*****

Giles took off his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes once again. The events of the past few days had been...draining to say the least. He reached for the glass of scotch on the coffee table, sighing as even the clinking of ice sounded deafeningly loud in the too quiet room.

It seemed like weeks since he had been home, the grief and confusion making the time seem oddly longer than it really was. It had seemed days in the morgue, though it had really been a few hours. Everyone's emotions had been heightened; even Anya had been uncharacteristically fragile. It was strange and disjointed the way the days had played out. While they seemed to drag on forever, they were also compressed, as if it was unnatural that so much emotion could fit in the space of so little time. It was a little like coming down from a three day high.

What was he going to do now? He'd always felt the need to take care of Buffy and her friends, but now it just seemed overwhelming. She would need all her strength to fight Glory. Yet now, she had this to deal with as well. And protecting Dawn. And of course, staying away from Spike.

// Oh lord, should I tell Spike? Will it keep him away or just make him want to be closer?// Buffy had told him how Spike had offered his help when her mother had gone to the hospital. At the time, though she found it a little strange, she thought Spike was trying to be her friend.

Giles felt his stomach tighten as he thought about the last time he saw Spike. His jaw clenched reflexively as he remembered the way Spike had burst through the door and started talking about Buffy. //As if he had any right!// Spike's transparent plan to use him and the rest of Buffy's friends to get to her irritated Giles beyond belief. His need to protect her had come to the surface instantly. She was his child. They were all his children. //Maybe even more so now...now that Joyce...// he didn't let himself finish the thought. He drained the glass in his hand rather quickly, even for him, and set it back on the table.

At first he had thought that he just wanted to keep Spike from Buffy. That was why he was so angry. Having Spike around was an annoyance he couldn't put his finger on, even before the vampire had admitted his attraction to the Slayer. Of course, anyone could find the smart-mouthed Spike annoying. He was worse than Xander even, with his obnoxious remarks. Almost reminded him of Ethan.

Ethan with his too pretty mouth and his wanting eyes. Ethan had always known just what it would take to bring Ripper to the surface, expose the dangerous angry side of him. Sometimes just one of his mouthy comments, and Ripper would shove him against the wall, not sure if he was going to strike him or kiss him. Giles had been trying for weeks to deny it. To himself most of all.

He wondered briefly if they all thought that he'd lost it that day. When he had just pinned Spike to the wall with his eyes and laid into him. The tension between them had made him hard instantly, shaking with the need to control himself. He wasn't sure, if Buffy's friends hadn't been there, that he wouldn't have given in. Disgusting. How could he want someone like Spike so badly? He thought that side of him had been dealt with...dead and gone since the days with Ethan.

He wondered too // Oh God no!// if Spike could feel the heat from his body, smell the mixture of anger, adrenaline, and pure desire. Vampires were good at these things, almost as good as sorcerers. Giles winced. It didn't get worse than this. Ethan, and now Spike. // I can restrain myself. * I can.* //

He pressed his hands to his face for a moment, trying to regain his composure, and then, drawing in a shaky breath, reached again for the bottle. // I'm going to be totally pissed tonight if I keep on like this.// But somehow, he just couldn't make himself care.

Another drink and his body fairly vibrated with need. Knowing he would hate himself after, but wanting it so badly. He had been so close to Spike that he could smell him. Cigarettes and leather and sweat. A combination that never failed to remind him of Ethan. In that alley. His cock twitched inside his trousers. //Oh not this again.// But he continued despite the weak half-hearted thought.

Reaching down, Giles stroked his hardness through the rough cloth, noticing wryly that he responded still to this particular image.

Ethan a glam-rock Ziggy wannabe, approaching him after the show. He had noticed him in the crowd of course, mostly punks, the glamour types usually had the good sense to stay away. Ethan in his skin-tight silver.

Giles was surprised that he could be so hard after so much alcohol. Aching. He blindly fumbled with the belt and zipper, undid himself, cuppped his balls in his hand. Stroked soft and slow, to begin with. His hand was warm already, his skin unusually delicate-Giles had always prided himself on being the sort that works with his mind.

Ethan had stood there, nervous in front of him, as he had drawn deep on his fag.

"I liked the show."

"Yeah? Didn't think it'd be your style." Ripper drawled, looking Ethan's hard little body over.

"You have a nice voice."

Ripper snorted. "How can you tell?" And then, as there was no answer for this, he asked, "Why do you dress like that? You pick up boys?"

Ethan looked into his eyes, unsure. Outside, in an alley, a club full of punks. He could get the beating of his life. Or. This slim, hard young man, intensity and anger bursting from his every pore.

"Yes."

"You have stones. I like that."

And he had captured Ethan's mouth in a searing kiss. Ethan had responded eagerly, pressing his body up against Ripper.

"Let's go."

Ethan nodded his acquiescence.

Giles moved his hand up, swiping some of the pre-come that was forming at the head of his cock, and stroked it down over his shaft as a lubricant. His cock is smooth and slippery, beginning get hot from the friction of his hand. He felt the tension begin to build almost immediately. His hips arched up, his body demanding more, but he fought it. //Slow, make it last.// He moved his hand to the base of his cock to slow the building sensation.

