Meeting

Giles had just closed the book of Moloch, medieval dust settling in the air. He exhaled languidly, and removed his glasses. Damn Miss Calendar, he muttered. I wonder where her earring does dangle?

A bang sounded behind him. The school had long been closed. There should have been no one about. The sound startled him out of his reverie. He turned and hurriedly placed his glasses back on to see a strange creature standing before him, just inside the library doors, all platinum blond hair and piercing blue eyes and high cheekbones. Giles blinked twice.

"Any volumes on me, then?" The creature said in a god-awful East London cockney accent. The creature smiled, and pushed itself away from the door jamb, its leather duster fluttering behind it.

"Um..." Giles stammered. Panic surged through him. He glanced around for some kind of weapon, a chair, anything. He had half a mind to ring up Buffy, or beep her, or do some other new-fangled technological thing. Then he felt silly. This was just a man, and Giles certainly didn't need a high school child to watch his back.

Still, this creature had the lithe movements of a vampire, and it certainly looked pale and hungry enough. Giles cleared his throat and said, "Who are you, then?"

"Giles," the creature said, smirking, "I'm crushed. A few words to refresh your memory, then: drunken brawls at the Prince? Riots at the Ramones? As I recall, you were always getting us nicked at some dive or other."

Giles stared at the man in confusion. Prince? Prince of Wales? London? His last trip to London had been in Spring 1978...

Giles shook his head. "Sorry, not following."

"Bugger," the blond man said, almost nose to nose with Giles now. "Tell me you're not completely gormy. You were studying some mythology thing at Oxford when I met you. You said you owned horses...we went on a crawl one balmy night and got so rat-arsed, we threw ourselves in the sodding river..." At Giles's blank stare, the man just shrugged and bit his lip in frustration. He leaned his long, well-muscled body against the library table and sighed.

"Oh, God, I was about twenty then..."Giles said softly. "And you look about twenty five, so how is that possible?" Giles studied the youthful face with its beautiful, almost translucent skin and its high cheekbones. The eyes were magnetic, inviting him in.

"Some Watcher you turned out," the blond man said, smirking.

"Sorry?"

"Can't tell a vampire from his own bloody grandmother," the man said peevishly.

Giles felt his nerves tingling; his guard was up. There was a stake behind the check-out desk...and then he remembered. Spike. He had met a punked-out Londoner named Spike, dressed somewhat as he was now, who said he was working the streets as a hustler by night, and slept in a crypt by day...Giles had pegged that last one to some au currant Goth fetish prevalent in those times.

Now he said the name out loud. Spike grinned. "Oh, ace. You haven't gone daft in your old age."

Giles removed his glasses and absently wiped them, then fell to tidying some shelves. He felt restless and vaguely nervous, but no longer threatened. He had liked Spike once upon a time. "Isn't that rather the pot calling the kettle?" Giles grinned. Briefly, he reverted to his youthful self as he added, "Haven't heard from you in yonks. Didn't recognize you without your lucky Sex Pistols shirt."

Spike straightened and yawned. "Yeh, pawned that back in '96." He glanced around himself. "Where's the slayer?"

Giles shivered. Suddenly, he was worried for Buffy. Was this a trick?

"Not here," Giles said coldly. "What do you want with her?"

"Nothing. I came to see you."

"I see." And what do you want with me, Giles thought. His body remembered before he did.

"Thought we might have it away, for old times' sake," Spike said, eyes penetrating Giles to the very soul.

Giles knew his native slang well enough. His face went hot as Spike approached. "I-I'm old now," he whispered.

"Don't care. I'm older than you know," Spike said, coming closer. Giles could feel the hair rise on the back of his neck. "Besides, gives you character," he added, so close now he was touching Giles's shoulder.

So, Giles thought, he had shagged a vampire back in the day. Would never have known, except for the ghost-pale flesh that had chilled him in a strange, unnatural way. He had been too feverish to notice.

Before Giles could decide if he wanted it, the blond vampire was sliding cold fingers over his neck, his throat, loosening his tie, unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt under the wool waistcoat. His touch was preternaturally icy, but curiously soothing as well, like a cold compress on a heated brow. After his dust-up with Miss Calendar, and imagining her proportions under her glossy black leather, Giles was hot and bothered, and this felt wonderful.

Spike grinned at this reaction, bending his head to kiss Giles's throat. Giles wondered if his lips were equally cool. As if in answer, Giles felt the marble-smooth caress of those lips travelling the minute hairs of his neck, sliding over the hollow in his throat, until his clothes felt tight and imprisoning. A low moan escaped him, and his hands unconsciously roamed to Spike's waist, drawing him closer. The memories were flooding back to him now.

