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~~~ Chapter 2 ~ Auld Acquaintances

Giles opened the door slowly, not at all sure of what to expect and realized how silly he must look. Thankful that there were no security cameras recording his bizarre behavior, he tried to peek through cracks in the doorframe prepared to see something right out of Dicken’s Christmas Carol. More likely a real Mr. W. Sanger as the appointment book announced and it was just an unusual coincidence, but in his heart, he knew that when he looked he would see what he thought he was certain to never see again.

There he was sitting in the middle of the large, leather couch. perched on the edge with his elbows resting on his knees, legs sprawled, head lowered with a large brown paper bag on the floor between his legs. From what he could see, he looked very much as Giles remembered him. His hair was longer and going more to his natural color, which apparently was brown, but the ends were still bleached. He was dressed, as always all in black topped with the ever-present leather duster. He raised his head as the door opened and said, “Hello, Rupert.”

Giles was shocked. He didn’t know what to expect, but certainly not this. He always believed that vampires couldn’t age….forever young, as they say. Apparently it wasn’t entirely true for before him sat a man who, though he looked to be alive, appeared truly dead inside. He bore little resemblance to the vibrant creature he knew before. Spike once fairly bounced with energy, annoyingly so. Not so the man before him.

“Spike,” he answered simply with a nod.

“Long time, Rupert,” pausing as each studied the other. “I’ve brought you something.” Spike said, lifting the apparently rather heavy brown bag and handing it to Giles as he rose from his seat.

Taking the bag, and looking perplexed and if truth be told, a little frightened as he wondered what was in the package. Giles said simply, “Oh, really,” while stepping aside he added, “Won’t you please come in?” acting ever the gracious host.

He led Spike into his office gesturing for him to take a seat and placed the bag on the desk “My mind is reeling with too many questions,” Giles said. “So I’ll just get to it straight away. What is this all about?”

A low growl erupted from Spike’s throat sending a chill down Giles’ spine. “For once in your life try not to be such a prat, will you?” he said, his tone disgusted. “Just look.”

Giles reached inside where there were two packages, both nicely wrapped very sedate fashion, plain matte black wrap with wide plain gold ribbon bands around. As Spike took his seat he smiled as he saw the look of what? surprise? confusion? on Giles face. He was pleased. It was the reaction he hoped for. Giles looked at him, mystified.

Even better, thought Spike. “Well, go on then, open them.” Spike purred.

Inside the first box were two 6-oz brandy snifters. Giles face shown with a knowing smile as he now knew what the other box must contain. It was as he suspected, a bottle of brandy, but was taken aback when he saw the it was L'Esprit de Courvoisier, top shelf cognac. Much as he hated to admit it, he always knew there was more to Spike than met the eye.

A sly smile came across his lips as he said, “I expect I’m meant to share?”

“Clever fellow,” said Spike, returning his version of the same sly smile as he stood and took the gift glasses to the adjoining washroom that he noticed to rinse and dry them.

Giles had already cleared a space on his desk and opened the bottle before Spike returned with sparkling glasses…..a fine beverage deserved fine crystal. Giles poured a generous three fingers of the cognac in each glass and offered one to Spike.

There was a long moment of silence as each man considered his glass, swirling the contents to help warm the light brown liquid and release some of the seductive bouquet before taking a long sip and holding the nectar in their mouths before swallowing. This moment of old English civility savored, they began their discourse.

“Nice digs you’ve got yourself, Rupes.” Spike offered, “Fine old estate out here in the country…. former owner some sort of Duke or something? You weren’t all that easy to find. I’ll venture that helps out with all the demons and such trying to find you and the girls.”

“As a matter of fact, the property was actually owned by the Council. It was bequeathed to the Council upon the death of a Master at Arms, one Lord Henry Harcourt. Fortunately the Council saw fit to store their important and irreplaceable documents and books and such in an underground vault at Council Headquarters. After the rubble was cleared away the last few of us were able to recover them,” said Giles, gazing into his glass and pausing to savor the warmth spreading over him.

