Spike grinned and, still holding Giles' arm to help him in the dark, led the way over the rough grass. Giles looked around with a worried expression. 'I don't think we should be here like this.'

'I'm positive we shouldn't be 'ere like this. Good, hey?'

'No! What if we get arrested?'

'Oh, fuck off, Giles, live a little. I'm a bleedin' vampire, and you're a� a� well, you're into all this demonic crap; so, who's got more right to be 'ere?'

'Demonic? I'm not with you.'

'Yeah, like this was built by Druids.' Spike let this lie between them as they arrived in the ring of huge stones. He let Giles go and wandered off on his own, staring up at the white, cold surfaces. Giles, almost completely sober now, stood back a little, awed at the sense of being in this place with Spike. He tired to see the blond hair but had lost him in the dark. Finally, he ventured into the ring himself and saw Spike perched on the top of one of the larger stones.

'Get off! This is a National Heritage site!'

Spike's peeling laughter rang out around the eerily still night. Giles began to shiver and realised he was only dressed in his sport's jacket. He wrapped it tightly to him and hissed, 'Come on. Let's go.'

Spike jumped off the stone and, for one brief moment, as his coat flared behind him, it seemed to Giles as if the vampire was in slow motion, as if he� flew down, but he shook off this oddly disturbing thought and put it down to bad beer.

He began to make his way out of the site when he was captured from behind, and arms that almost felt warm in contrast to the night, wrapped around him. 'Bend over.'

'What!'

'Over that fallen stone, there.'

'I most certainly will not.'

Spike didn't take no for an answer. He undid Giles' trousers and ripped them down to his knees. He pushed Giles into the position he wanted and, undoing his own jeans, took his erection in his hand. 'I was gonna wait, like, 'til tonight, but it's the power of this place.' He spoke seriously, almost reverently. 'I 'ave to. 'S ordered.' Giles stilled, as he felt the vampire's awe.

'What do you�.'

'Shh. Don't speak, mate; they'll 'ear ya.'

Giles looked anxiously around but, at that moment, Spike opened him up with a curious finger. He groaned at the intrusion and stretched his legs wider. Spike pushed him over the fallen stone and played with the hole for a while, watching the effect of his pale finger disappearing in the shadows from the moonlight. When he felt the human was ready, he began to work his penis into the hole, easing it in on spit and blood, which he drew from a slight wound in his wrist. As he pushed in, the human began to protest again, so he murmured, 'Hope they don't smell the blood, mate. Should 'ave thought about that.'

Once again, Giles stilled and began to look anxiously around him but, suddenly, Spike was in, and all he could think about then was the feel of that thick shaft filling him. He just needed to push out and squeeze his muscles, and he knew Spike would enjoy both these, so he heaved back and felt Spike pushing in against him, heard the vampire groaning his pleasure. Then he squeezed down, and Spike hissed. Suddenly, a hand was clamped onto the back of his neck, and Giles was pummelled by the vampire, as he brought himself to orgasm. Giles fell spread-eagled onto the rock, helpless to this onslaught. He felt a wash of fluid inside and heard a sharp cry, 'Oh! Yeah!' as the vampire emptied into the soft, warm rectum.

Spike stood up, using Giles for support, and zipped up his jeans. Giles stood shakily and looked around. 'So� do you still feel it?'

'What, pet?'

'Whatever it was, driving you to do� that?'

Spike giggled and backed off out of reach. 'Yeah. Like� duh, Giles. Got a bloody good shag though. Always wanted to do it 'ere.'

Giles lunged but missed Spike by a very long way, as the vampire shifted in the moonlight. Giles broke into a run but hadn't gone far, before he stumbled in the dark and fell in the damp, muddy lane. Spike, walking backward, watched him climb to his feet. 'Come on, pet, don't tell me you didn't get off on that.'

'Come here.'

'Why? What ya gonna do?'

'Come here and find out.'

'Now, pet. You know you love me. Saw it in yer eyes, back there in the pub.'

Giles stopped and tipped his head on one side. Spike was a vague figure, only his blond hair reflecting in the moonlight giving away his position. 'Come here.'

They both knew the words were the same but the intent now entirely different. Spike materialised at his side, and Giles took the cold face in his hands. He brought Spike slowly to him and, in the moonlight, they kissed deeply, their tongues seeking to affirm the truth behind the games. Spike groaned into the kiss and ran his hands through Giles' hair. Giles slid his hands up inside Spike's T-shirt and over the smooth skin.

Suddenly, they were blinded by a bright light. Spike swore and pulled Giles to one side, as a car made its way down the lane. It pulled over just in front of them, and the creaky window was wound down. 'Bloody sodomites! Rather 'ave the fucking travellers. Sod off!'

