*****

Boredom squatted on them, making them all tetchy and restless - wanting to do something, unable to settle on anything. Even Giles, normally self-contained and placid, was irritable and ready to snap if anyone could be bothered to annoy him. It was the heat, really. A blistering, Sunnydale, over-hot day had driven them all inside to wait for the cooler evening. The night had arrived, but then they realised their day had only been a prelude for the night. It was so hot their clothes stuck to them even though, still and listless, they didn't move. Only Spike seemed comfortable. He stretched out on the ladder of the magic shop with an amused and laconic expression at the humans' discomfort. Ostensibly reading, Giles watched him covertly out of the corner of one eye. He blamed this watching on his discomfort and boredom. Spike would not normally have occupied one cell of Giles' rather extensive brain. Now he began to think of nothing else. The vampire looked so. damned superior and cool. It was extremely annoying thinking this, and Giles enjoyed letting it annoy him. Spike's composure didn't slip until later that night. Dawn had gone home; Willow and Tara had gone to do some. "research"; and Buffy was patrolling. Only Giles, Xander, Anya, and Spike were left.

All was well until Xander, reaching for a book, touched Anya's hand. Anya felt an orgasm coming on so responded to this accidental touch by seizing Xan's face, straddling his lap and proceeding to check his tonsils with her tongue. Giles looked mildly amused, carried on with his research and watched the annoying vampire until, with a shiver of interest, he saw that Spike was no longer so amused, ironic, cool, and bloody irritating: he was fuming, tense and . was that envious?

Giles didn't deny that Spike had emotions: dogs had emotions. Hell, even slugs, he allowed, might have the occasional flicker of emotion.. "Oh, fuck! Bird!" That Spike could look wistful and envious, and that these odd emotions should cross his face watching the teenagers on their pre-shag ritual snog, intrigued Giles.

This was William the Bloody. this was Spike. his sexual prowess was . was . not much heard about since he'd arrived on a certain Hellmouth with the love of his unlife. Drusilla. Giles leant back in his chair, sucking thoughtfully on his pencil. What had happened? Spike and Drusilla. then Spike. alone.

Chipped and alone. something nagged at his mind.

The memory was extremely painful and made him groan a little.

The watching was suddenly reciprocated.

He felt cool blue eyes on him, although he was not looking now in that direction, and still the painful, unbidden thoughts washed over him, too fast for any one in particular to stick, until a particularly unpleasant surge left some silt behind in a back-eddy of his mind.

"Spike can't get it u-up. Spike can't get it u-up."

The lilting, evil, singsong voice tormented him as its possessor broke him with large Irish hands.

"Spike can't get it u-up."

Angelus had crooned that refrain repeatedly as he had enjoyed his first human victim in over ninety years and, wheeled in to watch and to listen, Spike had. Giles looked up suddenly and caught Spike's intense stare; Spike had cried at his impotence - in front of a human. Angelus had tortured them both in different ways, but in his pain, Giles had not registered or remembered the other's suffering.

He looked down quickly and resumed the non-reading of his book. Xander and Anya were becoming too intense to remain in public, but before they could leave, Spike did. He flung himself off the stairs and stormed out, slamming the door almost off its hinges as he went. The lovers departed, too, and Giles was left blissfully alone with his new and intriguing thoughts.

What had happened to Spike when he had recovered the use of his legs? He'd gone; he'd come back. alone. and he'd been alone ever since. Giles thought there might have been a brief liaison with some friend of Cordelia's, but he remembered that petering out. when? He got up; he wanted to go home and consult his diaries.

He didn't question why he had this sudden desire to find out about Spike's love life - "Cup of tea, cup of tea, nearly had a shag.."

How many times had he heard that recently? Oh, how delicious life was sometimes. Just when it all seemed so boring he was even contemplating returning to England - and that in Giles' mind was his "this is too boring to now continue with" barometer - here was a delicious twist: an intriguing curve; a little slant in life's ironies. Giles had the distinct impression now that Spike's jibes at his woeful love life had a much darker provenance than making sport of a human's loneliness. As he walked through the blistering Sunnydale night, he began to allow the uplifting and suitably ironic thought that Spike might be impotent in more than just his feeding habits.

He stopped on his way home to treat himself to some muffins for breakfast. He started to pick at the hot, chocolaty cakes as he walked along, and almost choked when an amused voice slithered over him.

`You'll get even fatter than you already are, doing that.'

Normally, Giles would have felt a frisson of fear at Spike's voice: not from the thought he could be hurt but from the fear that never leaves you that the school bully might finally find the one crack in your defences which will split you open so wide you can't reform as you once were. Now, however, a soft Irish chant crept into his head as he replied, `Hello, Spike. So bored you have to lurk outside food-you-can't-eat shops?'

Spike shrugged off the wall he was leaning on smoking; chucked his cigarette into an open top car and tagged along beside Giles.

`I can eat.. So give us one, hey?'

`Buy your own, Spike. I would think you'd have to buy lots of things these days that you used to get for free.'

`Uh huh, what's that cryptic shit supposed to mean? And what's with the staring at me for a bleedin' hour solid back there? You started to fancy me or something?'

Thinking his words to be nothing more than his usual, relatively meaningless, passing-the-time-until-eternity-lives-up-to-its-promise nonsense, Spike was surprised, and somewhat disconcerted, when Giles appeared totally unruffled.

`I'd be wasting my time a little then, Spike, wouldn't I? Probably get more sexual thrill from eating these tomorrow with a nice cup of tea.' Lifting his bag of muffins to show Spike visibly what he suspected to be the extent of his libido, Giles opened his front door, bade the vampire a cheeky goodnight, and shut it in his face.

