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Because Cavemen Have Fire, the Sequel. Chapter 5.
Oh I have been looking forward to posting this chapter. :) Previous parts here, and many thank yous to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kathyh for the look-through and the pointers!
Summary: There are always consequences.
Setting: Post-NFA.
Rating: Mild R.
Pairings: S/B/A.
Word count: Around 2200 words.
Feedback: *puppy dog eyes*
Disclaimer: I am not Joss and do not own these characters! [/obvious]
Chapter 5
March 2005
How had it ended up as half past two in the morning? Giles rubbed his eyes and decided that he probably needed to get home - the rest would have to wait until tomorrow. Considering how many people he had on his team, there was still a unwelcome amount of work that he had to supervise and check himself. But after tidying the papers into orderly piles, he realised with a sigh that three of the books from the archives would need returning sooner rather than later - they were delicate and really shouldn’t have been removed from their glass cases.
As he slowly made his way down into the bowels of the (New) Council building, he remembered how Buffy used to make fun of his concern for books - back in the days when their relationship had been free and easy. These days - well until a few months ago, they’d been... OK, he thought. He had become used to the fact that she was an adult, and pleased to have her around. True, she’d seemed a bit at a loose end, but then that was perfectly normal for a young person in their twenties. But then she’d found her vampires...
He shook his head, wondering. Of course he had no right to tell her what to do, but he couldn’t help but think that she’d made a terrible mistake. Finally she had the opportunity for a normal life, and instead... No he couldn’t fathom it. And he barely saw her anymore. She kept to her training schedule, did all her duties and more besides, but there was a gap between her and the rest of the Slayers now. Moreso than before.
She was always friendly of course - came round to say hello and ask what was happening and if there were any interesting missions coming up, but he could tell that there was yet another screen between them.
If he was honest with himself, he supposed he was worried at how isolated she had become. Xander had gone back to Africa after Christmas, Willow and Kennedy were traipsing around South America still, and Dawn was busy with her studies and new friends (as well as blossoming into a rather terrifyingly magnificent young woman), leaving precious little time for her older sister.
Of course there was Faith, who was a whole headache in herself...
The selfish, petulant part of him rather wished that his two senior Slayers weren’t so close, especially since - despite always working hard, and effortlessly inspiring their younger charges - their attitudes towards the Council (not to mention their personal lives) were not exactly all he could wish for. Was it so much to ask for a little support now and again?
When he finally reached the basement (a little out of breath), he carefully stored the books away in their specially made cases, trying his best to appreciate what had been recovered, rather than mourn what had been lost. As was his habit whenever he was in the library he did a swift sweep, and even before he saw that the light was on in the main room, he could smell the smoke. With a deep sigh he silently pushed the door open and walked along the deep carpet, the tall bookcases towering above him, tiredly making his way towards the centre.
When he got nearer he slowed down, feeling disinclined to push a confrontation, and yet knowing that it was his responsibility. The notes had done no good at all. And thanks to that blasted spell they used to hide from W&H, they didn’t even show up on the security cameras.
Peering round the corner of bookcase he saw the two vampires sitting at the largest of the tables, several stacks of books piled up around them. Angel was hunched over a large tome, brow furrowed, whereas Spike was stretched out over two chairs, his feet on the table, a book in one hand and a cigarette in the other... and, Giles noticed with a frown, an antique saucer serving as ashtray.
Throwing the book back onto the table, Spike stretched and dragged his hand through his hair.
"Could do with one of those template books Wesley had. Would make life a lot easier!"
Angel shrugged and looked up briefly.
"Only if you know what you're looking for. It’s Wesley we need!"
Spike sighed deeply.
"Yeah... If only her blue highness had arrived five minutes earlier...”
He stopped and looked at Angel, eyes suddenly pained. “Sorry - didn’t-”
Angel shook his head. “It’s OK, at least he’s at peace now.”
“Yeah...”
There was a moment’s silence, then Spike stubbed out the dying cigarette and lit a new one. Angel pulled a face.
“Spike - do you have to smoke?”
The other looked back indifferently. “What’s it to you? It’s not like you breathe...”
“It smells bad. Buffy thinks so too.”
Spike shrugged. “When Buffy wants me to stop, I’ll stop.”
“She asks you to stop every day!” There was a note of exasperation in Angel’s voice that Giles understood only too well. Spike however stayed utterly impassive.
“When she tells me to stop, I’ll stop!”
Angel sighed deeply and returned to his book. Spike shifted through the biggest pile in front of him, and then buried his head in his hands.
