OUT OF THE BLUE
 
Prologue
 
 “You don’t have any circulation.” As she spoke, Buffy paused in her rope-tying to lean around and peer into Spike’s face. She would have sworn he was wearing a very undemon-like pout when he muttered about the ropes pinching him as she went back to her job. Finishing to her satisfaction, she stood up and put her hands on her hips. When he couldn’t or wouldn’t give a useful answer to her questions about the commandoes, only continuing to whine, she lightly cuffed the side of his head and walked behind the chair to get back to her Thanksgiving dinner preparations.  She did feel a little bad about tying him up and not feeding him when he was clearly starving.  On the other hand, Spike = evil, so…
 
Too intent on getting back to her meal and the argument about the Chumash spirit, she didn’t notice the frown on Giles’s face when her half-hearted slap to Spike’s head was followed up by a hand on his shoulder as she walked behind him.  The vampire concerned just glowered, and Giles and Buffy were soon too wrapped up in dodging arrows and fighting a ghostly, but very solid, war party of Indians for anyone to pay much attention to his complaints.
 
Spike’s frightened “You made a bear!” brought an apologetic “I didn’t mean to!” from Buffy before she could remember how much she hated Spike and didn’t care if the bear tore him apart.  Although his obvious belief in her ability to handle the situation, and that she may have let him down by temporarily making things worse, bothered her more than she was willing to admit.  As did the ridiculously warm feeling she got every time she thought about how he’d chosen her to come to when he needed help.
 
Stupid vampire – he could have just bought blood somewhere.  What would make him think we—I would believe him and take him in?  Not that he’s ever lied to me about anything important, or that we haven’t worked together before, and he did look more dead than usual… but still…
 
To everyone’s surprise when they finally sat down to eat, she pulled Spike’s chair up to the table in front of an empty plate. She couldn’t have said why she was including their reluctant guest in the “family” dinner – the expression on his face told her that he was just as puzzled about it as everyone else – although he behaved as if he had every right to be there, whining about the lack of blood, being tied up, and generally reminding everyone why they hated him.
 
 
~~~~~~~~~
 
 
A human would have missed it – the sudden intake of breath, the accelerated heartbeat – although even a human might have noticed the ashen face and white knuckles of the hand lying on the table.  Spike’s face twisted in disgust. What was it with his grandsire and women? It seemed like the purer and more innocent they were, they more he had to have them.  Not that Spike had ever known Dru when she was pure and unsullied – before Angelus had driven her insane and made her his childe.  But Angelus had done enough bragging and Dru had done enough babbling that he had a pretty good idea what she’d been like before she was turned.  Still a seer, but a sweet, innocent, sane seer.
 
He drew his attention back to the Slayer, who was now berating her watcher for not telling her about Angel’s surprise visit to “save” her.  He shook his head. Like she’d needed any help with the vengeful Chumash tribe. Even the bear hadn’t fazed her as much as it had him. She’d stepped right up to it. Of course, she’d also been smacked down, but not for long. Spike reluctantly gave the boy credit for courage – pelting the bear with dinner rolls to get its attention off Buffy and her temporary disability.  At least he’d done something helpful…
 
As Spike had known she would, the Slayer had immediately bounced back to her feet and dispatched the bear so quickly it seemed almost anti-climatic. He snorted at the thought that she’d needed any help from his grandsire.
 
“Don’t know what you’re so surprised about, Slayer,” he finally said. “By now I’d think you’d know old grandpa thinks it’s his job to save the world. You’re just a little chit who helps out occasionally.”
 
Her lethal glare brought a moment of blessed silence before everyone started offering their own explanations for why Angel would have come to Sunnydale but not wanted to see Buffy.  Spike just shook his head in disgust.If I thought I was in love with the Slayer, I wouldn’t be proving it by doing things to make her unhappy. Typical of the big ponce…  He met the Watcher’s gaze for a second and realized they were both thinking the same thing. He gave a sardonic sneer and quickly looked away.
 
 
~~~~~~~~
 
Willow emerged from the kitchen holding her latest batch of cookies.  She hesitated briefly, her eyes going back and forth between Buffy and Spike. They were gazing at each other, although without seeming to make eye contact, bemusement clear on both their faces.  They weren’t simpering and cooing the way they had while under her spell (so she’d heard – having only witnessed for herself the frantic kissing as she was ending it.), but there was no animosity in their exchange of looks, only a mutually uncomfortable curiosity.
 