Spike stood there; his jaw almost dropped open, so he clamped it shut tight. He fished urgently for his cigarettes and lit one, but drew in a little too rapidly. Coughing slightly didn't help his image at all, and afraid the human would hear, he spun on his heel and left.

He strode purposefully and angrily through the night, unaware of the heat or the disbelieving stares he got dressed in his full-length leather coat, and slammed furiously into his crypt. He always particularly enjoyed slamming his door: it made an echoing noise that usually suited his mood.

How dare he - how dare that git stare at him all night? That's what he did! He sat nonchalantly, disconcerting people. He didn't have much. but he thought he had the copyright on irritating, ironic nonchalance. That the old, bumbling, mumbling, couldn't-even-shag-a-Sheltie human had just out-done him drove him to an impotent fury. He needed to relieve that fury by feeding; unravelling in the exertion of the hunt, immersing his anger in blood, drowning the sound of his passion in the screaming, and soothing his demon with someone else's pain.

He stripped off angrily and stretched in the dark warmth of his crypt. He desperately needed the physicality of his old life: he missed it unbelievably - the coming home bloodied, curling up with his family, snuffling and licking, penetrating and playing.

What had become of the bright promise of his eternity?

Where was the endless flowing red, the crimson of Drusilla's dresses? Where was the dark blood endlessly pouring? Where were Angelus' red passions? All gone: it was all gone. All was impotence, darkness, cold, and he was always alone.

A battle began to rage within him. Half of him wanted to give into the pain all alone: the other half wanted someone else to share it with. He dressed and flung out of his crypt, the second option drawing him with its seductive siren call.

Giles did not examine too closely why he found Spike's plight so amusing. He hummed to himself happily all evening and pottered. Occasionally, he sniggered and replayed the moment when he'd shut the door in Spike's face. Oh, that expression! One more time - he tipped his head back, chuckled, and replayed the scene again - delicious.

It was still insufferably hot, and he eyed the air-conditioner warily, refusing to succumb to the weakness. When it was hot, you undid your top button, loosened your tie and, if casual dress was allowed, rolled up your sleeves. Forty years of ingrained habits were the only things keeping him sane sometimes.

Sometimes, even forty years were not enough. He uncharacteristically didn't put on pyjamas as he readied for bed, but slid naked under one cool cotton sheet. He spread-eagled, smiled, forced himself to wait to add to the deliciousness of the moment. and then thought about it again. Spike, impotent - it was just too good to be true. Giles chuckled and wriggled slightly to a new, cool spot - and that's when he made a huge, catastrophic error. He idly thought how cool Spike would feel lying alongside him.

One thought - it was just one idle thought, but the thought implanted and could not be . unthought. however hard he tried. No good insisting that he not think about it; Spike was now there beside him, cool, pale, and silent. To be fair, Spike was not doing anything, but this only served to intrigue Giles more. Why had he conjured up Spike at all, let alone a Spike that was silent? Giles knew that rationalising everything was his worst fault; spontaneity not his most obvious trait; so why, just when he desperately needed to rationalise this silent Spike manifestation, had this critical ability deserted him? Fortunately, he didn't want to think it through; he didn't want to analyse it; he wanted to. a slight groan escaped him as he fondled his swelling penis. This was unexpected. unexpected but welcome. He closed his eyes the better to enjoy the brief swift orgasm and ejaculation, but like an after-image burnt onto his retina, Spike's pale form followed him into his personal darkness.

He was not coming to thoughts of Spike. He was not shuddering in orgasm over Spike's naked body. Rationalisation aside, that was just bloody ridiculous. Furious, he got up to take a shower. When he returned to bed, he willed himself to sleep, but he could have cursed when he woke to the realisation that he'd slept to one side of the bed all night, the other side being unrumpled, cool and . empty.

Spike had not slept at all: he'd hunted all night, taking his fury and impotence out on the demon population of Sunnydale. He was tired and scratchy when the sun came up, still not wanting to sleep, but exhausted nonetheless. He had done some shocking things - uncharacteristically violent, even for him - and he wondered when the news would reach the do-gooders.

They wanted the doggy to bite but not enjoy the crunch.

He was losing it, and he knew it.

He wanted to be there when the news filtered through so he made his way to the shop just as the demon was opening up. She was the only one he could stand, so he accepted the offered drink while she made ready for the day. The watcher arrived. Spike went into the training room to get away from his watchful eyes and disconcerting comments. He had no need to worry: Giles took one look at his retreating back and made himself busy in the basement, checking stocks.. Rationalisation and avoidance were excellent English traits. Only Buffy's entrance brought them together as she shouted for both of them, and hands on hips, eyes fixed intently on Spike, she told Giles of the demon killings overnight.

Spike did not let one flicker of guilt, interest, or knowledge cross his face, but stared back at her frankly. Eventually, she shrugged and turned to Giles to complete her story. Spike sat on the ladder and lit a cigarette.

Buffy sat at the table, waiting for the others to arrive. She watched Giles for a while, and then said, 'What's up?'

Giles could hardly reply, "I'm trying not to look at Spike," so he only said, with commendable English reserve, 'Oh. nothing. Suffice to say, it's going to be even hotter today, and I didn't sleep well.'

She shrugged her agreement, not hearing the underlying tension in his voice. Spike heard it though. He leant back against the rail, watching Giles with interest through a pall of smoke. He pulled his coat closer around his cold body and almost laughed when both humans winced.

It was an ordinary day. It was hot. It got hotter. very hot by the time the night fell. and still nothing happened. a boring day. tempers rose and fell, flared and subdued.. They parted gratefully, each to their own nighttime activities.