Giles burst out laughing; the landlord swore once more and drove off. Spike looked at Giles' face and began to laugh, too, and Giles pulled him back for one more swift kiss, before saying ruefully, 'Shall we sod off?'

Spike nodded and began to walk slowly back down the lane toward the pub. 'Don't that bother you?'

Giles put a hand on Spike's shoulder. 'I won't ever see him again; why should it?'

'Huh. In general then.'

'What? Being called that? I don't know. I don't take much notice of anything the likes of someone like that says. He's ignorance personified.'

'No. I mean, not him specifically, but what he saw; what he said.'

'No. I'm trying to say no. I don't.'

'So, you're gonna tell yer folks then. You're gonna tell 'bout us now.'

'Oh. Well, no, I'm not. That's entirely different.'

'Ah, thought it might be.'

'Come on, Spike. Would you go to LA and tell Angel about us? Ah, I thought not.' Spike looked annoyed.

'That's different.'

'Exactly.'

'Oh, bugger off.'

'I think I just did.'

Spike gave him a small play slap and reached out a hand for the keys.

Giles refused. 'I'm quite sober enough to drive.'

Spike shrugged and climbed into the passenger seat, lighting a cigarette. Giles shifted the seat and pulled out of the car park. He wriggled slightly on the leather, and Spike gave him a small sideward glance. 'Okay there?'

Giles pursed his lips. 'Besides muddy shoes and trousers, and a rather aching bottom? Quite.'

'Good, cus I still mean to 'ave you tonight. When we get there.'

'Oh God, maybe I'd better drive slowly then.'

'Whatever, I'm gonna 'ave a kip. Wake me when we get there.'

Giles turned on the radio and listened with pleasure to the soft, educated voices. He didn't take it slowly; they still had a long way to go. He made their way back to the M5 and went immediately out to the outer lane, which by now was empty. He took the car up to over a hundred, briefly thinking about his licence, but then relaxed back to the sound of the radio, and the sense of Spike asleep next to him. For all his sparring with the vampire, he knew that he was utterly lost to that sleeping figure, and that the obsession he felt for Spike was only growing by the hour.

Familiar landmarks began to appear, and he swung off the motorway, taking the quieter country lanes he knew so well. A car came toward them with its lights on full beam, and Giles' soft cursing woke Spike. He rubbed his hands through his hair and sat up, 'Bloody hell, we there yet?'

'Nearly.'

Spike looked around at the dense woods and the tiny lane. 'Fuckin' hell. This is takin' hidin' me a bit serious, ain't it?'

Giles chuckled. 'Maybe.'

Finally, Giles pulled in at a small cottage built of grey stone, which was tucked behind one of a pair of large rusty gates. Spike eyed it silently and said rather flatly, 'Nice.'

Giles didn't comment, but put the car into gear and eased past the half-closed gates. As he went cautiously down an overgrown drive, he said casually, 'That was the gatehouse, Spike.'

Spike turned sideward in the car and lit a cigarette. He didn't watch the drive but watched Giles' face carefully. When Giles stopped the car, Spike saw a number of emotions flick across the watcher's face, and only then did he turn to see where they were. 'Fucking hell!'

Spike climbed slowly out of the car and looked at the house, which stood on a slight rise behind an ornamental lake. His jaw threatened to destroy his streetcred, so he clamped it tightly shut. The house was in a horseshoe shape, one wing clearly much older than the rest, possibly Tudor. The rest of the house was newer, Georgian architecture evident in its lines. Giles got out, too, and watched Spike.

Eventually, Spike ground out his cigarette on the gravel and said, amused, 'So, you got any brothers or sisters then?'

Giles laughed out loud. 'No.'

'Uh huh.' Spike turned to him in the moonlight. 'Did I tell you how much I admire and respect you?'

Giles stretched out a hand and Spike took it, twisting his fingers through Giles' in an affectionate way.

'So, I've become attractive in proportion to the size of my house, have I?'

Spike turned back once more to the imposing residence and just breathed softly, 'Oh, yeah.'

'Come on, you mercenary vampire. Let's go.'

Although it was past four, there were a few lights on in the lower rooms. Giles groaned. 'They waited up. I told them not to.'

Spike was unnaturally silent, as they drove down past the lake and pulled up at the large front doors. Giles climbed out. 'Leave the bags; we won't need them tonight; I'll get them tomorrow.'

Spike nodded but hung back, looking around at the dark building that towered over him. Giles put an arm over his shoulder. 'It'll be light soon; it'll look different then.'

'Not to me. I'll be asleep.'

