Who is Who ((COMPLETED))
folder
BtVS AU/AR › Het - Male/Female › Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
10
Views:
3,359
Reviews:
11
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
BtVS AU/AR › Het - Male/Female › Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
10
Views:
3,359
Reviews:
11
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Who is Who
Disclaimers: I don't own any of the characters, it's all owned by Joss Wheldon and Mutant Enemy. I own nothing and don’t profit. Yada, Yada :)
Who is Who by MadRog
Chapter 1, Fledgling Trust
June, 2002, London
No, it couldn’t be. It just couldn’t be. All the rumors had said he hadn’t survived. Giles craned his neck as the familiar figure walked past the brightly-lit storefronts across the lane. He quickly moved to the window of the restaurant, pressing his face to the glass trying to keep the man in his sights. He felt a tapping on his leg. “Err, excuse me,” he said as politely as he could when he realized he had stepped on an elderly patron’s foot. Nevertheless, the figure was gone around the corner when he was able to look up again.
When Giles returned to his table, he was unsurprisingly met with “…and Xander called me rude. Giles, what were you doing?” Giles, however, continued to stare into space.
“Giles? Hello.” Anya prompted. “What’s wrong?”
“I think…I just saw a ghost. Spike’s to be specific,” focusing on Anya for the first time after returning to their table.
Anya patted his hand sympathetically. “Even I know Spike was a vampire, not a ghost. In fact, you have seen him in ridged-forehead action yourself many times. Besides it’s common knowledge that he didn’t survive Africa. I thought you were the one who had told me that,” Anya replied in the matter of fact way as only she can do. Leaning forward, she sniffed loudly, “What IS in your drink?”
************
The next night, Giles was occupying a seat at the bar next to the window so he could exit quickly. Since he had been there for over two hours and was obviously looking for someone to come who had not, the waiters were starting to give him sad looks remembering the beautiful woman he had been with the night before. Just as he was about to order a new drink, the familiar figure sauntered casually by the window. Giles rushed out the door to see the man turn right at the corner. He followed him for a couple of blocks, straining to keep the man in his sight. The sidewalks were still somewhat crowded during this part of the early evening so Giles dodged around people but suddenly pulled up short. ‘Damn, where did he disappear? Maybe it was a ghost.’ As he turned around looking over the present neighborhood searching for the blonde that usually stood out, Giles realized he knew undoubtedly where Spike had gone. Into the adjacent cemetery, of course.
Giles made his way quietly through the small, private cemetery. Thinking he caught a glimpse of movement to his left, he looked slowly around a large, old tree. He took off his glasses, cleaned them, put them back on to make sure he was seeing this right. Yes, there was Spike…having a conversation with a tombstone. He could see the white blond hair and even smell the tale-tell smoke. Giles strained to hear but must have made a sound himself. Spike’s head suddenly whipped around in Giles’ direction causing Giles to scramble back behind the tree. When Giles ventured to look around the tree again, sure enough, his quarry had gone.
Unexpectedly, a cold hand landed on Giles’ shoulder. “Guess I shouldne sue surprised to find a Watcher watching should I? Now, piss off.”
Glancing quickly down at his slacks, Giles replied, “I think I almost, uh, did just that.”
Spike chuckled and lit a new cigarette while Giles relaxed but only slightly.
“The rumor has been that you were dead, that you did not survive your trials in Africa.”
“Well, the rumors are right for once. I am dead.” Givingmirkmirk, Spike turned to go. “Just my luck to be haunted by a Scoobie half way around the world.”
Giles watched the vampire leave unsure what to do next. He walked over to the bench Spike had been sitting and found quite a collection of cigarette butts. The tombstone directly in front read “Elizabeth Winthrope. Born December 2, 1846. Died February 10, 1895. Devoted mother. May she rest in peace.” Very curious, indeed. Giles could just hear a faint bell of recognition going off in the farthest recesses of his memory. Well, time and research, of course, will surely tell.
The next time Giles entered the cemetery searching for Spike, he was a man on a mission. The direct approach was called for here, and with that thought in mind, Giles just walked straight up to the vampire. “It’s me, Giles. I hate to interrupt…” losing a little nerve.
“Yeah, I know. Your smell of books preceded you by 100 paces. What do you want?”
“Well, I, err, thought we could, or that I would buy you a pint in Harold’s Pub around the corner.”
A pair of intense blue eyes looked Giles up and down for a full minute before the reply came. “All right. It’s your bob,” Spike said with a flash of his most dangerous grin. Not for the first time Giles wondered if it was a good idea to invite a Big Bad to the corner pub for a pint.
