Buffy The Vampire Slayer Fan Fiction ❯ Old Friends ❯ First Impressions ( Chapter 2 )

I still don't own anything.

And just to explain what I imagine and am using as Giles' living room since I don't really care enough to go study my Buffy DVDs: it has a love seat, couch, armchair, and two large bookshelves, with the armchair and love seat facing each other and the couch between them and facing the bookshelves.

Also, I went back through this and changed some, added more to the end.

 

Chapter #2: First Impressions

The next day, sometime in the late afternoon, Giles answered the call of his doorbell to find Buffy and Willow on his front steps.

“Buffy. Willow.” Giles stepped back as the two entered. “To what do I owe this surprise?”

Buffy tilted her head slightly with a small frown. “Didn't you get our message?”

“Ah, no, I didn't. I've actually just got in.” Closing the door, he motioned for them to continue on to the living room. “Would you like some tea? I just put a pot on.”

Shaking their heads, Buffy and Willow took a seat on the couch, eyes following Giles as disappeared into the kitchen. He stayed in there for a few moments, the sound of cabinets opening and closing floating out into the living room. Finally, he returned with a small cup of tea and took a seat on the nearby love seat.

“So, what can I do for you?”

Buffy shrugged. “We actually just came to visit.”

“You're not busy, are you?” Willow asked, looking up at him. “We can leave if you want.”

“Oh, no, no, it's perfectly alright.” Giles took a sip of his tea and then looked up at them with a small smile. “Though, I do get the feeling you have an ulterior motive.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “You make it sound so shady. We just want to get to know your nephew a bit, that's all.”

“Yeah,” Willow said with a nod, “Especially if he's going to be here for awhile.” Then, looking curious, she asked, “Is he? Going to be here awhile, I mean.”

“Yes, I imagine he will.” Giles sighed and took another sip of tea. “He's actually out searching for a job, at the moment.”

“A job?” Buffy echoed, a weird look on her face for some reason, and Giles nodded. “Huh.” Then, shaking this off, she asked, “What's his story, anyways? I mean showing up late at night, unexpected, and with, like, no baggage . . . ?” She trailed off with a significant look. “You know what that sounds like.”

“Yeah, and it didn't sound like you two had been all that close, either. You know, with you not seeing him for 10 years and all,” Willow added, then narrowed her eyes in accusation, “And why didn't you ever tell us you had brothers and sisters?”

“And what was with the `call me Spike' thing?” Buffy asked, “I mean, Spike?”

“I have to admit,” Giles said, “I was wondering about that myself.”

“What?” Buffy asked, clearly confused

“Well, wondering about why he showed up after so long and now calls himself Spike, anyhow. I can figure out the rest.”

There was a pause as Giles absently stirred his drink and stared into its dark brown depths until Buffy finally broke the silence with an expectant, “And?”

Giles looked up, slightly confused on her meaning after being lost in thought. “And?”

She gave an annoyed huff. “And that tells us absolute nothing. Spill already—what's his deal?”

“Oh,” Giles said, “oh yes. Well,” Settling in, Giles fell easily into story-teller mode. “William is actually the son of my older sister, Margaret. I only had the one, and she died years before I came here, so I wasn't necessarily keeping anything from you by not mentioning her,” a nod to the girls, before continuing, “She had been sickly for a good deal of time before her passing, and, to help, I would offer to watch over William whenever necessary,” here, Giles shook his head with a slight smile, lost in memory, “He'd always been such a shy and quiet child. Very polite. But, following Margaret's death, I'm told that William began to . . . act out a bit. I don't know how true the stories are, as I'd just gotten my job at The British Museum and gone off on my own, but from what I've heard, when he was around 14 he met this rather, ah . . . strange young girl living on the streets and began to grow more and more troublesome, skipping school, being rude, getting arrested and so on. Then, when he was 15, he just . . . disappeared. Left a note to say he was leaving, so we didn't think him dead, thankfully, but he was never found or heard from again.”

Buffy and Willow looked suitably shocked.

“And so he just turns up after all these years?” Willow asked.

“Yes.”

Buffy leaned forward, face serious. “And how do you even know it's really him? He could be a . . .a . . .” She waved a hand in the air, searching for a word, “a psycho murderer or something.”