Giles pushed open the door, and Spike followed him into the large hall. It was gloomy and cold, despite the embers of a fire in a vast fireplace to one side. Giles gave Spike a glance then went toward a door to one side. It opened into a sitting room, which was only slightly warmer and slightly less gloomy. Spike trailed after him and started when two figures rose out of the gloom to meet them. He hung back and watched a stick-thin, elegant, if slightly shabby elderly women come towards Giles. She put a paper-thin hand to his face, 'Rupert. Here at last. You are very late.'

'Yes. Sorry, Mother. We got delayed. Accident.'

'Ah. We wondered.'

The effusive greeting for her only child over, she sat down again. Giles went toward the other figure and tentatively put out his hand. 'Father.'

'Rupert.' The old man sat as well, and Spike wondered if the greeting had exhausted him. Giles turned to him. It was too gloomy in the room to read his expression, so Spike came forward into the light of the fire.

'Mother, this is the young man I told you about.'

She rose once more and offered Spike her hand. 'Welcome. Rupert told me he was bringing a work colleague. I had expected someone quite different.'

'Oh.'

'Sorry, and you are�?'

Giles was about to introduce him, but Spike interrupted swiftly. 'William. My name is William.'

'Oh, you are English, how nice. I had thought you might be American, and we rather feared even Californian.'

Giles turned toward the fire and made some comment about the cold. His mother sat back down and folded her hands precisely in her lap. 'Was it warm when you left?'

Spike watched from one to the other as they discussed the weather, both in England and in California, in minute detail. He listened to see if he could hear some sort of private code in this: that the mother was really asking her son if he was well, if he was happy, if he missed her, and if Giles was asking his mother if she loved him, but he could hear nothing but banal comments on the bloody rain or lack of it. Eventually, unasked, he sat on a hard, shabby couch and looked around. The room was too large and too dark to see the far walls, but he could make out heavy drapes over long windows and various doors to other rooms. He sighed and lit a cigarette, until the silence that greeted this act made him look up. Giles went swiftly over to him and laid a hand on his shoulder, shaking his head a little. Spike gave him an inscrutable look but stubbed it out on his boot. Notice drawn to him, the mother looked him over from head to toe and said politely, 'So, William, where do your family come from?'

'London.'

'Ah. What does your father do?'

'He's dead.'

'Oh, I am sorry. How ghastly for your mother.'

'She's dead, too.'

'Goodness. How unfortunate for you. Do you have brothers or sisters?'

'No.'

'Dear me. Henry, did you hear?'

Spike glanced over at the old man and noticed, for the first time, that he was wearing a dog collar. Before he could stop himself, he blurted out, amused, 'A vicar?'

Giles' mother looked at him rather crossly. 'Did Rupert not tell you?'

'No, he didn't. Did you Rupert?'

Giles sat next to Spike and, as if putting a friendly, colleague-like arm on his shoulder, began to dig his fingers painfully into the back of Spike's neck. 'I'm sure I did, William, your memory is awful.'

Spike smiled sweetly at Giles' mother, despite the growing pain in his neck.

'So, William, tell me, what do you actually do?'

'When?'

She frowned at him. 'Work?'

He retuned the frown. 'Same as Rupert, course.'

'Ah, and that is�?'

The pressure on his neck increased, so Spike stood up and went toward the window, feigning a yawn. Giles' mother immediately stood. 'Of course, you must both be exhausted. We can catch up in the morning. Rupert, you are in your usual room. I've put William in the blue room. Will you show him the way; I'm feeling a little tired, I must say.'

'I'm sorry we kept you up so late, Mother. Don't worry about us in the morning; we're both a little jet-lagged, and I don't know about err, William, but I intend to spend the morning in bed.'

Spike tried not to laugh and followed Giles out. They went up the sweeping staircase together, aware they were watched from below. As soon as they rounded the corner, Spike shoved Giles back into the wall and kissed him roughly. 'Don't worry 'bout it, mate, I still love ya.'

'What?'

'Well, fucking hell, what sort of welcome was that?'

'It was perfectly normal; what do you mean?'

Spike stood back then shrugged and nodded toward the upper floors. 'So, where we sleepin', cus I'm shagged now.'

'I'll show you where you are.'

Spike smiled behind his back; he had no intension of sleeping anywhere else but curled into Giles' warm body, but he didn't tell the sad git that. The blue room was stone cold and even gloomier than the living room downstairs. Spike eyed the large bed and old furniture then said, 'I'll just come with you� see where you are like, case I need to find you.'

Giles nodded and made his way down the uneven hallway, up a flight of stairs and round some more twisting hallways. Eventually, he pushed open a door to a small suite that was well lit and had a dying fire in it. It was warm and inviting, and Giles sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed, and pulling off his shoes. 'At last. I am SO tired.'

Spike shed his coat and pulled his T-shirt off.

'What are you doing?'

