Disarm You With a Smile

Just posted this to twoenglishmen and thought I'd share it with my friends as well. Hope you all like it.

Title: An Acid Rain’s Gonna Fall
Rating: PG
Summary: Spike stalks Giles
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters. They belong to a bunch of corporate types who didn’t know what to do with them Good thing we do.
A/N: Written for liliaeth on the twoenglishmen community. This is so totally unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own. I really need to find a good beta reader. Wheesh.


Sunset in the west, and the sky was awash in the acidic colors of the psychadelic. Blues and whites giving way to pinks and purples while the last of the light cast long shadows amongst the building. He hid there, covered in blackness, watching the figure across the street. Blue eyes following the man into the store, for no other reason than they wanted to. Spike stalked slowly out into the street, keeping his eyes on the door, waiting for the man to re-emerge. A soft, sultry smile playing about his pouty lips.

Giles stood inside the shop, surreptitiously eyeing Spike outside. Did the vampire actually think I am unaware of his presence? He did not understand this new development. Spike had been following him now for days. Ever since he’d told him he’d never want his opinion. One good thing, at least the obsession with Buffy was over. But now? Giles seemed to be the object.

Spike knew Giles had seen him. He wasn’t exactly stealthy about his behavior. He just wanted the man to be aware of him. His presence a constant niggling thought, driving Giles to distraction. But he kept up the pretense, skulking in shadows, mirroring footsteps, popping into the periphery only to pop out again. Though not nearly as adept at crazy making as Angelus, Spike could hold his own. And he knew Giles lingered in the store to avoid him.

Giles watched as Spike crossed the street again to hide amongst the growing shadows. The sky had finally turned black. Checking his pockets to ensure he still carried the stake and holy water that were pre-requisites for wandering Sunnydale streets at night, Giles prepared to leave his makeshift shelter. He felt the first fat raindrop on his cheek and looked to the unforgiving sky. “Bugger.” The rain would cover any and all sound Spike made and it would be impossible for Giles to track his stalker. This, despite Spike’s chipped state, actually made the man afraid, for there were worse things Spike could do than physically assault him. He increased his pace as he headed for his flat.

Spike grinned evilly. Watcher’s afraid. He inhaled the tangy scent of fear, and the sweet smell of night rain. Good thing, fear. Though what the Watcher had to fear from the vampire, Spike had not a clue. So he followed Giles’ faster pace, let him get to his apartment courtyard, then stepped out of the shadows.

“Watcher.”

Oh jesus. Giles’ heart skipped two beats, and that hurt. “What, Spike. I know you’ve been following me. What do you want?”

The vampire stalked up to Giles, arms hanging loosely at his side, head cocked at an inquisitive angle. “My, my, my, Rupert.” He reached up slowly to lay a hand on Giles’ chest. “What do you we have here? A racing heart?” Spike scented the air around him again. “Oooh, the heady scent of arousal and fear. What are you afraid of Giles?”

“Certainly not you, Spike. You can’t hurt me, not with that nasty little device the Initiative planted.” Giles was beginning to feel the coolness of the rain, the wet air seeping into his bones, making them ache a little. He really needed to get inside.

“Don’t want to hurt you, Rupert.” Spike sidled closer to the man. “Just want a little taste. And what’s more? You want to give me one.” He looked askance at Giles. “Don’t you.” Not a question, followed by a knowing smile.

“Spike. Take your hand off me, and step back. It’s cold and wet out here, I want to get inside.”

“I know.” He made no move to let Giles go. “But I want you out here.” He leaned in and sniffed at Giles’ neck, smelling the tang of patchouli and the intoxicating scent of pure unadulterated need. The last shocked him. “Jesus, Rupert.” His wide blue eyes met unrepentant green ones.

“So. Now you know. Are we going to take this inside? Or are you going to continue to be juvenile and try to seduce me in the rain?” It was Giles’ turn to grin.

Spike shook his head. “By all means, Watcher. Let us away.”

Giles nodded and led the way into his apartment, issuing the invite through softly whispered words and as the rain fell on the terra cotta tiles of the courtyard, the soft sounds of passion subdued could be heard through an open window.

