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prose-for-hire · 1 day

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Should I stay or should I go? (Part one)

Spike x Giles!reader

Part one of four! Be kind please💖

Warning: reader drinks, difficult relationship with parents, especially dad!Giles, reader loses their home.

You had moved to Sunnydale a few years prior with your father, he had tried desperately to train you up as a watcher but you never listened, you hated following orders and ultimately, you failed your observation when the watcher’s council came into town to check on your progress.

It bored you and for the 48 hours that you had been in charge of Buffy, you had all gone to the Bronze and let an apocalyptic rift open in the heart of the town when you failed to investigate or do any meaningful research. In your defence, it was a very minor and basically harmless apocalypse. Well, it was after Angel contacted your father when he couldn’t get hold of you or Buffy and he came back into town.

You hated dusty research and telling people what they ought to be doing. You hated the weird pressure your father put on you to become a watcher just like him and sometimes, you even hated Buffy because of the way your father doted on her so. She could do no wrong, even when he was mad at her or telling her what to do he gave her a much easier time than he ever had with you.

You were a disappointment. You could see that clearly enough.

You stayed in Sunnydale though, for reasons unknown to yourself. You just didn’t have anywhere else to go. Nothing excited you, it seemed.

You had moved back in with your father after you couldn’t make rent. You had let another crappy job throw you out the door. You just couldn’t stick to their stupid pointless rules. They made no sense and they paid you next to nothing at that.

You were sitting on the lid of the toilet as Buffy fed your newest houseguest blood from a novelty mug.

“Willow may have had a very helpful idea. She seems to be coping better with Oz’s departure, don’t you think?” Giles asked walking back into the bathroom, directing his words at Buffy rather than the rest of the room as he walked in. It was like you didn’t exist most of the time.

“Well, she still has a way to go but, yeah, I think she’s dealing”

“What, are you people blind? She’s hanging on by a thread” Spike stated, muttering to himself after and rolling his eyes. Buffy just scoffed and left the room, taking the blood he had been drinking away with her as your Dad followed her out.

You had just been about to say something similar, but in a perhaps more conversational format rather than accusatory.

“You’re quite astute really, aren’t you” You said, scanning Spike’s face. He used to creep you out a bit back when he was trying to kill you and all that. Not that you would admit it.

You had never really studied him this closely before. But looking at him now, he just looked so normal. Apart from the shackles and the almost painfully pale complexion… and the fact he had blood crusting at the corners of his mouth.

“It’s no talent, pet, a man walkin’ in from the street could read the lot of you like a book”

“I like to think I’m not that predictable”

“Don’t you all. Humans, you’re always thinking you’re so original, but you’re all a copy of the last”

“I guess when you’ve been around a thousand years everything gets sort of old… apart from the, uh, obvious” you sort of gestured vaguely at his face, a little glint in your eye as you teased him.

“Watch it” He warned, his shackles clinking against the tub as he pointed to accentuate his words. You waited for a moment in silence, watching the tap slowly drip beads of water into the cool porcelain. You waited about seven drips before you spoke again.

“Don’t you get bored? I get bored of the days here sometimes, it’s always a demon or a spell or some dumb melodrama with Dad’s little protegees”

You were surprised at the way this admittance casually tumbled from your own mouth. You weren’t sure why you were speaking to him like this, perhaps you were seeking some kind of connection. It was very you to try in such a stupid place.

“No” he shrugged turning away from you and staring up at the ceiling.

“Come on, I’m trying to open up here”

“Well close back up again” He shrugged, his eyes still fixed upwards. You shrugged, standing and leaving him in his bathtub. You hoped boredom consumed him for the rest of the day.

You left for a bar and returned late at night, having missed another eventful Sunnydale evening. By the morning when it had all calmed down, Willow had showed up to apologise again to Giles and caught you brewing your morning beverage.

She explained animatedly about your father going blind, Buffy and Spike getting engaged and Xander being a demon magnet. You tried very hard to focus on her words and gasp in the correct places whilst your head spun and you gripped the handle of your mug.

Willow was your favourite out of the Scoobies, she was a sweet kid and you made the most effort with her as you got the sense she knew what not being listened to felt like. You were glad you had missed the evening’s events, not that sitting alone at a bar and nursing a drink was much more interesting.

A few weeks later, Spike had been allowed to roam more freely by this point and he was lying on the sofa in your living room. You had a snack in your mouth and had carried a steaming mug of blood in one hand and a box of Weetabix in the other.

