The door from the yard to the basement was unlocked and as he opened it Spike was greeted by a familiar perfume, an evocative scent from childhood. A bunch of sweet-smelling lily-of-the-valley sat on the small table next to the bed. He smiled – a gift from Dawn, clearly, and a more optimistic message than the ‘hopeless love’ of her yellow tulips. He remembered his mother telling him lily-of-the-valley stood for ‘return of happiness’; she had worn a small gold and enamel broach in their delicate form, a gift from his father, brought back from one of his many travels before malaria took all hope of returning happiness from her. He made to cross the room toward the flowers, paused and frowned. Giles was sitting on the stairs, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees, waiting.
“You’re back.” Giles sat up with a sigh.
“Looks like.” Spike watched him through narrowed eyes.
“Well, that’s…” Giles took off his glasses, gave them an unnecessary polish on his pullover, and cleared his throat. “Ah… Spike…”
Spike really didn’t have the time or energy for this. “Look, if this is going to be some sort of bleedin’ lecture about how wrong all this is and how Buffy’s better off without me then…”
“No,” Giles interrupted the burgeoning tirade, “actually, it’s not.”
“Oh.” The appeasing note in the Watcher’s voice threw him. “So what is it then?”
Giles rubbed his eyes. “This isn’t easy for me.”
“Oh, my heart bleeds.”
“I… I can’t pretend that a… relationship between you and Buffy is what I would want for her...”
“You don’t say,” Spike drawled.
Giles ignored the interruption and replaced his glasses. “But, after careful consideration, and… and on balance, I’m prepared to admit that… ah… I… erm… may…” he ground to an uncomfortable halt.
“Spit it out, watcher.” Much as Spike was enjoying seeing Giles squirm, he was intrigued as to what this admission might be. “Haven’t got all night.”
Giles sighed, replaced his glasses and looked over at Spike. “That I may have been wrong about you.”
“Oh.” Wasn’t expecting that. Spike peered at Giles suspiciously. “Wrong about what about me?”
“It’s just…I’m not condoning your past. You were a vicious killer, an unprincipled murderer who left a trail of despair and destruction…”
“Hey! Vampire! I had principles!” Spike pouted “Just not your principles, is all.”
“But,” Giles ploughed on determinedly, “I suppose I may have let my very natural abhorrence of your past nature blind me to the possibility that maybe – just possibly – you could be… umm… otherwise.”
“Otherwise.” Spike looked at him blankly.
“Somewhat less… evil.” Giles was clearly struggling.
“Evil.” Spike wasn’t letting him off that easily. “I’m evil? You tried to off me!”
“I…” Giles sighed. “Yes. I admit I thought that… that not having you around seemed an attractive option...”
“You could’ve asked me nicely to go.”
“And would you have?”
“No.”
“Quite.” Giles smiled grimly. “But… I am prepared to admit that in my efforts to do the best thing for Buffy, I may have been somewhat blinkered.” He paused.
“Blinkered? You might put it like that. If you were aiming for colossal understatement, naturally…” Spike snorted.
Giles raised his eyes heavenwards. “Do you ever shut up?” He sighed as Spike subsided into silence and looked down at the floor. “Buffy once told me she thought you could be a good man.” He looked up. “Maybe she was right.”
“Maybe she was…” Spike shook his head. “And what brought about this sudden change of heart?”
“I read Andrew’s notes, and...”
Spike threw up his hands in exasperation. “Andrew! You know, I don’t know whether I should thank the stupid git or throttle him.”
“It just made me… think… about things that I’d been ignoring. All that happened last year… and at the end – I never really talked to Buffy about it. I just wanted it… wanted you… forgotten.”
“Well, you got what you wished for.” Spike said grimly.
“And we should all be careful what we wish for.” He hesitated. “Could you have got away?” he asked eventually. “From the Hellmouth?”
“No. Well – yes, I mean I wasn’t tied there. But no, right then I couldn’t have walked for all sorts of reasons; some of ‘em I don’t rightly understand myself. It was over, OK?” Spike looked away. “Wanted to see how it ended.”