Willow’s entrance and subsequent offering a cookie to Buffy snapped them both out of whatever they’d been thinking and they were soon glaring at each other in more familiar ways. Willow ended up stuffing a cookie in Spike’s mouth just to shut him up before his ability to rattle Buffy by talking about their plans while under the spell could inspire another round of guilt-assuaging cookie baking.
 
 
Chapter One
 
“I would like to use my own bathroom for a while.  Can I – and I find it hard to believe I’m asking this – trust you to stay out of trouble while I take a shower?”
 
Spike shrugged, peering up at the frowning watcher. “Define ‘trouble’,” he said. “It’s not like I’m going to go running out into the sunshine, is it?”
 
“The sun was shining when you showed up,” Giles pointed out.  “However, I was thinking more about my possessions, which would be at your mercy. I really don’t want to have to ask Buffy to come back to watch you while I bathe.”
 
“You could always tie me to the chair again.” Spike rattled the chains holding him in the tub. “Or chain me up again. Slayer got all the fun of that last time.” He curled his tongue at Giles. “Still waiting for that explanation about why you keep chains in your bedroom.”
 
“You really do not want to know,” Giles said, his tone making it clear that part of the conversation was over. “Give me your wrists.”  When Spike obediently held up his hands, Giles unlocked the manacles and handed Spike the key. “You can undo your own feet. And then please be so good as to remove yourself from my bathtub.”
 
Without answering, Spike unshackled his ankle and stood up. At the last second, he caught the falling metal and lifted the chains out onto the floor, preventing them from scratching the porcelain any more than they already had.  He stretched and stood, waiting for Giles to tell him what to do.  With a sigh, Giles gestured for Spike to leave the room, following him into the living room.
 
“There is blood in the refrigerator,” he said. “You may help yourself to whatever is yours.” He handed Spike the remote.  “And stay out of my things.  I won’t be long.”
 
When Giles emerged from the bathroom, clean-shaven and relaxed in pajamas and a robe, he found Spike lounging on the couch and clicking through the channels.
 
“Did you know you’re out of Scotch?”
 
Giles gave a credible growl. “I thought I told you to stay out of my things?”
Spike just stared at him, waiting… “Right, evil vampire. My mistake.”
 
“Being unable to kill hasn’t turned me into a goody two-shoes, Watcher,” Spike said calmly as he turned back to the TV.
 
Giles made no reply, but went upstairs and came back down with a brand new bottle of Scotch.  He ignored Spike’s raised eyebrows, going to the kitchen for two glasses.  When he returned he handed one to the eager vampire and sat down across from him. They drank in companionable silence for a few minutes, Spike eying Giles suspiciously from time to time. When he could stand it no longer he blurted, “Are you trying to get me drunk?”
 
“Why would I want you drunk? I’ve seen you drunk. It’s not pretty.”
 
“Pot – kettle,” Spike replied, lifting his glass in a mock toast.
 
“Touché,” Giles replied.  They sipped some more, then he leaned forward and said, “About your current condition… granted, as you said, it does not make you anything but a harmless still-evil demon, but what if there were more to it? What if there was a purpose behind it? What if the Powers that Be had a hand in your being rendered harmless?”
 
“Then the first thing I’ll do when I get this thing fixed is rip their bloody throats out and dance on their dead bodies.”  A deep snarl accompanied Spike’s words, and Giles looked disappointed as he leaned back and continued to stare at the vampire.
 
“What?”  Spike looked uncomfortable as he chugged the rest of his drink. He held the glass out for more, raising one eyebrow.  “Where were you going with that daft idea?”
 
Moving slowly, Giles poured more of the amber fluid into Spike’s glass. He waited until he’d refreshed his own drink, then settled back into his chair.
 
“I guess, what I was thinking is that your current situation might provide an opportunity for you to… atone, so to speak, for your actions as a vampire. To… to redeem yourself. I would like to offer my assistance, should you want to pursue—”
 
“That’s the great poof’s bag, not mine,” Spike said with a growl. “Got no interest in being good. I like what I am. Just forget it. Got no reason to want to be different.”
 
“Very well. I won’t mention it again. But I should like for you to give it some thought.”
 
“Why?” Spike asked bluntly. “What’s in it for you? Brownie points with the Council of Wankers?”
 
Giles gazed at him over the rim of his glass.  “The Council and I do not always have the same agenda. Theirs is to keep an active Slayer on the Hellmouth. Mine is to see that my slayer remains alive to continue to fill that position. It has occurred to me that Buffy’s job could be made quite a bit safer and easier had she another powerful warrior at her side.”
 