*****
They were in luck to find an empty booth towards the back. After both men were served a pint of strong ale, they took the first few sips in silence. Giles inquired tentatively, “If I ask what happened to you in Africa, would you answer?”
“Let’s just say that I was able to get over all my bloody obsessions and have come to London to lay low for a spell. Recharge, so to speak. I am still considered a wanted man since I helped out in Sunnyhell. But demons often have short attention spans and will latch onto something new for entertainment soon enough.”
“In that we have a surprising similarity. We are now both paying consequences for helping Buffy.” Giles watched Spike’s face carefully over the rim of his glass as he mentioned Buffy’s name, watching for some change in the deadpan stare but saw none.
“Actually, there were two things I wanted to discuss with you. At the Watcher’s Council, I am still considered quite the loose cannon. To make matters worse, there are five recent deaths here in London that certain members on the Council choose to lay at my door. Actually, mine and Buffy’s.” As he continued, Giles could now see Spike’s jaw clench but was not sure how to interpret that. “As I said, there have been five gruesome murders in the past two weeks. Today, an informant told us that one vamp is said to have white-blond hair, an English accent, and brags of using a railroad spike to torture his victims before draining them dry. The murders are particularly flamboyant.”
Spike raised his scared eyebrow to show some interest without giving away any emotions.
Giles shifted a little uncomfortably, started to clean his glasses, but instead looked the deceptively calm vampire in the eyes. Giles chose his next words carefully but with a direct intent. “The informant said William the Bloody has returned to claim London as his own. He has returned from Africa without the chip and is trying to make a point that no one will miss.”
Spike set down his half-finished glass with a thump. “So you are here to what, stake me? Bloody bold, you are.” Spike turned away chuckling and started to get up.
Giles hurried on before the vampire could leave. “No, THIS is the funny part, if there can be anything humorous concerning this sordid affair. You see, I told the council it’s not your work.”
Spike looked back at Giles showing the first signs of emotions. Shock clearly etched his features quickly followed by anger. “What, so you think me still impotent? Can’t kill? Can’t drain a human dry?” Spike added with menace, “Care to take that chance?”
Giles only smiled being familiar with Spike’s quick temper. “But you see, I’m your alibi. I was with you in the cemetery when the last attack took place. Oh, it sounds a bit insane, I know. A Watcher defending a vampire, but as I said before, the council still looks on me as somewhat of a renegade. And, the fact that your are still running around, is my Slayer’s fault and therefore mine.”
Giles looked him straight in the eyes playing what he hoped to be his trump card. “Even with her all the way in Sunnydale, they blame Buffy for the deaths. The Slayer did not stake you when she had the chance. Or should I say her many chances.”
Spike drained the rest of his pint in total silence and then quietly left the pub without a word. Leaving Giles wondering if he had accomplished anything in their straight faced game of bluster. Maybe or maybe not, but he hoped he had. And that Buffy would never find out about this tete-a-tete.
****
Two days later, Giles found a note from Spike taped to the front door of his flat, not missing the subtle hint that the vampire knew where he lived. “You can find me most nights at the Internet Café Internationale one block north of Harold’s Pub.”
At 7:00 that night, Giles entered the café not knowing what to expect. “You’re a dogged bugger, aren’t you?” Giles turned towards the familiar voice and was shocked to see the master vampire standing comfortably behind the counter.
Giles walked up and sat down on one of the leather stools. “You…you work here?” was the best he could come up with.
“Needn’t sound so surprised, mate. I do know how to work, and this place needed help at night. Afterall, I said I am laying low from the demon world, not from the mortal one. And no, before you even start, I am not here picking my next meal. I’ve no desire to have Scotland Yard hunting me down anymore than demons.”
Spike set a cup of tea in front of Giles that smelled delicious. “What a unique and wonderful aroma, ” Giles commented politely before taking a sip. “Did you catch the hint of almonds? Arsenic costs extra.” As Giles started to choke, Spike slapped him on the back laughing. “Loosen up, you prig, only a little sick, vampire humor.”
After that they chatted comfortably about mundane things: types of tea, the current London weather, Manchester United. As Spike served the other customers with subtle finesse, Giles watched the vampire’s interaction with the humans, watching for any signs of aggression or the hunt but found none. He saw just what the other customers saw: a charming young man who flirted casually with the ladies and joked with the gents. Several times he had to remember to shut his mouth which seemed to keep falling open under the shock of it all. As the crowd thinned out leaving only a few individuals at the computer terminals, Giles started to take his own leave. “Spike, there’s been another murder. If it’s not your work, then something needs to be done soon.” Spike nodded while staring out the café’s window deep in thought. Giles paid his tab and left hoping this risk would pay off. Normally, he was not a gambling man.
