Giles put two rashers in the frying pan and wondered whether to have mushroom with his bacon and eggs. Living in California had taught him that one's breakfast should be made up of macrobiotic yogurt and fruit, and perhaps one slice of wholemeal bread. A fry-up like the one he was planning was sacrilege, but Giles was far beyond caring. Sometimes a man needed comforting, stodgy food, especially if that man was being slowly driven mad by –
"Spike!" Giles yelled. "Would you stop that infernal racket!"
"I'm bored!" Spike yelled back, somehow managing to whine at fifty decibels. "There's bugger all to do around here. I can't bloody wait 'til those stupid soldier boys run back to their base and leave honest creatures of the night to their business."
"Raping and pillaging?" Giles asked acidly.
"And murder, yeah." Giles pursed his lips and poked irritably at the bacon, listening to Spike rifling through his record collection. He winced at the sound of the vampire throwing rejected LPs to the floor.
"Spike, most of those are originals. If you damage the Soft Parade LP I'll throw you out and you can take your chances with the Initiative."
"It's not my fault you're a boring old fart." Spike paced over into the kitchen, standing right behind Giles as he stood at the stove, perhaps in some misguided hope of intimidating him. "Come on Ripper, I thought you'd have some dirty little secret stashed away. Handcuffs, or pictures of little boys, or lingerie – "
"Spike!" Giles snapped, spinning to face him and slapping the spatula against the counter in utter exasperation. "Would you stop – "
Giles actually stopped talking out of shock, trying to work out if he'd imagined it – the tiny shift back, the starburst of fear in blue eyes at the first sign of real anger from Giles. He looked at Spike, who was talking again now; saw the vampire tilting his chin arrogantly and shifting belligerently even as he drew his duster tighter around him, and smiled slowly. He hadn't imagined it.
It sent a unfamiliar, purely Ripper sort of warmth curling through Giles' belly to know Spike was afraid of him. He'd never have guessed; currently too used to being the polite, ineffectual, unemployed librarian who'd never been able to make Sunnydale High students return books on time, let alone compel his Slayer's obedience. But then Spike was helpless now, defenceless against him... Giles felt his cock give a shocking twitch at that thought. Spike himself, over a century old and full of dark power Giles himself had relinquished, was frightened by his anger.
Spike's voice, which Giles hadn't been paying the slightest bit of attention to, trailed off. Giles met his eyes, and saw that intoxicating flicker of fear again. His own slow smile was obviously recognised by a fellow predator aware that he was now prey. Spike shifted under Giles' eyes. The two men were standing close in the small kitchen, and Spike's transparent attempt at intimidating the human with his closeness had backfired completely.
"I'll leave you to it, then," Spike said, big blue eyes anxious, belying the amiable tone. "See you later, Watcher, I'm off."
He turned to leave the kitchen, and Giles' hand slapped down on the counter by Spike's left arm. His own arm was now between Spike and escape.
Spike looked slowly down at Giles' arm. Then he brought his head round to meet Giles' hazel eyes – eyes that a friend of Ripper's had once described as 'like enamel over stone; nice colour, but cool and hard'.
Giles' smile didn't waver at Spike's expression. "No," he said calmly. "I don't want you to leave, Spike."
He saw an unmistakable flash of something like panic in Spike's face. Still, the vampire didn't lose his composure: a century's worth of being the most powerful creature in the room but for Drusilla allowed him to keep his attitude. "Why should I care what you want, human?" he sneered.
"Because I can hurt you," Giles murmured. "You don't want me to hurt you, do you, Spike?"
The way Giles' voice lilted over the word 'hurt' obviously told Spike that now was the time to leave. He turned and shoved past Giles in one swift movement, heading for the door and past caring if the food saw him flee. But he hadn't reckoned on Giles' speed. Giles ran after him, grabbing a kitchen knife as he went; he caught Spike a yard from the front door and swung the knife. The vampire span and lashed out, sending the knife clattering to the floor and himself to his knees.
Giles stood and watched as Spike swore, clutching his head. "For such a long-lived creature you're really not very clever," he said, amused. "I'd have thought you'd have learnt not to do that by now; well, I would have if your mistakes weren't sadly predictable."
Spike looked up at him, and Giles was delighted to see the murderous fury as the vampire realised Giles had known exactly what he'd do. "Bloody Watchers," he said through clenched teeth. "Tricky bastards, all of you."
"Quite so," Giles agreed mildly, "and capable of the most shocking moral ambiguity."