Spike didn't bother to reply, just continued to undress, until he was naked and pale in the flickering light from the fire. Giles watched the slow undressing with no further comment, clearly debating something. Finally, he got up, slid the bolt on the door firmly closed, returned to the bed, and opened his arms. Spike grinned and climbed in under the thick eiderdown, spreading out on the soft mattress. Giles groaned as he looked down at his own clothes and made a theatrical effort of getting up again.

Before he climbed in beside Spike, Giles took some more wood and carefully rebuilt the fire. When it began to catch to his satisfaction, he slid into the welcoming arms. He sighed deeply and folded his arms under his head, staring at the ceiling. Spike began to run a finger up and down the stretched skin on the inside of Giles' arm, as he knew the human loved.

'I used to look at that crack for hours, wishing it would widen and allow me to crawl into it.'

Spike glanced up at the offending crack and said, 'Not surprised.'

'Did you really think she was cold, or are you just trying to be annoying as usual?'

'Fuck, what'd I know, mate? I'm dead, and I've got no soul. Don't listen to me.'

'But I do. You know that. I've come to listen to you rather a lot recently, and I know neither your undead status nor your lack of a soul affect your uncanny knack of understanding human emotions.'

'I'm a wuss you mean?'

Giles chuckled and wrapped the arms tighter around him. He turned to face Spike. 'I am so very glad you are here.'

Spike returned the amused look and raised his eyebrow. 'So am I. So, who you gonna leave all this to in yer will like� cus if you need�.'

The kiss silenced him, and they fell asleep: Giles dreaming that a small childhood crack had at last opened up and let him fall through, and that the falling was surprisingly cool and surprisingly tight around him.

He woke when a small knock sounded at the door. Spike opened a bleary eye, cursed, but obediently allowed the covers to be dragged over him. Giles shrugged on an old robe and opened the door a crack. 'Margaret!' His surprised delight was utterly genuine, and he embraced the old housekeeper lightly. She chuckled and pushed him off.

'Look at you! You're all skin and bone, and look at that skin! You are as brown as a berry. And did you sleep well? I didn't want to wake you but then I thought, Margaret, you've not seen your boy for over three years: he won't mind you just this once. Now, dear, can I bring you some breakfast? You must be starving. I left you out a little something last night, but your mother, bless her, forgot to tell you, and where is your little friend? I could have sworn your mother, bless her, said he was in the blue room, but that's not been touched. I must be getting old but, my, it's so good to see you, and don't you look handsome? And, well, oh California must be wonderful, and wouldn't I like to go there one day but, here now, I'm a silly old woman rattlin' on like this when you just want to go back to that lovely warm bed. Well, we'll forget breakfast, but I shall made you a proper lunch, and you come down and enjoy it, and bring your little friend with you, if you can find him. What's that noise now? Sounds like someone giggling; I'm a silly old woman; I'll be hearing ghosts next. Now, lover, don't stand there getting cold, get back to bed, and Margaret'll do you a nice bit of lunch. Oh, but its so good to have you home; don't go away again, will you?' She kissed him once again and bustled away.

Giles retuned to the shaking lump in the bed and extracted it from the covers. Spike wiped the tears from his eyes, and pulled Giles to him. 'Ah, lover, its so good to have you back in the bed with me.'

'Shut up, Spike.' He extracted himself and went back to stand by the door.

Spike sat up. 'Hey! I was only fucking around. What's wrong.'

Giles smiled shyly. 'Nothing. Nothing at all. I just want to do this more slowly.'

Spike frowned. 'Do what?'

'Come back to bed with you.' Giles began to come forward, shedding the robe as he did so.

'Oh, you old poof, come here will you?'

Giles climbed onto the bed and pulled Spike to him and, naked, warm, and pliant from sleep, they kissed deeply for the first time in this place.

*****
Part 12:

Giles pulled away and knelt alongside Spike. Spike, still twisted into the sheets, looked at him with fond tolerance for a moment, and then lifted his eyebrow with a small smile. 'So�.' He turned over onto his back and folded his arms under his head. 'We've got a big comfy bed, nothin' to do, and us. What'd'ya reckon?'

Suddenly, Giles ripped the sheet off, exposing Spike from his folded arms to his toes. He yelped and flipped over onto his belly with an accusatory look. 'Jeez, mate, give a bloke a bit of privacy, hey?'

Giles looked down at his back in wonder. 'We've done pretty much everything, haven't we? I feel I'm beginning to know you - I think about you all the time - but I've never taken the time to really look at you, have I?'

'And yer not starting now.'

