Spike turned his back to the Watcher as he made tea, he didn’t need to see Giles’ face to know that he was upset. He knew he was gravely ill, perhaps dying. He tapped the teaspoon against the mug as if announcing his imminent intrusion upon the old man’s thoughts.

"Here, drink up…then you can tell me about Red…" Spike held the mug deftly despite the scalding tea. Giles looked up at him with haunted eyes. He accepted the tea and settled back into the high backed “story telling” chair in the children’s corner of the bookshop.

Willow made a lovely bride, she was sultry and knowing but also possessed a child-like innocence

We had a son, Jack…we were happy. For nearly twenty years, I knew her inside and out and she could always read my mind. The only secret she kept from me was that she was dying…

Spike’s attention centred on the Watcher as he imparted this bombshell, Willow was dead? He lowered his eyes to stare into the dregs of blood puddled at the bottom of his mug, a single tear splashed into the mug and he drained the guilty evidence of his grief.

Giles swept up a long draft of his tea and swallowed the lump of sorrow in his own throat.

Spike collected his mug and disappeared into the kitchenette at the back of the shop. He emerged carrying glasses and a bottle, which he waved at Giles with an inquiring eyebrow…

Giles took the glass with a smile, recognising the brand, one of his favourites.

"About time you drank my Scotch, eh, Watcher?"

"Yes, I think it’s overdue." Spike poured a generous measure into both glasses and set the bottle down between them. Giles took a sip, feeling the burning alcohol settle and sizzle in his empty stomach.

Willow’s illness crept upon her like a gentle shadow. Gradually overtime, she could do less and less about the house. She had the energy, but her body was weak. We had no more children after Jack.

Giles grinned a lecherous grin and swirled the amber liquid in his glass. "Not that we didn’t try!"

Eventually, when eating became difficult, she decided that hospital was the best place for her. She was put on total life support, I visited every day, and every day I could see her gradually slipping further away from me.

One day I was late and found a young consultant sticking pins in her feet… after he got up from the floor where my blow had sent him, he explained that he was trying to determine the extent of her paralysis. He sat with me for the rest of his shift and we talked about Willow’s choices.

She hardly breathed now, her skin was taut, and pale she looked like a delicate porcelain figure.

Giles took a shuddering breath as he ran his fingers down the smooth glass, he blinked, and a tear fell from his lashes and ran down his face.

We decided to switch off the machines and let Willow go… there were no words exchanged. Just a look and I had the feeling that Willow was in the room watching us. She “guided” my hand at the last moment to replace the doctor’s on the plug, so that his was atop mine, he could say if it came to court action, that he tried to stop me.

The silence hurt my ears. I bent to kiss Willow’s pale lips for the last time and felt her respond to my kiss and breathe a hushed thanks before the weak beat of her heart fell away to freedom.

I sat in the chair beside her bed and the consultant drew the sheet around her neck, I asked her face to remain uncovered so I could gaze on it for a while longer.

My life died with Willow that night.

"I’m sorry Giles, I liked Willow. When the Slayer died and you disappeared, she was a rock! She had real book smarts, looked great in her Josephine costume!" Spike hesitated as he saw tears shining in the Watcher’s eyes, though he didn’t need to, he said it anyway…" She adored you."

He left the Watcher alone with his sorrow for a moment, then got up and put the empty bottle in the recycle bin. Yep, he was a vampire with a social conscience!

Now, if he could only shake that dumb kid off his bones. He shot a glance through the shop window and there she was again, her hood over her head against the rain, He heated another mug of blood and toasted her with a bitter smile.

Her palm pressed against the glass; she had small hands. He hit the button to close the security shutters and waved bye–bye to his would be Slayer.

Back inside the main stacks of the bookshop, he handed a familiar object to the watcher. Giles’ fingers tightened on the wool feeling its age and comforting warmth…

"Where did you get…" He began to ask as Spike smiled and tapped his nose.

"I liberated it." He said as he dragged a padded cube to the Watcher’s chair. You take the chair, it’s nearly dawn, and y’know how rosy–pink just ain’t my colour…"

The telephone rang, Spike answered it and passed the receiver to Giles… "It’s Jnr."

At Jack’s anxious greeting, Rupert’s eyes watered anew. He needed to tell his son about his illness. Jack didn’t need to witness another lingering death.

"I’m fine, Jack. I just got waylaid on the way to the bookshop…" He covered the mouthpiece as Spike scoffed.

"Waylaid? Hell’s Teeth, Watcher, gimme the phone…" Spike snapped his fingers. When Giles turned away from him Spike tutted and muttered under his breath.

"The night watchman is looking after me. I had … some disturbing news at the hospital. I’ll stay here until morning, Jack. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine."

"I’ll worry if I want to Dad. The manager of a rest home visited today. He said they’d lost one of his patients from the home and did we know anything about it…" there was silence for a moment and he heard his father’s soft intake of breath.

"Ethan…" A bright spark of anger grew and nestled in the pit of his stomach. Time to avenge? "I’ll be home around ten, could you have him call again? Perhaps for coffee?"

Giles hung up the phone after wishing his son good night…

Spike turned off the lights and retired to his enclosed room down a short flight of stairs. He hesitated on the last step as he heard the Watcher’s voice drift down urging him to "sleep tight"

End of part 2

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