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“Oi! Tryin’ to sleep here!”

The sound was painful to Giles’ ears that had grown so accustomed to quiet, pastoral sounds as he greeted his day. It reminded him that he had a houseguest.

“Ah, ....yes....good morning, Spike.”

“Yeah, whatever….you know I’m not what you’d call a day person, right, mate?

With a small smile, Giles stated, “Yes, I remember. In fact I remember everything about having shared a flat with you in the past….,” he continued, bristling a bit, “I could very well see to it you have the same accommodations you had then, you know? Fancy resting the day in my nice comfortable bath again? I think this one is a bit smaller, actually.” He shuffled some things around as though searching, “I’m quite certain I have chains here somewhere.”

Spike sat up and gave Giles a feigned hurt look, “I thought we’d gotten past all that, or are you just making your usual inadequate attempt at humor?”

He replied, “Yes…. very dry British humor. We're known for it actually!"

The solemnity of the night before forgotten for the moment, Giles prepared a pot of tea and some sliced bread with jam for breakfast while Spike saw to a most welcome shower. Giles was surprised to find that Spike had a large satchel that he left in the outer office last night and was prepared with a change of clothes and his toiletries. Imagine that, it made him wonder...were all vampires that civilized?

Spike's return took the thought straight out of his head. He came back to the small kitchen looking exactly as he had before taking the shower except perhaps for some dampness in his hair. Giles said, “I’m afraid I can’t offer you any blood, this morning. It’s not the sort of thing an English Schoolmaster keeps on hand, you know.”

Spike, who had been taking care of his own needs now for nearly a century and a half answered, “No worries, Rupert, brought my own. Wouldn’t mind a Weetabix for dipping though, if you’ve any handy.”

To which Giles made a face and replied deliberately, “I am delighted to report that I’m fresh out,” and continued, muttering under his breath, “I was never able to tolerate that disgusting habit anyway.”

“What’s that you’re goin’ on about, then?” asked Spike.

“Nothing! Nothing!” came the reply.

“Ah…..huh…..So, what’s it to be then? Are you up for the rest of my sad tale or shall we put it off to the damp of the evening, a time more suited to horror stories and nightmares?" Spike asked, squeezing the blood from the pouch into one of Giles cups to put in the microwave. “All right if I put the rest of my stores in your ‘fridge, Giles? I have those freezer pack thingys, but they only hold the cold for just so long…”

Giles considered for a moment how very unusual his life was. The things he took as normal everyday conversation would rattle the soul of any average man. Things like, well, first of all, having a somewhat friendly relationship with a vampire who could discuss with him, with first hand point of view, the events of the last 150 odd years…and how many people have acquaintances that keep blood on hand? Spike was looking at him, eyebrow raised, waiting for an answer.

“Oh, yes, yes, of course.”

“Thanks,” he answered. For the first time since they’d met the evening before, the silence was awkward as both men were taken away by their own thoughts as they quietly continued their breakfast.

It was Giles who spoke first, somewhat louder than he intended, especially on the heels of the quiet, “O Lord! PLEASE, don’t dip your bread into that cup, I shall never be able to eat bread again if you do that!”

Spike looked up, startled, “Wot? It’s my tea!” And after a pause, shaking his head, “I really think you may be losin’ it, old man.”

“All right, all right, it was an honest mistake,” he said as he glanced at his watch, grabbed his cup and downed the dregs of his tea. “Better get going, I have several appointments this morning I really can’t put off, especially with such short notice. What are your plans for the day, then?”

“I don’t have any. Didn't expect we’d bond so well and figured I’d be on my way by now. … Listen Rupert, there are things you should know, and being the only figurehead I have any respect for, I don’t want to leave without the tellin’ of all of it.” Spike said.

The comment about bonding in the same sentence with respect uttered by Spike caused Giles to raise an eyebrow. “Curiouser and curiouser,” he thought. “So then, stay here for a bit. I’ll make arrangements for you to tour the school and meet the girls and…. um… reunite with Xander and Kennedy.” After a beat, he continued, “Do you think they should be here to hear what you have to say…. Xander and Kennedy, I mean? If you think so, I’ll make arrangements for us to dine here, together.”

