Spike was awakened from his slumber by Giles closing the front door. Turning around slowly, he rolled to face the man, watching him with interest as he moved about the kitchen, removing items from a paper bag. He then saw Giles pour himself a glass of scotch.

"Oi, Watcher, bring one of those over here, will ya?" he called.

Giles nodded, poured the requested drink, and joined Spike in the living room. The dejected slump of his shoulders and weary look as he sat down, told Spike all he needed to know.

"Did you get more Wheatabix?"

"Yes, and two more bottles of bourbon."

"Nothin’ like drownin’ your sorrows. Thanks," he said, taking the offered drink. "I take it you followed my advice?"

He was referring to Giles’ revealing Riley’s ‘habit’ to Buffy.

The man sighed and nodded sadly. "Yes."

"How’d she take it?"

"Not well, I’m afraid. She… she was very distraught."

Spike nodded, remembering. "He’ll be gone soon. Off to save the world or some such rot, and abandoning her. All because he needed to feel self-important. Pillock. She’s better off without him. Deserves someone who’ll stay. What is it with men leaving our girl, Rupert? First her useless prat of a father, then Angel, and now Riley. Hell, even you left her. You’ve made her think she’s wasn’t good enough for anyone to stick around."

Giles rubbed his forehead tiredly. "I’m sure I had good reasons for leaving."

"No. It was just that seein’ your Slayer die a second time broke you, then seein’ how she was after they brought ‘er back, broke you again. You were just protectin’ yourself," Spike replied plainly. There was no malice or gloating in it, just a simple statement of truth.

"Yes, well. Hopefully, together we can avoid all of that."

Spike’s eyes took on a faraway look, and he spoke into the bottom of his empty glass. "Do it or gonna die trying. Y’know, she said it. On the night it all went down. She said not all of us were gonna make it. I thought it would be me that died. This time ‘round I’m gonna make sure, if somebody’s gotta go, it’s gonna be me."

Giles refilled his glass from the bottle.

"On a happier note," Giles said. "Joyce is doing very well and should be released from the hospital very soon."

"Knew she came out of it alright. Was only after…"

"A blood clot you said?"

Spike nodded. "Yeah. Real sudden-like. Buffy and the Nibblet were all happy, and everyone thought it was all over, then she up and died. Buffy found ‘er on the couch. Poor woman hadn’t known what hit her."

"Buffy found her?"

Spike nodded sadly. "Yeah."

Giles rubbed his temples. "Good lord."

"Way I see it, the best way to prevent that is to get ‘er on blood thinners," he said.

"Blood thinners? A good plan. And one that shouldn’t be too hard to execute."

Spike agreed, downing the rest of his drink. Giles paused, looking down, and Spike knew there was more news.

"Buffy asked about you today," Giles admitted.

Spike reached for the scotch and poured another drink. He took a gulp of it before replying. He needed the alcohol to dull the pain.

"Did she now?"

The Watcher fingered his glass. "Yes. She wanted to know how you were doing. She was… concerned."

"Not concerned enough to not hit me in the first place," he grumbled.

"Spike… Buffy… Buffy is under a great deal of strain…"

"You don’t have to make excuses for her, Watcher. I know what kind of strain she’s under."

"It doesn’t condone her behavior, but…"

"But you forgive her. Because she’s Buffy and she’s under a lot of pressure. I know, and really, I do understand. ‘S not the first time she’s done this to me anyway."

Giles looked surprised. "She’s beaten you before?"

"In the future. The nerd trio tried to make her think she’d killed this girl. Buffy wanted to turn herself in. I tried to stop her. She ended up pummeling me to the concrete in the alley by the police station. When she was done she just left me there. I could barely move. I had to drag myself back to my crypt," he remembered sadly.

"But the worst of it was, I knew why she did it. Hell, I’d even told her to put it all on me. I knew I could take it. It was afterwards… she never once said she was sorry. Not once. I was just a soulless demon to her. It didn’t matter what she did to me."

‘You don't have a soul! There's nothing good or clean in you. That's why you can't understand! You're dead inside! You can't feel anything real! I could never... be your girl!’ he recalled, eyes squeezing shut.

"She said… she said there was nothing good or clean in me because I didn’t have a soul. That I couldn’t feel anything real."

He stopped, hand trembling as he took another drink of scotch. Giles cleaned his glasses nervously.

"Yes, well, that is what she would say."

Spike’s head snapped up. "You know that’s bollocks, don’t you?"

Giles looked away, nervous. "I’m beginning to understand that."

"Anyway, back to our Slayer askin’ after me. What did you tell her?"

"I managed to hedge some. I told her that you were recovering. I also told her what you told me about smelling Joyce’s illness. She seemed to accept that."