Spike stood slowly; Giles smirked, enjoying the height advantage that made that particular manoeuvre rather less threatening than it might have been. "I killed a lot of you back in the day," he said in a tone that somehow suggested fangs, for all his face stayed human. "And I saw Darla and Angelus kill even more. I don't fear you, human."
Giles laughed lightly. "Rubbish. Of course you fear me. This insufferable arrogance of yours really must go, Spike. You're defenceless, and I am currently the only thing standing between you and death – or worse, capture by those blundering soldiers. I feed you, shelter you, protect you – I'm your de facto sire, Spike, and I can hurt you as he did." Giles thanked the Council for once in his life; he'd never have seen that look of mingled fury, fright and wariness if he hadn't known so much of the complicated relationship between Spike and Angelus.
"You're not my sire," Spike said through gritted teeth, gold flashing in his eyes. "Don't you fucking dare think you can claim that position. Dru's my sire. Angel's my sire, and you're just – "
"Angel doesn't care," Giles cut him off, enjoying the delicious crushed look for a few seconds before Spike hid it again. "Neither does Drusilla, even if she were sane. You have no one else."
Spike said nothing, and that told Giles more than words ever could. That old feeling of power moving over his skin like a cloak, those old sensations that belonged to a darker, more vibrant past, had Giles wanting to experience more power; to do things he hadn't committed for years; to have Spike ask for his mercy. He stepped back, giving the vampire his space, and said softly, "strip."
Spike looked at him with big eyes, beautiful in his fear. Giles enjoyed the sound of his thin, anxious breathing, and didn't move or speak. He waited, knowing Spike couldn't afford to leave the sanctuary of his home. They stared at each other; the moment was taut as spider's web, stretching on.
Then Spike dropped his eyes, and moved his hands to his top button.
Giles stood still and didn't move from his position while Spike stripped. He took off the duster first, leaving himself smaller and lacking, somehow, without the armour that was so much part of him. He kicked off his Docs and socks, then pulled off his shirt. Giles very carefully didn't react when he pulled his T-shirt off to expose his pale skin, the muscled form and pink nipples.
Spike paused, glancing up at him. Giles knew a lot about the power of silence, however, and simply raised an eyebrow at him. That had Spike flushing and unbuckling his belt. Blue eyes flashed at him as Giles watched the process, unashamed. Usually he'd have felt prurient, and looked away; but Spike wasn't human, after all, and he had to be taught that his body was due to Giles, as payment for his protection.
Then he was naked, standing in a pool of his duster and Docs, black, shielding material all lost. Giles smiled. "Good, Spike."
That got him a glare. "What're you gonna do now, poof?" Though Spike tried to sound threatening, the fright was clear. "What're you gonna say to your little Scoobies if they walk in now? Don't you think they'd be a bit shocked, like?"
"Perhaps," Giles said mildly. "But I'm not overly concerned. They can see you naked if they like, Spike."
Spike, unbelievably, blushed. "You can't let 'em see me," he whined, trying to hide his cock from view without Giles noticing his uncharacteristic modesty. "I'm not a bloody exhibit, Watcher, and anyway – "
Giles threw back his head and laughed. "That's exactly what you are, Spike. It's not like you're good for much else. Bend over the sofa now, will you, old chap? You've been very loud and irritating, and you need to be punished for it. Good vampires let their sires concentrate."
"Fuck you!" Spike retorted. "Jesus, I guess you do have a few dirty little secrets packed away! You're not letting out your frustrations on me, mate. I reckon your little Scooby kids would be real shocked to hear 'bout what their old man's been up to."
"Willow and Buffy would be, but you're much too good at reading people to think they'd believe you over me. As for Xander, he'd be pleased to hear you're being punished for your behaviour. Now, bend over the sofa."
"No!" Spike's expression showed his fear clearly, but he was just as clearly trying not to give in.
"Spike the longer you take, the longer it is until I'm finished with you. Buffy and Willow both have class, and make no mistake – if Xander comes over while you're being punished, I will not be embarrassed. I will be offering him a turn."
At that, the vampire gave in. He went to the sofa and folded his pale body over the back of it, leaving his arse exposed. He even spread his legs without being told; obviously well-trained.
Giles stood for a moment, just enjoying the sight. Spike – arrogant, vibrant, handsome, sneering creature that he was, sarcastic and superior – completely naked, bent over his sofa with his pale arse spread and his balls hanging vulnerably. The sight was utterly delicious, and even better for Spike's stiff shoulders and his attempt to hide his face in the cushions. He was humiliated, helpless, and Giles could do whatever he liked. He hugged that knowledge to himself. The vampire who had watched as Giles was tortured, now his – and wouldn't Angelus be furious if he knew?
