It was still dark when Giles woke, but the light was already making streaky inroads in the sky. They were completely entwined. He could feel nothing but vampire all over his skin, and the places where they joined were exquisite. Spike's face was buried somewhere against Giles' chest under one arm. His cool legs were flung over Giles, and his arms were loosely wrapped around the warm, human chest.

Giles cursed suddenly. He needed to pee desperately. It was one of the few things that tempted him about sharing Spike's eternity: never having to leave a warm bed to pee.

He gently disentangled himself, cursing once more when Spike rolled over and away from him, spread-eagling himself on the other side of the bed. He could have lain there and looked at that slim body for hours, but his bladder screamed at him, so he stomped angrily to the bathroom. Everything then infuriated him: the lights too bright; his stream too loud against the porcelain and water, and the flush too harsh. He glanced at his watch: five. Usually when he woke at this hour, he made tea and took advantage of the quiet hours to catch up on research or news from home. He paused in the open doorway on his way downstairs. Spike's arm hung off the bed; his feet stuck out from the sheet.

Giles felt something move deep in his core. He tried neither to rationalise it nor understand it; he just accepted it. Getting up to pee was sublime, for now he had the delicious pleasure of sliding back into the bed with Spike. He took his time, drawing out the enjoyment. His spot still warm; the sheets were rumpled. Everything was musty and smelt of sleep and personal spaces. He stretched, waited for a moment, and then stretched out a hand resting it gently on the small of the vampire's back. Spike groaned faintly and rolled back into very welcoming arms.

Giles sighed: he could genuinely not remember ever feeling so content. He bent his head and once more kissed deeply into Spike's hair. He determined to stay awake and just enjoy the cool feel of Spike's body, but the warmth and contentment took their toll, and he faded into a light doze not waking again until he felt something tickling over his lips. He opened his eyes, and was assailed by the smell of strong coffee and was that. bacon? A cool finger trickled over his lips. Smiling, he bit it, chuckling at the annoyed 'oi' from somewhere behind him. Giles sat up. Spike was sitting cross-legged on the bed, a pot of freshly brewed coffee and a plate of bacon on a tray between them. Spike twitched up his eyebrow and poured some coffee. 'Black, yeah?' Giles nodded, dumbfounded, and took the cup. 'Bacon? 'S all I could find and seein' it's English. seemed kinda appropriate.

'I get it over the Net.' Giles couldn't get his brain to function any better than that terse reply. Spike smiled, clearly pleased with his own ingenuity. Giles shook his head. 'Will you ever stop surprising me, Vampire?'

Spike grinned and began to eat the bacon. 'Dunno, how much time you gonna give me?'

'At this moment? I'm beginning to think I won't ever let you go.' He leant over and kissed Spike slowly, tasting the bacon and an early morning cigarette.

It was so natural after that, so easy. Afterwards, he couldn't remember pushing the tray to the floor, nor finding Spike's entrance, let alone pushing in. Conscious thought only really returned when he was deep inside the vampire. He stilled, looked down, and Spike was underneath him, watching him thoughtfully. Giles' eyes opened in shock, but he didn't find out what might have happened, for Spike reared up, kissed him and wrapped his legs around his back.

All he wanted to do then was move inside the tight channel. His brain screamed `move' at him: it was instinctive, not something he could fight. Still exploring Spike's mouth, he began to rock on top of the hard, welcoming body. He felt Spike chuckle against his mouth and pulled back a little to look at him. Spike tipped his head back, laughing, looked at Giles. and began to move, too. The human gasped: every thrust was met with a hard, jerking return; every rise on the pale body was followed and extended for pleasure; every pause drawn out in the unnatural body until it seemed they were just one body - neither alive, nor dead - just being. Giles began to groan as he felt an orgasm swelling in his balls. He glanced down at Spike to see how far along he was and saw the vampire lost to his own pleasure, eyes tightly closed, face relaxed and calm, just the occasional clenching of his jaw as Giles pushed in. He wanted to ask Spike something.. He wanted to know how that one cool finger had been able to give him so much pleasure.. He wanted to know if he was giving the vampire the same pleasure, but couldn't find the words to say such things.

Suddenly, Spike unwrapped his legs and put them instead on Giles' shoulders. Giles moaned loudly at the change: for on his next thrust, he slipped another two inches into Spike's rectum. Spike mirrored the moan, and it was that, more than his own pleasure, that made Giles begin to cum.

'Giles? That you?'

They froze.

To give Spike his due, he looked as shocked as Giles knew he was. He mouthed 'fuck', and Giles nodded, placing a finger over the vampire's lips.

Giles shouted as best he could, 'Of course. What do you want, Buffy? Give me a minute, and I'll come down.'

''K.'

Giles pulled out but wouldn't look at Spike. This was his real life crashing back in, ripping the fabric of his fantasy apart and leaving nowhere for him to turn. What could he say? What could he do? He wrapped his old robe securely around his waist, tied a double knot and went towards the door. He glanced back. Spike had turned over on the bed and was watching him neutrally, propped up on one elbow. Giles hesitated, then said, 'Sorry.'

Spike only shrugged, but the small movement of the shoulders said volumes. Giles went slowly down the stairs to another beautiful face that now seemed to belong to another lifetime.

'Giles? What's up? You sick?'

'Yes. Sorry. What time is it? I meant to phone in.'

'No biggie: you're the boss.'

'Oh, yes, so I am. What do you want, Buffy?'

'We've a problem.'

'For a change then?'

'Jees. grump, much? Come on, Giles. monsters, end of the world: you love it!'

'Yes, well - what's the problem? I'm rather.. I'd rather like to go back to bed.'

'It's human, Giles.'

'Human?'

'Yeah, a group of would-be slayers, so I heard.'

'Oh God.' Giles ran a hand through his hair and only then discovered it was sticking straight up. 'And this is bad, why?'