“So this is it then? All of it? This is the Council?” Spike asked with raised eyebrows. He reached for his pack of cigarettes and lighter, and in what seemed like the same moment, thought better of it and rested back against the comfortable chair and took a deep swallow of his drink.

Giles noticed his gift disappearing down Spike’s throat and said, “Let me guess,” he said in his dryest tone, “we’re intended to finish this tonight,” gesturing toward the bottle.

Spike chuckled as he replied, “You always were quick.” He raised his glass to Giles in a gesture which clearing meant more please. Giles huffed and puffed a bit and poured another three fingers.

He returned to the subject at hand after pouring himself another bit, “To answer your question, yes, this is it…..and no, there’s a good deal more.” He paused and reflected, why on earth am I sitting here with Spike, of all people, chatting like we’re pals when during my last encounter I did what I could to see him really dead? He was to puzzle over that one for some time before he came to an answer.

Spike just gave Giles one of his looks, the one that says, "Get on with it, you stupid twit."

“Yes, this is the Council,” His tone was firm as he added, “I am the Council,” and after a moment, “for all intents and purposes. ……” He interrupted his commentary for a sigh and then said, “There are others, of course, but none with my knowledge of recent events, so the direction of the New Council falls to me.” He took a deep breath, a deep swallow and continued, “There are a number of other buildings on the grounds. We’ve put them to good use. We have dormitories for the girls, gymnasiums, classrooms, a pool, a track, a football field and a library. There are thirty here now, more coming nearly every day. Kennedy….you remember Kennedy?”he asked.

With a sour expression on his face, Spike said dully, “I remember Kennedy,” while gazing into his brandy.

“Kennedy is our resident Slayer and …. uh…..housemother,” he said, chuckling into his glass. They shared a moment of good humor and then Giles went on to fill Spike in on the very things he was musing over earlier.

“So, if I’ve got this straight, you’re Headmaster and the Board of Directors of a very select girls school, that about it?” Spike chortled as he fought to complete the sentence without spitting out the brandy.

Considerably more mellow as the brandy seeped into his bloodstream and muddied his thinking, Giles laughed out loud at the irony, “So much for Ripper, eh? But surely you didn’t travel home just to learn what became of the Council of Watchers, et al?”

Mood suddenly somber, Spike drew a deep breath and while staring at the ceiling he muttered, “So, you’ve found me out.”

The old, well-oiled paneled office seemed suddenly very quiet. One could hear the clock ticking and the groans and creaks of the old building as the moist evening air settled around it. They sat that way, neither wanting to be the first to speak for what seemed like an eternity.

Spike finally straightened himself in his chair setting his shoulders as if to brace himself and said, while clearing his throat, “Well, yeah… actually, I’ve uh….come to you for help.” He gave a brief laugh as if amused by the depths to which he sank and continued, “I’m alone, Rupert. I’m all alone.”

Giles couldn’t quite wrap his thoughts around what Spike said. In typical Giles fashion he fumbled his words, “ What? I…I..I don’t understand. What are you saying…..you’re alone? Spike, you are, by definition, a loner. At least you have been as long as I’ve had your acquaintance. I’m still not used to the fact that you’re here at all. You went all up in flames and what dust was left is supposed to be at the bottom of the crater that was Sunnydale.” His tone now showed concern as his words slowed when he said, “Now, what, in heaven’s name is this all about?”

Spike chuffed, “ See, I knew this was a mistake.” And stood to leave the office.

“Wait,….Spike….give me a chance,” Giles said. “I really don’t understand. Here now, sit down again….Let’s start again, shall we? As a gesture of good faith I’ll even let you have more of my cognac.”

Spike stood still and looked at Giles….after several minutes he offered his glass to be filled and retook his seat.

His voice was barely a whisper. “There’s so much you don’t know. I guess I thought you’d know…..”

“Just get on with it, Spike.!” Giles demanded growing increasingly impatient and increasingly apprehensive.

Raising his eyes and looking into Giles’ eyes, Spike said, “Angel is dead.”

Giles snorted, “Humph! Yes. Of course he is! What… what are… you talking about?

Never taking his eyes from Giles, “They’re all dead.”

