Episodes

Things were going better than Spike could have hoped. “Oh, you'll tell her! Great comfort that. What makes you think she'll listen to you?”

The Watcher started to protest, but trailed off.

Spike knew that in many ways Giles was the weakest link in the Scooby chain. If Spike could take Rupert down, he was certain the others would follow. The Watcher had been off his mark ever since the Slayer started university, and even as early as Spike’s stay in the bathroom he had picked up signs of the man’saffsaffectedness from the Scooby tribe.

Maybe that’s where Joyce came in. One Summers out of his life, did he take another on as replacement?

But a subtle scenting told him Joyce hadn’t been in the apartment in several weeks at least, and Rupert bore no remnants of her smell. Was there a snake among the lilies? One way to find out. “Do you think she might be at her mum’s place?”

“What?”

“What’s the matter, Watcher, goin’ deaf in your old age? I asked if the Slayer might be at her mum’s house.”

“I . . . I have no idea.”

Bingo. “Well, maybe I’ll head over there, keep Joyce company for a bit, see if the girl shows. Haven’t seen Joyce in a while, she’s been keepin’ herself busy. Be nice to have a visit. What’s she been up to lately, anyway?”

Giles picked up a bottle of scotch off the bar and poured himself several fingers. “I really couldn’t say.” He downed the alcohol quickly.

“No? Thought you parental types kept tabs on the Slayer better than that, stayed in touch, compared notes. Oh well, Joyce is a fine looking woman. She’s probably found something better to do than sit around moping. Or someone. If I were a hundred years younger . . .”

“I doubt she’d be interested in you, Spike.” Three more in of of scotch went into the glass, to be swiftly emptied again. “She already has a lover to beat her up.”

Spike hesitated at that. Someone was hurting Joyce? And he didn’t know about it? And Rupert let it happen? A part of him rose up, demanded that he do something about it right this minute, protect this woman that he so admired. But his more pragmatic side won out. Stick to the plan, Spike, old man. Get this chip out of your head and you can do whatever yont tnt to the pillock that messed with her. “Man can fantasize, can’t he?” he said, more to throw the Watcher off than anything. “Look, I’ll speak to the Slayer or none at all. I’m not going to take chances. I’ve seen the way she treats you.”

“Oh, yes? And how's that?” he asked, toying with another drink.

Spike looked at him almost compassionately. “Very much like a retired librarian.”

Giles didn’t say anything.

Spike knew his work here was done. “Look, I've got what she wants as long as she has what I want.” He headed out of the kitchen and towards the front door. “Slayer knows where to find me. Or she can look at her mum’s place. Always like a good cuppa with Joyce.”

As he shut the door behind him, he heard the scotch bottle shatter against the wall.