'No, I am.' Good as his word, Giles ran his fingers up through Spike's hair, lifting each soft blond lock at the roots then letting it fall softly back. He pressed his thumbs to the back of Spike's ears, bending them forward, and then ran the ball of his thumb over the cool ridges, pinching the ear lobe softly. Spike tutted and pretended to be annoyed, but the lazy way he stretched to the touch rather belied this and, with a small smile, Giles continued his exploration. As Spike stretched his arms up, his armpits were lifted from the mattress, and Giles placed the back of his hand into one, as if testing the temperature. He tugged on the hair, twisting it into small spirals. 'What colour was your hair before you bleached it?'

Spike shook his head in despair at this weirdness but answered, 'Nerdy brown, why?'

'Huh.' Giles assimilated this information and moved on. He lifted Spikes' arm back a little and watched, fascinated, as the socket moved. He extended the arm and examined the prominent veins down the skin, testing the musculature by flexing it at the elbow and extending it once more. He spent a long time on the fingers, each one examined and flexed. The nails fascinated him: their blackness an amusing counterpoint to the overall paleness of the body. 'Why do you do this?'

Spike, his eyes now fixed unswervingly on Giles as he underwent this intent scrutiny, chuckled. 'Cus it used to piss Angelus off.'

Giles paused and returned the look, surprising himself by smiling. In this house, in this bed, Angelus did not seem such a threat. Finished with Spike's arm, he let it drop softly to the sheet and began to run his hands down the prominent spine. Spike's back was flawless, and Giles could not take his eyes off the smooth, pale skin. He sat back on his heels for a moment, looking at the overall shape: the way the hips did not flare out, the way the backside did not swell, the way the muscles were hard and defined. He shivered slightly as he realised how much he preferred this shape to others, and wondered why he had never thought to look for it before.

He shuffled down the bed slightly and picked up one of Spike's feet. As he looked at it, a small giggle escaped him, and Spike twisted around with an amused glare, 'What, poof?'

'You've got feet.'

Spike didn't deign to reply to this and, with a superior huff, turned his face the other way. Giles flexed each toe for a moment, utterly unable to explain why Spike having feet was so interesting. They were perfect feet: feet that did not, or could not, exist on an ordinary person. He stuck one of his out and compared them. Bony protrusions, hair on the big toe, a small blister, and a generally rather shabby appearance were all in stark contrast to the perfection he held in his hand. Spike's ankles proved equally interesting, and he twisted them around, watching how the bones slid under the skin. He didn't want to think about the bright light of reality; he didn't want to shine it on this body. How real was that small anklebone? How did it exist like this when one piercing splinter of wood would turn it to dust? Giles frowned and banished these thoughts.

He knew he was moving in an ever-decreasing pattern toward the place he really wanted to examine and explore. He slid his hands up the backs of Spike's thighs, pressing him into the mattress until he heard a faint moan of anticipation. He parted the cheeks and exposed Spike's entrance to the bright daylight in the room. He wondered if Spike could feel the cold air on it and blew lightly, just to test the vampire's reactions. Spike put a hand around and tried to pull Giles' head lower, but Giles resisted with a smile, and dodged his head away.

He sat more comfortably and just looked at the hole for a while, noting how it was darker than the rest of the pale, preternatural skin. When his eyes had enjoyed it enough, he licked his finger and trailed it over the puckered skin, then around, following the circumference of the hole. Spike wriggled, and Giles' concentration was lost for a moment, but he took the opportunity to shift onto his belly, propped up on one hand. In this position, he pressed his face into the crack between Spike's cheeks, his tongue searching for the hole. He found it and flicked lightly over the space until Spike raised his hips and pushed back.

Giles rose to his knees and pressed in further, his nose crushed against Spike's skin, his tongue hot and urgent. He wanted to penetrate that hole and watch the slow entry, so pushed his finger in up to the knuckle. Spike hissed and reached up to hold onto the iron bedstead. Giles hooked the finger, probed with it, explored and stretched the entrance. It wasn't enough, so he forced in another finger and, with this increased power, pummelled the inner walls until Spike, moaning uncontrollably, lifted his backside up and bent low at the waist. 'More.'

Giles knelt closer and pushed in his middle finger, too, the urge to bend them and hook the ring of muscle down too overpowering to ignore. Spike's entrance opened up, and it was so easy to slip his little finger in as well. Spike thrust back as hard as he could and almost shouted for Giles to bring him off. Giles wriggled his fingers inside Spike's rectum as if trying him on like a tight fitting glove. Spike began to pant, and thrash his head from side to side. He stretched out his arms, locking his biceps, displayed to maximum advantage. The vampire crucified thus, Giles lost it completely. He yanked his hand out and drove his penis home, until he felt as if he should see the tip bulging out against Spike's hard abs. He wrapped his arms around Spike's waist and splayed his hands to those rippling muscles, just in case, and then began to push Spike inexorably into the wall behind the bed. Spike's face squashed against the faded wallpaper; his body slammed repeatedly into the rail, until the bed shook to the impact. Giles hissed out between gritted teeth, 'Clamp down more.' Spike did. He almost crushed Giles' cock as he squeezed his strong inner muscles and, on the next thrust in, Giles had to push through as if penetrating the very abs he held so tightly.