“Ah.” Giles nodded. “I wondered…” He paused then cleared his throat, suddenly businesslike. “Well, when all of this is sorted out, perhaps we could look at bit more closely at what happened at the Hellmouth. The amulet for example; fascinating - perhaps we could… work together on that.”
“You feeling alright?” Spike raised an eyebrow at him.
“Spike, I’m trying…” Giles sighed heavily.
“You’re that all right.” Spike shook his head. “So that’s it? You honestly think I believe that I’m suddenly your best buddy? After everything? Not forgettin’ the whole watcher-vampire thing. So, what – you’re going to just forget years of indoctrination and… and sheer bloody-minded prejudice?”
“Oh, for heaven’s… Should we just agree to make an attempt at this? For Buffy’s sake, if nothing else. I’m not saying it’s easy, for either of us, but… a truce.”
“A truce?”
“A truce.”
Spike considered. “OK.” He shrugged. “So – we supposed to hug or something?”
“I don’t think that will be necessary.” Giles winced. He reached behind him and held up a bottle of Lagavulin and two glasses. “Maybe a toast instead.”
“Now you’re talking.” Spike looked at the bottle appreciatively. “Good choice. Much more refined than the Laphroaig.”
Giles stood up and crossed to sit next to Spike on the bed. “Funnily enough I never had you down as a scholar of the usquebaugh.” He handed a glass to Spike and poured him a generous measure.
“Bless you; nasty cold you’ve got there.” Spike took a sip of the spirit and rolled it around his mouth appreciatively. “Not bad. Got any Coke to put in it?” He grinned as Giles spluttered in horror. “Joke, watcher. As if I would.” He raised the glass and examined the amber liquid carefully. “Did the rounds in Scotland with Angelus and the crew. We were… kinda run out of England. Got kinda run out of Scotland. too. Stroppy gits, the Scots. Anyway, developed quite a taste for the stuff while we were there.”
“That would be from drinking from the whisky-sodden locals, I assume,” Giles said dryly.
Spike grinned. “Bit of that. Had problems with Dru – she didn’t like the taste. Very fond of the men in skirts, though, from what I remember.”
Giles shook his head. “What a colourful and bizarre unlife you’ve lead.”
Spike gazed into his drink. “Yeah, well, beats moulderin’ away in a library.” He looked over at Giles with a puzzled frown. “You know, there’s something I’ve always wanted to know.”
“And that would be?” Giles asked carefully.
“How did you get to be a watcher? I mean – when all the other kids wanted to be astronauts or firemen or whatever, did you wanna be hangin’ out with teenage girl superheroes and demons? Or was there some sort of careers fair?”
“Actually, I always wanted to be a fighter pilot. Or possibly a grocer. It is, as they say,” Giles topped up Spike’s drink, “a long story...”
********
The bottle was almost empty by the time Giles made his unsteady way back up the stairs. Spike watched him go, and shook his head. A whole family of Watchers, huh? That must have made for some very interesting dinner time conversations. Still, old Giles clearly had hidden depths if his stories about his time at Oxford were anything to go by, and, Spike had to admit grudgingly, he had a passable taste in music for a boring old git.
He pulled his T shirt over his head, examined it critically, decided it would do another day and slung it on the bed. The jeans were about to follow suit when a squeak from the stairs made him refasten them hastily.
“Bloody hell, nibblet!” He turned to Dawn with a frown. “Doesn’t anyone knock around here?”
“Sorry!” A highly embarrassed Dawn was hovering nervously half way down to the cellar steps. “It’s just Willow told me you were back and I’ve been waiting in the kitchen for Giles to come up for hours and then when he did come up he was all… strange… sort of wobbly and giggly and have you two been drinking? Because, honestly he’s pretty much un-Giles like right now and now he’s cooking bacon and eggs and singing something about naked ears being tortured by sirens – which is pretty much how I felt – and… well, I think he’s dancing and it’s almost two a.m. and Buffy is asleep and Willow is doing something strange with herbs and things and…” she stopped, rushed across the cellar and threw her arms around him, “and… I missed you.”
Spike shook off his bemusement and put his arms around her. “Missed you, too.”