Buffy looked annoyed. 'Giles! They aren't any good for one thing, and they're giving me a bad name. And second thing, they're getting the demons all itchy, wanting to scratch, and they're wanting to scratch me! One actually leapt out last night and said, "Slayerettes, you're dead meat!". I mean. how corny is that?'

'Very eighties, I agree. So, female gang then?'

'What?'

'Slayerettes?'

'Oh, yeah, guess.'

'All right. I'll do some research, ask around. the usual. You take Xander with you tonight.'

'And Spike.'

'No!'

'No?'

'No. I mean.. Not if they're human..'

Buffy gave him an odd look but nodded. ''K. See ya later then. What shall I tell Anya?'

'Tell her.. Tell her I'm indisposed.'

Buffy had hardly shut the door when Giles ran two stairs at a time back up to the bedroom. Spike was sitting on the edge of the bed fully dressed, pulling on his boots.

'Fuck.'

Spike looked up and laughed. 'That a question, Watcher?'

'Apparently no point if it was, seeing as you're leaving.'

'Yeah well. Got me a bit of a problem.'

'Oh, what's that? Me?' Giles hated the bitter, spiteful tone of his voice but couldn't stop it.

Spike limped over, one boot still not on properly, and pinned him back against the wall. He took Giles' unresisting hand and pressed it to his soft groin. 'Nothing left, pet. I'm. starvin'. Ain't fed for over thirty hours. Need blood badly, an' I don't think you've got any for me. 'cept 'ere 'course.' He nuzzled into Giles' neck softly, chuckled and limped back to the bed to struggle with his boot.

'I'm sorry, Spike, about the interruption.'

'Hey! Weren't your fault, were it? An' if you hadn't gone down, she'd 'ave come up, and I'm thinking if that 'ad happened, you'd never be getting anything - fuck this fucking boot! - up ever again!.' Spike stomped down, finally satisfied, stood, shook out his shoulders, and made his way past Giles to the door.

'What am I supposed to do all day? I've told them I'm sick now.'

Spike ran a finger across Giles' robe as he passed. 'Rest, have a day in bed. Think about me? I've got plans for you tonight, and I need you well rested, 'k?'

Giles bowed his head as the pale finger passed over the gap of skin where his robe didn't quite meet and did the most uncharacteristic thing he'd done among a huge number of uncharacteristic things recently: he smiled and said softly, 'I miss you already.'

Spike paused, cast a longing look at the bed, but a huge rumble from his belly made them both laugh. He lent over and kissed Giles lightly, 'I'll pick you up soon as it's dark. We're going outta this bloody place, somewhere more. private.'

Giles nodded and watched him leave, and it was only when he lay back on the bed, thinking, that he remembered he had not told Spike of the so-called slayerettes. He frowned, but reasoned that Spike would be with him before any slaying activities, fake or real, that evening.

Good as his word, Spike blew the horn on his bike ten minutes after the last rays of light left the sky. Giles was ready and came out eagerly. The contrast in their mood from the last time they'd played out this scenario was too noticeable not to comment on it, and Giles made a ribald remark about Spike's clothes, and Spike responded with a jibe about the human's new-found techniques on the back of a bike. Smiling, Giles came closer. 'What's that?' He eyed the large box balanced precariously on his part of the seat.

'That's what you've gotta carry, pillock. And carefully. Get on.'

Giles squeezed the box between them and attempted to hang on to it and his life, as they once more sped towards the coast road. 'I'm not going back to Moon and the midget, Spike.'

'Nah. Somewhere better.'

Just as before, Spike pulled over to his viewpoint. If it were possible, it was even more beautiful than the previous night: the moon slightly fuller; the night slightly hotter, and the surf higher; its slow, monotonous, hypnotic rolling onto the shingle audible even from there.

Giles was about to comment on this and on his previous rudeness to Spike when, with an amused chuckle, Spike said, 'Hang on,' and plunged them over the side of the cliff.

Giles had always imagined that when his time finally came, he'd see his life flash proverbially before him. Either he'd had a particularly dull life, or this was not his time. All he saw was Spike's back and the rushing past of a few sparse trees; and all he felt was his back straining as he attempted to stay vertical on the vertical and thereby ended up almost bending back over the rear light. He thought he screamed; if he did, it was lost to the rush of Spike's manic, hyper scream of delight as he followed the tiny trail down the cliff.

They reached the shingle. Spike skewed the bike to one side and hopped off, leaving Giles, the box, and the bike, sprawling in the dark. 'What a fucking rush! God, that gets better every time I do it!'

Giles struggled up. 'You prat! You bloody prat! You've done that before? Jesus! Spike! God! My heart!'

Spike huffed and retrieved his box. 'I said look after this. If me stuff's all ruined, I'll..'

Giles was still standing with his hand theatrically on his heart. 'What? You chipped pillock! What'll you do?'

Spike laughed. 'I'll not make love to you tonight. Now stop acting like a girl, and follow me.'

Giles had little option, as he wasn't going back up. there. He turned around and looked up at the near-vertical climb behind them and shuddered once more. He stumbled over the sand to a small pile of rocks and watched, bemused, as Spike shook out a blanket, laid out a large supply of beer and began to strip off his T-shirt. 'Come on, last one in's a sissy.'

'In where?'

Spike held his T-shirt between his hands and favoured Giles with a particularly withering glance. 'Hmm. Beach? Ocean? Surf? Duh.. Where the fucking hell do you think? We're goin' swimming.'

Giles looked at the surf and the very dark, very deep water. 'No. I'm not.' If he'd ever said "no" before and gone back on it, well, this was the time to make a stand. 'I am not putting one inch of my body in that. It's cold. It's dangerous. It's deep. It's a riptide for God's sake, Spike. I'd be in Hawaii before I could say, "Bloody vampire!".'

Spike gave a small facial shrug and climbed out of his jeans. 'Your loss. Don't drink all the beer.'

He ran down to the sea and plunged in. Giles sat down heavily, his legs still a little wobbly. If he immediately regretted his hasty and rather petulant stand, he hid it well by looking morosely at the water. He wondered what it would feel like on such a hot night, and then berated himself for being so inconsistent. Spike seemed to find his calling, bringing out these inconsistencies.