You gestured with your head for him to move his legs and he just stared at you for a moment before moving and snatching the mug and the box from your hands. You settled in beside him in front of an episode of Passions, trying, once again to speak to him but he was cold with you. Not even a thank you for the blood. I mean, he was evil, but did he have to keep it up all of the time?

You had tried talking to him, asking him questions about his past but he only really gave short sentences in reply. Today you were unceremoniously told to shut up so that he could watch Passions in peace.

You huffed but stayed beside him, weirdly drawn in by the stupid show. You missed his eyes lingering on you briefly as you glued your eyes to the set.

Truth was, Spike had a little soft spot for you. One that had grown even slightly since he had become a hostage in the same house you lived in. He tried to keep a distance from you, not directly look you in the eye as if you were some kind of love-inducing gorgon that would turn his resolve into a stone that could so easily crumble.

But he wouldn’t give anything away.

By the time Spike left, you were relieved that you could use your bathroom in peace. You knew trying to talk to him had been a waste of time but he interested you and, more to the point, you had found yourself being incredibly lonely.

You had been distracted lately, trapped inside your mind. You felt like you were missing something. So much so you had maybe accidentally skipped a couple of shifts at your new job. You had been sneaking back into your house when Giles caught you. You winced at his voice, knowing you would have to fess up.

“Shouldn’t you be at the Magic Box?”

“Oh, right, about that…” You began, unsure how to explain what had happened the day before. You had been avoiding your Dad ever since. You didn’t have to say anything, he already knew.

“You really are a bloody-”

“A what? Go on, say it!”

“A liability” He stormed over and poured himself a whiskey.

“It’s not exactly surprising is it, being told I couldn’t even visit my mother, left only with a man like you as a father, hey Ripper?” You don’t know why you said it. Truly, he wasn’t a terrible father. He was just bad at hiding his disappointment which made you feel, in a word, terrible about yourself.

He went very quiet for a moment. The temperature seemed to drop before he finally spoke again.

“I suggest you leave”

“What-?”

“Pack up your things and leave” he repeated, pronouncing each word crisply.

“You can’t mean that!”

“You can’t support yourself, Y/n, and I certainly shouldn’t have to”

“Where am I supposed to go?!”

“I suppose you will have to begin by figuring that out for yourself” He stared through you, downing the rest of his scotch before thundering up the stairs to his room and slamming the door.

You were ashamed to admit that as soon as he slammed the door, you broke down into tears. You knew you had been fucking everything up. You just wanted something more, you couldn’t describe it.

You packed a bag, slung it over your shoulder and walked out of the door, not once looking back. To this day you still don’t know how long you walked for, but by the time that you could see the sun threatening the dark skies through your blurred vision you had found yourself in a graveyard.

You had nowhere else to go and you weren’t above sleeping in a graveyard, you soon discovered You were so exhausted you could barely move another step. You ducked into some old mausoleum, kicking away some dust from the corner and laying out your jacket as a sort of mattress and you bag as a pillow.

You curled into the corner and screwed your eyes up. You had finally began to drift into a fitful sleep when heavy footprints came towards you.

“This ain’t a bloody hotel, bugger off would you-!” He stormed, reaching down to grab your shoulder before he recognised you, “Y/n?”

You bolted up, relaxing only for a moment when you noted you weren’t in any immediate danger before descending straight into embarrassment. You would really rather he hadn’t caught you sleep-crying on the floor of a crypt. Then again, it didn’t really matter what he thought, you reminded yourself quickly. He scanned your face, finding pain written there and seemingly making a decision before he turned away.

You stood up, noting an old couch had been pushed into the far corner of the tomb. You sat on it, bringing your bag with you and noting that it was only marginally more comfortable than the floor.

“Here” Spike returned, offering you a half empty bottle of liquor. You took it, nodding your thanks and taking two large gulps. His eyes bulged for a moment before pulling a face of slight approval, until you looked back at him and he hid any evidence of expression from his face.

“Why are you being nice?”

“You take that back. I’m not bloody nice”

“No, I know, you’re evil and all that. I’ll admit, I felt a little shiver when I saw you first until, I uh, remembered you couldn’t…” You tailed off, “Not helping my case am I?”

“Liquor’s the cheap stuff so you’re doin’ me a favour by getting rid of it” he shrugged. Spike was secretly pleased for the company. He had felt so alone of late.

You watched his lips, eyes scanning down to his neck and over his leather-clad torso. The way the dim light accentuated his features, the curve of his jaw, that sparkle in his eye, that smirk that was never far from his lips.

Oh God, no. You didn’t… did you?

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