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Chapter 3

The journey back to London had been surreal; Spike spent the time fiddling and jabbing at the CD player, rifling through Giles' CD collection that consisted mostly of classical and ‘easy listening', with the odd rebellious anthem thrown in. Cream's Ulysses received a raised eyebrow and a grudging acknowledgement that Giles' taste might not be beyond redemption. In the end, after a much frenzied slapping of one pale and one slightly paler wrist as each tried to change the station, it was unanimously agreed by the car's occupants that silence was not only golden but essential to the mental wellbeing of them all.

Two hours crawled by until, at about 4:30 a.m., the Range Rover pulled into the tiny gravelled driveway and Giles switched off the lights. Everybody remained where they were, eyes heavy with sleep, but brains heavier with concerns about what was to happen next. Even Spike remained seated in the front, hand hovering over the handle to open the door but not connecting. His bravado seemed to have evaporated and he was losing his nerve. Dawn broke through the silence in typical teenage fashion with a loud yawn and her announcement that she was going to bed and they could all rot in hell for all she cared, almost tumbling out of the car and noisily opening the front door that she then left ajar.

First Giles, then Willow, then Xander - dragging Spike behind him - filed in after Dawn and headed for the kitchen. Spike's nostrils flared at the scent of Buffy Summers, a scent he'd thought he'd retained in his memory but that had, in fact, been only a pale imitation of the real, sensory-overload aroma of hot, pulsing slayer. He almost passed out before he could sit, but he managed to grab hold of the table and settle himself. Dawn dropped a brisk kiss on his head before stumbling off to bed, carton of orange juice stolen from the fridge in hand, her eyes closed as she almost sleepwalked off to dreamland as only a teenager could, given the circumstances. The rest of them waited for the kettle to boil, Giles having advised that hot chocolate was not his forte and that tea would be the far better option.

Sipping on his tea, Spike finally asked the question that was buzzing round his head.

"What do you think I should do, Rupes? Just go and slide beneath the sheets with her or wait to be formally introduced?"

Giles blustered, his glasses falling off before he had a chance to remove them, and narrowly missing falling in his tea. "I forbid you to accost Buffy in her bedroom, it would be...it's wrong!"

Spike relaxed a little, slipping into the mantle of the evil dead who teased and taunted Buffy's friends with ease. "Yeah, it would be - but bloody good fun I'll bet. What d'ya think, whelp? Slip her one while she's sleeping, cut through the awkward hellos?"

Willow threw herself across Xander's lap to keep him seated until he regained his composure enough to gesture obscenely across the table at the smirking vampire. Xander knew it was all to get him riled up, but damn! - Spike knew which buttons to press. He'd missed that...

Willow rubbed at her gritty eyes and tried to instil some sensibility into the conversation. It was a given that Buffy would be unpredictable when she saw Spike, but surely they could do something to limit the fallout. For starters, it would be better if the meeting was in public, because at least that way Buffy would have to restrain herself somewhat with an audience. "Guys, can we be realistic here? Buffy's gonna be pissed that Spike's been back for over a year and not let her know, so she's going to righteously kick his ass. We need a plan."

Spike saluted Willow. "Red's right," he said. "Slayer will slaughter me, well and truly - or at least she'll try. Can't say I blame her, even if I had my reasons. What d'you suggest?"

He directed his question at Willow, but Xander replied. "Give her a clear shot at your chest?"

Xander finished his comment with a grin, and Spike grinned back. It was almost like the verbal sparring with Gunn and Illyria - almost.

Willow noticed the tentative bonding between her best friend and the vampire she'd actually missed, and rolled her eyes at the two of them. Boys, no matter what their origin, they were all the same. "Xander! Do you ever change? I'm pooped; what do you say we sleep on it, sort it out tomorrow? Giles, can Spike stay here, out of sight maybe?"

Giles nodded, barely blinking he was so tired. "Yes. There's a room in the attic. Buffy doesn't rise until almost midday and then merely to watch daytime television and gorge herself on sugar, according to Dawn. I, of course, am usually at the Council by eight, but I fear tomorrow I may have a late start."