“God I'm so bloody bored!"
“Can’t do a Phoenix every day,” Angel replied distractedly as he carefully copied a passage that had caught his eye.
Giles - who’d been about to speak up - frowned, as he tried to remember why ‘Phoenix’ rang a bell. There’d been a report last year... a massacre, was it? Or was he getting it mixed up that thing in Aspen? If only he wasn’t so tired...
Trying his hardest to pinpoint why the name had significance, he didn’t pay much attention to the vampires, as Spike stretched and got up. Cigarette held between his lips, he started to aimlessly looking through the book shelves furthest away from where Giles was standing.
"Hey - this one's in the wrong place! Vampire Anthologies should definitely be on those shelves over there."
He flicked through it, then frowned. "Oh - I’ve not seen this one before. Let's see what it says about me... Hey it’s got pictures! How posh."
A few moments later he started chuckling. Angel looked up again.
“What now?”
Spike studied at him, obviously enjoying himself.
"Sorry mate, but did you grow that moustache for a bet? Or did you just want to frighten people to death in new and different ways?"
Angel glowered silently and returned to his book. Spike was silent for another while, and then made a little 'hmp' sound.
"According to this one I was turned in the early nineteenth century - funny how they all want to make me older."
Then he tilted his head, studying something. "Nice picture... must have been shortly after I killed my first Slayer..."
"Really?" Angel said, suddenly interested. He got up and walked over to Spike, looking intently at the page that was open.
"Yes... that's what I was talking about. Bring it home - I want to show it to Buffy. I'm sure she'll agree that it's a lot better than that horrible bleached thing you’ve got going - of course you’d need a hairdresser to trim it on occasion so it doesn’t go that straggly, but overall as a look it’s far better!"
Giles frowned, thrown out of his unproductive musings, and decided that maybe he should just go - this was beyond the bizarre. He’d have thought he was dreaming if it hadn’t been for the fact that he’d never dream anything this odd.
Spike shook his head.
"Poofter!" he said good-naturedly, a small smirk on his face.
Angel didn't respond with the sort of repartee Giles was expecting. Instead he tilted his head, eyes narrowing.
"And now what would that make you?"
Spike's smirk widened.
"Irresistible?" he suggested, tongue curling behind his teeth.
Angel chuckled, reached out for the younger vampire and then - Oh dear Lord!
Never had Giles pulled off his glasses so fast, as he involuntarily took a step back and then hit his head against the bookshelf behind him.
He suppressed an outcry, but when he looked up he saw the two vampires right in front of him, arms crossed, silently scrutinising him.
Had anyone ever made a study of vampire speed? Because nothing moved that fast.
“Make a habit of spying on people Giles?” Angel asked, voice frosty.
“I-I... I came to return some books and... uh... saw the lights were still on...”
He was utterly at a loss for what to say, and the way Spike silently let his eyes travel up and down his body did not help at all. The blonde vampire lifted an eyebrow, expression musing.
“Come on now Watcher - stop pretendin’ to be all shocked, we know you’re not as innocent as you look. And it’s not like we’re the first couple to grab a quick snog when the studying got too boring.”
“C-c-couple...?” Giles asked faintly, although he had already seen the proof of the vampire’s word. But this cast a whole new light on a great many things and his head was still trying to catch up.
“You mean you didn’t know?” Spike’s voice turned incredulous. “It’s not like it’s a secret anymore - have you been living under a stone?”
Angel shook his head, expression musing. “No - he’s the boss. No one ever tells him any of the gossip.”
Spike rolled this over in his mind, then appeared to have a thought. “Oh - what he needs is Robertson!”
Angel looked sceptical. “You sure? Mrs Willoughsby is usually more up to date.”
Spike shook his head. “Nah - she’s a snob and only keeps on top of everything because she disapproves. And none of the others is any good. I mean Johnny is useless - sweet kid and all, but a kitchen boy just ain’t really cut out for information gathering. Jane is too scatterbrained - not to mention the fact that she pretty much lives in the wash house still. There’s Lily of course...” his voice became smoother and a small smile touched his mouth.
The other one sighed. “You just like Lily because she flirts with you.”
“Hey - she’d flirt with you too if you’d just look at her!”
Angel appeared to be peeved. “Well I’m just not comfortable ogling girls wearing that little! Especially not drowned ones.”
“Your loss mate!” Spike shrugged. “I think that negligee is very fetching! Anyway, you’re probably right - she’s more concerned about what the girls are wearing than what they’re up to - and of course she’s from next door.”
