Title: Goodbye, Mr. Giles
Author: Aamah
Email: mrsbanjones@yahoo.com
Pairing:  S/B
Rating by chapter: PG
Chapter 36 ~ Puzzles
Genre: Post NFA ~ General

A message to my readers (if there are any of you left.)  I promised that this would not be an unfinished WIP and life is finally allowing me some time to get to it.  Thank you to all of you for your patience and understanding and special thanks to my betas, the wonderful nightshift and cloviss who have stood by, without complaint until I was ready. 

To quickly bring you up to date: It’s Thanksgiving.  Buffy and Spike are entertaining Giles and Leah, Spike’s doctor.  Dawn is in England for the occasion and Xander rounds out the guest list.  Inspector Arthur stopped by believing that Giles could be coerced into confessing to the murder of Chastity Baker.  Instead, Giles gave up all the secrets of the Council leaving the Inspector convinced they were insane and gave an order to put the cottage under surveillance.

We join our friends later that evening, unaware that they are under a microscope.  MacGregor has joined the party.

Based on characters created by Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy.  No copyright infringement intended. Original characters are mine.
Chapter 36 ~ Puzzles

Giles pushed his chair back from the table and said, “That’s it.  I’m stuffed.”

Comments around the table echoed Giles’ remark.  No one dared bring up the visit from the inspector.  Giles had already made his position perfectly clear.  He simply could not go on living with the lie.  His entire adult life he’d worked for a subversive organization.  He understood perfectly well the need for secrecy, but keeping a secret was very different from an out and out lie.  He had hardly slept since the whole episode had begun.  Tonight, he knew he would be able to lay his head on his pillow with a clear conscience.

Besides, there was another proverbial five hundred-pound gorilla in the room.  When MacGregor arrived, Dawn beckoned him to get a chair from the kitchen to sit next to her, displacing Xander.  Xander’s new level of maturity kept him from making a scene, but it was apparent to all present that he was not happy.  Throughout dessert, while the conversation was otherwise lively, Xander muttered one-word comments when he spoke at all.

Buffy felt badly for him.  She had information to which only Spike was privy.  Dawn had been the first guest to arrive for dinner, ostensibly to help Buffy, or so Dawn told Xander when she called him telling him not to bother picking her up.  She was going early and would walk.  Dawn was in the mood for some girl talk.  The kind she couldn’t have if Xander were around.  Buffy recalled the conversation.

***

“Have you even looked at him?”  Dawn asked.

“Who?”

“Who?  Who do you think?”  Dawn said rolling her eyes.  “MacGregor!  I mean, how cool is it that he only goes by one name.  Have you seen his eyes?  They’re so dark.  Almost black … and he’s so tall.”

“And so dead,” Buffy said as she opened the oven door and basted the turkey.

Dawn spun so quickly, the little stack of paper napkins they used as coasters fluttered and drifted to the floor.  She bent to pick them up and said, “And your point would be …?”

Buffy refused to buy into Dawn’s indignation.  “My point, my dear sister, is that MacGregor is a vampire.  That is not a road you wish to travel,” she said as she took two coffee cups out of the drain.

Eyes wide, Dawn shouted, “You hypocrite.  It’s OK for you but not for anyone else, is that it?”  Dawn saw that Buffy was pouring coffee and added, “No thanks, none for me.”

“It’s not for you.  I’m the Slayer, Dawn.  Not a hypocrite,” Buffy said calmly.

“Exactly what has that got to do with it?”

Spike appeared in the doorway of the kitchen.  He was shirtless, his jeans slung low on his narrow hips, top button open.  He reached for the cup Buffy extended to him and said,  his voice even deeper from sleep.  “She’s a supernatural being, Niblet.”

Dawn looked totally exasperated.  She threw her arms up and stamped her foot.  “I’M a supernatural being.  I’m more supernatural than she is.”

Spike looked thoughtful, arched one eyebrow, and said, “She’s got you there, Slayer.”

Buffy refused to be rattled.  This was too important a day.  “We are not discussing this any further.  I agree, Dawn.  MacGregor is hot … in a young Sean Connery kind of way.  Not my type.” She paused here, grabbing at Spike’s unbuttoned jeans and pulled him to her.  “He’s way too stiff for my taste.  I need my man a little naughty.”

Picking up on her comment, Spike leered at her and said, “I’m not stiff?  I can be stiff.  Just move your hand a little lower.”

Buffy started to answer when Dawn rolled her eyes and said, “Don’t!  Just don’t.  OK?”

