Jack looked at the tree from top to bottom it wasn’t going to fit through the door. It was too tall and far too bushy but apparently, Dad had picked it out months ago. He knew a good tree. Mum had taught him to recognise potential in all things natural.

He leant his back against the front wall of the house the tree lay before him on the fresh snow like a fallen soldier. He saw in his mind’s eye the last time he had been here.

The Christmas before his mother had died in 2022 he had been 19 ready to go to Oxford. His parents were having a ferocious snowball fight. Those were the only fights he ever saw his parents have. They didn’t argue or row; they discussed. These discussions inevitably turned to ’mush’ and he had to leave the room. Whenever he had school friends over he would have to check all the rooms before he entered just in case his parents had decided to ’Christen’ the kitchen table again!

Jack’s smile faded when he remembered his mother’s death on her Birthday five years ago. Dad had been devastated. He worried about him being alone when he had finally had to go back to College. Jack called him every day for a progress report.

When one day he called and a doctor answered he was filled with dread. His father had cancer. Jack remembered vividly the three courses of chemotherapy and the radiation treatment after that. Giles was in remission. He returned to his work at the museum. His colleagues described him as "the cataloguing demon" it was as if he was living on borrowed time.

Then last year came the bombshell that the cancer had spread, there were secondary tumours but these were slower growing because of the earlier chemo. The only treatment his father would agree to was the removal of one lung; it was practically dead. Understandably Jack was upset by this he had wanted his father to see his grandchildren.

Then that awful Rayne character turned up and his father had taken care of him until he died in his mother’s bed! The odd thing about that was that his father refused to let Ethan be buried in the graveyard. He said he would bury him in the family crypt. Jack didn’t know they had a family crypt or where it was! The body just vanished and his father never told him where it went.

It was getting more difficult for him not to tell the "Slayerettes." Is that what his father called them? That their friend was dying.

He was jerked out of his revelry by an angry bellow coming from the library. He shot indoors to see what the fuss was about.

"I don’t bloody care! You shouldn’t have opened the door! Never mind ’I wonder if there’s a secret passage’! You have disturbed his rest and he’s never going to forgive me." Giles took a fast-agonised breath and leant against one of the bookcases. He was desperate to draw a breath but couldn’t. Anya fled the room and ran straight into Jack.

"Go help Cordelia, Xander you too. I’ll deal with Dad. Go." His father was an awful shade of grey. All his muscles were tense. Jack guided him to the couch where his eyes closed and his body relaxed.

Jack shivered the room was chilly. He closed the open door that had caused the argument and lit a fire as the room warmed his father began to stir.

"D’you think I’ve blown it?" He asked drily.

"No, minor psychotic episodes are the norm for you aren’t they Dad?" Jack smiled. "I’m glad you’re still with us. Shall I get you a blanket?"

Giles nodded. "I’d really like some tea but I’ll save that till next week when I can drink it." Jack regarded his father with a small smile on his lips. His father’s belief in a life after death was quite touching.

Xander, Anya and Cordelia re-entered the library looking sheepish.

"Giles I’m real sorry. I couldn’t resist, spooky old house. There’s bound to be a secret room or passage somewhere."

He looked at Xander blankly from the sofa. He found tears welling up in his eyes and falling. He’d not been able to keep his promise to Ethan.

"A safe place to hide, until all the magic blow’s over. That’s all I ask. One last favour for Old Times sake?" How could he resist?

"A story for you Xander. A love story."

Ethan was recovering well from his accident six weeks were almost up and he was eager for the stitches to come out. I took him to the casualty and they asked how he came to injure himself so badly in such a peculiar place. I gave them the story we had agreed on. We were on a nature walk and Ethan had clambered over a fence not noticing the barbed wire on top until too late. They bought it. I left him in the charge of some very pretty nurses. He was entranced and I knew he would behave disgracefully. He had them in fits of giggles. I was waiting in the corridor when suddenly everything went quiet in the treatment room.

I opened the door and saw Ethan and the two nurses engaged in a tableau of lewd foreplay or more accurately threeplay. Ethan was in heaven his face buried in the pussy of one while being buried in the mouth of the other. I stared for a few seconds in shock.

The door banged shut behind me and I returned to my pacing. My heart was in my throat; I felt sick. My hands were sweating. I was shocked by what I felt. I felt jealousy. I was jealous of the nurses.

When Ethan came out of the treatment room, he was a changed man. His bounce was back. He was happy that everything was in working order. He saw at once that something was wrong.

"What’s the matter? We’re still going out to celebrate aren’t we? How about Brighton, fish and chips at midnight, how does that grab you?"

"You’ve already celebrated!" I remarked acidly. Ethan hurried round in front of me.