He looked at the large supply of beer and felt even Spike wouldn't begrudge him one or two. Besides, it was now incredibly lonely and strange on the beach. He glanced behind him at the cliff face once more. It seemed very dark, the moon behind it, and he fancied he could see some caves.. Or they may have been shadows.. Either way, they unnerved him and made him reluctant to turn his back on them. The thought of the Sunnydale High Swim Team made him swiftly turn back toward the water. He shook himself and stood up, deciding at least to walk down to the edge of the surf and see if he could spot Spike. He took another beer and even went as far as taking off his shoes and socks, and rolling up his trousers. He smiled at the thought that a knotted handkerchief would have completed the picture and picked his way gingerly over the beach to the waters' edge. No sign of Spike, unless that tiny pale blob at least a mile out from shore was his head. The moon was shining brightly on the ocean, and whatever it was, it glowed faintly from reflected light. Could even Spike have swum that far in so short a time? Giles reasoned that it was the vampire when it appeared to turn and come back towards the shore. He sincerely hoped it was the vampire anyway.

Spike eventually came dripping out of the water, laughing as usual, still full of restless energy. He didn't seem to resent Giles ruining his plan, and only clapped him around the shoulders and led him back to the blanket.

'You've been here before.? And swum like this at night?'

Spike grinned. 'How da'ya think I keep in shape like this, mate? Ain't from fighting the few poxy demons we find in Sunnydale. 'Fore I was chipped, I'd hunt all night.. All night, Watcher, humans: running, bringing 'em down, fucking 'em, stringing 'em up.. Now I'm all restless like and need to work it off.'

Giles pulled away from him. 'Why do you do that, Spike? Why must you always test my boundaries like that? What am I supposed to say when you say things like that? They offend me. They make me want to stake you. as I should. My God, why do you do this to me?'

Quite what Giles meant by that last sentence was lost in the overall tone of his tirade. Spike pursed his lips slightly and toed the sand for a moment before speaking. 'Cus you pissed me off, Giles, that's why.'

'Oh.' Giles was somewhat floored by this - he'd expected some Spike-esque, smart remark. 'Err. how?'

Spike looked up, his expression carefully veiled, as if he'd given too much away already. 'I brought you here, Rupert.'

Giles waited, thinking Spike was about to continue, and when he didn't, compounded his sin by saying rather impatiently, 'And?'

Spike's jaw dropped slightly, and he laughed: a short, painful laugh. 'Bloody hell! That's it. I'm not doing this anymore with you; you ain't worth it after all.' He swung away and pulled on his T-shirt. He tried to get his jeans on, but that was more difficult over the still wet skin. He felt a warm hand on his shoulder. 'I am very, very sorry, Spike. I don't know what for, but I am very sorry, and I don't want you to go.'

Spike turned and let his jeans drop to the sand. He shook his head, seeming to debate how to take that apology from Giles, and then gave a small smile. 'You really don't get it, do you?'

'No, Spike, I don't. But I'm always being told I'm a little obtuse - at least where relationships are concerned.'

'This is my place, watcher, where I come.. You know..' Spike wrinkled his forehead a little, finding it hard to express this most intimate of things. 'When I need to get away from you lot, I guess. When the chaos is all too much. It's..'

'It's what you drew.'

Spike tipped his head on one side, not realising that the human had seen that. 'Yeah.'

'And I've ruined it? I didn't want to swim with you, so I've. somehow ruined it for you?'

Spike looked pained and shook his head; Giles knew he'd still not seen it. 'Never mind, pet, it's of no matter. Maybe I'm just being obtuse as well. Come on, beer's warming up, an' I hate warm beer. Reminds me of those bloody taverns and Pearly Kings singing "Roll Out the Barrel".'

Giles sat down with a laugh. 'You lived in the Hollywood version of old London then, did you, Spike?'

'Yeah. We had deep snow at Christmas and slags with hearts of gold.'

They drank companionably, chatting about nothing and everything. Giles could have cursed his earlier stupidity. He glanced surreptitiously at the vampire lying on his belly next to him. Spike had brought him here to this place for a reason, and he knew it was only outwardly to do with swimming or sex.

He'd thought the word, and his body began to respond to the subliminal message. Spike's body glowed in the moonlight, his backside rounded and soft in comparison to the rest of the hard lines and planes. Why had he thought that? Oh: he'd been staring at it for some time. Giles reached over and put his hand on one cheek. Spike chuckled and lay his head down on one folded arm, looking at Giles sideward through lowered lids. ''Bout bloody time.'

The effect was so seductive that Giles felt his loins pound with blood and his penis swell, just at the expression in Spike's eyes.

Giles smiled and knew he was drunk enough to forget some of his inhibitions, but not too drunk to follow through with what he was about to start.

He sat cross-legged and gently parted the vampire's cheeks, pushing the side of his hand into the valley between them and running up through the soft, cold skin. Spike obediently opened his legs a little but continued to look at Giles with almost hypnotically veiled eyes. Giles frowned slightly and asked his question once more in his head. "Spike, how did you make that mini-orgasm in my backside happen when you stuck your finger in the other night?" It sounded good: it was clear, concise and to the point. 'Spike?'

'What, pet?'

'When you. you know.. When you were.. The other night. why did that feel.? I think what I'm trying to say is, Angelus - see, I can say that name now quite fearlessly - when Angelus. took me, there was no pleasure - not surprising, of course: I'm not turned on by the thought of rape in the slightest; it's ghastly for all concerned. except, I suppose, for the rapist who's usually enjoying it in his own sick way - but when you. I mean, your finger..'

'Ahhhhhhhh!' Spike even put his hands over his ears as he screamed, and Giles rocked back, snatching his hand away and taking off his glasses to polish them furiously.

'What? What? Good God, Spike! Will you think of my heart occasionally: it does actually beat you know!'