Giles went to an art house and watched a French film. He sank gratefully into the air-conditioned luxury and weakened in the resolution not to use, deciding to turn it on when he got home: cool bodies would not then be needed or thought about.

That thought - another error; he cursed softly. His thoughts unravelled, and the unravelling took them straight back to Spike. He was well aware Spike spoke fluent French and wondered what he would think of the film; whether he had seen it? Would he be interested? What would he say? Spike now shifted seamlessly, subtly, and seductively from lying alongside him, keeping him cool and arousing him, to going to the pictures with him, and keeping him company - so much more dangerous a seduction for an educated man.

He left at a suitable interval and went home angrily. Spike followed him, accompanying him into the house. Good-Company-Spike was much more difficult to shake off than Cool-Spike had been, so Giles put on some music and poured himself a glass of red wine. That was worse: the music and wine mocked him in his loneliness, and Spike swelled in his mind to fill the gap. So much in common under the exterior: given the opportunity, how they could talk. Somewhere under that. vampire exterior. Spike was a.. Giles slammed down his glass, spilling the wine and snapping the stem. What was he thinking? Spike was a vampire, and did not have social evenings with humans over music and fine wine.

Spike sipped his drink and turned on the music: ludicrous, 1950's rock and roll music jingled out of the jukebox. He looked around the demon bar and sucked in the fear, rolled it around his lungs, and blew it slowly out with the smoke of his cigarette. 'Come on, fuckers. Decide! Whose gonna get gutted first? Cus I ain't got all night like and. I've all of you to do!'

Some fled to the exits but found them barred from the outside. Some attacked in a kind of desperate defence. Spike took those first, but made it quick so he could concentrate on the stragglers and the would-be escapees, making their deaths long, slow and torturous but. oh, so inventive. He even impressed himself and surveyed his handiwork with detached fascination. It was all red at last; it was all power; it was. utterly passionless, and he left with the same gaping maw he'd had before the killing.

Buffy made no pretence of accusing Spike the next day. She stormed into the shop and slapped him a vicious backhander before even speaking. Giles came over, concerned, and laid a hand on her arm. Again, without looking at him, she said angrily, 'Whole bar of demons slaughtered last night.'

Giles looked puzzled. 'And that's good, yes?'

Buffy continued to stare at Spike, her arms folded. 'They'd been tortured for hours, and then strung up like trophies. Giles - it was obscene.'

'Ah. And you're looking at Spike because.?'

Spike stared back at them for a moment, and then examined his nails, unconcerned. 'Dead, ain't they?'

Giles looked thoughtfully at the vampire.

This was not good.

This was bad.

This was very bad.

Pent up aggression spilling out, fury uncontrolled - what had started as an amusing whimsy, and become a joke on him, had now become deadly serious for them all.

Buffy pushed past Spike to go to the training room, paused, hit him once more, and then stormed furiously off. Spike gritted his teeth for a moment, made to sit back down, but suddenly picked up a chair and hurled it to the ground, smashing it into fragments. He stormed off silently.

Giles watched him go with increasing concern. That evening, he went round to Buffy's house. She was getting ready to patrol. He hesitated for a moment then walked with her for a while. Never one to procrastinate, Buffy said pointedly, ''Fess, Giles. What's the prob?'

'Spike. Spike seems to be the problem. I don't think you should patrol with him tonight.'

'Relax. I can handle Spike. 'Sides, I've got a biggie on tonight, and I need him. Can't say I liked the tactics, but he was right - much as I hate to admit this - they are dead.'

Giles nodded. He had no real basis for his concern, just a nagging feeling. 'Be careful?'

Buffy smiled. 'Always am. Careful-Girl here. See ya!'

She swung off towards the cemetery to collect Spike. Giles returned home, worried, but trying not to be.

He did an hour or so more research. He listened to some more music. He continued to get more and more worried and, eventually, grabbed a couple of trusted weapons and went to the cemetery himself.

He heard the sounds of a fight and began to run, surprised the vampires were actually located so close. He rounded the corner of a mausoleum and skidded to a shocked halt. Buffy was beating down on Spike - viciously and without mercy. Unable to defend himself, Spike scrambled away and eventually tried to run. She brought him down in a flying tackle and turned punches into furious kicks.

Giles waded in, effectively preventing Buffy's attack by the simple expedient of standing between them. Buffy glared at him. Spike stood up, trying to find his dignity as if it had fallen among the gravestones. 'He nearly got me killed!'

Her words sent a chill through the watcher.

'Didn't.' Giles turned incredulously to Spike at this childish retort, hesitated, then punched the vampire himself, wincing as his hand connected with the preternatural nose.

Spike glared at him, then held both hands over his nose as it began to bleed. 'Fuck you both.' He started to storm off, but Buffy grabbed his arm and twisted it up behind his back.

'Tell him, Spike. Tell him what you did.'

Spike gritted his teeth and rose to the very tips of his toes to take some of the pressure off his shoulder joint. 'I killed a load of hairy-arsed demons for you and contributed to your fucking mission to save the world.'

Buffy made the noise of a buzzer. 'Wrong answer!' She dislocated his shoulder. Spike howled.

Giles winced. 'Buffy.'

'Tell him, Spike!'

'I told you there'd only be half a dozen of 'em.. I lied, okay? Bleedin' hell, weren't that much out.'

Buffy's eyes widened, and she dropped him to the ground. 'Not that much out? Not that much out. more than twenty, Giles. There were more than twenty vampires, partying, and he. that cretin there, lead me right to them.'

'Dead, ain't they?'