All this was more than Spike had planned on. He expected to have a brief visit with Giles and move on, although to where, he did not know. He traveled the world, seen pretty much everything he ever wanted to, but now that he was really alone he was very much at odds and was willing to go more or less where the wind blew. He paused on that thought and shivered…. where the wind blew carried with it the idea of dust, and he died way too many times already to want to consider what would probably be the ultimate end.

“Gimme a mo’ to think it over, Giles. You be off now and call me when you’ve come up with a plan for the day. There’ll be time enough to make dinner plans later,” he said in a fairly dismissive tone.

“Right, then,” said Giles, “I’ll ring you with the time to expect Xander to come by. He’ll escort you around the school and bring you up to speed on our operation. Goodbye, Spike.”

~~~

Spike sat alone and sipped his tea. One could learn a lot about a chap by poking around his flat. The house was quiet and very, very Giles. This pleased Spike. It was good that the fellow found himself a modicum of peace, found a niche. He never had to sell out. A man couldn’t rightly ask for much more, he thought. True enough, he knew a lot of suffering in his time and lost some very close friends, even lovers, but in the end, here he was, still making a difference in a world that dared men to try. And, he was still a young man, for all that was worth. Perhaps fate had something in store for Giles somewhere down the road after all.

He should hate the bastard. He tried to have him killed. Really killed, completely dead. Not just that he was a vampire and he was bound to kill them all, but have him killed! Giles was sometimes too smart for his own good and always knew he was more than the average vampire, more than an Aurelian, more than the huff ‘n’ puff Big Bad he professed to be which would make his death on Giles’ head even more awful. Giles was around him enough to know that inside, hidden deep, he was a gentleman and Giles was a gentleman and to die at his hands would be a sin against ….well, England…yes! By God, a sin against the Queen and all that being an Englishman stood for.

Still, he couldn’t hate him for the most basic of reasons. Giles loved Buffy. Everything he did, every decision he made, every choice was in her best interest, or so he thought. How could he hate someone whose life motivation was precisely the same as his own?

He spent a few minutes clearing the table of the breakfast dishes and doing a quick wash-up and then checked out Giles’ stores to see if there was something he might prepare for the evening gathering. Pathetic. It was plain that Giles would die if he were unable to get to the cafeteria or the local pub. There was little more in the cottage than what might sustain a rat. On that thought, he chuckled.

Drawing himself up, he realized that sometime during his ramblings he made a decision. Include the others. Yes, that was the thing to do.

It occurred to him that his place was what a small cottage on an old English estate should look, right down to the leaded glass windows, dark wood beams and low ceilings. There was a hearth and fireplace rather too large for the room with a busy floral overstuffed couch and chairs. It was easy to guess which was Giles favorite by the great pile of books and papers on every free surface within comfortable reach of the chair. Add to that the fact that every other surface had a noticeable amount of dust as anything near the chair was handled often and therefore dust free.

Bloody hell! There’s no telly, he discovered. Oh, this IS tragic.

Walls that were not lined with bookshelves had some rather ordinary artwork and crafty items on them with the exception of one piece. It was a small watercolor of a meadow with long grass and tall yellow and blue wildflowers and one shade tree under which sat a girl with golden hair tied away from her face with a blue ribbon matching the ribbon around her waist the same color as the flowers. He thought the dress fabric was of the kind his mother would call white handkerchief cotton, soft and filmy with a cut lace trim. Resting along side with his head in her lap and her hand resting on his chest was a slender young man in shirtsleeves and trousers. Because of its size the faces were not in detail, but he knew they were in love. The entire mood of the scene was peace and serenity and for a moment to break his own heart.

The jangle of the phone roused him from his reverie. He cleared his throat….no, he was not crying. “Wot?” he shouted into the phone.

Even he was startled by the tenor of his voice. It was several hours since Giles left and there had been no sound to disturb the silence until the wretched phone rang. He gathered himself as Giles shouted into the phone, “Good God, man, have you given up all attempts at civility?”

Spike apologized, “Sorry… Fuck! What am I sorry for? You caught me unawares is all.”

Yes, this is the Spike he remembered. “Xander should be there in just a few minutes. He’ll bring you straight to the dining hall. We’ll all meet there and get reacquainted and then you can have your tour. Have you decided about this evening?” He said, rushing to get it all out before Spike interrupted him, or hung up.

“Yeah,” he said, “in fact, I was gonna offer to fix something here, but you don’t even own a bloody egg!”

“Really?” Giles asked with a definite air of incredulity.

“Really what? That you are such a tosser with barely a crumb in your home OR Really? You can cook?” Spike said. “For your information I been around a long time and I learned one or two things in my time. I can cook…and damn well, I might add. You’re still a soddin’ tosser though.” He sighed, “Whaddya say, I have the whelp run me to market to pick up somethin’, you know, as a sort of thanks for puttin’ me up an’ all? You won’t be sorry.”

Giles was touched, shaking his head, amazed once more at this undecipherable creature, for creature he was, he couldn’t forget. “Are you quite sure?” he asked.

“Quite sure, Rupert,” he said, affecting his most proper English tone.

“Well, then, I guess I should say thank you and ask if I should do anything, and what time would you like our guests to arrive?” he said. “Oh, perhaps you should market first as all the good produce goes quickly and there will be little left to choose from.”

“I’ll take care of all that and let you know what I’ve decided when I see you. That’s it, then.” he said and hung up.

Giles stared at the dead phone in his hand, smiled and shook his head.