Giles was self-aware enough to know that that was part of this. Spike was exasperating, and the urge to spank some submission into him was unsurprising for the Ripper parts of his psyche. But Giles didn't just want to hurt him for him. Spike belonged to Angelus; that pale, round arse with its smooth skin was practically tattooed with the bigger vampire's mark. Even if Angelus was currently smothered under the weight of the soul, even if Giles wouldn't ever be strong enough to have his revenge against the monster who'd destroyed him with grief and torture, Giles could lay claim to Spike; could steal something that rightfully belonged to Angel.
Giles decided to make sure he left bruises. No point in spanking a boy if he wasn't left... marked.
Now... what to spank him with? No hand-spanking to warm him up, he had to be taught to mind his manners, and –
The flash of the metal spatula caught Giles' eye, and he grinned.
He picked it up, and, catching Spike's quick, anxious glance, grinned. The look of embarrassed fury was perfect. Spike's flush at the realisation that he was going to spanked with a spatula, that wounded dignity, brought Giles a satisfying sense of conquest; of victory in more than just the physical sense over this manipulative vampire. He put his left hand on the cool, soft skin of the small of Spike's back, and brought the spatula down.
Spike squawked at the first smack, probably from pure shock at the sensation. Giles kept spanking him with it, watching the pale flesh turn white, then flush red under the blows. The implement might be satisfyingly ridiculous but it was also effective. The metal delivered stinging blows, and Spike was pressing his face further into the cushion now. Giles felt a shiver of pleasurable darkness as he wondered if the vampire was crying.
Giles smacked harder and harder, feeling his arm start to ache and his cock throb. He was determined to force out real sounds of pain, to make Spike admit that he'd hurt him. That misplaced arrogance was going to be broken down; he would have Spike wanting his mercy.
Small sounds started to emanate from the pale, naked creature; the muffled noises were like those of a badger or some other small animal in pain. Giles kept going, harder then harder still, feeling unable to stop as the power over the pretty little monster flooded him – then finally a cry tore from Spike's throat as though of its own volition. "Please – stop!"
He dropped the spatula with a clatter, breathing hard, arm aching with effort. Spike looked up hopefully, obviously hoping that might be the end of it.
His arrogance had made him attractive, but his vulnerability made him devastating. He looked almost unearthly, his pale naked body curling in on itself in pain, his round, touchable arse pink and hot. He was almost vibrating, tense with hope that he might be let go now, allowed to dress and left alone. Giles' whole body felt warm with arousal and the sense of his own authority.
Giles shook his head in amusement, as if at a foolish child, and brought his bare hand down on the vampire's arse with a violent smack.
Spike cried out. "What the hell!" he snarled, looking round at Giles with yellow eyes.
"You don't imagine I'd stop just because you wanted me to, do you Spike?" Giles said, his tone admonishing, as though speaking to a child. "You need to learn to do as you're told. Besides..." His eyes ran over Spike's cute little arse, and the heat in them belied his cool tone. "I rather feel I deserve to indulge myself with a bit of hand-spanking."
Spike shut his eyes, and turned his face away.
Giles began to spank him, warm hand coming down hard on the spread cheeks, covering them in red handprints. Spike was clenching now, each blow coming down on rock-hard cheeks. They still weren't as hard as Giles' cock as the sight before him. Spike had his face pressed into the sofa cushion, but Giles could see enough of it to notice the pink flush, the lower lip caught between blunt teeth as Spike tried not to cry out.
He brought his hand down again, on the sensitive spot where arse met thigh. Then he kept smacking, leaving Spike's white thighs a burning, painful red. Power rushed through him as he caught a small, pained sound from Spike, and then a sniffle.
Giles felt almost dizzy with the idea that he could make Spike cry. The rotten little bastard – one quarter of the Scourge of Europe, sired by the monster who'd tricked him and taught by the one who'd tortured him, could be made to cry by a spanking from a human. That shivering vulnerability must have been entrenched by Angelus. Giles smirked at the irony, and imagined fucking Spike in front of Angel to show what his training had led to – a Spike who could be spread and spanked and –
Spike cried out at the next spank, strangle voice clawing its way out of his throat. Giles kept going and the floodgates opened; Spike started to howl. Finally he looked up in one swift movement, and his eyes caught Giles'. His eyes were wet, and bluer than ever; he was beautiful in pain and Giles just wanted to rip at that beauty, that innocent, hurt look that overlaid the corruption of a vampire.