'Change the record, Spike.' She kicked him for good measure and stomped off.

Spike put his forehead to the ground for a moment, then sat back on his heels and began to attempt the relocation of his shoulder. He was surprised when he felt a pair of hands, holding the forearm. He looked questioningly at Giles, but then gave him a grateful nod and suddenly jerked back with a small gasp of pain.

Giles pulled him to his feet, looked at him with a small shake of his head, and punched him once more on the nose. He spun on his heel and left the vampire, bleeding in the cemetery.

Giles did not go directly home. He sat for a while on a bench at the edge of the cemetery, thinking. He had not appreciated before the amount of aggression Spike had released through sex and feeding. Unable now to do either, he was a powder keg, waiting for the right spark.

Far from enjoying Spike's condition, Giles now worried that he ought to attempt to alleviate it. If Spike continued to be a danger to Buffy, then chip or no chip, he might have to be..

. Giles did not allow himself to ponder why he found the thought of staking Spike disturbing: it just was.

The next morning, he got to the shop early and spent an hour or so searching for references to vampire physiology.

He got a stack of books prepared and sat down with a cup of tea, ready to start his favourite activity: research.

He felt a presence in the shop and turned to find Spike, watching him warily from the direction of the basement.

'Am I welcome, or you gonna smack me nose again?'

Giles frowned at him. 'You're pushing your luck, Spike, coming here. But seeing you are..' He turned back to his books. Spike pursed his lips for a moment, stabbed his toe into a small chip in one floor tile, then pulled a chair somewhat away from the table, and sat quietly down.

Giles sensed Spike was not on his usual form, but after a few minutes, the vampire shrugged as if to say, "fuck this", and lit a cigarette, putting his feet up on the table.

He watched the human; he chain-smoked; he tipped his chair back and swung it on two legs. His gaze never faltered, and it disconcerted Giles and made him hotter than ever. He let Giles read through a few books; he watched him making some notes; he was silent and thoughtful until Giles paused to polish his glasses.

'Whatyadoin'?'

Giles didn't look up. 'Just the usual. Nothing interesting.'

'Uh huh.'

It got quiet in the shop once more. Whether satisfied by Giles' response, or merely not bothered enough to enquire further, Spike contented himself by seeing how far he could tip his chair back before it began to lose its balance, then snatching it back at the last moment. Attempting to be engrossed in the books, Giles found this intensely irritating, and was about to tell the vampire so, when he was foiled by a soft question. 'Why the sleeplessness then, mate?'

Giles looked up, disconcerted by the off-the-wall comment, but covered by removing his glasses once more and polishing them furiously. 'Just the heat..' He thought about the empty shop and knew he would not have a better opportunity. 'And. well, to be truthful? I was a little concerned about you.'

Giles lied effectively only by timescale: the first night, sleeplessness had been from arousal; the second, his need for companionship; only now was he concerned. but Giles felt Spike would not unravel the subtle lie.

The vampire smiled at this reply but with very little humour. 'I'm touched.' He dropped his chair noisily to the floor. 'And you're worried. because?'

'Well, I'm concerned that the chip may be causing. what's the best way to put this? Emotional problems.' Giles saw Spike's face, debated stopping, but instead shot out, 'Not helped of course by your other physical difficulties.'

Spike had begun to light another cigarette, but he put it back into the packet very carefully.

'I think you should shut up now, Watcher.'

'Normally, I would Spike. I've spent the last four years of our acquaintance, doing anything else but thinking about you. believe me! But your problems are beginning to endanger Buffy, and that is my concern. It's very much my concern.'

'My problems?'

'Yes. Inhibited, prevented from feeding and being true to your demonic heritage, and of course. impotent, you.'

Giles knew Spike could move fast: he'd witnessed it a hundred times. He'd never been on the receiving end of one of his blurs of violence. He was flattened against the shelf with a hand around his throat before he could take a breath after speaking.

Spike held the throat like you would hold a baby - delicately, giving no pain. but that's where the resemblance ended. The threat was there: it was implicit in his expression.

Giles stayed calm and looked into the deeply troubled blue eyes. 'You need help, Spike.'

'I need nothing, Watcher, 'cept this bloody chip out. You gonna do that for me?'

'No. I'm not. Frankly, from my point of view, it's the best thing that's ever happened to you.. I was referring to your. impotence.'

'If I could punch through your belly and out the other side now, I would.'

Giles nodded thoughtfully, or as well as he could with a vampire threatening his windpipe. 'If I were in your position, and you'd just said that to me, I think I'd feel much the same. I don't blame you.'

Spike seemed to recall where he was and what he was doing; Giles saw the vampire recoil suddenly, as if he had only then remembered that he was unable to carry through on any threat. He released his hold and stepped back, then sat rather defeated at the table, picking up a pencil and drumming it on the arm of his chair in an agitated manner.

'I don't know what you're talking 'bout.'

'I was there, remember Spike? I didn't remember about you: I think I'd repressed it somewhat. Jenny and then..' He shuddered as he said the name. 'Angelus. But you saw me. well - without putting too fine a point on it - having things done to me I wish I could forget. and you've never mentioned it. I'm grateful for that; I've never said it, but thank you.'

Spike looked up, uncomfortable at the frankness of this conversation. ''S okay. Ain't the sort of thing you discuss with those who ain't experienced it like - torture and. you know. what else 'e did to you.'

'But I've been so engrossed remembering what happened to me, I genuinely - until yesterday - forgot about you. To be honest, I don't think I cared too much. Before.'

Spike didn't respond.

Giles sat alongside him. 'Nothing to say?'