"I remember," Giles whispered, letting his hands explore, "how we lay under the stars on the Bridge, kissing and laughing like schoolboys..."

Spike raised his head abruptly and stared. "Wrong blighter. Wasn't me."

Giles forced his eyes to focus. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," Spike said, hands raised in protest, "More like, you and me shagging in alleyways, or lay-bys, but never anything syrupy. As I recall, you liked it public. More dangerous the better."

Giles thought on that a moment. He really had been wild in his college days. He tried just about anything once, with men and women, and found his greatest thrill in evading capture. He smiled wistfully at his golden youth, now embodied in the man before him.

It had been ages since anyone had touched him. Now this beautiful, deadly creature was offering, unsolicited.

"Why are you visiting me now, after all this time?" Giles murmured, gazing at Spike in wonder. "And how did you find me?"

Spike leveled a be-serious glance at him. "Word gets around, mate. And I was...curious."

Giles stood perfectly still, lips parted in bewilderment.

"And," Spike breathed, circling Giles, "I was a bit peckish."

Giles felt the fear rising within him again. "Well, as thrilling as all this is, " he said, summoning his bravado, "I'm afraid I am here to work. So if you don't mind..."

Spike stopped pacing, and stood in front of Giles. "I won't bite, you know."

No, you'll just bat me around a bit, Giles thought. Worry me like a terrier and then devour me. Why was the phone so damned far away?

Spike's cobalt-blue gaze burned into him. Gradually, he stripped out of his duster and black t-shirt, and then stood before the shy librarian. As he undressed, shock and hunger rose in the Watcher's eyes.

As Spike stood before him, exposed flesh a fine, spun silk, Giles's breath caught in his throat. Eyes locked on Giles's, Spike inserted a finger between his full lips, slid it down his own chest, stopping to tweak his rose-colored nipples until they peaked, then continued down his belly, causing his cock to swell painfully.

"How about it, Watcher?" Spike purred, long fingers unbuttoning his jeans until a fine line of dark hair appeared. He eyed the polished library table lasciviously.

Giles felt his mouth go dry, unable to shift his gaze from Spike's unfastened jeans. He licked his lips, raked a hand through sand-colored hair.

Suddenly, he draped himself on top of the blond vampire, unfurling Spike's slender body beneath him. Giles pressed him to the table, leaning in to kiss his mouth. The fleeting thought that this was a trap, another of Aurelius's schemes, crossed his mind, but he was beyond caring. Some emotion he couldn't name was making him delirious with lust.

Spike's hand clasped the back of Giles's neck, pulling his head close. Spike's breath smelled of licorice and cigarettes. Giles's hands were splayed on either side of Spike's body. The whole hard length of him pressed insistently against Giles, whose trembling hands finished unbuttoning Spike's jeans and reached inside. Giles gasped as he felt the cock rise and spring forth. It was slick with pre-come, and he wrapped a hand around it, rubbing vigorously.

Spike's body arched off the table. "Fuck," Spike panted. "Don't waste any time, do ya?"

Giles smiled and shook his head, then thrust his tongue between Spike's lips. As Giles amused himself, his hand kept up a savage rythm.

Spike softly growled into the plundering mouth. He felt itchy-hot, as the tweed blazer and wool waistcoat scraped his skin. "Suck me off," he whispered, "now."

"The vampire is begging, is he?" Giles asked, voice quavering. He was so turned-on he was salivating.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a flash of rage tore through him. Giles scared himself as he snarled, "give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you."

"Mind out, Watcher," Spike said as menacingly as he could, while exquisite pleasure tortured his body.

"One reason," Giles said, "and I'll suck you off."

Spike closed his eyes in surrender. "Can't fuck a pile of dust, now, can you? And you'd do anything to fuck me right now."

Giles felt the truth of it in his aching cock, in the hedonism of their kisses. He watched in fascination as Spike reversed their positions and began to free him of his clothes. Giles lay prone, unwilling to struggle, while Spike's adept hands peeled off the blazer, unbuttoned his vest, and loosened his tie. He watched in awe, gasping, as Spike bent his head and began biting off the shirt buttons.

Slowly, he raised his blond head, his pupils dilated to black. After all these years, Giles was still muscular and long-legged as a swimmer. Spike thrust out his tongue suggestively, and ran it over his lips. He shed his own jeans and boots, and then took off Giles's shirt and pants. He slid down Giles's body until he was facing his cock, and took it into his mouth, causing Giles to moan in helpless pleasure.