TITLE: A Meeting of the Minds
SUMMARY: Spike and Giles consider each other
SETTING: Late S5 BtVS
RATING: G
FEEDBACK: Absolutely.
A/N: Written for janedavitt in gratitude for her help with lj posting codes. She’s such a sweetie! Oh, and this is so totally unbeta’d, so all mistakes are mine.

There’s always so much more to him than they realize, or than they really want to know. Watcher should be kept in a box, I guess, from they way they turn blind eyes to his life. Or the way they respond with laughing eyes to his glares when they’ve been particularly stupid. Idiots.

I know different. The stuttering, almost dottering old fool? Just an act, an act he knows keeps Buffy and her slayerettes happy. But behind their backs? The feral glare, the stony face. The rough hands that close in quiet fists at their dismissal. I would laugh, because Big Bad he never will be, but. I can see he probably once was.

Wonder what he would have been like. Fierce, hungry, demanding. Probably would have put Angelus in his place. I wonder, sometimes, what he thinks of me. Ahh. I see.

~~~~~~~~~

There’s more to Spike than any of them want to acknowledge. A vulnerability surrounded by power. I see it, in the way he watches her. In the way he takes care of them all while cutting them to the quick. They turn blind eyes to him, unable to adjust to the shades of grey that turn the world.

I was grey once. Still am occasionally, but they’ll never see. I’ll never let them. But he sees, and encourages it. What is it about him that encourages these urges to want, to demand, to take. To have. There was I time when I would have, but it’s passed.

Sometimes, though, I wonder. Would he let me? Would he surrender to me as he did to Angelus? Could I force him to? The question must glint in my eye, because I hear him say, “Watcher?” and glance up to meet his gaze. “What Spike?”

“Anytime you want to.”

Ok. Never done this before, so you guys bear with me. I am new to the posting fiction on LJ, and know absolutely nothing about it. *grin* See. Here is where the more attentive of you guys intuit that I need some serious help here. lol. If anyone here would like to help me out with the setup of this monstrosity that is web journaling, I would be most appreciative. You can either post to me here or email me at mcsapp@tnni.net.

I have found that the community of Buffy/Angel ficwriters are an awesome group of people and are SUPER helpful to the newbies who join their ranks. I just want you to know that you guys frikkin ROCK!! Any hoo, on with the fic, eh?

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Title: A Moment’s Respite

Setting: End of fall, beginning of winter, post-Chosen.

Summary: Giles has returned to England, accompanied by Willow, Kennedy, Andrew and Xander, and of course many of the new Slayers. He is the new head of the CoW, and oddly enough is satisfied both with himself, and the job they are all doing. This is a tiny moment in his life in which he reflects happily on the last seven years, or rather he tries to..

Disclaimer: I, sadly, do not own Giles or any of the other characters in this story. They all belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Warner Bros., and Fox. I think I’ll cry now. I am only taking them out to play, as Joss said we could. No infringement is intended, so please do not sue me.


Written for: tweedisgood, who asked for a happy, on-his-own Giles. I hope this hits the spot

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The key turned in the lock loosely, the tiny clicking sounds welcoming Giles home. He opened the door and stepped into his flat with a sigh. He closed the door softly behind him, unwilling to break the warm silence of the abode. He shrugged out of his coat, hung it on the rack in the foyer and moved farther into his home. He stopped at the makeshift bar, pulling down a decanter of single malt, and poured himself two fingers of the amber liquid. He took a small sip and smiled at the slight burn as he swallowed. Now that is what I call scotch, he thought to himself.

Moving into the living room, he turned on a small table lamp, and eased into the worn but still comfortable leather chair next to it. He waited for the creaking of his bones and was pleasantly surprised when he didn’t hear them. The exhaustion he was used to, as well as the ache that always accompanied him, was gone now. He felt almost youthful again. Of course, not living on the Hellmouth had a lot to do with that particular change. He smiled, then flexed the fingers of his right hand. Oddly, even the broken fingers, courtesy of Angelus, had ceased to vex him. He curled those fingers into a loose fist, lowering his arm again to the armrest of the chair.