Spike gave a small smile. 'I was debating between uh huh, ah, oh, and fuck.'

Giles twitched his lips. 'Go with fuck, Spike - it's so you.'

Spike twitched up his lip fractionally - which an acute observer might have allowed to be a smile - and seemed to relax a little. Giles wandered over behind the till to give him some personal space.

After what seemed like an age, Spike said, 'So, if you ain't gonna help with this chip, what are you gonna do like?'

Giles took a deep breath. 'I thought I might take you to a doctor.'

Spike looked at him incredulously. 'A doctor.'

'One that specialises in vampire physiology, yes.'

Spike laughed. 'You're taking the piss, mate. Ain't such a thing. Why the fuck would anyone want to fix up vampires?'

Giles paused, gauged his audience, then said frankly, 'They aren't in it to. fix them up.'

Spike pursed his lips for a moment then twitched up one eyebrow. 'You've got some weird friends, Watcher.'

Giles came over. 'Make no mistake, Spike, they are no friends of mine. I abhor them and their experiments, but what they've learnt through. unsavoury interest in vampires, may help us. err. you, now.'

'So, he's gonna. what?'

'I don't know.' Giles sat down and examined a book unnecessarily in an embarrassed manner. 'I won't help with your chip, but the other matter. well. if you can.. God, how embarrassing.'

' "Shag" the word you're looking for?'

'Yes. If you could. do that. then you could release some of that pent-up aggression, and I could trust you to help Buffy once more.'

'Shag twenty not slot 'em then?' Giles looked up, surprised by the ironic, dry tone.

'You seem to find this oddly amusing.'

Spike looked at him and blinked incredibly slowly. 'No, not really.' He stood up and strode back towards the basement.

Giles said quietly to the retreating back, 'Tonight. My place. About ten.'

Spike paused, nodded without turning around, and continued on his way.

Giles glanced down at the small card he held in his hand and made a telephone call.

*****
Part 2:

Spike was there almost on time. He sauntered in as if it were a perfectly normal occurrence. He took the offered drink, flung himself on the couch where he could see the clock and waited. He didn't speak; he didn't move other than to drink. Giles didn't push and made himself busy in the kitchen. After half an hour, Spike got up angrily. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, a light knock sounded on the door. Giles went to open it; Spike stepped back.

The doctor glided in. Giles felt a shiver run down his spine and glanced nervously in the direction of the feet. There was nothing to see but the hem of a long black coat. A slight scratchy noise sounded from its direction when the doctor came to a halt. Giles wanted to look at Spike: he wanted to go and stand close to Spike.. Hell, he really wanted to be standing behind Spike. The doctor turned to look at him and at the look, Giles capitulated and went hastily over to stand beside the vampire. He felt ridiculous until he sensed Spike move slightly closer to him so their sleeves just touched lightly. The human was not the only one concerned by the doctor's appearance.

An expression 'vulture in a frockcoat' had sprung into Spike's mind as the creature had glided in - just before the thought "no fucking way is that touching me" had lodged. He'd seen Giles' reaction, wanted him closer, been glad when he'd come: the solidarity of the watcher's presence comforting.

'Good evening, gentlemen. Where is the examination to be? Here?' Giles felt like vomiting. There was something in the voice: something inherently evil that made him want to scream.

He sensed Spike about to leave and said under his breath. 'Don't be foolish, think of why he's here.' Giles tried to look at the doctor's face without recoiling and said as pleasantly as he could, 'Yes, I think so - on the couch perhaps. I'll be upstairs if you need me.'

No words, not a single look, but a hand shot out and clamped on his arm. Giles didn't need more: he understood the silent plea for him to stay.

'Err. perhaps I'll wait here after all.'

Spike let go and moved as if in a trance to the couch. He shed his duster and stretched to take off his T-shirt. He glanced over at his audience and turned his back, slipping out of his jeans and onto his belly on the couch in one seamless movement. Giles thought how thin and vulnerable he looked under both their gazes and winced slightly at the bruises from Buffy's beating, which still coloured the torso.

The doctor grinned a skull-like smile at Giles and glided over to begin his examination. It seemed to take forever. He inserted some needles into Spike's spine as if giving demon acupuncture; he tested reactions and nerves; he drew blood and tested it in arcane devices.

Spike kept his face buried into his folded arms, still not speaking or moving or otherwise betraying any emotion.

Giles looked over the naked body, idly comparing it to the one he had conjured up in his bed. Another mistake, he found the examination confusing, and a sense of prurient guilt warred with blossoming arousal.

Eventually, the doctor said, 'Turn over.'

Spike hesitated. Guilt getting the better of desire, Giles said quietly, 'Perhaps I'll make everyone some tea. I'll be in the kitchen, Spike. if you need me.' He saw a small nod and turned away.

When he knew the human was out of eyesight, Spike turned over and let the demon doctor's claw-like hands scratch over his genitals. He stared at the ceiling, grateful that vampires could not blush. He was held, fondled, tested - all to no avail: he remained flaccid.

Eventually, the doctor glided to Giles. 'You're paying - do I report to you alone, or to him as well?'

Giles hesitated briefly. 'No, say what you have to now.' He glanced over at Spike to confirm this decision and blushed deeply when Spike stood up, looking for his jeans.

'There's nothing wrong with him.'

Spike and Giles said together, "What?' Spike hastily pulled on his jeans and came closer.

The demon shrugged. 'Physically, there's nothing wrong.' He glided towards the door. 'I'll send my bill.'

Giles nodded, distracted.

Spike sat down heavily on the couch, his T-shirt suspended in his hands. He bent over as if weary, every disc in his spine visible. Giles came up behind the couch.