Spike sat up. 'You! You bloody do my head in sometimes! Just ask me, Giles. Ask me anything! Go on, I dare you! Ask me about orgasms; ask me about fucking; ask me about life, death, eternity.. Just fucking ask something!'

'Why did your finger feel so good in my arse, Spike, when Angelus didn't.'

Spike couldn't resist: he glanced evilly at Giles but said innocently, 'Haven't got a clue, why ask me?'

Giles gasped with mock fury and hit him. Spike looked down at the spot on his arm where he'd been punched and. held it out. Giles saw the look on his face so hit him again - slightly harder. Spike moaned, 'Again, do it again, Giles.' He flung himself face down on the blanket, and it was incredibly clear to Giles where the vampire wanted to be hit next. He brought his hand down hard onto the raised cheeks. The slapping sound resounded around the beach, but Giles felt it hadn't reached as far as the surf. He wanted it to, so he did it again, harder. Next time he knelt up to put the full force of his strength behind the smack. Spike lifted his hips fractionally to the blow and the movement, so sexual, so explicit, made Giles groan. He fumbled frantically with his zip and released a hard erection to the night. He straddled one of Spike's thighs and pushed the other to one side, exposing the small hole. He rubbed his finger over it for a while, dipping it into his beer and using that to slick the edges. Something cool tricked over his other hand, and he looked down to see crystal beads of precum glinting in the moonlight on the tip of his penis.

He could wait no longer. He returned to the place that had given him so much pleasure that morning, but this time he watched his own entry avidly. He eased himself in and memorised every sensation: in his cockhead, around the ridged edge, in the shaft, and deep in his balls. Only when he was deeply in, did he say to the silent vampire, 'Tell me now, Spike, so I can make it like that for you.'

Spike's voice was small, as if being brought back from far away. 'It's just in there, luv, move around a bit, yeah? You'll find it - I'll let you know when you do.'

Giles nodded, wrapped a hand around Spike's belly to lift him slightly and began to slide in and out of the tight passage holding him. Before long, Spike knelt up, and keeping his face pressed into the blanket, he thrust up, bending the small of his back. Giles cried out at the move and shifted position, so he was kneeling to the vampire's backside. He pictured them as they would appear to an observer, and it was so wrong, so unnatural. so utterly erotic that he knew he would not last now. He put both hands around Spike's slim waist. He locked his fingers together over the tight belly. A few thrusts later and something cold and damp banged against his hands. He explored and gasped when he discovered Spike's cock, taut, hard, weeping and uncared for. Even in the throes of a building orgasm, Giles was able to marvel that this: doubling up had not occurred to him before. He moved his hold and almost used Spike like a handle to balance his thrusting. Spike cried out at the stimulation, but Giles knew something was still missing.

He didn't get it.

He wasn't sure what else to do.

He stilled for a moment to catch his breath, still working Spike's cock. He felt one leg cramping and needed to relieve his muscles. He pulled Spike to standing and then spread him against a rock. 'Sorry, I have to stand for a while.'

Spike nodded, but Giles could feel a sense of disappointment once more from the vampire. In this position, he could enjoy Spike's cock and balls more, and he tried to make it up to Spike by intensely playing with him.. but he was still embedded, and his brain cried out for him to move again, his own balls aching now for their delayed release.

He held onto Spike's shoulders and pushed in. He almost stumbled when Spike jerked back and screamed. 'Oh! Fuck!'

It was a good `oh fuck'; they could both hear that, so Giles thrust again. Spike began to pant rapidly, and Giles took this as even better proof - for an non-breathing creature - that he'd found that elusive spot. Spike snatched one hand off the rocks and grabbed his own cock, working it frantically. 'Do it again. Fuck, do it again. It's been so bloody long. Fucking hundred years. Shove it in, mate.. Oh, yeah.. Again.. Again.. Harder. do me harder. Fuck you, Rupert, that's good. Harder, harder.. Gonna fucking fuck you into unconsciousness for this. OH! Jesus! Again! Yeah. keep going. OH MY GOD! I'm going to cum! Before you! Can't be! Shit! Keep.. Ahh. fuck, fuck, fuck..'

Giles watched an arc of white shoot from the tip of Spike's cock, catch and reflect the light, before running uselessly over the black rocks in front of them. Another, just as powerful, shot out; Giles gasped; his body seemed to respond to the sight, and his cock jumped inside the tight rectum and flooded it with a wave of sperm. He began to half-sob with the intensity of this orgasm. It was so much more than the one he'd shared with Spike's mouth. Once again, his legs began to shake, but he willed his whole body, in one huge effort, to stay with him for this intense experience, before, with a final shudder and a final, small spurt of cum, he staggered away and fell backward onto the soft sand.

Spike stayed braced against the rock for some minutes before he turned and plonked down ungracefully onto the blanket. With a slightly shaky hand, he lit a cigarette and smoked it down intently, as if he needed all that nicotine before rational thought could return.

Giles crawled over the rug and sprawled on his stomach. He wanted to tuck himself in but didn't have the energy. He didn't even protest when he felt Spike pulling his trousers and shorts off. He didn't assist when Spike turned him over and took off his shirt. He finally lay naked in the moonlight next to Spike, the only sound, the surf that began to surge over the sand once more, having apparently paused in awe at the power of the two men's orgasms.

*****
Part 8:

Spike, as might be expected, was the first to recover. A small, amused voice drifted over Giles. 'Fuck.'

Giles gave a small groan. 'If that's a question, Spike, then I'm afraid the answer is no. for quite some time.'

'Did you answer your question, pet?'

Giles chuckled. 'Umm. Yea for cramp, I think.'

'Yeah.' Spike sat up and lit a cigarette, wriggling slightly on the blanket. `Remind me not to fuck on sand anytime soon.' Giles chuckled and rolled over onto his stomach.

`Goodness, I'm starving suddenly. Don't suppose you brought any..'