Spike jerked his head back at the sensation. 'Fuck�. Fuck me, Giles.'

Giles groaned and pumped himself empty into Spike's tight rectum. He felt something splashing against his hands and peered over Spike's shoulder to watch with wonder as the tip of the vampire's cock squirted pale, milky fluid up, bullet after bullet of cool sperm shooting onto his hands. Spike's belly was drenched with cum; the backs of his legs ran with cum. Giles tipped back and pulled Spike - slick and slippery - with him. He slipped out with the movement but was too spent to notice. Spike lay on top Giles awkwardly, his back to Giles' warm belly, and didn't care that it was uncomfortable, that he was too heavy, that he wanted to look at the human. He just lay there with the knowledge that someone found his body desirable. So desirable, that just looking at it had pitched the human over into this intense sexual activity. Bathing in such adoration, he grinned privately, stretched his arms up, and even more awkwardly slipped his hands under Giles' head.

Giles rued the need to breath and finally had to tip Spike off to one side so his lungs could function. Spike lay sprawled on his back, watching Giles with a look of satisfaction that made Giles smile. He lowered himself to Spike slowly, touched their lips gently then pulled away. Before Spike could react, he came back, longer contact this time, and a slight pressure against the lips for them to open. He pulled off, grinned at Spike's expression and came back once more, this time his tongue seeking an entry that was freely offered. Giles put his hands under Spike's head and kissed him deeply; the kiss returned with as much passion and pleasure as he put into it.

Finally, needing a respite, Giles rolled to one side and just lay still with his heart pounding in his chest. He turned his head. 'You've come a long way.'

Spike continued to stare up at the ceiling. 'Almost through the bloody wall there for a minute, yeah.'

'Sorry.'

'You're welcome, very welcome.'

Giles chuckled and sat up. 'I'd better make an appearance, I suppose. What are you going to do all day?'

'Dunno. Sleep?'

'I'll get the bags.'

This got no reply, as Spike was making himself comfortable for a snooze, so Giles took the robe once more and made his way to the bathroom. When he was dressed, he brought the bags into the room, despairing that they were all his except for a small, scruffy holdall, which could not have contained more than a few packs of cigarettes. He grinned at the idea of buying Spike some more clothes, now quite willing to admit that he found the thought stimulating.

Spike seemed to be asleep, and he left him, making his way down to show his face for lunch, squaring his shoulders and trying to shake off the person he now managed to be with Spike.

Spike woke some time in the afternoon and stretched contentedly in the bed. He felt like a shower but had no idea where he might find one so, after a cigarette, dressed back into the clothes he had worn the day before. He peered out cautiously at the unexpectedly sunny day and cursed softly.

Staying in the room wasn't an option, so exploring the house seemed the only alternative. He made his way to the end of one wing and started on the top floor. Most of the rooms were deserted, empty except for old, heavy looking furniture under sheets. Windowpanes were grimy, and the light in the rooms filtered in, streaking across the gentile shabbiness. He explored the whole of the wing from attics to ground floor, and then began on the second one. This proved only marginally more exciting and, despairingly, he began the final part of the house: the main, joining section.

Here he found some gems. He pushed open one large double door to discover a billiard table and small bar. Cursing in delight, he made himself a drink and messed around with the table for a while. He saw lots of possibilities for this room but moved on. He was sauntering slowly down a long corridor hung with family portraits, when Giles' mother came out of a room with a bunch of faded flowers. She looked at him, rather surprised, but said courteously, 'William. Good afternoon. Did you sleep well?'

Spike nodded, not trusting himself to speak. She began to walk slowly down the portraits, explaining some to him, pointing out key features in others. At the end of the line was Giles. Spike stopped up short and stared at the picture of the man whose face had so recently been a great deal closer to him. It was a good picture, although not a hint of a smile escaped the sitter's lips. The mother, however, did not seem to see this defect, for she looked upon the portrait with a possessive gaze.

Spike pouted and nodded at the space next to the picture. 'What's that left for?'

She glanced at him. 'For Rupert's son, of course.'

Spike's blood ran a little colder than normal. 'Oh. Course. Where does 'e live then?'

She turned to him with a look that would have frozen him, if he weren't already pretty chilled. 'He has not been born yet, of course. Rupert is not married.'

'Oh.' Slightly annoyed by her tone and just because he could, Spike asked in an amused voice, 'So, what if 'e don't wanna 'ave kiddies like?'

'Don't be ridiculous. He is the last of the line, and Gileses have lived in Abbotsbury Giles since this land was granted to us by the Conqueror himself. He understands his destiny and his responsibilities.'