Willow tried to stifle a yawn, but failed. "Good. Then I'm going home with Xander; no point teleporting back to the wood tonight. We'll meet back here when Buffy goes to work - seven o'clock, alright?"

As everybody assented, Willow got to her feet and pushed an exhausted Xander before her, leaving Giles and Spike at opposite ends of the polished oak table cradling lukewarm tea. The uneasy silence persisted for a few minutes, before Giles pushed back his chair and made his way to the door, pausing for Spike to follow him.

With a rising sense of kismet, Spike did so, leaving his future squarely in the hands of a fate with more than a passing resemblance to Buffy Summers.

+ + + +

Buffy woke and stretched, having had a delicious dream that lingered, along with the smile on her face. It wasn't the usual; in this one the boy got the girl and everything was right with the world. Silly, she knew, but she'd cling to the feeling as long as she could. Blinking away the sleep, she reached for the clock on the bedside table and checked the time: 11:09 a.m. Time to get up and fuel herself for the day with frosty cereal goodness.

With unusual energy, at least of late, Buffy toed on her fluffy mules - a gag gift from Dawn for last Christmas - and headed down to the kitchen. She paused on the stairwell; something was different. She cocked her head, listening. No sounds, but that didn't necessarily mean that there wasn't somebody around. Closing her eyes she concentrated, following her instincts, feet moving towards the stairway that led to the attic. As she reached for the banister and placed her foot on the bottom step, the sound of a door being wrenched open to her left made her jump.

"Buffy!" Giles squealed, wrapping his dressing gown around his middle hastily. "I wasn't aware that you were awake. Did you sleep well?" His eyes darted from Buffy to the top of the stair, hidden in shadow.

"Huh? Oh, yeah - good, actually. Giles, do you hear something? From up there?" Buffy pointed up the stairs to the attic.

"Bats!" Giles spat out. "We have bats - they're ... um...they're protected. You can't go up there!"

"Oh, right. No worries. Shall I make some tea?" Seeming satisfied with Giles' hastily improvised explanation for the tingling of her Spidey sense, Buffy turned and headed downstairs.

Giles looked heavenward and sagged against the doorjamb. "I'm getting too bloody old for this crap," he whispered, before following Buffy downstairs.

It was only after Giles poured his second cup of tea that Buffy realised he shouldn't have been there. "What's with the homeyness, Giles? I thought you were indispensable, that the Council would fold without you?" She sipped at her own tea slowly, eyeing Giles over the rim of the gimmick mug Dawn had given her, another attempt to raise a smile that had failed. It was black with red writing proclaiming ‘Chosen One comma The'.

Giles blushed hotly, desperately trying to think up a suitable excuse while swallowing down the rush of confession that kept choking him to get out. He had barely slept despite his exhaustion at the late night, and the knowledge that Spike was just a few feet away from them had his nerves jumping. It was imperative that he get out of the house, and preferably that he took Buffy with him. Babbling about some down time and some sort of refit of his office, he suggested impulsively that they spend the day together, his treat - whatever Buffy wanted to do.

Of course, Buffy wanted to shop, and with a fixed smile that didn't quite hide the terror in his eyes, Giles set down his cup with shaking hands and headed off to get dressed.

Buffy pondered for a moment on the strangeness that was Giles, but then shrugged and rushed off to change too. After all, shopping with somebody else's credit card was an opportunity you didn't turn down, no matter how odd things seemed.

+ + + +

Exhausted, almost bankrupt, and arching his back to work out the kinks caused by carrying Buffy's purchases halfway across London, Giles made his way wearily up the stairs to his room. Buffy remained downstairs, emptying her bags on the kitchen table in post-shopping bliss, and chattering away happily to Dawn who was perched, bleary-eyed, on the kitchen counter. On his way past the upper stairway, Giles paused, tempted to creep up to the attic and check in on Spike, but it would only be another hour or so before Buffy left for work anyway and it wouldn't do to give the game away at this late stage. Turning away, he shuffled to his room and closed the door gratefully, thinking to snatch a couple of hours of sleep before Willow and Xander returned to hatch the plan.