He turned back to Giles. “Yep - what you need is Robertson.”
“Who?” He had been getting increasingly confused as they spoke. “Who are all these people?”
“Your ghosts!” Spike replied as though it was the most natural thing in the world.
“G-ghosts? There are ghosts in this building?”
“Well yes. Gotta say most of them are friggin’ over the moon that you lot took over. Apparently the place was almost sold off to some property developer and turned into flats. And speaking as an ex-ghostie myself, gotta say that’s got to have been pretty terrifying!”
Giles blinked. Then frowned and blinked again. “Ex-what? You were a ghost?”
Spike nodded; looking completely sane and rational, which was even more worrying. “The amulet - you remember it, yeah? - it brought me back as a ghost, and I haunted W&H for ‘bout half a year. Can’t recommend it - make sure you shuffle off cleanly when your time comes Rupert.”
Giles decided not to press the issue right now and focus on the start of the conversation. “But - you’re saying that there are ghosts in this building?”
“Only 4 - although there’s a lot of visiting going on from next door. Anyway, you should like Robertson - very solid fella. Got bumped off by the wife back in... 1867 I think... Anyway, he was obviously pissed off that she’d just married him for his money and decided to hang around to make her life as miserable as he could. ‘Course she just moved out and he was stuck. We’ll let him know you’d like a word.”
“Um... thank you... I think...” Tiredness was hanging like a fog in his head, and Giles found it strangely difficult to think. Hadn’t there been something he had been trying to remember? A battle or... No, it was gone.
Saying goodbye he made his way out again, and it wasn’t until he was halfway up the stairs that he realised that he’d never said anything about the smoking. Somehow it suddenly didn’t seem all that important anymore.
***
When he came into work the next morning, Giles was still not entirely sure that he hadn’t just dreamt the whole thing. He smiled at all the various Slayers he passed on the way to his office, and nodded a good morning to his secretary as she handed him a list of the day’s appointments. He was still studying it as he entered his office, and nearly jumped out of his skin when a deep, cultured voice suddenly spoke.
“Mr Giles? Young William mentioned that you would look favourably upon making my acquaintance.”
Giles looked up, took in the Victorian gentleman sitting in his favourite armchair, and with a deep sigh realised that he had not been dreaming after all.
Which left him with the rather uncomfortable problem of trying to work out what to say the next time he saw Buffy...
Chapter 6.
kathyh for the look-through and the pointers! Summary: There are always consequences.
Setting: Post-NFA.
Rating: Mild R.
Pairings: S/B/A.
Word count: Around 2200 words.
Feedback: *puppy dog eyes*
Disclaimer: I am not Joss and do not own these characters! [/obvious]
Chapter 5
March 2005
How had it ended up as half past two in the morning? Giles rubbed his eyes and decided that he probably needed to get home - the rest would have to wait until tomorrow. Considering how many people he had on his team, there was still a unwelcome amount of work that he had to supervise and check himself. But after tidying the papers into orderly piles, he realised with a sigh that three of the books from the archives would need returning sooner rather than later - they were delicate and really shouldn’t have been removed from their glass cases.
As he slowly made his way down into the bowels of the (New) Council building, he remembered how Buffy used to make fun of his concern for books - back in the days when their relationship had been free and easy. These days - well until a few months ago, they’d been... OK, he thought. He had become used to the fact that she was an adult, and pleased to have her around. True, she’d seemed a bit at a loose end, but then that was perfectly normal for a young person in their twenties. But then she’d found her vampires...
He shook his head, wondering. Of course he had no right to tell her what to do, but he couldn’t help but think that she’d made a terrible mistake. Finally she had the opportunity for a normal life, and instead... No he couldn’t fathom it. And he barely saw her anymore. She kept to her training schedule, did all her duties and more besides, but there was a gap between her and the rest of the Slayers now. Moreso than before.
She was always friendly of course - came round to say hello and ask what was happening and if there were any interesting missions coming up, but he could tell that there was yet another screen between them.
If he was honest with himself, he supposed he was worried at how isolated she had become. Xander had gone back to Africa after Christmas, Willow and Kennedy were traipsing around South America still, and Dawn was busy with her studies and new friends (as well as blossoming into a rather terrifyingly magnificent young woman), leaving precious little time for her older sister.
Of course there was Faith, who was a whole headache in herself...
The selfish, petulant part of him rather wished that his two senior Slayers weren’t so close, especially since - despite always working hard, and effortlessly inspiring their younger charges - their attitudes towards the Council (not to mention their personal lives) were not exactly all he could wish for. Was it so much to ask for a little support now and again?
