes." He hooked a finger in my collar and tugged upwards slightly. I stood up, making it smooth, feeling my skin tingle waiting for him to touch it. "What shall I do with you, Spike?"

I watched his mouth move, lost in the shape of it, a hundred memories of it against my body. "Anything you want, Giles. Anything at all."

He caught his breath and said softly, "You say that without reservations, without doubt."

I frowned. "I trust you." It was that simple. I would have added, `I love you,' but that wasn't so simple and he knew it already.

His hand came up to my face, curving around my chin, cupping my cheek. "You make wanting you as necessary as breathing," he said. "Looking like this ..." His arms went around me and he kissed me hard. "Do you want me to be gentle with you, Spike?"

"Your choice," I said in a whisper, looking at him.

"I asked you a question," he said, a warning note in his voice.

"Not particularly," I said, being honest because there wasn't any other choice.

He ran his hand down my back, letting it rest on my arse. "Tell me what you want me to do to you, Spike."

Giles never did things the way he was supposed to. "I want you to make the most of me, of what I am, what I can give you."

He brought his hand around and wrapped it around my cock, working it slowly but squeezing hard. "Go on," he said.

"Want you to let go, Giles. Want you to fuck me without holding back, without thinking once that you're hurting me, or you shouldn't be doing it. Want to struggle and feel you stop me, want to fight you and lose. Want you to be stronger than me, every way there is." His hand stopped moving and I arched back and moaned with pure need. "Want you to twist this collar tight, with your fingers hooked in it as you fuck me. Make me come, Giles. Make me beg. Don't give me any choices."

He looked at me and I watched his face sharpen and harden until he was focused on me and nothing else and I forced myself to keep looking at him, feeling how fucking dangerous he could be and loving that edge to him. Then he gave me everything I wanted and all that I needed until the air was thick with the scent of my blood and his sweat and I was saying his name over and over with every thrust of his cock deep inside me and nothing mattered because I could hear him saying my name as he came and if I'd ever doubted he loved me, I didn't after hearing that.

Don't think either of us fell asleep as much as passed out from exhaustion. When we woke I was still wearing my collar and Giles was holding me against him, so the beat of his heart and the heat of his body were trapped under my hand. As I stirred his arm tightened and I rubbed my face against his shoulder reassuringly.

"Good morning, Spike," he said, his voice drowsy.

"Morning, Giles."

There was a moment of silence and then he began to chuckle. "What?" I said, moving away enough to look at him. I frowned. "I hurt you?" His lips were swollen and there was a scrape down one side of his face.

"I think they came under the heading of self-inflicted," he said, sobering slightly. "Your chip -"

"Think I felt it get me once or twice, yeah, not full strength though, and it was worth it."

"God, yes," he agreed.

"So, what was so funny?"

He flicked a look around the room. "We seem to have made a mess."

I twisted around and looked. It looked as if we'd fought a dozen demons and lost, but nothing - much - was broken. "Guess we did. Sorry."

"No, you're not."

I grinned. "No, I'm not. I'd have trashed the whole place and not thought twice last night."

Giles stretched out and winced. "I think we broke me, too."

I let my hand drift down between us. "No, we didn't."

"God, Spike, it's barely three hours since -"

I kissed him, doing it gently because I'd figured out why his mouth was swollen, and he let me but I didn't push it. "I'll get you coffee if you want," I offered. "Could do with some blood myself."

He nodded and I got out of bed. Giles bit off an exclamation and I turned back to him. "What?"

"Your back is, well, it's a mess."

I craned my neck but couldn't see much. I shrugged. "It'll be gone by tonight. Doesn't feel too bad."

I left before he could say anything else and took a quick shower while the coffee brewed. The sting of soap told me where every scratch and bite was but that just put a smile on my face. I dried off and picked up my collar. I'd taken it off so it didn't get wet but I didn't want to put it back on myself. I decided to give it to Giles, let him decide and if he wasn't pleased I'd taken it off, I'd take whatever I had coming for that.

His eyes went to my neck as soon as I walked back in, mug in one hand, collar in the other.

"Took a shower," I said. "Do you mind?"

"I certainly don't mind the shower and as soon as my legs are functioning, I intend to have one myself. You removing the collar? No. I told you it wasn't for every day."

