Buffy The Vampire Slayer Fan Fiction ❯ Old Friends ❯ The Doorbell ( Chapter 1 )

Title: Old Friends

Warnings: All Human AU, slash, mentions and memories of abuse, violence, illness, and sexual situations.

Pairings: Spike/Xander, Buffy/Angel, Willow/Tara, Angel/Spike/Dru

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

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Chapter #1: The Doorbell

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If Willow could name her favorite time of the week, she would have to say Sunday afternoons.

Cuddling with her girlfriend on Giles' comfy couch, Xander laughing at Buffy and her evermore problems with men, watching Giles sputter and blush at some inappropriate comment of Anya's, and eating cookies as music played softly in the background. It was as close to perfect and a home as she had ever been.

She and Xander had been best-friends since kindergarten, meeting Buffy and Giles in their sophomore year of high school. Willow had always been a geek, loving books and learning new things, so she had always spent a good deal of time in the school library, dragging Xander along with her. Sophomore year, Buffy transferred to Sunnydale High from Los Angeles and Mr. Giles was hired to replace the previous librarian, who had retired. Originally coming to Willow for study help, Buffy became fast friends with both Willow and Xander. And, as the three teenagers had taken to having their study sessions in the library, they had all quickly grown to like Mr. Giles. Eventually, it simply became habit to meet in the library, and to, at times, stay there hours after school's end doing homework, hanging out, and avoiding home.

When high school had ended, Willow had been devastated at the thought that her friendships with these people would be over. That she and Buffy would go to college and drift apart, that Xander would become too busy with work and the real world, and that Giles would simply grow tired of them and leave. Without the library none of them would have any reason to stay close.

But then everything began to happen.

Giles, having lost his job in the school bombing, opened The Magic Box and then went through a mid-life crisis. Buffy floundered in college, and then met and was used by that bastard Parker Abrahams. Xander continued to lose job after job and found himself unable to move out of his parent's house. Oz, Willow's boyfriend of two years, left her to travel around the country with his band, and then she met Tara and started the fight with her bisexuality.

They had needed each other and so, thankfully, the small group of friends had been kept together.

They had lost two members, Oz and Xander's ex-girlfriend Cordelia, but they had also gained two more, Tara and Anya. And Willow privately thought that Anya, with her blunt attitude and greedy ways, was a major improvement on Cordelia.

It soon became a habit, a ritual, to meet in Giles' living room every Sunday afternoon under the pretense of coming for tea and cookies. This way, even with everyone's busy and conflicting schedules, they could see each other once a week. And the meetings, many times lasting long into the night, had proved to be a chance to unwind and emotionally prepare for the next week.

Having grabbed yet another cookie from the tray on the coffee table, Buffy looked up at Giles as she settled back into her seat on the couch. “Do you think we can change the music to something with a little more, you know, music?”

Giles looked up from his embarrassed cleaning of his glasses, having been trying to stop Anya from asking him advice on her sex life. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with my music. And you are not playing that-that noise in my home.”

“Oh come on G-man.” Xander said as he yawned and stretched in the reclining chair, “I'm falling asleep here. I need some of that loud meaningless noise to wake me up.”

“Yes, but your definition of loud and mine have proven to be very different. I happen to enjoy being able to hear.”

Xander waved a hand dismissively, “Ah, hearing's over-rated. People can survive perfectly well with—

The door bell rang briefly.

—charades . . .”

The doorbell rang again and Xander turned to frown in the general direction of the door. “Since when does Giles have visitors?”

Buffy copied his actions, frowning and turning in her seat to look behind her at the door. “Yeah and isn't it kinda late?”

“Were you expecting someone?” Willow asked Giles.

“Not that I'm aware of,” Giles put his glasses back on and stood to move for the door, which he opened with caution. Despite what anyone may say, Sunnydale wasn't the safest town, what with the gang members and violent animals that would wander in from the nearby forest.

Finding only an obviously exhausted young man with bleached-blond hair looking off to the side, a tattered duffel-bag at his feet, Giles frowned. “Yes?”

Snapping his head around, the young man looked at him with something like doubt. “Y' wouldn't happen t' be Rupert Giles would you?” He sounded British and as though he really didn't expect him to have a positive reply.

“Er, yes. Yes I am.”