Giles gave her a disapproving look. “Really Buffy. A psycho murderer?”

Buffy stood by her thought. “It could happen.”

“Oh!” Willow perked up. “Or maybe he's an imposter that's taken on your nephew's name to, you know, scam you out of lots of money.”

Buffy gave Willow a weird look. “And you sound way too excited about that.”

“I just . . .” Willow blushed, settling back into her seat. “Well, it was just an idea.”

Ignoring this by-play, Giles shook his head. “Ah, well you don't have to worry; it's him. The memory is . . . is somewhat faint, I admit, but I do remember what William looked like. I just couldn't see the - the resemblance at first. He has grown quite a bit since I'd last seen him. And, of course, there is that hair . . .” He shrugged. “Besides, I can't imagine anyone knowing about his disappearance—as my family is quite well-known, they, understandably, didn't want the - the shame that a runaway would bring if it was made, well, public knowledge. So, I would say that safely rules out both imposters and, ah, psycho murderers.”

“Well okay.” Buffy sat back. “But just because he's the real deal doesn't mean that he's not still a possible sicko. I mean, you don't know him at all. Plus, being a runaway and calling himself Spike?”—significant look at Giles—“Doesn't exactly scream nice.”

Giles didn't seem very pleased by this opinion of his nephew and Willow turned to Buffy with a frown, about to admonish her for judging others before she actually knew them, when a mocking British voice spoke up from behind.

“Ah, now that's not nice, talkin' `bout me behind my back like that.” Casually strolling into the room, Spike dropped himself into the armchair and smirked at Buffy. “Gentle as a kitten, I am.”

“Yeah, right,” Buffy scoffed, giving him a look, “Why do I somehow doubt that?”

“Well, I dunno, luv,” Spike said, his voice deceptively mild, “Maybe yer just a paranoid bitch.”

“Or maybe,” Buffy started, her voice sugar sweet, but was then interrupted.

“Buffy! William! Do at least try and behave yourselves.”

Buffy crossed her arms irritably; making a sound of disgust and giving Giles a dirty look, but still went quiet.

Spike, though, was not one to be angry and stay silent. “Oi! I'm no bloody mutt,” he snapped, leaning forward to make sure Giles understood his next words, “An' th' name's Spike.”

“Yes, yes, of course. Forgive me.” Giles, setting his cup of tea on the small coffee table in front of him, was obviously not listening. Sitting back, he turned to his nephew and changed the subject. “How did the search go?”

Spike snorted and leaned back, deciding to let the matter drop for the moment. “Bloody `orrible. There ain't a goddamn shit job in this `ole bloody burg.”

Giles closed his eyes and prayed. “Must you speak like that?”

“Like wot?” Spike smirked, obviously knowing quite well what Giles meant.

Giles opened his eyes to look at Spike in disapproval. “Like an uneducated miscreant.”

Seeing Spike open his mouth, and guessing that whatever he meant to say would only prolong this new argument, Willow cut in, saying, “Well, if you're having trouble finding a job, you should ask Xander. He has a whole bunch of connections around town.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “And a whole bunch of experience.”

“Buffy . . .” Willow gave her a disappointed look. “It's not Xander's fault. He just . . .”

“Has the worst luck in the history of bad luck in everything he ever does?” Buffy finished for her.

“No he doesn't!” Willow said, defending her friend.

Buffy and Giles just looked at her.

“Well, okay, he does,” Willow allowed, “But it's not his fault. And, hey, before you get fired from a job, you have to be hired. And he got hired a lot.” She smiled proudly. “So that's good.”

Spike tilted his head at Willow, slightly interested. “An' jus' where would I find this Xander?”

“You met him last night, remember?” Buffy asked, turning to Spike with an amused look. “He made a little speech about your manliness?” The look accompanying this making it clear just what she thought of said “manliness”.

Spike easily ignored this, focusing on the more important bits. “Th' dark-haired bloke?

Willow nodded, making an affirmative noise.

“An' `e could get me a job?”

“He couldn't hurt.” At least, she thought he couldn't.

