Title: Chasing the Demons 
Author: Salustra 
E-mail: goddess_salustra@juno.com
Pairing: Spike & Giles (friendship)
Rating: G 
Summary: Spike gives Giles a helping hand. 
DISTRIBUTION: Various lists and Wierd Romance RP- BtVS/Ats RP
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/WierdRomance and the website
http://www.geocities.com/sireandchilde/home.html. Anyplace else is fine,
just let us know where it is going. 
Spoilers: Through BtVS Season 5: The Gift. 
Disclaimer: I don’t own Spike or anything else from ME… though I really
wish I could. 
Feedback: Please? E-mail to goddess_salustra@juno.com
A figure slinks into the woods, back to a spot known only to the few.
It’s a sad, forlorn figure, shoulders slumped, whole body in a posture of
defeat and despair. Finally it is there, in his sight. The lonely grave,
with the marker that breaks his heart. BUFFY ANNE SUMMERS. 1981-2001.
BELOVED SISTER. DEVOTED FRIEND. SHE SAVED THE WORLD. A LOT. 
He crumples to his knees, heedless of trampling the dirt over her grave.
The tears he could not shed at her funeral come pouring out. He had to be
reserved and strong for the others…let them cry on him and carefully mask
the worst of his pain. But not now, not alone here at the grave of the
girl who was almost a daughter to him. He lets the fullness of his grief
wash over him. He sobs, huge, heaving, gasping sobs…a display of emotion
he had almost never allowed himself in his whole life. But he cannot hold
it back any longer. His child is dead. 
Then comes the anger. The anger at her, for sacrificing herself to save a
little girl who never really existed until a few months ago. Anger at
himself and the others for failing to save her. He pounds his fists
against the gravestone, tears still pouring. Over and over, he brings
them down, until they are battered and bloody. Til his body sheerly gives
out under the strain of releasing all this emotion. He falls to the
ground and continues to sob, unrestrained. 
Another figure steps out of the shadows. A slender figure in a long black
leather duster, platinum hair gleaming in the moonlight. He shakes his
head. "Rupert, you old fool. Those ‘ands are gonna be useless for days.
And all that blood…you’ll be bait for the vamps if I leave you ‘ere. They
can smell that for miles around. C’mon then, let’s get you back." 
Spike leans down and turns Giles over, then carefully scoops him up in
his arms. He carries him gently back towards Giles’ car. The normally
stuffy and staid Watcher relaxes like a baby in Spike’s arms, still
sobbing, unable to summon up his usual resentment of the blonde vampire.
He is broken right now. Nothing in the world seems right, not with Buffy
gone. 
It’s not until they are almost at the car that Giles manages to stem the
tide of tears and assert himself a bit. "You don’t need to do this. I am
perfectly capable of walking." He forces a bit of his standard
disapproval into his voice, though he doesn’t really feel it. 
Spike shakes his head. "You can prove y’r manhood by walking to the
apartment, when we get there, though I’m willin’ to wager you’ll need
‘elp even then. Y’r not a young man anymore, Rupert." He lets loose a low
chuckle at this. Giles feels he should resent the small joke at his
expense, but somehow he doesn’t. 
Spike lowers in him the passenger seat of the car and buckles him in. He
slides into the driver’s seat and then retrieves the keys from Giles’
pocket. Giles experiences a twinge of…something…at the intimacy of the
contact, fingers digging in his pocket, but it passes as quickly as it
comes. Spike cranks up the car and pulls out onto the road. "Let’s get
you ‘ome and settled, Rupert. I owe you a little somethin’ for y’r
‘ospitality before, at any rate." He flashes a sardonic smile at Giles
before returning his attention to the road. 
Giles considers this, remembering his "hospitality"…chained in a bathtub,
drinking from a coffee cup with "Kiss the Librarian" on it…and he wonders
briefly if Spike intends to return the favor and chain him up as well.
Not like Giles can really do anything right now if that is what Spike is
going to do. He feels as weak as a cat and his hands are useless bloody
ruins. The ride home passes in silence and then Spike pulls up into the
parking lot near Giles’ apartment. He gets out, coming around to open the
door and unbuckle the seat belt. Without being asked, he helps Giles out
to a standing position. Giles takes a few tentative steps and then his
legs start to buckle. Spike moves quickly, catching Giles and then
pulling Giles’ arm around his shoulder. He helps him into the apartment,
unlocking the door and walking him inside, easing him into a chair. 
Spike kneels and looks at Giles’ hands. "Watcher, these things need
tendin’." He looks sheepish as he says, "I know you may find it sick,
Watcher, but if you’ll let me lick ‘em clean and closed, they’ll ‘eal a
lot faster than with just medicine and bandages." He looks ready to
cringe at a flood of outrage over the suggestion. 
Giles thinks about it, looking down at the vampire. It’s not like Spike
can really hurt him, he reasons. He’s got the chip. And Giles does know
enough vampire lore to know that Spike is telling the truth. And Spike
*did* save him from becoming vampire food tonight. He gravely nods his
head. "Go on, then," he says, a little more gruffly than he intends. 
Spike nods in acknowledgment. He bends over the first hand, raising it
gently to his mouth and carefully, gingerly licking each finger and then
the hand itself, cleaning the blood and knitting the skin where he
can…where the skin is not so tattered that it won’t close up properly.