“William the Bloody kills slayers. He doesn’t follow orders from the little chits. Got no reason to help her stay alive.”
 
Giles was silent, sipping his drink and seeming to be done with the conversation. The silence stretched out for some time until Spike said, “So, what do you say to a game?” He pointed at a chessboard on a high shelf. “Or is that just for show?”
 
Without responding verbally, Giles rose to his feet and brought the already set-up board down to rest on the coffee table.  Spike clicked the TV off and leaned forward.  “Gave me the black pieces, did you?”
 
“It seemed appropriate,” Giles replied dryly.  “You may make the first move.”
 
“Always do.”
 
~~~~~~~~~
 
“Whatcha doing?”
 
Buffy walked in before Giles had stored the chessboard away for the evening.  Spike was carefully recording who was ahead in what had become a nightly ritual for them. Although the two Brits were from different eras, the longer they remained in each other’s company, the more their somewhat similar backgrounds had become obvious.  Had anyone pointed out that they were becoming friends, they would have denied it vigorously, but the truth was, they enjoyed their nightly chess matches and the conversations that went with them. 
 
Giles had never mentioned the idea of Spike’s helping Buffy again, but now that the vampire knew he could fight and kill demons, he had fallen into the habit of going on patrol with the Slayer sometimes, insisting it was the best way to get the “spot of violence” that he required on a daily basis.
 
“Just making sure I record how far ahead I am of the Watcher,” Spike said, smiling up at her.
 
Buffy snorted and shook her head. “I swear you two could be going steady, as much time as you spend here.”
 
“Could say the same about us, couldn’t you?” He gestured back and forth between himself and the laughing girl. “We’re out there often enough, killin’ things and such.”
 
“Uh… pretty sure nobody’s going to say that about us,” Buffy said with a shudder. “And if Riley even thought it for a second….”
 
“Ah yes. The giant hayseed.  I expect he wouldn’t take it well – thinking his honey was seeing a vampire on the side.”
 
“I’m not seeing you! You just… follow me sometimes.”
 
“Bloody good thing for you I do,” he muttered, clearly miffed at her dismissal of his assessment of their occasional nighttime adventures. “If I hadn’t’ been there last night, that Fyral demon would have broken you in half.”
 
“I had it,” Buffy said with an indignant sniff. “I was just letting him think he was winning.” Spike waited, head tilted, staring at her with eyes that didn’t allow her to look away. “Okay,” she admitted. “You might have helped… a little.”
 
“And…?”
 
“And nothing. I said thank you last night. Don’t push it, Spike.”  In spite of her words, the shove she gave him was more affectionate than angry and they ended up smiling at each other.
 
“Spike helped you last night?” Giles looked back and forth between them, his eyes challenging the vampire to deny what he’d just been bragging about.
 
Spike shrugged and cleared his throat. “Well, yeah. Dozy bint was tryin’ to take on two Fyral demons with a stake.” He gave Giles a sly smile. “We all know how likely that is to work, don’t we?”
 
Buffy shuddered again. “Don’t remind me. It’s a good thing Giles glares at me so often.”  She looked at Spike. “Did you know he glares exactly the same way when he’s a demon?”
 
“Don’t doubt it. So, where are we off to tonight, Slayer?”
 
Buffy looked uncomfortable for a second. “Uh… Riley wants to patrol with me tonight, so I don’t think….”
 
“Got it. No problem, Slayer. Stay safe.”  Spike stood up and walked into the kitchen.
 
“What flew up his ass?” Buffy asked.  Giles just shook his head and waved her off.  Casting another puzzled look at the vampire’s back, Buffy nodded at Giles’s instructions about which cemetery had an extraordinary number of recent burials and left for the night. Telling Giles she’d report in the next day, she left the apartment.
 
When she’d gone, Giles went to his desk and brought out the Scotch. Without asking, he filled two glasses and handed one to the vampire who had just emerged from the kitchen.
 
“Think you’re smart, don’t you?” Spike grumbled, taking a grateful swallow.
 
“I think it’s time to revisit the subject of why you might want to view your status as a step toward a new life.  Or have I misinterpreted your mood?”
 
Spike sighed and sank into the chair. “No. She’s got me by the short hairs. Don’t need a chip in m’head to want to keep her safe.”  He looked up at Giles. “Guess I’ve got my reason now, Watcher.”