Spike flicked over a crushed bag from the bottom of his box and then fished out a flask of something dark and viscous, which he opened slowly, not letting his gaze drop from Giles. Giles just shrugged at the blood and delved in the bag, pulling out some doughnuts. He looked at the slightly squashed, stale offering for a moment, then shrugged once more and ate one anyway. Munching, he watched Spike drinking the blood and found it strangely. affecting.

He couldn't face another doughnut and looked wistfully at the box. `Did you bring anything else for me?'

Spike put down his empty flask and looked intently at him. Without dropping his gaze, he reached over and fetched something, and then held it out on his hand. Giles looked down, then back up at Spike. He shook his head fractionally. `No.'

Spike didn't rise to this; he only put the small tub of lubrication on the blanket between them. `I'm going for a swim, pet, think about it, yes?'

Giles watched the pale, slim body sliding back into the black waters and missed him even more than the first time. Now the beach held no fear for him, it was just the missing of Spike: his company, his body. He tried not to look at the jar lying by his thigh. If he didn't look at it, he didn't need to think about it. but the expression on Spike's face when he had cum, the cries of pleasure the vampire had made as he'd been penetrated. Could it ever be like that for him?

After an hour or so, Spike returned and flung himself, wet, on the blanket. He looked at Giles through lowered lids, trying to read his expression. Giles didn't speak, but he turned over on his belly. He did not pull away when Spike knelt between his legs and laid a cold hand on his backside.

Wisely, Spike seemed to have decided that he was better off not speaking. He lay down between Giles' legs and put a hand on each cheek. Giles was surprised that the vampire did not immediately use the lubrication, but understood why when he felt a cool tongue probing and seeking entry. He relaxed fractionally, knowing that this would not - could not - hurt. Spike began to work the hole. He licked and nuzzled it, pressed it with his thumbs, never quite entering, never quite wholly outside. Giles felt incredibly relaxed; he folded his arms under his head and fell into a deep, contented trance, focused but drifting. Time seemed to have no meaning: the sea neither rose nor fell; night did not give way to morning, but still Spike worked Giles' hole. After a while, he felt swollen; his anus had begun to throb with a delicious pulse of need. He needed to be entered; he wanted to be entered. He moaned softly and sensed the vampire kneeling up. He felt a cool gel being applied all around his hot, puckered skin, pushed in with the most delicate of touches. More.. Handfuls of the gel applied until he felt full of the slick material. He didn't think he could stand, let alone contribute much to this: exhaustion and stiffness had crept into muscles that he now wanted to be hard and working. He groaned in frustration at his own humanity. Spike didn't try and get Giles to rise; he lay down beside him and gently turned him over, just lifting one warm thigh slightly, so it lay over his cool one.

Naturally, gently, he slid into Giles as easily as his pale body slid into the ocean. Giles moaned to the sensation of stretch that he had not realised could be so pleasurable. When he was fully in, Spike propped himself up on one elbow and just moved his hips fractionally. There was hardly any thrust, more a soft wave-like surge of his cock deep into Giles' rectum. Spike put his other hand to the human's face and turned him slightly so they were looking at each other.

That was different. Giles blushed: this was so much more intense than what they had done before. That had been raw, urgent need. This was something different: this was intimacy. Spike's eyes reflected the moonlight and seemed almost luminous themselves; they were a brilliant flash of colour in the otherwise muted grey tones of the beach and the sea. Giles risked a small smile and chuckled when it was returned in full measure. Spike bent down to the soft laughter, and as he ran a thumb over Giles' cheek, he kissed him softly.

Giles relaxed back into the blanket; the vampire easing into him and kissing him. How had he come to this place? His life had not been destined for this. Where was the stable job in some small market town in the Home Counties? Where was the wife at home with his children? He should be lying in a bed in pyjamas, life mapped out and predictable. Yet here he was, on an isolated, Californian beach, making love with a vampire. A sense of unease drifted over the watcher, and Spike seemed to feel the returning tenseness. He paused for a moment, pulling away from Giles' mouth and easing the soft, rocking motions into his body.

Spike shifted position so he was kneeling once more and gently lifted Giles' legs - one at a time - onto his shoulders. Giles turned his head away: another embarrassment, another position that made him feel vulnerable and unnatural. His fears dissipated though when Spike re-entered him. The hard, cold shaft rubbed something inside him, and he felt his own penis twitch to life. He cried out slightly and looked at the vampire. Spike only lifted one eyebrow in a silent acknowledgment of the human's pleasure. Giles put a tentative, warm hand on the vampire's arm and said raggedly, through clenched teeth, `You can push harder, Spike; it doesn't hurt.'

Spike's eyes flew wide, and he responded immediately. Giles cried out once more, but the cry was a pure animalistic reaction to the intensity of the pleasure cascading through his bowels. He lifted his hips slightly on the next thrust and heard a faint moan from Spike - the first sound the vampire had made since they'd been joined. He leant forward, put his hands both sides of Giles on the blanket, and began a rapid, jerking motion. Giles watched his face closely and could see the approach of the vampire's orgasm. Spike's eyes were glazed; his jaw was clenched with the need to cum. Giles felt inadequate to Spike's needs, sensed the vampire needed to thrust harder to get the relief he craved, but eventually, Spike's head flew back, and he let out a long, low groan as Giles felt flooded by cold sperm. Giles knew his human body would not cum again that night, and vicariously enjoyed Spike's orgasm. He pursed his lips as Spike continued to flood his body, for this was new. He realised that this was the first time he'd had sperm inside him, and that was. surprising. Angelus, it now appeared, had not ejaculated during the rape.

Spike finally finished and lay very carefully and very gently down on Giles' near-flaccid penis. Giles put a hand to the back of the blond head and softly stroked the short hair with his thumb. He felt Spike sigh and lifted his head to look down at him. `Sorry, that wasn't what you were expecting, was it?'

Spike looked up. `You didn't cum. Seems a shame, that's all.'

`I told you, Spike..'

`Yeah, I know: humans.'

`Middle-aged human, Spike.'

Spike rolled off and fished for his cigarettes. Giles let him light up and then said firmly. `But it was good.. Thank you.'