Dawn nibbled nervously on her fingernails as Buffy continued to parade items of clothing and shoes in front of her. It was nice to see her sister in a good mood, but she was anxious to catch up with Giles, find out where Spike was, having gone to bed last night without even thinking about the practicalities of what he would do. She'd barely made it on time to meet up with her friend, Sarah, and yawned her way through the long anticipated museum tour they'd planned for months, leaving early and reaching home only a few minutes before an animated Buffy and dumbstruck Giles crashed through the front door. She tried to slip out of the kitchen to pose her questions, but Buffy was completely absorbed in her show and tell of shopping and every time Dawn rose to leave, Buffy grabbed her back with a squeal of "I must show you this - couldn't you just die! - and I have it in three colours" or something similar.

By the time Buffy had raced upstairs with her purchases to get ready for work, the steady sound of snoring coming from Giles' room made it clear Dawn wasn't going to get any answers for a while, so she sulked and plopped herself down in front of the TV to watch Jerry Springer.

Buffy selected an outfit carefully, feeling lighter in mood than she had in what seemed forever, even applying some makeup and wearing her hair slightly curled and arranged rather than snatched back. She found that she was actually looking forward to going to work for once and thanked whatever had possessed Giles to take the day off for giving her the opportunity to spend a carefree day with him and to take steps towards re-connecting with her life.

At that thought, her smile faltered a little, her eyes darting to the chest of drawers in the far corner and the varied objects arranged lovingly on its surface. She closed her eyes and fought hard to ignore the call to touch, to smell, the well-worn remnants of her love, for if she did so all her efforts of today would be lost. She whispered "sorry", feeling guilty, but promised herself that she would linger later. As soon as her shift was done, she'd take off the bright clothes and the bright smile and immerse herself again in thoughts of things that should have been.

+ + + +

The minute Buffy closed the front door behind her, Dawn leapt up from the couch and sprinted up the stairs. She didn't care if Giles was sleeping or not, she couldn't wait any longer. She banged on his door until a gruff voice snapped, "Alright! I'm coming - I'm coming!" Giles pulled open the door and stuck his head through the gap, without his glasses and with his hair rumpled and looking decidedly tetchy.

"Yes! What is it?" he spat out, squinting to bring his visitor in focus. When he realised it was Dawn, he pulled his dressing gown tighter about him and tried to smooth his hair. "Oh, Dawn. I'm sorry - I was rather more tired than I thought. Is there a problem?"

Dawn stifled a scream. "Ohhh, no, not really. I was just wondering...WHERE'S SPIKE!" She screeched the last bit, her patience finally frayed beyond bearing. Giles took a step back, away from the harpy at his door.

"Shhh!" he admonished, "Buffy..."

"Buffy has gone to work, Xander and Willow will be here in half an hour and will you just tell me where Spike is?"

"In the attic," Giles answered, matter-of-factly. "He may need some blood, maybe you'd check with him while I get tidied up, source out a butcher. I'll be down in a moment."

Dawn was speechless. Spike had been in the attic all day, and she'd wasted her time on a cultural tour? Giles would find he had another shopping trip to finance and very soon, but for now, she had a friendship to revive. She hadn't even got two steps up the stairs before the creak of the attic hatch being opened stopped her, and Spike dropped down without using the stairs, grinning madly as he straightened up and smoothed back his hair.

"Evenin', Niblet. Big sis skedaddled then? About bloody time, I'm famished and bored out of my skull - what kind of man has a tidy attic with no soddin' books hidden away in dusty corners? Evil, that's what it is."

Dawn giggled. It made her heart swell to see Spike, larger than life as always, swagger in place as he descended the stairs shouting abuse to Giles as he passed his door. All at once, everything was right with her world again and she hugged herself happily as she imagined Buffy's reaction when she saw Spike. Hearts and flowers and tweeting bluebirds raced across Dawn's imagination as she followed Spike into the kitchen.