When he finally reached the basement (a little out of breath), he carefully stored the books away in their specially made cases, trying his best to appreciate what had been recovered, rather than mourn what had been lost. As was his habit whenever he was in the library he did a swift sweep, and even before he saw that the light was on in the main room, he could smell the smoke. With a deep sigh he silently pushed the door open and walked along the deep carpet, the tall bookcases towering above him, tiredly making his way towards the centre.
When he got nearer he slowed down, feeling disinclined to push a confrontation, and yet knowing that it was his responsibility. The notes had done no good at all. And thanks to that blasted spell they used to hide from W&H, they didn’t even show up on the security cameras.
Peering round the corner of bookcase he saw the two vampires sitting at the largest of the tables, several stacks of books piled up around them. Angel was hunched over a large tome, brow furrowed, whereas Spike was stretched out over two chairs, his feet on the table, a book in one hand and a cigarette in the other... and, Giles noticed with a frown, an antique saucer serving as ashtray.
Throwing the book back onto the table, Spike stretched and dragged his hand through his hair.
"Could do with one of those template books Wesley had. Would make life a lot easier!"
Angel shrugged and looked up briefly.
"Only if you know what you're looking for. It’s Wesley we need!"
Spike sighed deeply.
"Yeah... If only her blue highness had arrived five minutes earlier...”
He stopped and looked at Angel, eyes suddenly pained. “Sorry - didn’t-”
Angel shook his head. “It’s OK, at least he’s at peace now.”
“Yeah...”
There was a moment’s silence, then Spike stubbed out the dying cigarette and lit a new one. Angel pulled a face.
“Spike - do you have to smoke?”
The other looked back indifferently. “What’s it to you? It’s not like you breathe...”
“It smells bad. Buffy thinks so too.”
Spike shrugged. “When Buffy wants me to stop, I’ll stop.”
“She asks you to stop every day!” There was a note of exasperation in Angel’s voice that Giles understood only too well. Spike however stayed utterly impassive.
“When she tells me to stop, I’ll stop!”
Angel sighed deeply and returned to his book. Spike shifted through the biggest pile in front of him, and then buried his head in his hands.
“God I'm so bloody bored!"
“Can’t do a Phoenix every day,” Angel replied distractedly as he carefully copied a passage that had caught his eye.
Giles - who’d been about to speak up - frowned, as he tried to remember why ‘Phoenix’ rang a bell. There’d been a report last year... a massacre, was it? Or was he getting it mixed up that thing in Aspen? If only he wasn’t so tired...
Trying his hardest to pinpoint why the name had significance, he didn’t pay much attention to the vampires, as Spike stretched and got up. Cigarette held between his lips, he started to aimlessly looking through the book shelves furthest away from where Giles was standing.
"Hey - this one's in the wrong place! Vampire Anthologies should definitely be on those shelves over there."
He flicked through it, then frowned. "Oh - I’ve not seen this one before. Let's see what it says about me... Hey it’s got pictures! How posh."
A few moments later he started chuckling. Angel looked up again.
“What now?”
Spike studied at him, obviously enjoying himself.
"Sorry mate, but did you grow that moustache for a bet? Or did you just want to frighten people to death in new and different ways?"
Angel glowered silently and returned to his book. Spike was silent for another while, and then made a little 'hmp' sound.
"According to this one I was turned in the early nineteenth century - funny how they all want to make me older."
Then he tilted his head, studying something. "Nice picture... must have been shortly after I killed my first Slayer..."
"Really?" Angel said, suddenly interested. He got up and walked over to Spike, looking intently at the page that was open.
"Yes... that's what I was talking about. Bring it home - I want to show it to Buffy. I'm sure she'll agree that it's a lot better than that horrible bleached thing you’ve got going - of course you’d need a hairdresser to trim it on occasion so it doesn’t go that straggly, but overall as a look it’s far better!"
Giles frowned, thrown out of his unproductive musings, and decided that maybe he should just go - this was beyond the bizarre. He’d have thought he was dreaming if it hadn’t been for the fact that he’d never dream anything this odd.
Spike shook his head.
"Poofter!" he said good-naturedly, a small smirk on his face.
Angel didn't respond with the sort of repartee Giles was expecting. Instead he tilted his head, eyes narrowing.
"And now what would that make you?"
Spike's smirk widened.
"Irresistible?" he suggested, tongue curling behind his teeth.
Angel chuckled, reached out for the younger vampire and then - Oh dear Lord!