'This is good, Spike.'

Spike didn't reply: he seemed to be trying to suppress some strong emotions.

Giles put a hesitant hand on one naked shoulder. 'Spike?' To Giles' amazement, Spike didn't shake off his hand. To the contrary, he leant back into the caress slightly and said, 'It's not bleedin' good, though, is it? Cus if it ain't physical then. it's.. That means..'

'Yes, I know.' Giles could hardly form the words; he stared at the way the short blond hairs brushed over his hand, feeling the contact acutely. `It's in your mind.'

Spike ripped away at this and stood up, facing him furiously. 'It means I'm fuckin' done for, don't it? Bloody round the twist like Dru - like every other fucking vampire I've ever met.' He shrugged on his T-shirt, grabbed his duster and left, trying to keep his face averted from Giles.

Neither of them slept well.

Giles had a persistent arousal, which, when he tried to alleviate it, only sent him into strange and disturbing, post-orgasmic dreams about birds feeding on carrion. Spike lay awake in the dark, wondering how you could prove you were sane if someone challenged you on it. That he'd not had an erection for over three years because of something in his mind sickened him. He'd thought it was the chip. He tried to will himself to hardness, bringing erotic images into his head; he conjured up the pain; he heard the screaming - but nothing. His penis lay soft and unwilling in his hand. It did not make for an easy night.

Giles expected Spike to come into the shop at every ring of the bell the next day. He almost smelt the burning of his blanket; he almost heard his affable curses as he dodged the sunlight. but he didn't come. Giles locked up early and went home, slightly disappointed, but not surprised. He had no real answers for Spike and had begun to feel he'd opened a can of worms with his meddling that had been better left sealed up tight.

He was very surprised, when almost ready for bed, a loud knocking sounded on the door. He opened it cautiously, even more surprised to see Spike, smiling on the threshold. 'Err. Spike?'

'Let me in, mate. I've come to say thanks.'

'Oh. There's really no need. And it's rather late.' ("And I'm by no means certain what I feel when you come to me like this.")

'Oh, come on, just one drink, and I'll be off.' He waved a bottle of red wine engagingly. Giles couldn't help it. His vision of an evening with Spike, drinking fine wine and listening to music, crept into his mind. He nodded wearily and stood back.

Spike sauntered in. 'Glasses?'

Giles looked at the bottle. 'It's already open.'

Spike didn't look concerned. 'Yeah, sorry mate: I had some earlier then thought about thanking you like, so brought it with me.'

Giles got two glasses out and went to sit on a chair. Spike poured some wine and passed one over. He sat on the couch and nodded amiably as Giles took a sip. 'So, thanks for last night, Watcher. How much do I owe you like, only I'm a bit skint at the mo', but I'll get it to you eventually.'

Giles shook his head. 'Nothing. It's my contribution to Buffy's safety.'

''K. Cheers for that.'

Giles leant back against the chair and drank his wine. Spike didn't drink but sat watching him carefully.

'Put some music on if you want.' It was what he said in his head but couldn't be sure it had come out that way. He couldn't have stood up to save his life and just wanted to sit there, watching Spike. He must have missed Spike putting on the music but heard a soft aria from the speakers. Spike was no longer on the couch; Giles tried to rouse himself enough to find him. He couldn't: the heat was heavy on him once more. Hot inside and out, melting into the room and into the evening. and, ah.. There was Spike; he slid into his vision; he slid against his body; Spike straddled him. This was a dream.. This was a dream he had had before but forgotten. Spike was so light. Why was he so light? Was he swimming? He appeared to be underwater, the light wavering between them. Giles tried to smile at this thought and wondered how he was still breathing - breathing and swallowing. He took another sip of wine, which was strange given his hands lay heavy and useless on his lap. Maybe the glass was magically suspended in the enchantment. He remembered swallowing the last mouthful; he remembered Spike leaning toward him; he looked blearily into piercing, penetrating blue eyes; he remembered one sweet, soft kiss and a tongue that set him on fire with its coolness. and then he knew no more.

Spike put the glass down on the floor and leaned back in towards Giles. He placed cool lips to his; he eased a cool tongue into the warm mouth, and opened it up. He held Giles' floppy head steady so he could kiss him. He kissed hungrily; he put a hand down to Giles' crotch and fondled the soft bulge. He slipped a hand under Giles' shirt and stroked over the warm belly.

Nothing.

There was nothing. His own softness mocked him. He jerked back, tipping his face up to the ceiling in despair. Unsupported, Giles flopped over to one side. Spike pursed his lips and tipped his head on one side a little. The human looked almost endearing. He smiled and picked him up over one shoulder effortlessly and took him up to bed. Giles moaned slightly as he was placed onto the mattress. He moaned even more as his shirt and trousers were removed. Spike sat down next to him and folded his arms on his thighs, pondering. He lay back - just for a moment - too weary and too depressed to go home. It was quiet and comfortable. He swung his feet up and stretched out.

Giles breathed softly next to him; it was the first time he'd shared his bed with a breathing creature. It was the most profoundly depressing thing he'd thought about in a succession of depressing things. He turned over onto his belly and hoped the human staked him in the morning.

Giles woke up naked in his bed. Thoughts battered their way in through a raging headache. Thirst was the most urgent, the need to pee a close second. Wondering about the time slid in third, and only then did the thought that there was a vampire lying next to him creep in. He didn't move. Spike was lying asleep next to him. Blue eyes staring at him flashed into his mind. Spike had kissed him. No. wind back.. Spike had drugged him, then Spike had kissed him, and then..