The day had gone so well, he thought. Screening the new Watcher applicants had been a great deal simpler than he had imagined, as well as organizing the new library and setting up the training and magic rooms. Xander, Andrew, Willow and Kennedy had taken to their new roles as Council members like ducks to water. It helped that each had an expertise and were more than willing to bend their elbows to the tasks. Of course, having a handful of Slayers made the hard labor that much less hard. So, a good day, a cool night, a tumbler of excellent single malt - if he did say so himself - and some peace and quiet were enough to make Giles settle comfortably into his easy chair and smile. Something that he had done little of in the last year.

His reverie was disturbed by the ringing of the doorbell. “Just a minute.” He called as he rose from his chair. He crossed over to the door, opening it to reveal four gamine faces. “Oh bloody hell, what do you want?” he asked in mock seriousness.

Xander spoke up first. “Well, Giles, the new Council is well on its way to operational status - ”

“The library is set up, or is ready to be set up, because we don’t have all the books we need -” Andrew interrupted him, only to be interrupted himself by Willow saying “The magic room is warded and Kennedy here - ”

“Has settled in all the young Slayerettes. Now, we want - ”

“Some hang time with the G-man. Oh, and I know I wasn’t supposed to call you that anymore, but I can’t help myself, you know?” Xander finished the explanation of their arrival on his doorstep. He continued, “We have movies of a non-violent nature. All Merchant Ivory, Tony Hopkins, Emma Thompson kind of movies.” He floundered for a minute. “Ok, I know, it sounds like chick flicks, but hey, Willow and Kennedy did it.”

Giles had listened to their explanation with a slight grin which disappeared at the mention of the movies. “Xander Harris, do you mean to tell me that you do not have one single explosion movie? Not one American blockbuster? I am sorely disappointed. However,” he motioned for them to come in, “you may bring yourselves and your ill gotten gains inside. I sincerely hope you have brought snacks and not those disgusting jelly-filled sorry excuses for donuts?”

Kennedy spoke up. “Andrew brought the snacks. Some freaky white chocolate chip and cherry cookies. Who puts cherries in cookies? Ruins perfectly good chocolate if you ask me.”

Andrew frowned over at Kennedy, then looked over at Giles. “Yeah. I baked. I think they’re good, but these chocophiles want nothing to do with them.”

“I’ll try them later, Andrew. There are drinks in the refrigerator. Soda, I think, and some juices. Feel free to help yourselves.” They all made something to drink, then Giles indicated a return to the living room, where Xander began fiddling with the television and DVD player. Andrew placed his tin of home baked cookies on the coffee table, and sank down onto the floor in front of the sofa where Willow and Kennedy had sat and were now snuggling. Giles settled back into his chair with his scotch. He looked around the room at the four youngsters gathered there. Comfortable, accepting, and, again the word crept into his consciousness, warm. This was his home, and these four people his family. Of course Buffy and Dawn were family too, but they were still in America, setting up the Slayer division and recruiting or actually finding new Slayers.

It seemed that Giles had always been surrounded by these people. But it had only been, Oh dear lord! It had been seven years. Seven short, unbelievably excruciating years that he had known these people. Sometimes he forgot that he had had a life before those seven years. Or at least it was hard to imagine that life. He had heard it said that you couldn’t choose family, that you took what you got. Not true, he learned. These Californian children had snatched him up from a life of study, dust, and old mouldy books, and plunked him right into the thick of life. He loved it. Ever since meeting them, he had felt a sense of self, of purpose and determination that had eluded him. Even his rebellious misspent youth with Ethan and the others had not prepared him for the challenge of loving and watching over these young people. He marveled at their strength. He wondered at the source of it. They were just human beings, and had no reason to fight like they did. No special calling, except as The Slayer’s friends. And that was the crux, the heart of it all. The Slayer and her friends. The reasons for his continued existence. He would have it no other way.

He took a draft of his scotch, the amber liquid hot on his tongue and throat, and he smiled. Looking around the room again at the four gathered there, he thought to himself, “No other way.” As Xander settled back against the sofa and pressed play, Giles thought of all the other times they had gathered together to watch movies. He felt at home, and knew they did too. It was good; it was right, and it was all he had ever hoped for.

The phone next to him rang, and he picked it up, four pairs of eyes on him. He smiled broadly at whoever was on the other end of the line. “Ah. Hello Buffy. I was just thinking about you.” Yes, this was all he had ever hoped for.