Never had Giles pulled off his glasses so fast, as he involuntarily took a step back and then hit his head against the bookshelf behind him.
He suppressed an outcry, but when he looked up he saw the two vampires right in front of him, arms crossed, silently scrutinising him.
Had anyone ever made a study of vampire speed? Because nothing moved that fast.
“Make a habit of spying on people Giles?” Angel asked, voice frosty.
“I-I... I came to return some books and... uh... saw the lights were still on...”
He was utterly at a loss for what to say, and the way Spike silently let his eyes travel up and down his body did not help at all. The blonde vampire lifted an eyebrow, expression musing.
“Come on now Watcher - stop pretendin’ to be all shocked, we know you’re not as innocent as you look. And it’s not like we’re the first couple to grab a quick snog when the studying got too boring.”
“C-c-couple...?” Giles asked faintly, although he had already seen the proof of the vampire’s word. But this cast a whole new light on a great many things and his head was still trying to catch up.
“You mean you didn’t know?” Spike’s voice turned incredulous. “It’s not like it’s a secret anymore - have you been living under a stone?”
Angel shook his head, expression musing. “No - he’s the boss. No one ever tells him any of the gossip.”
Spike rolled this over in his mind, then appeared to have a thought. “Oh - what he needs is Robertson!”
Angel looked sceptical. “You sure? Mrs Willoughsby is usually more up to date.”
Spike shook his head. “Nah - she’s a snob and only keeps on top of everything because she disapproves. And none of the others is any good. I mean Johnny is useless - sweet kid and all, but a kitchen boy just ain’t really cut out for information gathering. Jane is too scatterbrained - not to mention the fact that she pretty much lives in the wash house still. There’s Lily of course...” his voice became smoother and a small smile touched his mouth.
The other one sighed. “You just like Lily because she flirts with you.”
“Hey - she’d flirt with you too if you’d just look at her!”
Angel appeared to be peeved. “Well I’m just not comfortable ogling girls wearing that little! Especially not drowned ones.”
“Your loss mate!” Spike shrugged. “I think that negligee is very fetching! Anyway, you’re probably right - she’s more concerned about what the girls are wearing than what they’re up to - and of course she’s from next door.”
He turned back to Giles. “Yep - what you need is Robertson.”
“Who?” He had been getting increasingly confused as they spoke. “Who are all these people?”
“Your ghosts!” Spike replied as though it was the most natural thing in the world.
“G-ghosts? There are ghosts in this building?”
“Well yes. Gotta say most of them are friggin’ over the moon that you lot took over. Apparently the place was almost sold off to some property developer and turned into flats. And speaking as an ex-ghostie myself, gotta say that’s got to have been pretty terrifying!”
Giles blinked. Then frowned and blinked again. “Ex-what? You were a ghost?”
Spike nodded; looking completely sane and rational, which was even more worrying. “The amulet - you remember it, yeah? - it brought me back as a ghost, and I haunted W&H for ‘bout half a year. Can’t recommend it - make sure you shuffle off cleanly when your time comes Rupert.”
Giles decided not to press the issue right now and focus on the start of the conversation. “But - you’re saying that there are ghosts in this building?”
“Only 4 - although there’s a lot of visiting going on from next door. Anyway, you should like Robertson - very solid fella. Got bumped off by the wife back in... 1867 I think... Anyway, he was obviously pissed off that she’d just married him for his money and decided to hang around to make her life as miserable as he could. ‘Course she just moved out and he was stuck. We’ll let him know you’d like a word.”
“Um... thank you... I think...” Tiredness was hanging like a fog in his head, and Giles found it strangely difficult to think. Hadn’t there been something he had been trying to remember? A battle or... No, it was gone.
Saying goodbye he made his way out again, and it wasn’t until he was halfway up the stairs that he realised that he’d never said anything about the smoking. Somehow it suddenly didn’t seem all that important anymore.
When he came into work the next morning, Giles was still not entirely sure that he hadn’t just dreamt the whole thing. He smiled at all the various Slayers he passed on the way to his office, and nodded a good morning to his secretary as she handed him a list of the day’s appointments. He was still studying it as he entered his office, and nearly jumped out of his skin when a deep, cultured voice suddenly spoke.
“Mr Giles? Young William mentioned that you would look favourably upon making my acquaintance.”
Giles looked up, took in the Victorian gentleman sitting in his favourite armchair, and with a deep sigh realised that he had not been dreaming after all.
Which left him with the rather uncomfortable problem of trying to work out what to say the next time he saw Buffy...
Chapter 6.