Dawn rested her head against his chest and hugged him hard. It felt so good to have him back, to have the reassurance of him here in the flesh… the very smooth, very cool… she pulled back suddenly with a flush of embarrassment. Damn those teenage fantasies… “You were getting ready for bed.”
“No – s’OK.” Spike quickly pulled on his t-shirt and Dawn experienced a strange mixture of disappointment and relief. “Not tired.”
She hovered uncomfortably. “I was scared you wouldn’t come back. Even sent Andrew to find you.”
“I know. Bloody well did it, too.”
“He did?” Dawn was open-mouthed with astonishment. “Where is he?”
“I left him…” Spike looked decidedly guilty.
“You left him behind?” Dawn looked at him in horror. “Alone?”
“Well, not exactly. I made sure he was bein’ looked after. Not that the kid can’t look after himself. Floored a ruddy great Kvaryl demon all on his own. No messin’ – single punch and wallop.”
“But…” Dawn struggled to take that on board, “Andrew did? Whoa.” She shook her head. “But why didn’t you bring him back with you?”
“I needed to know what was goin’ on, nibblet. Wanted to test out the lay without a bloody great puppy dog givin’ me away.” Spike shrugged. “He’ll be OK. I made sure someone got him on the right plane home. He’ll be back soon as.”
“And we’ll all be hearing long and loud about his adventures for the next six months.” Dawn sighed. “Still think you shouldn’t have left him.”
“He’ll be fine.” Spike sat on the bed, back to the wall.
Dawn sat down next to him, earlier embarrassment forgotten, and the old companionable ease back in place.
“You spoke to Buffy? Was she OK?”
“Yeah. She seems… strangely calm about it all.”
“Hmm.” Dawn chewed her lip distractedly. “Willow seems edgy.”
“Well, I guess she’s concerned. No big surprise given she’s going to be playing with her best mate’s memory an’ all.”
Dawn frowned. “You know, I get the impression…” she paused to try and order her thoughts “well, not so much an impression, just a feeling… about Willow and the spell. I spoke to her earlier and… I think something’s worrying her, but I don’t think it’s that – the straightening out the memories thing. I think she’s confident enough about not causing any damage. But there’s something else she’s not telling us.”
“Like what?”
Dawn shrugged unhappily. “I don’t know…”
“Look, pet, if I was in a scrape like this I’d be more ‘n happy to have Willow battin’ on my side. Buffy trusts her. If anyone can sort this, Red can.”
“Yeah… yeah, you’re right.” Dawn sat back on the bed, resting her head against his shoulder. “She’ll sort it and Buffy will get her memories back and then the two of you can make with the smoochies again.” She looked up at Spike with a smile.
“Yeah.” And it was Spike’s turn for the unhappy shrug, the sudden uncertainty.
“What?”
“It’s just… oh, you know, me and Buffy – not exactly rainbows and butterflies, was it?” He relived the feel of her last kiss, the sweet warmth and innocence of it. Their relationship might have been many things, but innocent was never one of them. “Maybe it would be better off forgotten.” Maybe they could start with a fresh slate…
Dawn was silent for a moment. “If you had the choice,” she said eventually, “if you could choose to lose some memories of yours and Buffy’s past, would you do it?”
“There’s a hell of a lot a wish I’d done differently.” Spike winced and closed his eyes.
“But given it’s done,” Dawn persisted, “would you?”
“No.” Spike shook his head. “No, I guess not.”
“She loved you, Spike, in Rome, when she had all of those memories. Why should it be any different now?”
“Yeah.” He sighed and pulled her closer. “When did you get so grown up?”
“Well, you know Buffy. One of us had to.” Dawn settled against him with a sigh. “It is going to be OK...” She tried her best to sound confident, as much to reassure herself as him.
“You askin’ or tellin’?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Bit of both.”
“It’s gonna be OK.” He dropped a quick kiss on the top of her head.
“Yeah. OK.” She gave him a brave smile. “I’m glad you came back.”
Spike stared off into the distance. It had been a strange sort of night, all in all… “Yeah, me too,” he said eventually.
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