Spike chuckled. `Should I say, "You're welcome?" Wouldn't wanna be rude or nothing.' He flung himself down, and Giles turned over to lie on his stomach, his head pillowed on his arms, face turned towards Spike. He could not remember ever being so tired. He watched Spike's hand moving rhythmically between his lap and his mouth, as he chain-smoked his way through a pack of cigarettes. The vampire was vocal now, making up for his earlier silence. Giles listened, but he knew he was drifting in and out of the conversation, utterly unable to force himself to stay awake.

He woke sometime later, wrapped securely in the blanket, with Spike fully dressed along side him. 'Oh, bloody hell! Did I dribble?'

Spike shook his head. Giles could see him quite clearly, and he cast an anxious glance at the sky. Spike began to hand him his clothes. 'Yeah, we've gotta go. Dress, hey?'

Giles nodded and tried to stand, but a night of sex, sleeping on the sand, and the cold of the pre-dawn air made him stumble like an old man. Wisely, Spike didn't help him, but seemed to be occupied with the bike. Giles thanked him silently and pulled his clothes onto his stiff body. Suddenly he looked up in alarm. 'Not back up there, surely?' The cliff path looked even less negotiable in the soft light than it had in the pitch dark.

Spike laughed, his back still to Giles. 'Nah, when the tide's down we can get back around the beach then up through the dunes.'

Giles climbed on with difficulty, and Spike rode carefully through the soft sand until they reached the harder shoreline, when he kicked it into a low gear and sped back towards Sunnydale.

It was a closely timed event, and Spike skidded to a halt outside his crypt and plunged through the door with his hair smoking. He only laughed, but Giles was furious and would have told him so if he could have gotten off the bike. He slid in an ungainly fashion off the end, wincing as everything hurt.

He followed Spike into the crypt. 'That was too bloody close, Spike.'

'You were the one asleep.'

'You should have woken me.'

'You needed it.'

'Yes, well, I don't need you being immolated in front of me! I'd rather be a little tired.'

'Little tired?'

'Totally shattered then, I admit. But you still should have woken me.'

'Next time.'

Giles looked at him. Spike returned the look with an open, trusting expression. Giles did not hold his gaze and backed off towards the door and the sunlight. 'I have to go. I promised Buffy I'd research, and I haven't.'

Spike pouted briefly but then nodded. 'Yeah, like I said, I've got things to do.'

Giles didn't actually remember this conversation, and didn't pay too much attention now. He had other things to think about. Self-analysis, which he had put off so successfully until this moment, had been thumping at his conscious brain since he'd woken up on the beach. He nodded at Spike, felt he ought to say or do something momentous, but only turned and went gratefully into the warm sun.

What must it be like, never to be able to turn your face to the sun and feel its warmth? If he ever felt sorry for Spike, Giles felt it now. His cold, stiff body craved the sun, and he'd never enjoyed an early morning walk more. Every inch of his body protested the exercise, his backside still throbbing from the night's activities, but he was too distracted by his thoughts to notice.

How long did he have? A year? Five years? How long before Spike got tired of his human weaknesses? Maybe less than a year. maybe next month, next week: maybe Spike would blow him off tomorrow. Spike was healed. Giles' couldn't help a small smile. He'd proved that rather successfully twice last night: the vampire didn't need him anymore. He thought Spike enjoyed his company, but was that enough? He knew that it was not. Where could they meet in a world where he wanted to inhabit the day, but Spike could only exist in the dark? Giles knew he wasn't a young man anymore, one who could make love all night and still get up and go to work all day. Hell, he was English: he didn't remember being able to do that when he was young.

He desperately needed sleep now, and after a hot shower, watching the sand swirling down the drain with all his fantasies, he fell onto his bed as if he would never rise. He only did when Buffy once more came around and shouted up for him.

He went down, dressed this time, realising that it was evening. He fell on his fridge, consuming anything he could find, as Buffy outlined her lack of success with the wanna-be slayers.

Munching a cheese sandwich, Giles mumbled, 'Are they having anymore success slaying?'

Buffy shook her head. 'They seem kinda focused. I've heard they're looking for specific vampires.. I guess it's a revenge trip.'

'Is that something we can use? Who are these vampires? Local Sunnydale residents?'

'Unfortunately: one of them is Spike.'

Buffy anxiously clapped Giles on the back, as he choked slightly on his food. 'Spike?'

'So Willie said. Said they were looking for certain vampires; he'd only heard Spike's name.'

'Bloody hell! Come on, we'd better warn him.'

'He knows. Willie told him, too.'

'Bloody hell again! When? He's been with.. He's not been around much; when did he hear this?'

'Dunno.' Buffy gave one of her most irritating "hey, I'm only a dumb blond" looks which, by its very ludicrousness, annoyed Giles excessively.

He snapped rather shortly. 'Shall we go then? Goodness, Buffy, you should have told me all this earlier.'

Buffy shrugged and followed him out. The cemetery was quiet. They went to Spike's crypt, but it was empty. Buffy said with some distaste, 'He's probably out torturing demons.'

Giles seemed distracted and not really listening. 'No, he's over all that.'

'Oh. Good. Spike back to his normal self. I'll rest happy.'

'Test them!'

A gang of young men suddenly rushed at them both. Buffy held back, given they were human, young, and seemed to be only attacking with. crosses? Two of the gang thrust crosses on Giles' hand and Buffy's face. She batted them away with an annoyed look. 'Slayerettes, I presume?'

'So, you've heard of us already?'

Giles folded his arms, impatiently. 'Unfortunately.'

'Mr. Giles?'

The leader looked more closely at Giles. Giles peered back at him. 'Do I know you?'

''Brad Craig? I was at Sunnydale High.'

Buffy looked pointedly at him. 'As a locker or a desk?'

'Hey! Girlie! Shut up! I'm the leader of this whole gang now; I didn't need to graduate.'

Giles smiled wanly. ' Err. and you chose the name, I assume? The Slayerettes?'

'Sure did; cool ain't it?'