Giles settles back and closes his eyes. It’s an odd sensation, but not
entirely unpleasant. Where Spike licks, the pain becomes a little less.
Some kind of anaesthetic in the saliva, most likely. Spike finishes with
that hand and moves to the other, treating it just as carefully. Then he
rises, coming back with a first aid kit. Without a word, he cleans and
applies ointment, then bandages each hand. 
Giles opens his eyes and looks down at Spike. "Thank you," he says. "You
didn’t have to do all this, you know." 
Spike grunts. "I know." He gets up and walks over to the bar, pouring a
glass of scotch, and walks back over to Giles. "Thought you looked like
you could use one of these."
Giles sighs gratefully. "You must have some psychic talent, Spike." He
reaches up to take the glass, but can’t get his swollen hand to grasp it.
 
Spike sees this and brings the glass to Giles’ lips, tipping it carefully
so he can drink a sip. He does this over and over until the glass is
empty. 
Giles sinks back into the chair, emitting another sigh. "You don’t have
to do this, you know." 
Spike shrugs. "So who else is goin’ to? You need a little tendin’,
Watcher. Just take it, ok?" 
Giles nods. He is a little abashed and ashamed now, remembering with a
stab how they had just dumped a terribly injured Spike back in his crypt
to heal on his own. He probably could have used some tending, some care,
after all he had done. "Spike, I…" 
Spike cuts him off. "Don’t. I know I’m a monster, right? Monsters don’t
need care." 
Giles lowers his eyes. It’s true. That’s what he thought, what they all
thought. Spike is a vampire. Vampires heal. They never took a moment to
think he might like or need a little tending, a little care to clean his
wounds or bandage him or to get some blood. Giles tries to think of
something, anything, that would make a difference at this moment, but he
can’t. So he just looks at Spike, tries for a moment to really see him. 
Spike returns his gaze steadily. Finally, he nods, as if satisfied with
whatever he is seeing. "Need to get you t’bed, Watcher. You’ve ‘ad quite
a night." 
At this, Giles looks away, embarrassed. "I can sleep like this, Spike.
There’s really no need."
Spike shakes his head. "No way, Watcher." He helps Giles to his feet and
helps him upstairs to the bedroom, lowering him gently to the bed. He
kneels and starts taking off Giles’ shoes. "Gotta get you comfortable,"
he says quietly. 
Giles watches, touched. But when Spike reaches for his shirt, and begins
to undo the buttons, he pulls away a bit. "Spike…I can’t." 
Spike snorts. "Not tryin’ to seduce you, Watcher. Just gettin’ you ready
for bed. I’ll even close my eyes if you like." There is a tone of faint
amusement in his voice. 
Giles masters his embarrassment and looks back at Spike, sighing. "Sorry.
Proceed." 
Spike takes off his shirt, and then eases him out of his pants, leaving
him clad only in an undershirt and boxers. Then Spike retrieves pajamas
from the dresser and helps Giles into them. 
Giles sighs again. It’s so good, so soothing, the feel of the soft cotton
on his skin. Spike takes off his duster and removes his belt and his
boots. He climbs into the bed and lies down. "C’mon then, Watcher. Time
for bed." 
Giles looks over. "What precisely do you think you are doing?" 
Spike smiles. "Keeping you company. Keeping away the demons." 
Giles considers again. Thinks of where his thoughts were earlier tonight,
where they’ve been ever since the fateful day Buffy leaped from that
tower. And how since Spike came in, he hasn’t been in that place. He
nods, subsiding, surrendering, and lies down next to Spike.
Spike reaches over and shuts off the light, then settles up close to
Giles, their bodies touching lightly. He wraps one arm around Giles,
gently. 
Giles stiffens for just a moment, then relaxes. It’s comforting, somehow,
the presence of that slim strong body behind him. He hasn’t had anyone in
his bed since Olivia, and that’s been a few years now. He inhales,
smelling cigarettes and whiskey and leather, and somehow just a faint
undertone of jasmine. He wills himself to relax, to sleep. He hasn’t
slept well, not in days, but he thinks somehow tonight he will sleep. 
Spike settles in, snuggling into the bed, pulling the covers over them.
He purrs, ever so softly, almost beyond the range of human hearing. It’s
a soothing rumbling that he knows will cause Giles to relax, even though
he won’t realize why. He feels that stiff, tense body slowly unwind, his
breathing to slow, and then finally drift off to sleep. Only then does
Spike close his own eyes and sleep himself. 
Giles wakes in the morning, his body aching from his excesses of the
night before. His hands are less swollen in the bandages, though, and he
can flex and move them. He looks at the clock and realizes with a start
that he’s slept more in one night than he has for days before all
together. It gives him another start when he realizes the bed is empty.
Spike left. Didn’t even wait for a thank-you, didn’t wait around to trade
snarky comments…or indeed anything Giles would have expected from him. If
not for the bandages on his hands and the lingering smell on the
bedsheets he could almost believe he had imagined it all. 
He rolls over and only then notices a folded note on the pillow next to
him. He picks it up and unfolds it. In flowing, neat script, are the
following words: 
See you tomorrow, Watcher, if you need me. Everyone has their demons to
keep at bay.