"William," Giles cried, saying his true name over and over. The cold table against his back, the feathery wet heat surrounding his cock, were maddening. He gazed down the length of his body to watch the blond vampire minister to him. Through a haze of lust, Giles remembered the delicious urgency of their London trysts, the fucking in doorways, and this incited him to hyper-arousal. And then, a flash of something else--how fiercely he had once loved this man. He had buried those feelings for so long, had so thoroughly sacrificed his own pleasure to assume his Watcher's duties, he had even forgotten what Spike had looked like. But it was the same unmistakeable face, the same old-world soul peering from dancing, smoke-blue eyes. He remembered that face laughing with something like innocence, with perhaps the closest thing to happiness his demon would allow. Tears stung his eyes at the memory.

"It *was* you," Giles murmured. He placed his hands on Spike's head, willing him to meet his gaze.

"What?" Spike glanced up, pouting at having his oral fixation thwarted.

"I loved you," Giles said quietly, trying not to sob. He stood, and took Spike with him, hugging him in earnest.

"Bloody hell," Spike spat out, breaking the embrace. "What are you on about? We had a few good shags. Not the sodding theme to From Here to Eternity."

Giles suddenly felt very vulnerable, wishing he had his clothes back on. "No, I suppose not. But I did love you once." He searched the floor earnestly for his clothes. He could almost hear Xander joke, "why is there never a hole in the earth to swallow me when I need it?" He found his pants and hurriedly put them on again.

Spike had moved with lightning speed and was already dressed as Giles assembled the rest of his clothes. He was leaning against the table, staring at Giles with an almost civilized expression. "I'm sorry, Rupes," he said in that low, rumbling baritone. He turned to go.

"Don't," Giles implored, tucking in his shirt. "Come to my house, we'll have a drink together."

"I've done enough already," Spike said, eyes bright with something--Anger? Longing?

"I never told you," Giles said, almost to himself. He looked down at the floor. "I never said the words to you. No wonder you didn't know."

"Hey," Spike said, biting off the words, "the only one I've ever loved was a bird named Dru, and maybe..."

Giles stared at him. "Maybe who?"

Spike closed his eyes briefly. "Maybe Angel. You two have met, he told me."

Giles smiled faintly now. "Yes, he cast no reflection and he nearly gave me a heart attack."

"He likes doing that, for some reason."

"I remember now," Giles cried, pointing at Spike. "You--you disappeared. I couldn't find you anywhere, and I meant to tell you..."

Spike approached him with something like sympathy in his eyes. He clasped Giles's shoulder. " If I had told you what I was, you'd have cleared off. It was bad enough, what we were up to. Besides, wouldn't do for the Big Bad to be soft on a mate, would it?" He took an unneeded breath, and added, "face it, Giles, I made it easier on both of us."

"No, no you didn't," Giles whined, on the brink of tears. He shook his head and looked down, refusing to meet Spike's intense blue eyes.

"Don't," Spike whispered, coming closer. His voice was tinged with pain.

Giles glanced up to see a warm expression on the vampire's face. And want. His heart leapt. "I would have understood," he sighed. " Didn't my rantings on occult mythology tip you off? That I would not have been easily turned away?"

Spike smiled slightly. "Ranting is about the word for it." His blue eyes searched Giles's. "You can never take a chance. Trust no one's the vampire's motto."

"How...lonely," Giles whispered, closing the gap between them. He took Spike's face in his hands and kissed him tenderly. He stopped and met his eyes. "I'm lonely too. Come home with me, sleep with me."

Spike bit his lip until it bled. "Christ," he snarled, wrenching away. He turned his back to Giles, and his shoulders dropped imperceptibly.

All the love Giles had felt for him, for anyone, overwhelmed him, threatening to choke him. "We were mates, you and I," he breathed, trying to turn Spike to face him.

"Piss off," Spike growled, wrenching free again.

"I love you. I've always..."

Spike whirled around, fist raised. "I swear, I'll bloody snuff you if you finish that sentence."

"I--I hit a nerve. Forgive me." Giles looked ten years older, and suddenly worn out. He couldn't take much more of this. He began to gather up the books scattered across various surfaces, tidying up for the night.

Spike watched him, then turned to leave. As he reached the doors, he said almost inaudibly, "This was a mistake. Too much bloody dredging up . Take care of yourself, Watcher." And he was gone.

8:39 PM 3/1/04