“Right.” Spike nodded, quickly reaching out to snatch a napkin from the coffee table. Then, leaning back, he scrimmaged around in his duster pockets for a moment—Willow absently wondered why he was still wearing it in this heat—and pulled out a pen. “This Xander got a number?” Napkin balanced on his arm and pen poised.

Here, Willow looked hesitant. “We-well, yeah, he does, but . . .”

“But . . . ?” Spike looked up from the napkin, raising a brow.

“I . . . I don't think he'd really like me to give it to you . . .”

“Wot? Why not?” Spike allowed the pen and napkin to drop into his lap as he sat up a little straighter, a little offended.

“Oh no, I don't mean that in a mean way. I just . . . It's just that we don't really know you very well yet,” Willow said, hurrying to add, “Not that we think you're gonna use it to stalk him or anything. But-but you know?”

Spike sniffed and leaned back in his chair again. “Well, yer not gonna get t' know anyone with that attitude.”

“Besides, he's supposed to be coming over today. Well, maybe not over as in over, `cuz I don't live here, but I called him last night and he said he was probably gonna be here today, so he should be here sooner or later, and then you won't really need to call him anymore, anyways.”

Spike gave a disinterested shrug, looking away.

And seeing this, Willow bit her lip worriedly. This whole thing was just going so wrong. When she and Buffy had planned this, she'd only wanted to be friendly, get to know Giles' nephew, and to just generally have fun. But now, after only 5 minutes, she'd insulted the nephew, made him think Xander was a phone-number-hoarding anti-social weirdo, and Buffy was already on her way to making yet another enemy.

“Now William,” Giles gave Spike a disapproving look. “I'm sure—

“Jus' 'ow many times do I 'ave t' bloody' tell you?” Spike interrupted, glaring at Giles yet again. “It's Spike now.”

“Yes. So you've said,” Giles nodded, obviously trying to stay civil in the face of his nephew's rude behavior, “What I don't quite understand is why.”

“Y' goin' deaf in yer old age, are y', Unc?” the smirk on Spike's face a nasty thing, “I told y' jus' las' night, now, didn' I?”

And now, on top of all that other badness, Giles and his nephew were fighting.

“Yes. And I remember it quite clearly.” Giles' voice tightening, “But then I find myself wondering about the line of reasoning behind that particular choice. You'll understand if the name Spike does not inspire the utmost confidence.”

Spike's eyes narrowed. “An' I thought I told y' I wasn' doin' anythin' bad.”

“Yes, well, your behavior so far has not—”

“Oh, wot, now I'm supposed t' be some sort of - of,” Spike made an angry gesture, searching for the word, “of choir-boy or sumthin'?”

Giles was unimpressed. “You are supposed to be able to refrain from being an insulting—”

“An' I would if they didn'—

“—who could speak like a proper, if not intelligent—”

“Oi! Y' callin' me a moron?”

Frantic, Willow looked back and forth between both men, wanting to put an end to their fighting but unsure how. She found no help turning to Buffy, who was watching the proceedings and obviously loving it. Then the doorbell rang and Willow almost sighed in relief even as the two British men kept right on going.

That was probably Xander. Maybe now they could get back to the nice, safe, topic of a new job.

Jumping up, Willow quickly walked over to open the door, thankfully finding that Xander was, indeed, behind it.

“Xander!” Willow smiled. “What took you so long?”

“Uh . . .” Xander gave a sheepish smile, reaching up to scratch the back of his head self-consciously as he stepped inside and allowed her to shut the door behind him. “I didn't think I was that late.” Looking at the clock he noticed that it was barely past 4:30. “Unless someone's been messing with those gosh-darn laws of reality again and being early is now the new late and everyone just forgot to tell me, `cuz that would actually explain a lot.”

Willow just gave him a slightly too wide smile, turning to lead the way back into the living room.

“—not raised to be a slob.”

“Raised? Wot, y' goin' senile too? I—” Spike abruptly stopped as Xander and Willow entered the room, turning to eye the new arrival.

Taking quick note of the obvious tension in the air, Xander made his uneasy way through the room to sit next to Giles on the two-person love seat. From this position, he was treated to an especially good view of Buffy's evilly amused expression and Giles' nephew, who was blatantly ignoring his uncle's look of extreme disapproval to watch Xander.

