Work Text:
Still Bitching About Stuff
by Ragna
writinggoddess@aol.com
"You know the butter melts out of habit,
You know the toast isn't even warm."
- from "Out of Habit" by Ani Difranco
He was gone. Giles was rather far away from Sunnydale, far away from his Slayer, her friends...and the nuisance that was me.
And so he left. Except he didn't tell me where he was going. Of course, he'd been avoiding me since the Bay City Rollers incident, which was understandable. I think Giles was so deep into the closet that not much would bring him out.
Yes, while I may swing both ways, I'm almost positive Giles swings towards the masculine sex. At least, I'm betting on it. Counting on it, really.
Now I just have to find the bugger...
***
It only took a few phone calls. While Angel may not have been much help, the new hire of his, the former Watcher who I also heard had made Giles' life miserable, had let it slip that Giles was in England again. Might as well visit the mother country and have this all done with...
***
I'm rather very good at spying and sneaking and whatnot. Good at stalking, if you want to label it that, but I'd rather not. "Stalking" has such a bad taste to it...let's call it "hunting the prey." No, how about "following the vic--."
Forget it. Stalking it is.
I think only Buffy realized how single-handedly obsessed I was getting over this. Imagine that, Slayer and foe bonding over the fact I've got a school girl's crush on her Watcher. Go figure. Life's funny like that sometimes.
I could see him pacing in his room. He had his own place, didn't doubt that for a moment, just getting to it was a bitch, though, because there was more green shrubbery with pointed leaves there than a thin-skinned vampire would want. Bloody hell, it was worse than the torture session The Immortal put Angel and I through...
Enough of that. When I finally did make it to the window, he was doing this: sit at his desk, get up, pace, talk to himself, sit back down at his desk, write something, repeat.
And he *was* playing Bay City Rollers in the background. Lying ponce.
Have I mentioned something? Ivy looks beautiful on a trellis but it's damn hard to hold on to when you want to peer through someone's window. When I landed with a thud on the ground below the windows flew open.
"Bloody hell, Spike."
"Thought you were more of a Stones man."
"How did you find me?"
"Wesley."
Giles shook his head and half-glared at me. "Well, get up."
"Why? Wouldn't you rather the morning sun hit me in the chest and I go 'kaboom'?"
"I would. Buffy would skin me alive." He gestured to the door three feet away from me. "In. Now."
***
I kept rubbing my head. Damn if a fall like that won't knock something loose.
"What are you writing?"
"Something."
"Really? Something what?"
"Something I don't want to share."
I shrugged. "Look, Rupert."
"Giles."
"Pardon?"
"Giles. I don't like people I don't like calling me Rupert."
I shrugged again. Shrugging so much was making my head hurt even more. "Fine. Giles. Point is, I was serious back in Sunnyhell."
"I gathered that much."
"And I came to tell you, once and for all--" Giles handed me the letter and I skimmed through it. "My name's not Olivia, mate."
"But my girlfriend's is. I doubt she'd want to see me when I broke the news to her. I figured I'd write a letter."
"Oh," I said, and then as I went back and actually *read* the letter, I said, "Oooh."
"So, Spike. You were right. I'm a ponce. I'm not straight. I'm gay. Happy now?"
"So why leave Sunnydale?"
"Do you really think I wanted them all to know?"
I just crooked my eyebrow and gave him the patented look. "It's California, mate. Do you think they'll *care*?"
"Good point."
"And, not that I'm not happy because now I can chase after you all I want, but why are you telling me?"
"The Bay City Rollers incident was rather amusing and lead me to have some interesting thoughts."
"Just how interesting?"
"Give me some time to warm up to the idea of being with a vampire and I'll show you."
end