Giles mentally checked over his body and knew, with a profound sigh of relief, nothing worse than Spike's tongue had been inside him. He turned and propped himself up on his elbow, wincing, as even that small movement made the shards of pain penetrate into previously untouched tissue in his head. Spike's eyelids fluttered slightly, rapid eye movement visible for a moment, before deeper sleep resumed.

The human rolled onto his back once more utterly confused by the sleeping vampire.

As if a lover already, as if he sensed Giles' depression, Spike turned over and wrapped him up: one cool thigh lying over Giles' groin, and one strong arm wrapping tightly around his warm chest. Spread-eagled thus, the vampire nuzzled his face under a slack arm, forcing the human to raise it and embrace him.

Giles lay rigid. Spike's leg lay directly over his penis, and it stirred slightly to life. but that was not the most entrancing sensation: Spike's face was cool against his hot skin, just as he had imagined it would be.

What could he do? He drifted back to sleep, one finger swirling over the short blond hairs on the back of Spike's neck.. This time, his dreams were far more alluring.

When he woke again, Spike was gone.

Spike did not come to the shop the next day. Giles doubted he'd have seen the vampire at all but for a chance meeting outside the Bronze. They both appeared to be looking for Buffy, both unsuccessfully. Giles gave Spike a bitter look. Spike followed him to the bar and sat, head lowered, playing with a beer mat.

Giles didn't look at him, but said angrily, `Why did you do it.. I'm curious, Spike, as to what you thought you were doing.'

Spike pursed his lips a little and seemed put out by being questioned so abruptly, but after some obvious internal debate, said, `I just got to thinking about what that vulture said. 'bout me being mental an' all. and I just thought that if I kissed someone, it might all come back like.'

Giles swivelled on his barstool and stared incredulously at Spike. He began to laugh. `Oh, you stupid vampire!'

Spike did a double take at the human and stormed out of the bar furiously. Giles hesitated and then followed him, watching the retreating back as it stomped down alleyways and on into the high street. Spike knew the watcher was following him, and eventually sat down at a table outside a caf�, searching for his cigarettes and lighter. Giles paused, and then sat down opposite him. When the waiter appeared, Giles looked at Spike, got no response, so ordered tea for himself. They were silent, Spike smoking and clicking his lighter open and closed.

When the order arrived, they both stared at it for a moment. Giles sighed and said to no one in particular, 'I don't care how long I live in this country; I will never get used to that.' He picked up the cold drink and eyed it distastefully. He peered at Spike over the rim of the glass and began to chuckle once more.

Spike squinted back at the human through his habitual pall of smoke; the faintest twitch of his lips softened his look. `What ya laughing at, ya poof?'

Giles shook his head fractionally. `I was comatose, Spike; what did you think would happen? You can't get aroused unless passion is reciprocated. You need someone to kiss back.' He glanced at Spike's lips as he spoke: they were flawlessly pink in the pale face. `You need someone holding you.' He looked at Spike's nails, imagining their dark glory trailing down his back and shifted uncomfortably. `You need the soft noises people make when they get pleasure from another body.. You can't get real pleasure unless it's reciprocated.'

Spike's eyes were fixed on Giles. His pupils dilated. Giles couldn't take his gaze off them. The vampire suddenly shook himself. `That's not true, Watcher. I've taken people all me unlife, and the less willing they were, the more I drilled `em.'

Giles shuddered and sipped his revolting drink for a moment. He was about to say something when an idea crept into his mind. `Say that again.'

Spike looked annoyed. `Rape, Giles. Rape turns me on.'

`But you couldn't. didn't last night?'

`No.' Spike looked down. `Didn't even wanna try. and how pathetic is that?'

Giles winced at the vampire's logic, but mulled the reply around in his mind. Spike watched him. `What?'

`Spike, maybe the chip - and the not hunting - has changed you in other ways. Maybe you now need all the things I outlined. And then there's your treatment at the hands of Angelus..'

`And yours.'

Giles looked up sharply. `What?'

`Watching you being repeatedly buggered, Giles, weren't the most fun moment of me unlife.'

Someone spoke it for the first time. Giles went hot then cold. His hand tightened on his glass until a cool hand slid over his. `Mate, you'll crack it.'

Giles stared desperately at Spike; Spike held the look. `I didn't enjoy being made to watch that.'

Giles nodded slightly. `No, I had the impression you didn't, or you'd have made more sport of it: used it before now.'

Spike laughed ruefully. `You trying to say I've become a poof?'

Giles tried to smile. `Needing someone to love you isn't unmanly, Spike.'

Spike suddenly stood up, tipping his chair over in his anxiety to be away. He leant over the human, and his voice was bitter. `Maybe. but it fucking buggers me for eternity, don't it? You seem to forget, Rupert, with your psychobabble and offers of help - I'm a soddin' reanimated corpse, walking `round cus the demon that inhabits this dead body feeds itself on others' blood. I'm so fuckin' loveable, so soddin' desirable, ain't I?'

He stormed off into the hot night, his duster swirling around him.

Giles sat stunned at the table. Deliberately avoiding any self-analysis about Spike, it now came anyway. Giles didn't think about Spike like that at all: to him, Spike was. infinitely desirable. He looked slowly down at his hands and could not ignore a second bit of startling self-knowledge: Spike would never - could never - desire him. He was under no illusion about the vampire's impression of him: old, fussy, boring. and they were probably the more flattering of Spike's descriptions. He shoved his drink away with an angry gesture and watched as the glass wobbled, tipped, and the cold tea spilt onto the blisteringly hot pavement. It was not his place to feel sorry for himself: he was the watcher, and Buffy needed him. He needed to put aside personal feelings and work on a plan to help Spike.