“Um . . . “ Curious as to what he'd done to become the object of that disinterested gaze, Xander shifted in his seat, smiled uncomfortably, and gave a little wave. “Hi?”

The guy nodded at him, expression unchanging. “So, yer th' bloke with th' stalker phobia, huh?”

Xander looked confused. “Huh?”

Willow looked a bit embarrassed.

Spike continued. “Heard you were th' one t' talk to `bout gettin' a job around `ere.”

“A - a job? Did you just say job?” Xander's eyes grew wide in surprised incredulity, “Wait - wait, a job? An actual job? You want me to get you a job? Me?” By this point, Xander wasn't really asking anyone, just working himself up to a shock/confusion-induced babble. But, before he could really get going, Spike answered anyways.

“I don' want you t' get me anything. Red, `ere, said y' knew a bunch a people that could be hiring. Thought y' could put in a word or sumthin'.”

Xander blinked, still confused about why anybody would ask him for help. It was a totally new experience. Especially for something like this. “For a job?”

“Yes, you idiot,” supremely irritated, Spike glared at him, “A job. Me. You. Not that difficult.”

“Well, if you're just gonna call me names, then I don't think I wanna help you,” tiny bit of a mock-whine in Xander's voice as he turned away.

Spike made a frustrated you-people-are-fucking-impossible-type sound, looking ready to just give up and leave. He didn't need their help that badly.

“Xander,” Willow chided softly, still trying to avoid giving Spike a horrible first impression of them all, “I'm sure Spike didn't really mean to call you stupid.”

A muttered, “Yes, I did,” from the armchair.

She ignored him. “He's just a little frustrated right now because he can't find anyplace hiring.”

Xander sighed. “Well, yeah Wills, and, hey, not like I`ve never been called an idiot before—”

“Could call y' sumthin' worse, if y'd like.”

“—but I still can't help him. For one thing, I can't just recommend every guy I meet, `cuz, then, if he sucks I'll get the blame. Giles' family aside, for all I know him he could be anything from an ax murderer to obsessive accountant to undercover diva.”

Off to the side, Buffy giggled, “I vote that last one,” and Spike looked at her in disgust.

“And for another,” Xander continued, ignoring the by-play, “I currently have no boss to give a word to.”

“Oh, Xander,” immediately sympathetic, Willow reached across to touch his arm, “You got fired again?”

A somewhat glum, “Yeah.”

“And this one was going so well, too.”

“I know,” Xander said mournfully and slumped further into his seat.

“Is that why you got here so early?” Willow asked.

Xander nodded, “That and I wanted to ask Ahn something,” looking absently around the room, “I thought she'd be here by now.”

“Oh, no,” Giles said, “She's still at The Magic Box, I'm afraid. There was a mistake with the inventory and she insisted on handling the mess herself.”

This sounding possibly interesting, Spike tilted his head and asked, “The Magic Box?”

“Er, yes,” sounding almost uncomfortable there, Giles looked over at Spike, unsure of his reaction, “it's this little shop I just recently bought.”

“It's actually really neat,” Willow told Spike enthusiastically, latching onto the new subject, “It was always a bit on the cheesy side before, with the old owner buying into the whole commercialization of magic, but Giles is trying to fix that. Tara and I go to it all the time for supplies. I actually just bought one of the new books, and there's this one spell—

“Magic?” Spike interrupted, giving Giles an odd look, “I thought y'd stopped with that.”

“I- you,” Giles' eyes went wide in shock, “You know about that?”

Willow and Xander shared a look as Buffy watched in confusion. They hadn't seen Giles that shocked for a while. Some juicy family secret, maybe? They were always open for some juice on Giles.

“Course, I do.”

“What?” Buffy jumped in, “Know about what?”

“But - but how . . . ? You couldn't possibly remember, and-and I'm quite positive that no one would ever actually tell you.”

“What're you guys talking about?” Buffy asked, “Giles?”

“Well, I do. So tell me,” Spike said, beginning to give the others strange looks as well, assessing and almost disturbed looks, “This lot yer new demon-cult? `Cos I can't say that any of y' really look the part. An' from wot I've `eard about those cults?” eyes returning to his uncle, “It's a bit jail-bait, innit?”