Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Character/Pairing: Spike, Giles, hints of possible Spike/Giles, Spike/Dawn, and Spike/Buffy
Challenge/Prompt: nekid_spike Moody Weekend: Naughty
Word Count: 1,678
Date Written: 23 February 2018
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Whedon, not the author, and are used without permission.
"Where have you been?” Giles questions without preamble the moment Spike approaches his counter in the Magic Box. He doesn’t lift his gaze from his shop’s ledger, but the tone in which he speaks his questions leaves no doubt that he expects an immediate and truthful honest.
“Why do you care?” Spike shoots back, stiffening. “Not like we’re exactly friends, Ripper.”
“I care, Spike,” Giles replies, pushing his spectacles back up onto the bridge of his nose and using the motion as a chance to glance up at the lean, blonde Vampire without his gaze being obvious, “because these teenagers flocking all around us have been rushing rumors about yet again. This time they’re not whispering about a Big Bad or a girl among them who can save them all. They’re talking about a child who has managed to land herself a ‘hunk’, as they call him, that is so beyond belief that they are convinced she must have lured him to her through spellwork or some other such, equally fantastical thing.”
“I haven’t done anything with Dawn!” Spike growls.
“Aha,” Giles says, straightening and looking into the Vampire’s eyes. “Yet you know the girl to whom I was referring was Dawn. What do you think my Slayer would do if she knew that you fancied her sister?”
“Buffy’s her own girl, Watcher,” Spike retorts.
“Oh, she is indeed,” Rupert agrees, “but I’d be willing to register a bet that she would no longer hesitate in staking you.”
“If she knew why Dawn has that reputation, I bet she’d do just the opposite,” Spike growls back. His pale thumbs flip up the collar of his long, leather trench coat, and he yanks the jacket closer around him. “Not everything I do is bad, you know, Ripper, especially these days, no more than everything you do is good.”
“I do what I do, regardless of rather it appears good or evil, for the betterment of my Slayer and her friends.”
“I know you do. Sometimes so do I. You know I’ve given a lot for Buffy -- “
“Yes, you have,” Giles agrees, surprising him, “and especially for Dawn, but I would still like to know how these rumors have come about to the point of increasing the Magic Box’s sales figures by almost double in a single day’s time.”
“Answer’s simple,” Spike retorts, glaring down at him. “Dawnie had a problem. I fixed it.”
“And precisely what kind of problem would that be?”
“Look, Giles, Buffy can spout that women’s lib mess all she wants. I’m all for it, in truth, but the truth is also that every woman, at one time in her life, usually early on, fantasizes about a guy sweeping in to her rescue. That old Prince Charming dream. Some blokes even dream of it: being rescued by a man who is a better father to them than their own, or a big brother, or even a friend.”
Giles inclines his head in a nod. “True,” he says but speaks no more. He waits for Spike to finish telling him his latest story, aware that he will know if he is lying and Spike will know that he knows. “Dawnie’s no different. Her sister’s this big, bad ass Vampire killing machine.”
“Buffy is no machine -- “
Spike doesn’t argue the point. Sometimes he wishes she was for the simple fact is that she would be safer, and more likely by far to stay alive, if she was made of circuits and gadgetry rather than flesh and blood. She also would not be so alluring that she would continue to creep into his every dream as she does now and get the better of him, often leading him to do things that, were their situation any different at all, he would quickly recognize the ridiculousness of and shy away from. Vampires aren’t meant to do the rescuing after all; they are the ones from which the damsels were supposed to have to be rescued!
Instead he continues on, interrupting Giles’ declaration, “Dawn wishes she could be more like her big sis, but she’s only human. Not even really a human,” he continues, lowering his voice to make certain only the two of them can hear him, “and she thinks about that fact way more than she should. Thing is, she’s still at that naive age where she dreams about a man sweeping into her rescue.”
“And I suppose now you are going to tell me that you rescued her?”
Spike grins, the first sign of the mischievousness he’s been feeling ever since the previous night when he came to Dawn’s assistance. “Nibblet was on my mind last night,” he tells Giles. “Something told me I needed to find her, check on her.” He shrugs. “So I did.”