'Uh huh.' Spike thought back to the thick shaft pounding him into the wall and somewhat doubted this, but it seemed to go some way to explain some of the things that still puzzled him about the man.

As if she realised she had said too much, given away too much passion, she turned to him and, with a slightly withering look, said, 'I am sure you would like to freshen up and change. Has anyone shown you to the bathrooms?'

'Nope. Thanks.' Spike turned to follow her, but she said, chillingly, without turning around, 'Wait here, and I'll send Margaret to show you.'

Spike almost laughed but did as he was told, and passed the time looking at Giles, who now seemed a lot sadder in his picture than Spike had at first thought.

He heard the housekeeper before she came into view, for she seemed to like talking as much without an audience as she did with one. She bustled into view, discussing the dust, and stopped when she saw Spike. She looked him over from head to toe with her hands on her hips then broke into an inexplicable grin. 'Well, my lovely, haven't I heard a lot about you today?'

Spike looked worried. 'Really?'

'He don't talk of much else, that's for sure.'

Spike was glad it was gloomy in the corridor. She chuckled and beckoned for him to follow her, pointing out the laundry cupboards, the bathrooms, and the dressing rooms. As she finally departed, she threw back over her shoulder, 'I'll put the kettle on; come down when you're ready.'

Spike was utterly lost by this time, could not work out which way to get back to Giles' room and certainly wasn't going to ask, so he washed and put back on the, by now, rather over familiar clothes. The promise of tea brought him down to a surprisingly warm, large, homely kitchen - the only room in the place where he had seen colour and life. Margaret was baking, her arms covered in flour, deep in some sort of dough. Spike straddled a chair and reached for his cigarettes then paused and glanced up. She shook her head. 'They'll kill you those things, but don't mind me if you've a mind to.'

Spike grinned and lit up, squinting at her through the smoke. She eyed him for a while then muttered, 'Don't be coming that look with me, laddie; I've seen all the charmers I need to at my time of life. I find more charm in a nice cup of tea these days.'

Spike laughed and dropped his act. She looked pleased and made him the promised cup of tea. They sat together contentedly, Spike watching her kneading the dough with a strange feeling once more in his belly. He tried to analyse it. It was almost the same as the one he'd had when he'd listened to Giles singing, but why this should be so, he couldn't say.

Eventually, Margaret put the baps into the oven and sat herself with a cup of tea. 'So, William, are you going to see your family while you're over here?'

Spike sipped at his tea, his face partially hidden by the cup. 'I don't 'ave much family these days.'

'Oh, I'm sorry for that. Friends then?'

'Nah, I kinda left for the States a long time ago.'

'Oh, funny, your accent is still strong. Rupert is so American these days.'

Spike spluttered. 'Is he?'

'Oh yes, he uses such odd expressions and the like.'

'Where is he?'

'He said he had some errands and went out.'

'When's he getting back?'

'Well, certainly for dinner. What are you going to do 'til then?'

Before he could answer, the door opened, and Giles' mother came in carrying an empty cup. She saw him and said pleasantly. 'William, in the kitchen?'

He almost felt he had to apologise.

'I'd have thought a young man like you would be out for a walk on a lovely day like this. Would you like me to fetch someone to show you around the grounds?'

Spike pursed his lips. 'I kinda thought I'd go out when it was�.' Embarrassingly, he couldn't finish what he'd started and fished wildly in his head for suitable qualification, finally adding lamely, 'Darker.'

'How interesting. Well, you've seen over the house. Perhaps you'd like to take your tea to the library?' With a look that clearly indicated this was not a suggestion, she left.

Spike looked down and traced his finger though a small split in the old pine table. 'She don't like me.'

Margaret said evenly, 'She wouldn't like anyone Rupert brought home. No one is good enough for her precious son.'

'Huh, don't seem he's all that precious here to me. And hey! What'd'ya mean? I'm just 'is colleague, yeah? We work together.'

'Of course. That's what I mean. She's jealous of his work that takes him so far away. You come from that work, too, so she's jealous of you.'

Spike gave her an intent look, but she remained open and calm. He pretended to rise then looked back sharply and caught a small smile on her face, which was whipped quickly away. He huffed slightly and shook his shoulders. 'Where's this fu� bloody library then?'

Although he wouldn't have admitted it - even if threatened with paradise itself - he was in heaven for the rest of the day. The library was extensive and stocked with a surprisingly eclectic selection of books - fiction and non-fiction. He suspected who had had the major hand in choosing the books and spent some time collecting a small pile of good titles. When he was happy, he flung himself onto the couch and thus passed the remaining daylight hours.