'Well, yes, I have to say it is. for a group of girls.'

Brad took a step back; the others stepped forward menacingly. 'What does he mean?'

Brad pointed a stake at Giles. 'What crap's that?'

Giles shook his head slowly. 'Nothing. It's a lovely name, very menacing and frightening. Buffy and I are quaking in our boots.'

All heads turned as one. 'Buffy?'

Buffy gave a goofy grin and rolled her eyes. 'Yep. Little girlie's the Slayer.'

'Fuck.'

'So why don't you big, scary boys drop the stakes and go home to your Nintendos? Give the demon population a break tonight.. What'd'ya say? For little me?'

Brad bristled at her tone and came forward threateningly. 'Fuck you, Slayer! We done something you ain't been able to do.'

Buffy yawned theatrically. 'What's that? Pee standing up?'

'Nah, we staked the vampire: Spike. You've been trying to kill him for years I heard, but we did it. So fuck you.'

As one, the gang turned and began to run noisily back through the cemetery. Buffy turned to Giles. 'Do you think it's.. Giles! ' She helped him to sit on a gravestone. 'You okay?'

'Yes, quite okay.' He took off his glasses and was about to start polishing them, but looked at them for a moment as if wondering what the point was. He put them back on. 'Well, quite an eventful encounter. I didn't recognise him, I must say. I hope I wasn't rude. Wouldn't have wanted to be rude. Do you think I was rude, Buffy?'

Buffy was staring at Spike's crypt. 'I don't believe him. He can't be gone. He's like. part of us. I mean, I hate him, but. he can't be. gone.'

She turned, surprised, as Giles began to walk briskly away. 'Stay on patrol, Buffy; that's the best thing. I shall go home and.. I'll make sure.. I'll..' He did not finish, and she watched puzzled, as he left without turning around again.

In some ways, he was relieved. Yes, it saved him the worry and anxiety of having this relationship with a vampire. He wasn't even too sure he'd been going to continue it anyway, and this just saved him the bother of telling Spike. Ridiculous, as if vampires could have relationships with humans! They could hardly be said to have emotions. Giles laughed as he opened his door. What had the vampire said as he'd seen the final stake? "Oh fuck! Stake?" It was rather.. Gone? Giles bent his head as if a sharp pain had suddenly seared through. Gone? That was impossible to equate, so once more he stood straight and began to make some tea, whistling slightly under his breath. He wished he could tell Spike the irony: cup of tea, cup of tea. actually had a shag. Had a very good shag.. Had that been with Spike? Gone? Again the pain, and Giles winced, lowering his head, puzzled. Gone? No, that couldn't be. Spike's face was before him as if he were actually in the room. Spike smiling.. Had he always smiled? Giles couldn't remember a time when Spike had not been laughing or smiling. and his eyes.. Had they really been that blue? Had they been open or closed when he'd been.. Gone? How could that be? This life was not real: he should be in that suburban house in Middlesex. So, perhaps, if this wasn't real, then Spike being. gone. wasn't either. Because gone was not possible: gone was. unthinkable.

It was dawn when Giles realised that he was sitting on his kitchen floor with an empty mug clutched in his hand.

Unfortunately, he became the focus of everyone else's grief: grief they could not, or would not, express, because, after all, Spike was only a vampire, and they hadn't liked him. Xander had particularly not liked him, and was particularly pleased that he was staked, and kept particularly repeating this to anyone that would listen as he sat all day on Giles' couch, refusing doughnuts. No one went to work; no one went to school. They hung around Giles, needing the comfort he was supposed to give them. He was Giles all day very successfully: no one noticed a thing. Nothing out of the ordinary: nothing that told them that he was Giles no longer and that, during the long night, he had become someone quite different. He waited for a suitable opportunity to leave and slipped quietly out by himself.

The cemetery was almost pretty in the daylight. He opened Spike's door. He went in. He climbed down the ladder, and when he looked at the bed, the last tiny shred of hope that he would come in and find this all a mistake went. The bed was unmade and empty. He lay on it, an arm over his eyes. but he couldn't put it off any longer.

Giles opened his eyes and looked at the small beacon of light that shone bravely through the morass. Spike had not found what he had been looking for, and he was now lost to that hellish confusion.

He had been tested - "Swim with me?" - and he had failed, unable to provide that safe, calm water for the troubled demon.

Some hours later, Giles left the crypt and went back to his house. They were all still there. He looked from one to the other then nodded at Buffy. 'Walk with me?'

Buffy hardly seemed to be able to summon the energy to do that, but she slipped her arm in his and went with him slowly down the road.

'I won't beat around the bush, Buffy. I'm leaving. I've decided to go home.'

Buffy stopped, her eyes shocked. 'Leaving? Now? I mean, why? For how long?'

'I don't know; I'll get home and see.'

'But why? I need you.'

'No, you don't. I have nothing to offer you, Buffy. I can't save you. You must be self-reliant, and I'm standing in your way.'

'Giles! I can't do this alone!'

'You aren't alone: you have the best friends in the world, and you have your own strength. You don't see it yet. I cannot help you, Buffy. Not now.'

She continued to argue, and Giles softened, not in his conviction that he was leaving, but in his insistence that it had to be that night. He went back with her to the apartment, but after half an hour, suddenly said. 'I have someone I have to see. I won't be back until tomorrow. Will you all be okay?'

If it was on the tip of Buffy's tongue to ask him bitterly why he cared, she refrained, and was glad when she saw his sad face. 'Where'ya going?'

'Somewhere I should have gone a long time ago.'

Giles drove to LA and did not remember any of the trip when he got there. He looked briefly at the address on Wesley's last letter and climbed out of his car in front of the Hyperion Hotel.

The cheerful brightness of the lobby confused him: nothing should be bright.

Cordelia greeted him warmly, Wesley briskly, as an Englishman would. Angel came out of his office, his eyes hooded and wary. 'Giles.'

'Angel. Can I speak to you?'