Giles nods. He used to try to run everything by the book, but if there is one thing Buffy has taught him, it is that gut feelings should be adhered to.
“Good thing I did too. Don’t know where the Slayer thought her pretty, little sister was at, but I found her at a party in the back of the Bronze.”
“She is old enough -- “
“For the Bronze, yeah. For the smoking, drinking, and drug using that was going on back there, no. I also don’t like the thought of Dawnie being as friendly as the other girls were being with their guys.”
“I see.” Once more, Giles pushes his spectacles back upon his nose.
“Yeah, so it’s a good thing I came along. One of the guys was trying to get her to dance too close with him. I stepped in the door.”
“And of course everybody went to fawning over you.”
Spike shrugs. “I can’t help it if I’m charming.” He flashes the former librarian a big, fang-filled grin and can hear Giles swallow. Yeah, he’s rather proud he still has that effect on people, frails and blokes alike.
“I demanded to know who the guy thought he was dancing with my girl, and he quickly backed off. Lil’ bit was glad for the rescue. She didn’t argue. She just danced with me, and I danced her straight out of there. Kept with her the rest of the night, too, so that her big sister wouldn’t know anything was up and she’d be safe out of danger. You’re welcome, by the way.”
Giles actually smiles at him. Spike frowns, unable to remember the Watcher ever doing so before. “I do thank you, Spike,” Giles says, keeping his voice low, “although you may be concerned to know that by the way these kids are whispering and checking out items for making love spells -- of course, I am weaving my own spell over every one of them to make certain that they can not be used for any other successful magics -- the Slayer is bound to come to know that you have done something with her sister. You may want to come clean with her before it reaches that point.”
Spike shrugs and flashes Giles another grin. “Let the Slayer try to figure out what I did, Watcher. Let her come after me.” After last night, he liked to think that if Buffy ever did come at him again with a stake, she’d find her own sister standing between them. He hadn’t touched Dawn except at the party, and even then he had kept his hands carefully above the girl’s waist. They had put on quite the show, though, and he knew there was no doubt in any of their watchers’ minds what had proceeded to happen between them when he had slid Dawn out the Bronze’s back door.
“But you were saying,” Spike says, bringing Giles back to the present, “something about saying thank you?” Was that heat he noticed inflaming the Watcher’s cheeks?
“I do thank you, was what I was saying, for helping me keep a watch over this lot. It’s good to know I’m not the only . . . “ He pauses, searching his mind for the right term.
Spike grins again. “You’re not the only father watching over these pups?” he offers.
“I’m not the only friend they have for when they truly need us,” he tells him. “I’ve often wondered,” he goes on to admit, “what would happen if I ever decide to return to England.”
“You’re not going anywhere.”
Giles doesn’t reply to Spike’s comment. He simply continues on as though he’s not heard him, “I’ve feared what might happen to Buffy after I do leave her. It’s nice to know that she, Dawn, and the others still have another guardian if something happens to me.”
Spike stares at him, slack jawed and no longer feeling mischievous.
“Hey, there he is!”
He looks up as one of the girls from the night before approaches, her arms loaded with thin spellbooks and pink candles. She hurries toward him, other girls flocking along with her, but Spike looks back at Giles. “Well, if Dawnie’s not here,” he says loudly, “there’s no need for me to stay. Tell her I came calling, will you, if you see her before I do?”
“I most certainly will,” Giles says, smiling, as Spike beats a hasty retreat.
The girls almost follow him out the door. “Excuse me, miss, but you are going to pay for that, correct?” Giles calls, indicating, with an inclination of his grey head, the merchandise she and her friends carry in their arms.
They blush. One of them says something that sends a chorus of giggles rushing through the girls. Yet then they do come away from Spike and toward the checkout counter. Giles smiles, glad he no longer possesses the foolishness of youth, and proceeds to tally up their purchases. It is nice to know, however, as he told Spike, that he is no longer alone. Buffy, her sister, and her little friends have more protection than even they know, and that, despite the source from whence it comes, certainly is a blessing for which to be thankful. He’s no longer as young as he once was after all.