TBC Would love to hear what you think - MadRog@ev1.net
Who is Who by MadRog
Chapter 1, Fledgling Trust
June, 2002, London
No, it couldn’t be. It just couldn’t be. All the rumors had said he hadn’t survived. Giles craned his neck as the familiar figure walked past the brightly-lit storefronts across the lane. He quickly moved to the window of the restaurant, pressing his face to the glass trying to keep the man in his sights. He felt a tapping on his leg. “Err, excuse me,” he said as politely as he could when he realized he had stepped on an elderly patron’s foot. Nevertheless, the figure was gone around the corner when he was able to look up again.
When Giles returned to his table, he was unsurprisingly met with “…and Xander called me rude. Giles, what were you doing?” Giles, however, continued to stare into space.
“Giles? Hello.” Anya prompted. “What’s wrong?”
“I think…I just saw a ghost. Spike’s to be specific,” focusing on Anya for the first time after returning to their table.
Anya patted his hand sympathetically. “Even I know Spike was a vampire, not a ghost. In fact, you have seen him in ridged-forehead action yourself many times. Besides it’s common knowledge that he didn’t survive Africa. I thought you were the one who had told me that,” Anya replied in the matter of fact way as only she can do. Leaning forward, she sniffed loudly, “What IS in your drink?”
************
The next night, Giles was occupying a seat at the bar next to the window so he could exit quickly. Since he had been there for over two hours and was obviously looking for someone to come who had not, the waiters were starting to give him sad looks remembering the beautiful woman he had been with the night before. Just as he was about to order a new drink, the familiar figure sauntered casually by the window. Giles rushed out the door to see the man turn right at the corner. He followed him for a couple of blocks, straining to keep the man in his sight. The sidewalks were still somewhat crowded during this part of the early evening so Giles dodged around people but suddenly pulled up short. ‘Damn, where did he disappear? Maybe it was a ghost.’ As he turned around looking over the present neighborhood searching for the blonde that usually stood out, Giles realized he knew undoubtedly where Spike had gone. Into the adjacent cemetery, of course.
Giles made his way quietly through the small, private cemetery. Thinking he caught a glimpse of movement to his left, he looked slowly around a large, old tree. He took off his glasses, cleaned them, put them back on to make sure he was seeing this right. Yes, there was Spike…having a conversation with a tombstone. He could see the white blond hair and even smell the tale-tell smoke. Giles strained to hear but must have made a sound himself. Spike’s head suddenly whipped around in Giles’ direction causing Giles to scramble back behind the tree. When Giles ventured to look around the tree again, sure enough, his quarry had gone.
Unexpectedly, a cold hand landed on Giles’ shoulder. “Guess I shouldne sue surprised to find a Watcher watching should I? Now, piss off.”
Glancing quickly down at his slacks, Giles replied, “I think I almost, uh, did just that.”
Spike chuckled and lit a new cigarette while Giles relaxed but only slightly.
“The rumor has been that you were dead, that you did not survive your trials in Africa.”
“Well, the rumors are right for once. I am dead.” Givingmirkmirk, Spike turned to go. “Just my luck to be haunted by a Scoobie half way around the world.”
Giles watched the vampire leave unsure what to do next. He walked over to the bench Spike had been sitting and found quite a collection of cigarette butts. The tombstone directly in front read “Elizabeth Winthrope. Born December 2, 1846. Died February 10, 1895. Devoted mother. May she rest in peace.” Very curious, indeed. Giles could just hear a faint bell of recognition going off in the farthest recesses of his memory. Well, time and research, of course, will surely tell.
The next time Giles entered the cemetery searching for Spike, he was a man on a mission. The direct approach was called for here, and with that thought in mind, Giles just walked straight up to the vampire. “It’s me, Giles. I hate to interrupt…” losing a little nerve.
“Yeah, I know. Your smell of books preceded you by 100 paces. What do you want?”
“Well, I, err, thought we could, or that I would buy you a pint in Harold’s Pub around the corner.”
A pair of intense blue eyes looked Giles up and down for a full minute before the reply came. “All right. It’s your bob,” Spike said with a flash of his most dangerous grin. Not for the first time Giles wondered if it was a good idea to invite a Big Bad to the corner pub for a pint.
*****
They were in luck to find an empty booth towards the back. After both men were served a pint of strong ale, they took the first few sips in silence. Giles inquired tentatively, “If I ask what happened to you in Africa, would you answer?”