Spike's voice was wet, and rough with yelling when he spoke, in a small voice. "Giles, I'm sorry."
"Oh?" Giles said softly, ghosting a hand over Spike's bare back and arse, watching him shiver under it. His hand reached the soft lower curve of Spike's arse... he paused, then clenched his fingers, digging them into the hot, punished flesh.
At that, Spike broke. He howled with pain, kicking at the air like a child. "Get off! Get offgetoffgetoff! Let go you bastard! Owww! Please! Please, sire!"
At that, Giles let go. He stared, dumbfounded, as Spike looked round with red, teary eyes. The vampire looked utterly disorientated. Giles was suddenly sure that the cry hadn't been a trick – Spike had been so lost in the pain, he'd forgotten it wasn't being inflicted by Angelus this time.
Giles felt slightly sick at the idea that he'd been mistaken for Angelus. He knew what it was to be tortured by him, after all, and the pain –
Spike could have gotten out of what came next. Giles knew he would have let him go, after that; he seemed to have lost his desire to hurt. But he allowed his realisation of this to show on his face; the hurt eyes flickered with malicious amusement for a moment, and the tear-streaked, flushed face smirked.
Giles' eyes went cold again, and his lips pursed. He wasn't going to hurt Spike any more, but the spanking had left him with a raging hard-on and Spike could damn well take care of it. The vampire was going to learn to respect him, if no one else would.
It seemed to take a moment for the words to reach Spike; he lay limply for a few seconds. The shock of recent events seemed to have sapped the usual swift confidence from his movements, leaving him slow and stiff. But the lean muscles in his back tightened and he managed to lever himself away from the sofa, moving slowly to face Giles –
Revealing a drooling, reddened cock.
Giles' eyebrows rose as he looked at it. His face was calm, but he could see that very lack of reaction embarrassed Spike; his hands made a brief clutching movement, as though he wanted to hide his cock from Giles' eyes.
Giles smiled and stepped forward, running a dispassionate finger up Spike's cock. Spike's hips jerked forward and he made a soft sound, clearly unable to stop himself. He shut his eyes against Giles' cool, mocking look. Giles kept rubbing Spike's cock, watching the vampire fight to contain his unwilling arousal. He bit his lower lip through, but couldn't quite hold in a groan.
Giles stepped back, leaving Spike's cock straining. "You certainly are well-trained, aren't you, William?"
Spike's throat worked. "Yes," he finally got out.
"Why don't you show me what else Angelus taught you? Kneel."
The phrasing stiffened Spike's shoulders again, and he glared. "Shove off, Watcher."
Giles steeled his expression. "Let's have no more of this silliness, William; we both know you can't fight back. Why inconvenience both yourself and your new sire? I won't tell you again: kneel."
Spike obeyed, lowering himself to the floor before Giles. Giles pushed at his shoulder and he sat back with a quiet whimper as his burning arse hit his heels. Giles stood close, forcing Spike to crane his neck to look up at him; he fumbled with his fly, and when his cock was finally released it was close to Spike's face. Spike's face crumpled for a moment as he was confronted with his new task; he shut his eyes for a brief moment, shuddering, then leaned forward.
Tears were still dripping off Spike's chin as he opened his pink mouth for Giles' cock. Giles didn't know if they were from the spanking, and didn't care; they made him groan. He sunk his fingers into Spike's short hair, gripping his skull hard and driving forward into the cool mouth.
He fucked Spike's mouth, hard and ruthless, loving the feeling of being vital and forceful it gave him. Spike looked so young, an innocent boy's plush mouth being abused as he fucked it. His mouth was soft, and he sucked ardently; his tongue pressed against the slit and Giles' eyes rolled back in his head. His fingers clenched in Spike's hair, trying not to come too soon. He was suddenly sure that was what the vampire wanted and he thrust harder in punishment. Spike started to choke around his cock, and the sound sent him over the edge, shuddering in almost-forgotten ecstasy as Spike swallowed his come.
Giles stepped back, tucking himself away; he felt the old emotions recede slightly, before he looked at his vampire.
Spike looked up at him: beseeching blue eyes above that devil's mouth, and his cock so hard it was touching his stomach, red with blood and shiny with pre-come. He looked desperate, and beautiful.
Giles kicked out at him; lightly, with contempt. "Get dressed. I want you to research troglodyte demons."
Spike stared up at him as though he was God. At Giles' words, he shut his eyes despondently, but Giles saw the demon's rage.
Then Spike stood, and buttoned his jeans over his erection. He had to be sitting in place before the Scoobies got here.