Giles’ raised head and bewildered expression spoke louder than anything he might have said. By now Giles was apprehensive, his heart racing. It became obvious that this was not some sort of demon prank. Spike was possibly the most vexatious man ever to have lived, but in all of his dealings with the man he never knew him to play this sort of game. Giles was genuinely on edge, a feeling he was usually able to control…. but this….this…..

“So much has happened, Rupert.” Spike’s choice of the familiar was soft and sincere, Giles noted. “You do know that Angel had aligned himself with Wolfram and Hart? Yeah? And you are aware what Wolfram & Hart is?” Giles nodded. Spike figured they were legitimate questions since Giles was sequestered all those years in good ol’ Sunnyhell dealing with small time apocalypses…. wrinkling his brows, he finished the thought, Is that right? What IS the plural of apocalypse?

Spike went on, “I think everyone was as confused as I was when that all came down. You know the ensouled poof selling out an’ all? Well, I’ve been in the unique position of observing what actually went on there. Much as I hate to admit it, it was all bloody noble.” He paused for his comments to begin to sink in, stood and wandered around the office, picking things up, touching others. This sort of thing might have sent Giles over the edge any other time, but he was too interested in where this story was going and did not interrupt.

Spike went on to tell Giles the whole story of his death and resurrection having been engineered by Wolfram & Hart. He explained that the amulet he wore to the Sunnydale Hellmouth Closing was intended for Angel. The law firm made an arrangement with Angel and now wanted to end it and ending him was their modus operands.

Giles already knew that Angel gave the amulet to Buffy and in turn, Buffy gave it to Spike as her champion. He remembered his distaste over the whole situation at the time and now remembered it with shame. He did everything in his power to separate Spike and Buffy and in so doing alienated himself and the others from Buffy by taking a stand against Spike. Spike was her champion. He could no longer deny it.

Spike explained that upon Wolfram & Hart realizing what happened they sought to undo the error and brought Spike back to the law firm confident that Spike and Angel would kill one another. Problem solved. He also shared the bit about the very difficult time he had as a ghost before he was re-corporealized. They laughed together about that, but Spike admitted it was the first time he was ever actually and truly afraid.

By this time, Giles was basking in the comfortable glow brought on by the brandy and warmed to Spike’s storytelling. He never realized what a pleasant voice Spike had even if he did have to endure that ridiculous affected accent. He knew something of his background and knew his natural tongue was that of a well-bred Victorian Englishman.

Spike continued, explaining that the evil agency failed to consider that blood was truly thicker than water and no matter how much mutual contempt ran in their stagnant blood streams, Angel and Spike were family. They shared nearly a hundred years in each other’s company and the old adage that brother could whip brother but God help the outsider who brings harm was never truer than in the line of Aurelius. Thus, the two souled vampires banded together with the others of Angel Investigations to destroy the masters of the demon world. The plan worked with the precision of Michael Corleone’s installation as Godfather, but not without serious losses.

It was at this time that Spike, shrunken and hollow, took his seat, poured another round of brandy and sat back for a moment, the silence deafening. Not wanting the story to end but recognizing that the evening had become night and night was yielding to early morning, Giles broke the silence. “Spike, it’s late. We don’t need to go on tonight. You are obviously distressed and need some rest. Have you arranged a place to stay tonight?”

Spike looked up with watery eyes and answered that he planned to take a room at the Inn.

“Nonsense,” said Giles, “I have a cottage here on the property with a very comfortable sofa.” He smiled, “I even have heavy draperies to ward off the evening chill that we can draw against the morning sun.”

Giles was trying to read Spike’s expression without success when finally his face softened and he said, “I’d be honored.”

What a strange turn of events. What started out to be a very ordinary day had become extraordinary indeed. If anyone ever suggested that he would be happy….yes, happy to continue fellowship with Spike he would have called them mad, but here he was, turning off the lights, locking the office and leaving with Spike in tow, heading home, chatting about the weather and Man U like old chums. There would be time tomorrow for the rest of the story. Giles found he wasn’t the least bit anxious to hear more. Not tonight.





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