“Seriously Dawnie, you just met the man.”

“Exactly.  I just met the man.  Can’t I drool a little over the hotness?  Sheesh, you’d think I said I was going to marry him.”  Dawn said.

“What about Xander?”  Buffy asked.

“What about Xander?”  Suddenly stern voice Spike parroted.  “The whelp makin’ moves on you, bit?”

Dawn took a coffee cup, sat down at the table, and motioned to Buffy to fill the cup.  Heaving a great sigh, she said, “I don’t know.  I always had a crush on him but he was too old for me … then.  Now that age isn’t an issue, it’s like we’ve forgotten how to talk to each other.”  She looked troubled.  “I mean, he notices my chest, and I notice his pecs but I don’t get it … we never had trouble talking to each other before.”

Spike, always sensitive and aware, understood her discomfort.  He searched for the right thing to say.  Maybe this is the time to say nothing, he thought.  Before he had a chance to decide, Dawn pressed on. 

“It’s so easy to talk to MacGregor.”

“Ha!  That’s a laugh.”  Buffy said.  “I can’t understand a bloody thing he says.  Why do you think I make such a fast exit when he gets here?”

Spike went to the fridge and rummaged around for his container of blood.  “Listen to you, Slayer.  Not a bloody thing, eh?  Rubbin’ off on you, I am.  We got any blood?”

“Only if there was some left last night.  They didn’t send any this morning.  They must have forgotten, what with all the Thanksgiving stuff.”

Dawn said, “Um … can we focus here?  My problem?”

Spike turned a kitchen chair backward.  Gingerly straddling it, he faced Dawn.  “This is hard, bit.  MacGregor is my friend and I know this is going to sound … surprising, but so is Xander.  And … you’re my Niblet.  No man is good enough for you.  No man will ever be right, and every time you start talkin’ like you’re interested in someone, flags are gonna go up for the slayer and me. Buffy’s just lookin’ out for you.”

Buffy pulled the kitchen towel from her shoulder and held on to it as she sat on the edge of the chair near Dawn.  She placed her hands, still grasping the towel, in her lap and she leaned forward as if to lend importance to what she was going to say.  It was such a typical Joyce move that it startled Dawn.  “Dawnie, I’m not trying to be Mom, or your boss.  It’s just that I’ve made pretty much all the mistakes a girl can make.”  

Dawn smirked; Spike saw it and glared at her.

Buffy continued, clueless as to the silent encounter between Spike and Dawn.  “God, if Mom ever knew the things … I just want you to be careful.”  She felt like she had so much more to say, but she knew it would end up being the never-ending lecture, the one that all parents are so good at and kids switch off.

***

“Buffy … Buffy?”

“Oh … I’m sorry, more coffee?”

Spike laughed nervously, “No coffee, luv.  Giles asked where you put Angel’s box.  Daydreamin’?”

Startled, she blushed and said, “Um, sorry.  Yeah, I guess I was.  What was the question?”

Giles cleared his throat and spoke up, “You put Angel’s box away.  We were just telling MacGregor about it.  I thought he might like to see it.”

“Oh, sure.  I’ll get it.” 

While she was gone, Spike said, “I’ve been thinking it over, Rupes.  I’ve remembered how to open it.”

Giles face lit up in anticipation.  “Splendid!”

“Don’t go getting excited.  I’m not entirely sure I want to open it.”  Spike said.

Giles had been sipping his drink and sputtered at Spike’s comment.  “What?  Of course you want to open it.  Think of it, man.  We can learn so much.”

“Nothin’ I need to learn.  I know all I need to know about Angel … Angelus.  I’ve got the scars to prove it.”  He realized what he had said and continued defensively, “Well, I would have … if it weren’t for the vampire healing.”

Giles, considering that all of Spike’s memories of Angel weren’t necessarily pleasant, tried another tactic.  “Well then, would you consider gifting it to the Council so that we may learn from it?  You need never know anything more about it.”  Then, sheepishly, Giles said, “Needless to say, we’d need you to open it first.”

Buffy returned holding the box, her color slightly ashen.  She’d overheard the brief exchange and understood immediately its implications.  She directed her comments to Spike, her voice barely audible.  “Maybe I need to see what’s inside.”

Spike met her eyes, “Baby, believe me, there’s nothing there you want so see.”

“So you know what’s in there?”  Buffy said.

“Some.”