"’S true. I mean, if I hadn’t known about her illness from before, I still would have known something was wrong. All I had to do was spend some time with her and I would have smelled it right off."

"Yes, and it is something we should have thought of."

"Anyway, what about my showin’ up in all the right places?"

Now it was Giles’ turn to drink. "I couldn’t tell her the truth. Told her that you had gotten some tips from a demon in Willy’s."

"Didn’t think she could handle it?"

"Frankly, I’m not sure *I* can handle it," Giles retorted back.

Spike shrugged. "Told you, ya didn’t want to know."

"And for once I can say you were telling me the absolute truth."

They fell silent as they each took another drink.

"To be honest, I’m very worried about Buffy," Giles confessed. "Her behavior tonight and her beating of you is deeply disturbing to me. I fear my Slayer is coming apart at the seams and I am helpless to stop it."

"Our girl is tough, Watcher. She keeps it together real well. If we can save her mum, it’ll do a lot of good. Joyce’s death was a real shock," he told Giles.

"That is heartening, however, I do think that things are too volatile for me to leave. I was planning to return to England to speak to the Watcher’s Council about information on Glory. But since you have told me everything I need to know…"

"No," Spike interrupted. "You have to go, Watcher."

Giles was taken back. "Why?"

"’S one of those things I knew I couldn’t change. While you’re gone, Red and Demon-girl have a bit of a spat while Red’s trying to cast a spell. Things go wonky and she ends up conjuring a troll."

"A troll?!"

"Yeah, turns out he was one of Anya’s ex-boyfriends. He cheated on her and she turned him into a troll. Anyway, he had a thing about witches. Went on a rampage and smashed up the Magic Box. Then he headed over to the Bronze and did a fair bit if damage there."

"And I should allow this to happen why exactly? To satisfy your lust for carnage?"

Spike rolled his eyes. "A few injuries and a couple of smashed up support posts constitutes carnage to you? Watcher, you have no idea what real carnage is. Angelus and Darla in Paris in 1890 was carnage. A troll in the Bronze was a minor incident. Besides, I’d love to stop it. The Bronze was closed for weeks afterwards and after they reopened, they raised the drink prices and took the blooming onion off the menu. My point is, after Red sent him off to Troll Paradise, he left his hammer behind. If we end up going against Glory, that hammer will be what Buffy uses against her."

Giles shook his head, understanding. "So I have to let that happen because we need the weapon."

Spike tapped his nose. "Got it in one. Knew you were an Oxford man."

"Cambridge actually. What else, pray tell, comes of my trip?"

Spike thought a moment. "Well, the Council sends a team to interrogate the Slayer. Need to make sure she can handle the information they have on Glory. Put her through all kinds of tests. Threaten to close the Magic Box and have you deported if she doesn’t comply."

"Those pillocks!"

Spike put up a hand. "Now, now, Rupert, don’t get your knickers in a twist. Our girl turns one on ‘em and gets the best of ‘em. Even gets you your job back, with retroactive pay."

"She does?" Giles repeated, astonished.

Spike nodded. "She does. Told you our girl was tough."

"Would you please stop calling Buffy our girl."

"Why? ‘S what she is, innit?"

"I think both she and I would beg to differ."

Spike shrugged. "Have it your way then."

"Oh I doubt that," Giles muttered.

"In any case, there’s some things we can change and some things we can’t. Believe me, I’ve spent a great deal of time working out what I can do and what will mess me up. Olaf the troll was one of those forgone conclusions."

Giles shook his head. "Olaf."

Spike chucked. "You should’ve seen the look on the whelp’s face when he said he used to be Anya’s boyfriend."

Giles laughed with him and wiped a tear from his eye. "Yes, I can imagine that was quite amusing."

Spike took another drink and poured both himself and Giles more. "Was until he knocked the second level platform down."

"Oh dear."

They drank a bit more, then Giles asked, "So, tell me what other events are forgone conclusions. I need to know if I’ll need more insurance."

"Well… Glinda’s spell of non-seeing was one. Captain Cardboard leaving’s another. You going to England. Red conjuring the troll. The Council comin’ here to test Buffy. And… oh bloody hell!" Spike answered.

"What?"

"The ‘bot. The damn Buffy-bot. We use her as a decoy to distract Glory. I have to go to that geek Warren and order him to make me a Buffy-bot."

Now it was Giles’ turn to chuckle. "Let me get this straight. I have to let my shop be demolished by a troll that Willow conjures by accident because we need his hammer. And you have to contract with a sociopathic, homicidal technophile to make you a sex-bot that looks like Buffy."

"That about sums it up, Rupes."

Giles raised his glass. "Welcome to life on the Hellmouth. Cheers."

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