~~~

“You want me to what?…who?….what?….” Xander was incredulous. “Giles, he’s dead. Gone!…… Pfffft!” Xander posed the stream of questions to his mentor-friend-boss.. OK, he thought, madman, on the phone in answer to the request just made.

Giles waited until Xander stopped his nonsense. “Xander,” he said calmly, “Spike is alive…. Well, Spike is back would be more appropriate. He’s …um…. himself again.”

“But, but, what?..how?….but….” muttered Xander.

“I understand your reaction, and I’m truly sorry to give you this information this way, but this is the first moment I’ve had free and I need you to collect him at my cottage and bring him to the dining hall. Furthermore, I don’t have time now to talk, so please just do as I say…..Oh,” he added, “he’s going to ask you to take him to market to pick up some things so you best bring your car.”

“Well, isn’t that special?” Xander whined. “I get to be his gofer. I didn’t like him before, and guess what, Giles, I’m not thrilled with this reincarnation business. What the hell is going on?”

Giles found himself begging, “Not now Xander, there’s a new girl here and she and her parents are waiting. Please just try to be a grown-up this time. Spike will probably fill you in and we’re having dinner together tonight.”

“Probably? Probably?” His voiced raised again. “You’re damn right he’s gonna fill me in. All right! I run your little errand and babysit the Evil Undead. I’ll even take him walkies. There! How’s that for giving all for the team?”

“Jolly good. Thank you, Xander. I’ll see you at the dining hall,” said Giles as he rang off.

~~~

“Well, isn’t this just dandy?” Xander said out loud to no one. Over the next few minutes he ranted in his head over the injustice of the whole thing. It infuriated him. Anyone within hearing distance at that moment would know there was something very, very wrong in Mr. Harris’ office.

“Office” is probably an overstatement. Closet with a student desk would be more correct. At least they removed the hooks that used to hold the drying mops. The sound of desk drawers being opened and then slammed shut, papers being thrust about, all a clear indication that he was extremely vexed. One of the secretaries that served the school overheard and opened the door a crack and was nearly clocked by a book flying across the tiny room.

“Oh my god, Oh.. oh.. I’m sorry. Oh.. I’m so sorry.. oh, god, are you alright?” The words tumbled out of Xander’s mouth like gum balls out of an old fashioned candy machine. He stumbled over himself trying to reach the stunned woman who was backing away with a terrified expression on her face.

She wouldn’t let him touch her, just held her hands out in front of her to keep him away and seemingly unable to speak, she turned and ran to the ladies room.

Xander stood there with what had to be his “stupid look # 19,” hands held out in front of him wordlessly asking forgiveness from the group of secretaries who were stationed in the proximity of his office and were now standing watching to see what would happen next.

Xander cleared his throat and mustered his sternest voice of authority, straightened his shoulders and said, “Ladies, I assume you have work to do?” Gathering courage, he continued, “I’ll be leaving now to attend to other important matters, please see to it any messages are left on my desk. I’ll tend to them in the morning.” He walked, out of the building, never looking back. When outside, he took a desperately needed breath before stopping and collapsing on the front step. Fortunately for him, by then he was out of earshot of the laughing group of secretaries.





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