Ethan in his apartment, a tiny little shoebox of a place almost filled by the scattered books and clothing. Not to mention the records. Ethan turned to look at him and Ripper took a moment to light another cigarette.

"So. How do you want it?" With some, there was always a moment of indecision, as the two punks toughed it out to see who would end up on top. Ripper usually won. In this case, he was sure of the answer before he heard it, knew by the way Ethan stood awkwardly, unsure of what to do. Knew by the look of awe that Ethan had when he approached him outside the club, like a teenaged groupie.

"I want to...I want you to.." Ethan stumbled over the words trying to get them out. He had been so innocent then, before everything had happened. Before Ripper had happened.

Ripper laughed again, and grabbed a handful of Ethan's overbright *blond* red hair, pulling him in for a kiss. He felt Ethan's mouth under his own, opening softly to admit him, and he grew hard. Ripper memorized every trace of Ethan's tender little mouth, tasting the sweetness of him. He tasted like cinnamon.

Ripper devoured Ethan's mouth, kissing a path down into the nape of his neck, inhaling his scent deeply. Ethan stood still, rooted to the spot, as if he were waiting to be told what to do. Ripper pulled back, searching Ethan's face, and saw need there. He pushed Ethan down, and Ethan sunk to his knees without hesitation.

Ripper tilted Ethan's face up, and stroked a soft line with his thumb. Across Ethan's cheekbone, and down to trace his mouth. Ethan's mouth opend a little, almost involuntarily.

"Suck me." Ripper hissed.

And Ethan's slender hands working on his zipper and releasing his painfully trapped cock. Stroking him once, twice, before leaning in to lick so softly at the head.

Giles moaned aloud at the memory. No one ever had a mouth as sweet as Ethan's was, that first time. God it was hot. //Would Spike's mouth be that hot? No, cold. Deliciously cold on his burning skin...//

He wanted to know what it would feel like. Tried to imagine, but the heat and slick of his own hand seemed all wrong. He looked down at his left hand, clutching the ice-filled glass tightly, and slowly brought it to his cock. The shock of it made him gasp. And at the same time, he arched into his hand a little harder, it was easier now to see Spike.

Spike. On his knees. In front of Ripper, licking a cool path up his cock and down again. Sucking his balls, one at a time. Encircling the head of his cock with his mouth, just a little, then pulling away again to tease.

//No. That was Ethan.//

Ethan making his cock drip as he tortuously stroked Ripper's length with his tongue. Then, taking him into his mouth, all at once, so hot and wet. Ripper bit his lip and tried hard not to come.

"No. I want to fuck you."

Ethan undressing, revealing his smooth pale body. His nipples and cock hard and begging for attention. Ripper ignored them.

He led Ethan to the bed, pushing him down on his back. He wanted to see this pretty boy's face when he did it.

Giles began to move his hand faster, the image of Ethan on his back, legs spread...//Oh yeah, that's it. Open up for me// He had stroked the soft thighs, and them placed them over his arms. He had looked into Ethan's beautiful *blue* green eyes and smiled.

Spike's beautiful blue eyes. His legs open as he lay on Ripper's bed. Ripper spit into his hand and slicked Spike with it. He thrust a finger inside and Spike was so tight, maybe even a virgin, just like Ethan was. And so hot.

//No, *cool*. Spike would be cool.//

Ripper found Spike's prostate and Spike writhed on the bed, moaning. "Oh yes. That's it. Please."

He couldn't hold it back any more. He withdrew his hand and smiled when Spike whined in protest. He wet himself with spit and positioned his cock at Spike's entrance. He pushed inside slowly, and found himself surrounded by the unusual tight coolness.

Ethan moaned and thrust his hips up to meet Ripper. "You feel... so good.. inside me," he panted out with each thrust. Ripper started out slow, but Ethan's noises got him so hot he began moving faster. And harder.

"You're so fucking tight."

"Fuck me. Do it hard."

He was right about this one wanting submission. Ripper was really pounding into him now, taking him hard and fast. So hot. So pretty as he grimaced in that way that meant pain mingled with overwhelming pleasure.

Giles stroked so fast his hand was a blur. He wanted to feel the coolness again, but didn't want to stop. He settled on squeezing, thinking about those tight muscles gripping him. He felt the tightening in his balls, the way his cock jumped to meet each stroke, and he knew it would be over soon.

Spike grasped his cock, pumping in time to Ripper's thrusts. No words now, just the gasping little breaths and noises of sex. Would Spike breathe during sex?

Spike's pace quickened, and then, his body went suddenly still. He cried out and came. The sight of him was enough to send Ripper over the edge. Something broke open inside of him and he thrust deep into Spike, gasping his name.

"Oh yeah. Spike. Spike..."

Giles looked down at his hand, slick with his come. He shuddered. // My God. I said his *name*.//

At this final indignity, Giles was overcome. He wiped his hand on the sodden napkin that he found underneath his empty glass, and hastily zipped up. He reached for the bottle again. This time, he didn't bother to pour it into a glass.

*end*