Giles found the two of them laughing and nudging each other, Dawn's threat to burn Spike if he hurt Buffy obviously forgotten or at least forgiven. Dawn's eyes sparkled, and Giles smiled to himself as he watched from the doorway. Spike being back obviously made at least one Summers woman happy.

"Kettle's on. China cup or mug?" Spike asked, rising from his chair and making his way to the stove. "Bit - you want a refill?"

Dawn nodded and shoved her own gimmick mug across the table towards him. Spike snorted as he picked it up - neon-glow green with black lettering ‘Hi, I'm The Key - do I fit your lock?'

Dawn grinned. Buffy got it for me, but I don't think she actually thought it through. I think it's kinda rude."

Spike grinned and shook his head. "I leave you for a few months and you go to rack and ruin." Dawn shrugged in response, leaning over to steal a cookie from the open packet in the middle of the table. Having received no response from Giles, Spike selected a dainty china cup and saucer and reached for a teabag, accompanied by the Watcher's strangled gasp. "Problem, Rupes?" He paused, the teabag dangled over the cup as he noted Giles' discomfort.

"Erm...no..no...it's fine. I just usually...well, I have my own blend. Loose tea, not bags. The top shelf, right hand cupboard. But...it's fine, I'll drink...whatever you give me."

Spike threw back his head and laughed. "Rupert, Rupert - did I tell you how much I missed this anal behaviour? I'd forgotten how possessive you were about your tea. Of course, I'll brew up all proper like, teapot warmed and all. Please - sit down."

Giles sat, muttering under his breath about uncouth vampires in such a whining tone that it had Dawn rolling her eyes and making faces at Spike as he waited for the kettle to boil. Spike's growling stomach reminded them all that tea might be fine and dandy, but the vampire needed more than a cup of Rosie Lee to keep him functioning.

"Got any Weetabix?" Spike queried, opening cupboards at random. "Or any blood for that matter."

Giles was about to reply that no, blood was in short supply, when Dawn got up and opened the freezer, digging around at the back before turning round triumphantly with two bags of AB+. "Yep, blood we have. Should be alright...been here a while..." She smiled at Spike's look of astonishment. "What? Have you ever been to my house and I didn't have dinner bagged up for you? Just ‘cause you were dead, like really, didn't mean I forgot."

There was a breathless moment while Dawn's bottom lip wobbled and Spike's eyes misted over, broken when Spike grabbed Dawn into a bone-crushing hug and she squealed for him to let her go when breathing became an issue. Efficient with long practice, Dawn warmed the blood in the microwave, setting down a plain mug in front of Spike and promising him that he would get his own special message to welcome him home.

Before the mug was drained, the door knocker heralded the arrival of Willow and Xander who settled themselves around the table, Willow grabbing a pad from her bag along with an assortment of bright highlighters and arranging her educational tools in front of her. She intended to do full justice to the renewed Scooby meeting and only regretted that she hadn't had time to knock up a PowerPoint presentation to illustrate her plan. Utilising many pages, all with tags to show the contents of the pad easily, Willow advised caution and many consultations with Buffy to ease her gently into a world where Spike was still with them. She even had a map of the area, a whimsical ‘You are Here' arrow locating Giles' London house and the route plotted out to Buffy's bar with a pink neon marker.

After a few minutes listening with head tilted, arms crossed and lips pursed, Spike pushed back his chair and left the room. He returned scant seconds later with his duster settled around him, rummaging on the counter for the keys to Giles' car. At the quizzical looks he found when he turned around, he smirked and headed to the door, stopping dramatically in the hallway and facing the puzzled group.

"Softly, softly, you say, Red? Well, you all dragged me here when that was my exact plan so you know what I say? Bugger that."

Even running full pelt they barely caught the vampire before he floored the accelerator and pointed the Range Rover in the helpfully pointed out direction of Mandi's Meeting Place.

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