“Really?” The tired face seemed to brighten momentarily only to quickly dim as he seemed to grow self-conscious. Shifting uncomfortably, he looked down at his dirty boots. “Er, y' prob'ly don' recognize me.”

“No . . .” Giles examined the young man. There was something familiar about that face but . . . “No, I can't say that I do.”

“Yeah . . .” There was an uncomfortable pause, broken as the guy sighed, “The name's William Mathers.”

“Mathers?” Giles' eyes widened and he took a second, closer, look at the young man. “William? I, well, I . . . I'll . .” Flustered, he stepped to the side and gestured for the other to come in. “Come in, come in, please.”

Stepping inside, William followed Giles into the living room, where the others had been watching. Looking somewhat surprised at the presence of this audience, his earlier self-consciousness seemed to grow.

“Please sit, sit. Would you care for a cup of tea? Biscuits?”

Sitting down next to Buffy on the couch, William looked uneasily around the room. “Er, yeah. Um,” he looked up at Giles, “Y' wouldn't `appen to `ave any whisky would you?”

At this Giles paused, “Well, yes but . . .”

“Cos I could really use some o' that.”

Giles still looked uncertain, but left to fulfill the request nevertheless, quickly returning with a bottle and small drinking glass.

“Hey, can I have some whiskey too?”

“No Xander.” Giles said, returning to his seat next to Anya. William ignored the glass, taking a long swing from the bottle.

“But he got some.”

“He is also of the legal age.” Still looking somewhat flustered, but calming down, Giles turned to look at William. “You should be . . . 23, right?”

“22”

“22. Yes. I . . .” Giles shook his head in disbelief. “It's been such a long time. It must be over a decade since I've last seen you. And I must say, you've, well. . . .” His eyes swept over the platinum blonde hair, the leather, and the altogether worn-down and somewhat ragged appearance. “You've changed quite a bit.”

Taking another swing of whiskey before answering, William just nodded his head and sat back further in his seat. “Yeah. Most blokes do when they go through puberty.” He was obviously becoming much more comfortable with the entire situation, his unease and self-consciousness seemingly almost completely gone.

“Er, yes.” Giles didn't seem to know quite what to say to that. “They do.”

And sensing a pause in the conversation, Anya cut in, “Who are you anyways? And how do you know Giles? You aren't here to take him away, are you? Because I heard that a bunch of you British people wanted to take him away last year. They said they were his family and you sound as if you might be family. And I won't let you take him away from me before he pays me my salary for the year.”

William arched a brow.

Giles coughed. “Er, yes. Thank you, Anya.” Turning toward the others, he said, “This is my nephew William,” and gesturing at each in turn, “William, this is Willow, Tara, Buffy, Xander, and, ah, Anya.”

William raised the bottle of whiskey as if to toast, saying “Call me Spike.”

“Spike?” Buffy asked.

“Yeah?”

“You mean, like the dog?”

“Actually, like th' railroad spike.” Then, voice slow and condescending, “A type of nail.”

Buffy looked somewhat confused. “Why would you want to be called a nail?”

“Yes, I'd quite like to know that as well.” Giles looked curious and somewhat worried. It wasn't the nicest sounding nickname around.

“Don' like th' name William,” Spike answered easily, not actually answering the question.

Xander nodded his head in agreement, “Yeah, I could definitely see that. William's one of those fancy, boring names that make you sound like a sissy.” Then he seemed to remember that a guy named William, a rather tough looking guy named William, was actually still in the room. “Um, not that I think you're a sissy or anything. You're obviously very tough and manly and totally un-sissylike. There is nothing even remotely resembling something that could be mistaken as something seen as vaguely sissy from about ten feet away by a guy who really can't see well so he's probably seeing something that isn't even there, and who thinks that a woman looks like one of those macho body-builders because he's from Germany or Switzerland and grew up surrounded by very manly women with lots of hair on their faces, which I now see you don't have and that's not a bad thing, it just makes you that much more macho, and I think I'll just shut up now.” Xander suddenly became very interested with a thread from his chair.

Spike just stared at him for a long moment before nodding, “Right. I think I'll jus' let that pass, then.”

“Yes, quite.” Giles took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “And I think it's about time that you all went home. It's getting rather late and I believe that me and, er, Spike, have quite a bit of catching up to do.”