I felt a little disappointed, both that he didn't mind and that it didn't look as if it would be going back on. Felt safe with it on. I passed him his drink and watched him take a cautious swallow of the hot coffee.

"I didn't give you all your presents yesterday," he said after a few more gulps. "There's one more in the top drawer over there." He nodded at the chest of drawers and I went to it. It wasn't gift wrapped but it stood out amongst the folded clothes. Pair of scissors, cold steel and sharp. I picked them up and took them over to him.

"What do you want me to do with them, Giles?"

He picked up the collar from the bed where I'd left it and held it up. "Use it on this."

"Why?" I stared at him, trying to work it out. "Giles, I like wearing it, I like feeling I belong with you."

"You do," he said, pulling me down to sit beside him. "Always. I'm never going to let you feel any differently. Trust me on that, the way you did last night." He bit his lip and said quietly, "You won that bet the very first night, you know? When you went on your knees to me. I couldn't believe you'd do that to me, to anyone. I knew it meant you were as close to giving up as I was - or you cared enough about me to do something inconceivable." He looked at me. "I'm still not sure which it was."

"Both," I said shortly.

"So you've won a taste of me. Remember?"

I looked at him and he smiled faintly. "But you don't want it, do you?"

"No." Couldn't seem to get any words out but he knew why that was the one order I'd never obey from him. Didn't trust myself. Wasn't open to debate.

"I'm not going to argue about that. The point is, Spike, I didn't need you at all after that first night, not really." His hand went out to grip my wrist, keeping me in place as I tried to stand up, get away from him. Felt the panic swirl inside me no matter what he'd said about trusting him. "Listen. You'd done enough right then to make me know that killing myself wasn't an option. I was still grieving but you'd done what you set out to do."

"So why did you keep me around?" I was trying to understand him but all I could hear was his voice telling me he didn't need me.

"Because you needed me. Because as long as you did, I had a purpose. So perhaps I was wrong; we needed each other, I suppose."

I sighed. "Giles, you're confusing me. Make up your fucking mind."

"I'm sorry. I think what I'm saying is that it's over now. No,not us and if you try to pull away again, I'll -" He broke off and shook his head ruefully. "Got in the habit of this. Spike, you set it up so I'd be in control. You did it for yourself, because that was what you needed right then. I went along with it because it appealed to me, which you shouldn't be in any doubt about by now, and because I thought it would make things easier for us both. Give our relationship a structure of sorts."

I thought about it and nodded finally. It made sense. Wasn't sure how I felt about Giles never saying any of this before but I couldn't argue with it. I had needed him and knowing he'd wanted to help me back then made me feel something that was trying to qualify as happy. "So why do you want to stop? You get off on it as much as I do and last night - fuck, Giles, you came so hard at the end you nearly passed out."

"I think I did," he murmured, "but that's not the point. I'm wanting more than that from you, Spike."

"More? Giles, I've told you I love you. I'm not sure I've got any more than that. Last night I'd have let you fucking stake me if you wanted -"

"No," he said, "you wouldn't. You'd have fought me for real if you'd even thought I'd do that, Spike. Don't deceive yourself." He let go of my wrist and stroked my cheek. "You're very bad at submitting, you know."

I was left speechless by that.

"You've spent the last six months fighting me every step of the way," he said, amusement warming his voice. "I submit better than you do and that's saying something."

"I've spent the last six months on my knees, bent over -" I protested.

"And getting your arse blistered because you never did it without arguing, searching for ways around every order or trying to seduce me into doing what you wanted."

"Oh." I looked at him. "Really?"

"There's also the fact that you like being punished but I don't think that's why you kept pushing me so much." He lifted up his hands and let them fall. "You just don't give in. Ever. It's part of why I love you. I don't either. Except once."

"So why did you even give me this collar?" I said. "Why give me something and then want me to destroy it the next fucking day?"

"I hoped you'd refuse it. Hope it would jolt you into speaking up. It didn't." He rubbed his eyes and looked at me. "It made you happy."

"Thought it meant you wanted me and I didn't have to worry any more," I said, desolation eating away at me.

"I got that. I do and you don't. I want you to accept that, Spike. Please? Believe I love you?"

"I do."

He frowned. "You didn't even think about that," he objected.

"What's to think about? I know you do. You've told me and I can't see why you'd lie about it. Doesn't mean you won't come up with some stupid fucking idea that we can't be together. Oh, wait. You are doing."