Giles paid for the drink and began to walk slowly back through the town, occasionally brushed and elbowed by the people out enjoying the warm night air. He watched their eager, happy faces rather bitterly, but a plan began to surface in his mind. He looked at it carefully from all angles, even paused and stared blankly in a shop window for some time as he considered it.

It only took him a few minutes to walk briskly to the vampire's lair. He opened the crypt door uneasily: not through fear that the vampire was dangerous, but from the oddly embarrassing thought that, even though he'd known Spike for years, he'd only been there once before. Spike was not there. Giles was about to leave when he saw the open hatch. That was new.

He descended carefully, making a deliberate amount of noise. Spike was sitting on the end of his bed, idly holding the T-shirt he'd obviously just removed. `Just fuck off, Rupert.'

Giles came closer. `I have an idea.'

Spike looked up wearily. Giles was moved by the vampire's look of utter resignation and realised what a trial this must be for him. He took encouragement from Spike's lack of response and hovered uneasily by the small bar. `I think you're right, Spike: you are just a corpse.' He saw Spike's look and continued hastily. `You are just reanimated, but why do you have to be?'

Spike gave him an angrily incredulous look. `What the fuck are you babbling about, Watcher?'

`No one knows who or what you are - except for the few of us. You can be who you want. It's not as if you have `vampire' tattooed anywhere, is it? You don't have vampire tattooed anywhere, do you?'

Spike smiled for the first time. `Not so `s you notice, no. So, you saying I should pass meself off as human then and pick up a shag like.'

`Err. yes, I suppose I am.'

`Uh huh. And just where would I do that neat trick then?'

`Well, there're all sorts of places and groups and.. Well, I'm not really sure, but I suppose there are bars and places. like pubs at home.'

Spike actually began to look interested. He started to pace around. `So, I don't tell `em I'm dead. do the dirty deed. and, hey presto, all cured.'

`You have a unique talent there, Spike, to turn the most honourable of intentions into something sordid and unpleasant.'

Spike grinned. `Honed over decades, mate.'

Giles took the opportunity of the vampire's pacing to sit down on the very edge of the bed. He tried to resist the temptation to inspect the sheets. `I think where you go rather depends on what sort of girl you were trying to pick up.'

`Girl?'

`Well, woman then. What sort do you go for?'

Spike looked genuinely puzzled for a moment then said hesitantly, `Tall?'

Giles looked relieved. `Good, tall.'

`Strong?'

`Exactly, tall and strong.'

`That's it.'

`Oh, well not too difficult to match, I'd have thought.'

`Interesting.'

`What?'

`Gotta be interesting.. Ya know, things to talk about.'

`Quite. Intelligent.'

'Yeah, smart.'

`So, tall, strong and smart.'

`So, what, I just go out tomorrow and. find someone?'

Giles looked him over slowly from head to foot. `No. You'll have to get new clothes first.'

`And that would be why?'

`That would be because you look as if you've stepped out of a Billy Idol tribute band, Spike. And a not very good one at that. If you're going to pass as human, you need twenty-first century clothes.'

Spike made a show of eyeing Giles from head to foot, raised one ironic eyebrow, but didn't comment further.

Giles knew he had nothing to lose now. `You'll need a new name as well.'

Surprisingly, Spike agreed. `Damn right, ain't gonna take this name to no wussy bar to pick up some fuck-me-easy. This name's got history, mate: it means something in the demon world.'

`Hmm. Exactly. So. what would you like to be called?'

Spike gave a good impression of a rabbit being caught in headlights. `Fuck.'

`Stick with Spike in that case.'

`Pillock. I dunno. What do you think?'

Giles gave a small smirk. `You probably don't want to know. All right, let's decide on a persona first, and the name might just occur to us.'

`Persona?'

`Absolutely. When you became Spike, you must have had some idea who he was in your head first?'

`Damn right I did. He was a fuckingly cool demon.'

`So. who are you going to be?'

`Someone English.'

`Obviously. Profession?'

Spike was looking increasingly worried. `None?'

`Yes, that would really get the girls flocking in, Spike. You must have a good job and - ergo - money.'

`Oh, yeah. Rock star?'

`Trying to get away from the heroin-chic look, remember? What else do you know about, besides music?'

`Blood and death?'

`Oh! A doctor.' He looked at Spike's hair. `Maybe not. Something else, and it's got to be credible.'

Spike hesitated for a moment. `A teacher then.'

Giles almost laughed but knew he'd have lost the demon if he had. `Teacher.'

`It's what I was gonna be. `fore I got murdered like. Classics, or history. equally good at both.'

Giles looked genuinely impressed. `Or modern languages now.. How many do you speak?'

Spike looked up for a moment then shrugged. `Three or four.'

Giles began to get excited. `It's absolutely perfect. An English teacher in America.. Why are you over here?'

Spike gave a small, evil grin. `Visiting my brother.'

Giles nodded. `Excellent. And he could be a..'

`Librarian.'

`Oh.' Giles paused, considering this from various angles, all of them seductively dangerous for him. `That means I'd have to come out with you.'

Spike began to chuckle. `Cup of tea, cup of tea, nearly had a shag.? Think maybe I'm not the only one havin' a little problem getting laid.'

Giles got up angrily and began to walk towards the ladder. Spike's laughter followed him. He paused. It was not mocking; it was.. He turned and looked at the vampire. Spike was laughing a deep, genuine laugh. It was infectious. Giles began to laugh, too. Spike sat down and then laid back, hiccuping slightly as he looked at the ceiling. `Fuck, the most unlikely trapping duo in town. So, where'da we start then?'

*****