“Yeah, we probably should,” Willow nodded as she untangled herself from Tara and got to her feet, “I wanted to re-read the Psych. reading for tomorrow. And I know Buffy hasn't even read it yet.”

Buffy protested with a groan of, “But I don't wanna,” but still joined Willow and Tara in saying their good-byes and starting the walk back to the college dorms. Xander slowly climbed out of the comfortable chair without protest, stretching as he got to his feet.

Anya, though, was making absolutely no move to leave. Getting up, she stood determined in front of Giles, saying, “I'm not sure we should leave you alone with him. People who want to be called names like Spike just aren't trustworthy. And he's got shifty, beady little eyes, and he never did say that he wasn't going to try and take you away before you gave me my money.”

Giles looked at her with long suffering tolerance as he put his glasses back on. “Thank you for your concern, Anya, but I'll be fine. I'll see you in the shop tomorrow.”

“Fine. Xander, you'll walk me home.”

“I will?” Xander looked up from where he had been stealing the last of the cookies. “Oh, er, yeah, I will.” Anya walked quickly out the door, and Xander grabbed one more cookie before moving to catch up. “Bye Giles. Bye, uh, Spike.”

Closing the door behind Xander, Giles turned to look at Spike for a long moment, not quite sure on how he had meant to start the conversation now that all of the others were gone. So, stalling for some time, he went back into the kitchen to pour himself another cup of tea, returning a few moments later and taking a seat directly across from his visitor.

And for a while nothing happened, the two sitting in expectant silence. Giles absently stirred his tea as he thought and Spike slowly drank his whiskey and relaxed on the couch, more than thankful for the chance to sit down somewhere comfortable and warm. Giles took a sip and Spike leaned back and closed his eyes.

Finally, eyes not moving from the depths of his drink, Giles found the words and spoke. “Not that I'm not pleased to see you, but you haven't had any contact with the family since you were 15. . .”

Spike kept his eyes closed, not moving from his relaxed position. “Yeah. Runnin' away from `ome does seem to `ave that sort o' effect.”

Giles gave Spike a mild look of disapproval, which was, of course, completely lost on his guest. “What I mean is: why now? What could possibly make you break almost ten years of silence?”

This seemed to wake the other up. Opening his eyes and sitting up straighter, Spike looked at Giles seriously. “I'm not breakin' it. I'm not goin' back. I jus' . . .” He cut himself off, looking away and taking another swig of whiskey. “That's why I came to you. You didn' agree with them either. I was thinkin' you wouldn't tell.”

“No,” Giles shook his head and took another sip of his tea. “No I won't. Not if I don't think I need to.”

At this, Spike turned back to face him. “You wouldn't.”

Giles regarded him seriously. “I will if I think whatever it is you need is going to cause any harm.”

Spike looked angry at the insinuations of that comment, “Wot do y' think I am? It won't.”

“It's just that I remember how you were starting to act right before you left.”

“Y' weren't even there,” shades of accusation that Giles carefully ignored.

“I didn't have to be,” Giles said mildly, “Mother was always more than willing to catch me up on the family gossip.”

Unable to argue this, Spike grit his teeth. “This is different.”

“Really? Then what is it?”

“I . . . ” abruptly running out of steam, Spike shifted in his seat and looked down uncomfortably as he mumbled, “I jus' need a place t' stay fer a bit.”

“Why?”

“Need t' make some money, now don't I?” Spike shifted in his seat again, avoiding Giles's eyes. Which was slightly suspicious.

“William,” Giles pressed more insistently, “Why?”

“Look, it's nuthin' bad, alright?” sick of the questions, Spike looked up at him in defiance, “Yer jus' goin' t' have t' trust me on that.”

And Giles did want to trust him. But it was starting to sound as though Spike was running from something and Giles didn't want to get involved with anything shady. Not answering, Giles took another sip of his tea and frowned, thinking seriously about the issue. He wanted to help. He did. But could he?

Spike didn't look any happier at Giles' seeming hesitance. “I seem t' remember y' tellin' me that th' offer of help was always open.”

Which was true, Giles conceded. He put his cup down on the table before looking up again. “And you can promise me that whatever this is isn't going to bring any trouble?”

Spike nodded sharply. “Yeah.”

Giles considered this. Finally deciding, “Alright then. You can stay in the guest bedroom.”

Spike almost looked relieved. “Thanks”