Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Challenge/Prompt: nekid_spike Prompt Card: Free Choice: Spike/Male
Warning(s): Future Fic
Word Count: 1,757
Date Written: 26 September 2017
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Whedon, not the author, and are used without permission.
There are still tears in Spike’s eyes when he walks out of the cemetery. He can scarcely believe this night has come at last. He’s alone, truly alone for the first time in nearly a century. His Nibblet is gone, taking the last key to his humanity with her. I protected her for as long as I could, Buffy, he thinks. Couldn’t save her from old age, though, luv, not without biting her, and I know you wouldn’t have wanted that.
A figure falls into step beside him. Spike glances up and sideways in surprise, then shifts his gaze downward. Surprisingly enough, the younger man, who’s no longer young, still hasn’t caught up with him in height. He remembers an older man, still British, still a thorn in his side, but dressed in tweed and constantly wiping at his spectacles. It’s the same man, he knows, who walks beside him and yet different still. This one wears a leather, bomber jacket, and he doesn’t shy away from the darkness or from mistakes both made and yet to be made.
“Where are we going next?” he asks, and Spike’s eyebrows rise in silent surprise.
After a moment of walking together in silence, he finally counters, “You’re askin’ me?”
“She selected you to be the leader in her death, Spike. You’ve kept us all together this long.”
Spike shakes his head. He fishes a cigarette out of his pocket, lights up, and takes a long, slow drag both to try, albeit unsuccessfully, to calm his nerves and to give him time to think. Finally, he admits aloud, “You know that ain’t true, Ripper. I never kept us together. I stayed because of the same reason you stayed, the same reason why the others stayed ‘til they were died or were killed. And now she’s dead too.”
“Spike,” Ripper selects his words carefully, taking the time to search through his vast vocabulary and try his best to find the right ones, “Dawn was part of it. That’s true. But she wasn’t the only thing that kept us together. I saw those girls,” he continues, speaking of Buffy, Dawn, and Willow, “light up when you were around. Dawn might’ve been meant to be the key, but she wasn’t the key who kept us all together. Even Xander came to respect you.”
“Yeah,” Spike snorts, “after about three or four decades.”
An old twinkle appears in Giles’ eyes, older than the man currently striding beside him, his hands stuffed deep into his leather pockets. “He still came to respect you, which is more than what I can say about how he felt toward me.”
“They all loved you -- “
“Yes, but -- “
Spike inclines his head in a slight nod. “Love and respect aren’t the same.”
“Hmm. As true as that is, it also sounds like that could be my next song.”
“Ha!” Spike shakes his head in wonder and rakes his eyes up and down the mortal, grey-haired man. “For as much as you look like your old self -- “
“I’m very different. I know. My aunts thought they’d settled a curse upon me, but the truth is they gave me a chance to live my life again. I don’t plan on making the same mistakes again, or in trying to hide my true nature. Speaking of which,” he stops and turns to face Spike directly, “I’ve hidden too much too long already.”
Spike frowns at him. “What are you -- “
He never gets a chance to finish his sentence, however, as Ripper once again stops him, this time by stepping close enough to seemingly close out all distance between them and pressing his lips up against Spike’s. Spike’s stunned at first and stays stock still until Ripper’s tongue gently touches his lips, seeking entrance. He opens his mouth, still uncertain, but the wave of pleasure that hits him when Ripper’s tongue slips into his mouth and curls around his reminds him of all the things he’s been missing and yearning for for so long. With a gentle, ragged moan, he finally begins to kiss the former Watcher back.
Ripper steps closer still and wraps his arms around Spike as he keeps kissing him, his tongue driving deeper within him and stoking the heat between them. Spike’s hands reach out, grab Ripper’s leather jacket, and yank him closer still. There really is no space left between them save that their clothes inhabit. If they weren’t out in the open, the clothes might very well be gone as well.
They kiss long and deep, their bodies twisting together in unison, until finally, out of need for oxygen, Ripper breaks it off. He stumbles back a partial step. Unable to see through his fogged lenses, he takes off his spectacles but doesn’t bother wiping them. He slips them into an inside pocket on his jacket instead. “Now,” he asks again, “where are we going?”
“Where . . . did that just come from?!”
“All the nights we’ve stayed up singing and playing my guitar, all the years you’ve been there for me as we’ve lost Buffy and everybody else, . . . Do you really need to ask?!”
