Kickstarter Week Three: A Brand New Night

[katleept.livejournal.com]

Title: A Brand New Night
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Character/Pairing: Giles/Surprise (Don't read the tags!)
Rating: PG/K+
Challenge/Prompt: giles_shorts Kickstarter Week Three
Warning(s): None
Word Count: 1,027
Date Written: 20 January, 2016
Summary:
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Whedon, not the author, and are used without permission.



Rupert Giles looked through his wardrobe in dismay. None of it would do. Tonight, he needed something a bit special. He needed something more than a bit special, if he was honest with himself, although he still didn't know what in the world he was doing. This broke all the rules.

He should cancel it right now, but he didn't want to. He wanted to see this plan to its fruition. He wanted to find out what would happen if, for just once in his adult life, he chose to do something entirely for himself. What he was about to do might be dangerous, but it wasn't like he was invoking evil spirits. No one would get killed tonight, at least not from what he was doing.

And what about from what he wasn't doing? the Watcher side of him quarreled. What would happen when he had his back turned, when his Slayer didn't know where he was? Buffy had not been to him for advice in days. Surely she could handle one night when he was unavailable to her.

Wasn't that the same argument she used to use in high school? That the world could go one night without the Slayer? She had yet to be proved right. What made him think it would be any better without the Slayer's Watcher? Still, it was clear she didn't need him.

She hadn't been needing him. Most of the things she came to him for advice in simply needed answers from his plethora of books, not from he himself. She knew where the key was. She could let herself in, and besides, there wasn't a lock made that could keep out a Slayer.

It was too late to change his plans, Rupert told himself. The clock was ticking, and his partner for the evening might well already be waiting for him. Who was he kidding? He'd be late. He might not even show. After all, it wasn't as though Giles really had anything to offer him.

The former librarian's lips pursed as he again shifted through his wardrobe. When had he become an old man? he wondered. When exactly had it happened that he had given up all of his leathers for simple, boring, gray tweed? There was one flash of color in his closet, but even it was far too simple for tonight's occasion, if things went well.

Rupert sighed and braced himself. He knew what he needed. He pushed all the way to the back of his closet and brought out an article of clothing he had not worn since he was a teenager, unless you counted that one Halloween with the magic spell Ethan had cast over the candy. Ah, yes, Ethan. Now there was a warning for this evening if ever there had been one.

But he wasn't leading tonight. And he wasn't the moth drawn to the flame, like he had been with Ethan. He could tell this one "no". He didn't have to do anything he didn't want to do, and he wasn't so blindly eager to please his partner that he would cast all caution and bloody, common sense to the wind to do wicked things just to please him. Besides, it wasn't like everything he had done as a teenager had been to please Ethan Rayne, no matter how many times he'd like to let himself believe otherwise. He had been addicted to the power as well as the man. Those addictions no longer existed.

He was a free man, and tonight wasn't about pleasing his partner. It was about finding a little pleasure and a little fun, perhaps more than a little, for he himself. He could stop him if he needed to. He wasn't about to go anywhere with him, or anywhere in Sunnydale for that matter, unarmed. No one would ask if he disappeared. Most of the gang would be relieved, and Buffy would not question him. She never questioned him any more.

Silently, solemnly, Rupert pulled the jacket from his closet. His aging fingers caressed the old, black leather. He closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of the cologne he'd worn as a teenager. Then, finally, he slipped into the old bomber jacket and smiled as he found it still as familiar as a second skin.

"You ready?"

Rupert whirled around at the unexpected voice. The blonde smirked at him from his own doorway. "I . . . " Suddenly nervous, Giles fought the pull of his handkerchief. He was well aware that Spike knew that cleaning his spectacles had become a nervous habit for him and would not allow him the undeniable pleasure of acknowledging the butterflies in his stomach. He'd thought he was too old for such feelings, but clearly, he was wrong. He wet his lips and tried instead, "Willow said some one dies in the movie."

He'd never noticed it before, but in the lighting of his bedroom, Spike's dark eyes bloody well twinkled at him. The smirk was still there on his face. Rupert wanted it off but was entirely unsure rather he wanted to smack it or kiss it off. Perhaps both, he admitted it to himself but did not dare move.

Spike's smirk curved higher up into an actual smile just for Giles as he reassured, "So we'll write our own story. Leave the chap alive."

"Indulge in that thing Willow calls fan fiction?"

Spike shrugged. Rupert watched as his muscles shifted underneath his leather duster and unconsciously moved forward. "Why not? We're two men who don't live by others' rules, Ripper." His gaze became steady, calculating, even as Giles reflected that he hadn't been called that by an ally in a long time. "Or have you gotten cold feet on me, Watcher?"

"No," he answered, perhaps a bit too quickly.

Spike held out his hand. Giles hesitated one moment more, then stepped forward and took his arm. Spike smirked again, but for once, it didn't feel like he was smirking at Rupert. He was smirking at the world for both of them. "Theater," he announced, "here we come," and Rupert let himself be pulled away into a brand new night.

The End