When Giles returned, he had the odd experience, once more, of not being able to keep a silly grin off his face. He'd had a very productive afternoon, and the thought of seeing Spike - touching Spike - engrossed him. He went to his room and deposited most of his packages, stoked the fire until it roared, then began a slow search for the vampire. He looked in most of the rooms he thought Spike might have holed up in but with no success. It was only as he was passing down the long central gallery, that he heard the distinctive crack of billiard balls. He grinned even wider and pushed open the double doors.

Spike heard the doors and sensed it was Giles, but kept his back to the door, and stayed bent low over the table. He knew he was in one of his most favourable positions, so maximised it by lifting one leg, as if taking a particularly difficult shot. When the warm body pressed against him, he smirked slightly. 'Hello.'

'Hello.' Giles slipped one hand around Spike to lay it over his chest. 'Miss me?'

Spike paused as if thinking deeply, wriggled back so Giles' hard bulge was evident between them, and said slyly, 'Missed that.'

'You'll have to wait.'

Spike spun around. 'Now.' He pouted.

Giles raised one eyebrow and produced what he was holding behind his back. 'So, you don't want this then?'

Spike fell on the old milk carton, which was filled with fresh blood. He drained the four pints almost without stopping, and Giles watched, fascinated, as a faint flush appeared on Spike's skin. When he'd finished, Spike wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. 'Still hungry.'

'There's more upstairs. I didn't know� err� how much you usually have a day.'

Spike grinned. 'Usually two blokes, ya know. But diddy bints? Maybe three of 'em.'

Giles blanched. 'Thank you for that imagery.'

Spike frowned. 'I've never got human bloody disgust with what I do. At least I fucking eat them! Least I don't just kill cus I like it an' leave perfectly good bodies!'

'So, you advocate murderers eating their victims as well, do you? To lessen the heinous nature of their crimes? I like that. Yes, I feel a letter to The Times coming on.'

'Pillock. An' where you bloody been all day?'

'So, you did miss me?'

'No.' His hand undoing Giles' button rather belied this. Giles took hold of the slim, steel-strong wrists and shook his head. 'Not in here, besides, we have to dress.'

'Dress what?'

'Dress for dinner.'

'You are bleedin' joking?'

'I've been out all day, Spike; it's my first night home - of course I shall have dinner.'

'No! I wanna go to a pub an' get rat-arsed an' vomit on the way 'ome an' shag 'til I'm sore! I am NOT gonna sit around with polite fucking talk and dainty food I can't bleedin' eat anyway.'

'You can eat; the talk will be as boring as you let it, and you are.'

Spike shrugged and turned away to continue his solitary game. 'Okay, but I'm not. I got nothing to wear.'

Giles came over to him again and placed a hand over the cue, preventing the next shot. 'You have now.'

Spike trailed up to the bedroom - more for the promise of sex than seeing what Giles had bought for him, but he thought it only polite to at least look in the bags. For someone who had only once before bought clothes for another man, and someone who had only had Totnes for choice, Giles had done a remarkably good job. Basically, he'd bought only black and white: three pairs of black trousers in a soft, fluid wool, and three white shirts of crisp, smooth cotton. To these basics, he'd added some tight-fitting T-shirts in subtle shades of navy and purple. Spike pursed his lips and let the stuff fall to the ground. 'S okay. But I'm still not going to any fucking dinner, and where's the rest of me blood?'

Giles sat on the edge of the bed and waved in the direction of the window where he'd placed the other milk cartons outside in the cold. As Spike retrieved them, Giles began to undress, until he sat naked in the warm light from the fire. He knew Spike was watching him out of the corner of one eye as he drank, and he also knew that the blood was not the only reason Spike had a distinct flush on his skin. Spike tossed the empty cartons onto the fire then came slowly over toward Giles. Giles nodded in the direction of a small bag, overlooked until now. Spike grinned and ripped into it and, incredulously, held up a bottle of vanilla and chocolate-scented body oil. He flashed Giles a look through lowered eyelashes and began to unbutton his shirt, as he came slowly toward the human.

'Dinner is at eight.'

Spike stopped and stared at Giles.

Giles gestured complacently at the heap of new clothes. 'Wear a white shirt, please.'

It took all of Giles' strength not to giggle at Spike's expression. He could almost hear the gears churning in the vampire's mind: capitulate and get a shag? Hold out on principle and not get shagged�? Hold out and get steaming in the pub�?

The bottle of oil dangled from Spike's hand and didn't help his dilemma. He glanced at it as he did his rapid calculations. Giles suddenly wondered what he'd do if Spike turned him down. Would he end up begging Spike? He thought he might, so much did he want to touch that body.

'The blue T-shirt.'

'No, the white shirt.'

'One under the other.'

Giles held out his hand. 'I get to put them on you.'

Spike took the hand. 'You get to take 'em off, too.'

*****