“Let’s just say that I was able to get over all my bloody obsessions and have come to London to lay low for a spell. Recharge, so to speak. I am still considered a wanted man since I helped out in Sunnyhell. But demons often have short attention spans and will latch onto something new for entertainment soon enough.”
“In that we have a surprising similarity. We are now both paying consequences for helping Buffy.” Giles watched Spike’s face carefully over the rim of his glass as he mentioned Buffy’s name, watching for some change in the deadpan stare but saw none.
“Actually, there were two things I wanted to discuss with you. At the Watcher’s Council, I am still considered quite the loose cannon. To make matters worse, there are five recent deaths here in London that certain members on the Council choose to lay at my door. Actually, mine and Buffy’s.” As he continued, Giles could now see Spike’s jaw clench but was not sure how to interpret that. “As I said, there have been five gruesome murders in the past two weeks. Today, an informant told us that one vamp is said to have white-blond hair, an English accent, and brags of using a railroad spike to torture his victims before draining them dry. The murders are particularly flamboyant.”
Spike raised his scared eyebrow to show some interest without giving away any emotions.
Giles shifted a little uncomfortably, started to clean his glasses, but instead looked the deceptively calm vampire in the eyes. Giles chose his next words carefully but with a direct intent. “The informant said William the Bloody has returned to claim London as his own. He has returned from Africa without the chip and is trying to make a point that no one will miss.”
Spike set down his half-finished glass with a thump. “So you are here to what, stake me? Bloody bold, you are.” Spike turned away chuckling and started to get up.
Giles hurried on before the vampire could leave. “No, THIS is the funny part, if there can be anything humorous concerning this sordid affair. You see, I told the council it’s not your work.”
Spike looked back at Giles showing the first signs of emotions. Shock clearly etched his features quickly followed by anger. “What, so you think me still impotent? Can’t kill? Can’t drain a human dry?” Spike added with menace, “Care to take that chance?”
Giles only smiled being familiar with Spike’s quick temper. “But you see, I’m your alibi. I was with you in the cemetery when the last attack took place. Oh, it sounds a bit insane, I know. A Watcher defending a vampire, but as I said before, the council still looks on me as somewhat of a renegade. And, the fact that your are still running around, is my Slayer’s fault and therefore mine.”
Giles looked him straight in the eyes playing what he hoped to be his trump card. “Even with her all the way in Sunnydale, they blame Buffy for the deaths. The Slayer did not stake you when she had the chance. Or should I say her many chances.”
Spike drained the rest of his pint in total silence and then quietly left the pub without a word. Leaving Giles wondering if he had accomplished anything in their straight faced game of bluster. Maybe or maybe not, but he hoped he had. And that Buffy would never find out about this tete-a-tete.
****
Two days later, Giles found a note from Spike taped to the front door of his flat, not missing the subtle hint that the vampire knew where he lived. “You can find me most nights at the Internet Café Internationale one block north of Harold’s Pub.”
At 7:00 that night, Giles entered the café not knowing what to expect. “You’re a dogged bugger, aren’t you?” Giles turned towards the familiar voice and was shocked to see the master vampire standing comfortably behind the counter.
Giles walked up and sat down on one of the leather stools. “You…you work here?” was the best he could come up with.
“Needn’t sound so surprised, mate. I do know how to work, and this place needed help at night. Afterall, I said I am laying low from the demon world, not from the mortal one. And no, before you even start, I am not here picking my next meal. I’ve no desire to have Scotland Yard hunting me down anymore than demons.”
Spike set a cup of tea in front of Giles that smelled delicious. “What a unique and wonderful aroma, ” Giles commented politely before taking a sip. “Did you catch the hint of almonds? Arsenic costs extra.” As Giles started to choke, Spike slapped him on the back laughing. “Loosen up, you prig, only a little sick, vampire humor.”
After that they chatted comfortably about mundane things: types of tea, the current London weather, Manchester United. As Spike served the other customers with subtle finesse, Giles watched the vampire’s interaction with the humans, watching for any signs of aggression or the hunt but found none. He saw just what the other customers saw: a charming young man who flirted casually with the ladies and joked with the gents. Several times he had to remember to shut his mouth which seemed to keep falling open under the shock of it all. As the crowd thinned out leaving only a few individuals at the computer terminals, Giles started to take his own leave. “Spike, there’s been another murder. If it’s not your work, then something needs to be done soon.” Spike nodded while staring out the café’s window deep in thought. Giles paid his tab and left hoping this risk would pay off. Normally, he was not a gambling man.
TBC Would love to hear what you think - MadRog@ev1.net