Buffy sat down, still holding the box in her lap.  As she spoke, her hands caressed the carvings on it’s polished surface.  “Spike.  I love you.  You know that now, don’t you?”

Spike’s look was puzzled, but he answered, “I know you love me, Buffy.” 

“But Angel was my first.  Angel was in my heart first.  It’s hard to let that go.”  Buffy spoke cautiously.  “What I had with him is over.  You are the only one in my heart now, but, maybe it would be easier to let the memories go if I knew who he really was.”

Giles broke in, “I don’t believe I’m hearing this.  You knew exactly what Angel was, Buffy.”  He pulled off his glasses.  “Lord knows I tried to tell you often enough.”

“I  know, but Angel was dark and sexy and alluring.  I was sixteen.  He was forbidden fruit.  When I did meet Angelus, I just couldn’t … wouldn’t  … put him together with the Angel I knew.  Maybe I need to know what he was really capable of, you know?”

The mood in the room had turned somber and the others in the room weren’t entirely sure what was happening.  They exchanged glances and it was Dawn who finally broke into what seemed like a private unspoken conversation between Giles, Spike and her sister.  “I’m usually pretty good at reading between the lines, but I’ll admit I’m stumped here.  What the hell is going on?”

Xander picked up the thread, “Yeah, who pressed fast forward?  I think I missed a lot of important dialogue.”

Giles ignored their comments, sighed, and said, “It’s interesting, isn’t it?  It seems like every time we find ourselves in some sort of comfort zone, something comes along … so unexpected … that turns everything around.”  He smiled and mused, “I remember that was how I felt about earthquakes in California.”  He looked around at the circle of confused faces.  “I couldn’t even be sure of the earth beneath my feet.” 

Spike, who was always so cocky, looked defeated.  Flaring his nostrils and filling his lungs, he said, “I should have known it was all too good to be true.  Might as well go ahead and get it over with.” 

He was rough as he pulled the box away from Buffy and placed it on the table.  He ran his hands over the carvings and raised his eyes as though he was searching for the answer to the puzzle.  Twisting what looked like a carved rose caused a piece of wood from the bottom to spring out to the side.  He took that piece, pulled it out further and turned it back on itself, sliding it back in place but backwards and upside down.  When he flipped the box upright again, a round opening had appeared in the middle of the lid.  Spike pushed his finger in and a lever pushed out on either side.  He made the same rotating move he’d done on the bottom and they all heard a definite click.  He reached his hand under the bottom of the box, did something with his finger and the top clicked open.  “Welcome to the mementos of Angelus, Master Vampire of the Order of Aurelius.  I’m going outside for a smoke.”

Xander pushed his chair back and said, “Hold on, Spike.  I’ll come with.  Come on, Dawn.  Get your coat.”

“Get my coat?  Why?”

“Because I’m leaving.  I have no interest whatsoever in anything having to do with Angel slash Angelus.”  Out of the corner of his eye he caught the expression on Giles face and realized he probably shouldn’t have said that.  “Um, I’m not interested in it … tonight … um,” he stretched his arms and made a dramatic yawn.  “I’m really, really interested tomorrow, but I’m just exhausted … right now … um, and I’m taking you home.  Well, to the dorm.”  Xander said.

Dawn bristled at his tone and said, “I don’t want to go.”

Xander retorted, looking and sounding very bossy, “Well, that’s too bad.  Get your coat.”

“Xander, just who do you think you’re talking to?” said Buffy.  “If Dawn doesn’t want to go, she doesn’t have to.” 

Dawn, suddenly possessed by her former self couldn’t resist the urge to smirk.  She had the good sense not to say nanny nanny boo boo.

Spike stuck his head back in the door, “Hey whelp, you comin’?”

Before Xander could answer, MacGregor spoke up and said, “I’d be happy to see Miss Summers to the dormitory.”

“What’s this?” said Spike.  “Bit?  You need an escort?”

Xander said, “Whoa there now, she doesn’t need an escort.  I’m taking her home.  Now.”

As if Xander had said nothing at all, Dawn looked at Spike and said,  “No thanks, Spike. MacGregor said he’d see me home.”

Xander’s hairline lifted about two inches, his mouth falling open.  He started to speak, but all he uttered was, “Aaaarrrrgh….”  Spinning on his heels, he pushed his way past Spike in the doorway. 

Outside, Xander stood at the end of the walk.  Spike flicked his lighter and put the flame to the tip of the cigarette already hanging from his lips.  It was the first indication Xander had that he wasn’t alone.  Damned vampires, he thought.