“I had no idea -- “
He looks up into Spike’s eyes, and though the Vampire knows the Watcher can’t seem him too clearly without his spectacles, he nonetheless seems to be gazing into his very soul. “Why do you think,” Ripper asks him -- or is it still Giles after all this time? Spike wonders --, “I finally embraced my supposedly darker side? Who do you think gave me the courage to stop running from it? You inspired me, Spike, to be the best of everything I’ve ever wanted to be instead of just being the best man I thought I could be. You taught me to embrace everything inside of me, but there’s been that one thing on which I haven’t acted until tonight.” He draws his spectacles back out of his pocket and actually polishes them before placing them back onto the bridge of his nose.
All this time, Spike says nothing. He’s still staring at him when Giles places his glasses back onto his face and looks expectantly up at him. “I -- “ He runs his tongue across his lips, still relishing the taste of the other man’s lips, and takes a deep, very much unneeded breath before finally saying with a shrug, “I guess friends with shagging benefits never hurts.”
“I -- “ Giles stops himself and takes a full minute to reconsider before finally admitting softly, “There’s more to it than that if you want it to be . . . “ He pauses again before concluding, “ . . . if you want me.”
“Bloody Hell,” Spike hisses. He wipes his thumb across his lips and sucks the taste from it as he keeps staring down into Giles’ eyes. “How long?” he finally asks.
“How long have I known I felt something more for you than camaraderie and was nowhere near meager hatred? Since we lived together back in Sunnydale. Since I watched you struggle to become something more than you were, something none of us believed you could be. Since I watched you succeed in that struggle. I’m not Buffy, but -- “
“Buffy passed a long time ago,” Spike whispers, and although he’ll always love her, he’s been lonely for so long now. Perhaps he can’t give Giles all he needs. Perhaps it’s wrong of him to take advantage of the younger man. But it’s not dishonoring Buffy’s memory to reach out to the love and affection being offered to him. She had asked him to move on, to find another love, more than forty years ago. Forty years is such a long time, he reflects, and yet also such a brief time.
“Are you sure,” he asks, searching Giles’ eyes, “this is what you want?”
“I’ve wanted it for a very long time,” Giles answers, once more removing his spectacles, this time so that Spike can see the truth shining in his aging eyes. “I’ve wanted you for a very long time.” Yet still he waits patiently, unmoving, to see how Spike will react. Will he toss him to the side for he is surely no Buffy, or will he take what love he can give him, the love he’s offering now?
“If you ever change your mind -- “ Spike murmurs even as he steps closer.
“I’m not going to,” Giles argues. “I haven’t in sixty bloody years. I’m not going to now.”
He has waited a long time, Spike realizes, for this, for whatever he can give him. He’s not sure he can love again, not truly love again, but he’s willing to give his old friend whatever he can find within himself to still give. He just doesn’t want to hurt him.
He doesn’t want to be hurt either, and Giles, or Ripper as he prefers to be called these nights, for all his capabilities, is still mortal. Like Dawn, like Buffy, like all their family, he, too, will one day leave him. But they can surely give each other pleasure, affection, reassurance, perhaps even love while he still breathes.
Spike closes the distance between them, and when he kisses Ripper this time, it’s clear by the embrace of his mouth that there is no longer any doubt. He’ll give him everything he can, anything he can. He doesn’t know where they’re going yet, but he does know two things. Wherever they go, neither of them will be alone again, and he’s glad of that.
He’s glad to have Giles or Ripper -- bloody Hell, whatever name the man wants him to use is fine by him! He’s glad to have him with him regardless, and he’ll give him all the love and pleasure he can for as long as he lives after which, Spike knows, he’ll be alone but he’ll face that then. For now, he’s got Ripper and Giles. He’s got the old Watcher with whom he’s always had so much in common.
He smirks against his mouth, remembering having once tried to convince him of that in Sunnydale. He certainly hadn’t wanted to hear that then, but ah, well, that was then and this is now. The man in his arms is both very different and very much the same as the man who had first intrigued him so greatly all those decades ago. Maybe he’ll finally figure out his puzzle, but even if he doesn’t, that doesn’t matter. What matters is that he has him, they have each other, and life isn’t such a lonely bitch after all.