Angel looked a little surprised but nodded towards his office. He closed the door behind them and indicated a chair, sitting down behind his desk and tenting his hands under his chin.

Giles didn't know what to say now that he was here. He wanted to kill Angel for the things that he had done, and for things that he had not. but this was not a time for hatred. He wanted to make things right before he left.

'Angel.' A good start. 'Angel. I may be leaving soon, and I wanted to say some things to you before I left.'

Angel did not respond in anyway; he kept his expression neutral, his body still. 'I blamed you for a long time for things that were not your fault, and for that I am sorry. You are not Angelus, and I think it's only recently that I've really come to believe that.'

Angel blinked slowly, but that was his only response. Giles continued, but he hardly had the heart even for this. 'I feel that my attitude to you may have kept you away from Sunnydale. With me gone, Buffy will be alone. She may need you, Angel, and I want you to be there for her if she does.' He couldn't help a certain bitterness creep into his voice. 'God knows, you've been needed there all this time: he needed you, but I hope you'll do a better job for Buffy than you did for him.' There, he'd said it. He'd discharged his responsibility to the loved one he had left. The other one he'd failed, and it was too late to make amends.

Angel creased his brow slightly and asked neutrally. 'Who needed me?'

Giles looked up, surprised. His head and heart so full, he had forgotten that not everyone in the world was grieving. 'Spike needed you, Angel, and you failed him. I failed him. But it's too late for that now. I'm sorry. I didn't want to bring this.. I thought you would already know, for some reason. How very silly of me. I thought you might have sensed it. Spike was staked last night.'

Angel pursed his lips slightly. 'Spike's upstairs, asleep.'

'Uh?'

'He arrived last night, said he was - and I quote - shagged, asked if I did room service, and took himself to bed.'

Giles laughed, and only at that odd, maniacal sound, did Angel change his position. He stood up and came around the desk to Giles. 'Wesley!'

Wesley took one look at Giles' face and went to fetch some water. Angel poured him a much stronger drink and handed it to him. 'Why did you think Spike was dead?'

Giles shook his head. 'Where is he?'

Angel looked a little taken aback. 'Upstairs. Room 103.'

Giles refused the drink, pushed past Wesley and ran up the stairs. He thumped open the door and found Spike sprawled naked on the bed, his arm hanging off, his head buried under a pillow. Giles looked around widely, picked up one of Spike's boots, ripped off the pillow and struck him hard across his head.

Spike yelped and sprung up. 'Fucking fuck! What the.. Giles? Fuck you! What the..'

Giles punched him.

'Hey! Bloody hell! What the..'

'You were staked, Spike! They told me you were dead!'

'Well I'm not, 'k? Might be if you hit me with that again.'

'What the hell are you doing here. in bed. asleep for God's sake? Spike, you were asleep all this time.! While I've been.. My God!'

Giles sat heavily on the bed, all the pent up emotion threatening to spill out and unman him entirely. Spike pulled on his jeans and sat next to him rather warily. 'So, you missed me then?'

Giles swung out and hit him again. Spike kept quiet.

'You came here to shorten those ninety years, didn't you?'

Spike looked at him incredulously. 'Don't be a bloody pillock, Giles.'

'Don't lie to me, Spike. I saw it in the picture. I know what. who the beacon is, Spike; I'm not stupid. And you came to him. I. brought you back to life, and you came here to enjoy him again.'

Spike began to laugh but shut up quickly when he saw Giles' face. Suddenly, without taking his eyes off the furious human, he shouted, 'Angel! Get your fat arse up here! Now!'

After a pause, Angel came stonily into the room. Still without taking his gaze from Giles, Spike said conversationally, 'Peaches.. Fancy a shag then?'

Angel gave him a bitter, withering look, turned to go, then spun back and punched Spike so viciously that he tipped backward off the bed.

Giles couldn't bring all his emotions under control. He helped Spike to stand, but then hit him himself once more. Spike stomped his foot and grabbed the rest of his clothes, storming down stairs.

When he reached the lobby, he skidded to a halt in front of Angel, and making sure Giles had arrived and was listening, said pointedly, 'Poof, I came here to tell you that you're being stalked by a fucking gang of think-themselves-slayers. I am. You are. And so are Dru and the rest of the Goddamned family. 'K?' This last was addressed more to Giles than Angel, and with this, he sat down on one of the couches, folded his arms, and said to no one in particular, 'Anyone else want to hit me?'

'Why didn't you tell me you were coming here?' Giles was aware that this question might appear a little odd to anyone that was listening, but asked it anyway. He knew Angel was looking at him strangely. Spike looked dumbfounded.

'I bleedin' did! On the beach, you old git. You were probably asleep.'

'Oh.'

Giles saw Spike's gaze shift slightly and turned; Spike had been watching Angel return to his office. 'Wait for me here: I need to speak to Angel.'

'What about?'

Giles took a deep breath. 'I told him I'd forgiven him, but I suspected that was just the. shock talking, but I think I actually meant it. I just want to tell him that.'

Spike looked puzzled. 'Forgive Angel what?'

Giles looked at him and wondered why the vampire was so much smarter than he was. 'Exactly, Spike, exactly.'

He went slowly toward Angel's office and paused on the threshold. He was about to enter when he saw Angel by the window, gazing out at the fading day. Giles looked at his expression and froze. He saw something in Angel's eyes and in the set of Angel's jaw that threw him entirely. He backed away and went thoughtfully back to Spike.

'Come back with me?'

'What about me bike?'

'All right. But are you coming tonight?'

'Course.'

'Okay then.'

'Sorry.'

'Yes. It was quite a shock.'

'That "quite a shock" like your "bit tired" then?'

'I was. unhinged for a while, Spike.'

Spike couldn't help a shy grin. 'Oh, that's really, really sad.'

Giles laughed, but his heart was too full to let the laugh in.

He was glad Spike wasn't with him on the way home, for it gave him time to think. He had to decide what to do with the shop. What to do with the rest of his life, too, for he'd not changed his mind: he had to go. It was just that now the reason for the flight had changed.

*****