"No, I'm not!"

"Why did you put that collar on me? Why did you say you wanted to fuck me in it?"

"Because I did, you prat. Because stark naked or clothed, you're bloody hot in that collar you make me want to go on my knees, you're so -" He took a deep breath. "But that's icing on the cake. I can't spend my life with an erection taking away my ability to think past coming in you again and again."

It didn't sound bad to me, but I knew Giles wanted more than that and yes, I suppose I did too. We'd done more than fuck the last six months after all.

"So what do you want us to do, Giles?"

He eyed me with a speculative gleam in his eyes. "We've made love hundreds of times, Spike." I noted the way he'd phrased it but didn't comment, just nodded. "Tell me which time I liked best." I opened my mouth and he held up his hand. "Think about it."

Giles reached for what was left of his coffee and drank it, never taking his eyes off me. I waited for him to finish and then said slowly. "Three times were special. Last night." He smiled and flushed slightly. He'd have had a hard time arguing with that one. "In my crypt a few weeks ago." He hadn't touched me with anything but his voice but he didn't even hesitate before nodding. "And July. The night I had you." He started to speak and I smiled, forestalling him. "Half an hour or so after that, if you want to be picky. That was it for you, wasn't it?"

I remembered it; taking him for the first time, then lying there talking, holding each other. When we'd gone from talking to touching there hadn't been any sense of Giles being in control or me. It had just been the two of us. It had been ... good.

"Yes. And that's what I've spent the last five months remembering. I love you, Spike. I'll be anything you want me to be if you can't bring yourself to admit that this is just temporary - but that's what I want. You as a partner. You once told me we'd never be equals." His eyes gleamed. "That's a perfect example of what I was getting at when I said you weren't very good at this. You wanted me to think you were being properly humble, but you never meant that at all, did you?"

I grinned. "Not really. Not then. Now, though - equals? I don't know. We're different. But close to equals."

"So?"

I sighed. "Giles, I get it now, I understand and I won't say you're wrong, but - it's going to be hard to give it up. I like the way you are with me. I need someone to stop me fucking up and I like it being you and the way you do it."

"That I know," he said dryly.

"So do you," I pointed out.

"True, but it's not something you can play at, Spike. I can't be that way when one of us feels like it and then turn it off again."

"Why not?"

"It wouldn't be real."

"According to you, it never has been, you've just been humouring me the last six months."

"No, I haven't. It was real, every moment of it. It just isn't the only way I want to be with you."

"Are you telling me you never want to raise a welt on my backside again? Never want to make me beg to be fucked?" I held up the collar. "Never want to put this on me and watch me get even prettier than I already fucking am? Don't bother answering. You know you do. Giles, you've spent the last six months doing everything wrong as much as I have. You've given me fucking blow jobs for Christ's sake. You've let me fuck you and you've let me get away with stuff and it didn't matter, none of it, because you're as hard as fucking steel and if you'd wanted to you'd have brought me to heel. You just didn't want to."

I saw my words hit home and wondered if I'd looked that stunned when he did it to me.

"Oh, well, thank you, Spike," he muttered. "Now we're really clear where we stand."

I smiled. "Yeah, we are."

"I beg your pardon?"

"In six months we've fallen in love, moved in together, really, really annoyed Xander and had sex that made me go to sleep smiling and wake up wanting more." I looked at him and saw him grin. "Yeah, you don't do too badly for a man your age." That got me a glare and I gave him an unrepentant smirk back. "So stop trying to plan it out so much."

I tossed the collar to him. "Put it on me and fuck me. Hard. Then I'll put it away. But I'm not destroying it and I won't let you either. Fuck me."

He caught it and looked at me, one eyebrow lifted as he waited.

"Please."

"No," he said firmly.

I sighed in frustration as he got out of bed.

"It'll only get wet in the shower," he pointed out.

"I just had one!"

"I didn't, and I'm surprised you can stand to be this close to me with your much vaunted vampiric sense of smell. So I'm going to shower and you're going to stand there and get wet and soapy with me and well and truly fucked when I'm clean."

"And?"

"I thought you didn't want me to plan ahead?" He came over to me, looped the collar around my neck and used it to pull me to him. "We'll just have to see."

Shouldn't have done that. He didn't make it to the shower for another hour.

THE END

Better Buffy Fiction Archive Entry

Behind Closed Doors