"You saw that?" He asked dangerously. "Give you ideas did it?" He sneered and stepped closer the pink tip of his tongue flicked out briefly. I retreated a few steps blushing furiously. He gave me one of his glacial smiles usually reserved for his enemies.

"Not here" I whispered. Ethan nodded.

"Sure, Rupert full of bullshit as usual. Turned on and horny as hell but never here and now it’s always later. I bet you never got to fuck that little tart of yours did you?"

That was the first time I hit Ethan. I decked him. Not a very clever move but at least he was in the right place to be treated for concussion.

We made up of course and went to Brighton on Valentine’s Day. We visited the pier and got pierced. Ethan was fascinated with the tattooists’ booth. He quizzed the man for hours about equipment and technique while I got bored.

To rid me of my boredom Ethan turned on the charm, he was in good form laughing and joking. He knew the filthiest stories! You could well understand why he was so highly paid as an escort he was such good company!

I felt brave enough to ask him about his childhood and regretted it immediately because his good humour vanished in a second. We were standing on the pebble beach Ethan looked out to sea with a sudden expression of repressed rage marring his handsome features.

He glanced back at me helplessly and dived off in the direction of the breakers. I stared after him, what would drive him toward the sea? He flung off his clothes. He’s going for a swim but this was not the joyful whoop of a midnight dip, it was the mournful cry of a man about to commit suicide!

I raced down the beach stripping off my shirt, kicked off my shoes and plunged into the icy waves. I couldn’t see him. I swam out further desperately searching my breath misting hotly on the midnight air. Then I saw his head going down and I reached out to grasp his hair, pulling his head up and out of the water. I changed my grip and hauled him backwards out of the waves back up the beach. His body fell from my numb hands crashing on to the pebbles.

I found my shirt and put it on sinking down onto the cold stones. I glanced at Ethan he was bent over heaving up several gallons of seawater.

"What the Bloody Hell was that all about?" Ethan looked mournfully at me with tears streaming down his face. I moved to him and held him close.

"I’ve never had anyone like you Ripper, to care about me. When I was small all I ever got from my family was a clout or a thump. Then when I was older my Dads drinking pals came round and…." The tears flowed anew.

I hushed him before he could finish, stroking his hair and kissing his salt seasoned skin. Such pain, such sadness. I couldn’t bare it!

"No-one’s going to hurt you like that ever again. Not while I’m around." He sniffed and turned his face to mine.

"Really?" His lips upturned in a wobbly smile

"Really." I affirmed and I pressed my lips to his to seal the promise.

The silence in the library was broken by a cacophony of swearing coming from the hall. Giles blinked a few times as if he’d been talking in his sleep. He smiled at the Anglo-Saxon curses. The new Slayer and her Guardian had arrived.

"Who the Bloody Hell left that enormous, green leafy stake outside where any vampire could fall over it? I’m trying to be Cool for me’ Slayer and I practically dust me’self on the fucking doorstep!"

Jack came from the kitchen with tea. He put the tray down on the hall table and smiled at his new Slayer. She had blonde hair and brown eyes she looked like a frightened fawn. Her guardian looked fearsome but she held his hand seeking his protection from a house full of strangers.

"Young Watcher? Where’s the old man?" Jack pointed and the tall lean vampire strode down the hall with the Slayer tripping in his wake.

"Come in, Spike" Giles called so the vampire could enter. All the others looked startled. He dragged the Slayer round to face Giles. Spike tried to look dead ’ard but failed when he came face to face with his old friend.

"Hello Giles." His voice had lost all it’s antagonistic qualities.

"Hello Spike." He smiled at the girl by his side. "Who’s this?"

"I’m Jenny." The girl piped up. Her wide eyes attested a simple acceptance of her calling. A simple dedicated soul. Giles caught his breath at the name.

"Jenny, has Spike been looking after you? How old are you?" He tried to keep the concern from his voice.

"Spike has taught me lot’s of things. I’m seventeen, are you going to be my Watcher?"

"No, My son will have that honour. I’m too old" Giles admitted.

"It’s your fault I got her y’know. You and those damn books. She thinks I’m that character from your stories! She’s tried to stake me half a dozen times. That’s how I know she’s a Slayer. Now for God’s sake take her away before she kills me." He still held on to her hand tightly.

"Jenny, would you like to live here with Spike and my son Jack?" The girl nodded and finally let go of Spike’s hand. Spike sighed but not in relief.

"Christmas present Spike, stay here as long as you please. You’re home now."

Jack came in with the tray of tea. Spike sniffed and grabbed the tall glass from the tray.

"You remembered!" He swirled the chocolaty froth round and took a great gulp of the steaming hot liquid. "Nectar!"

Jenny sat down on the sofa next to Giles who absently stroked her hair. "It is him isn’t it, Mr. Giles?" She asked. Spike looked exactly like the illustrations in his books.

"Yes, it’s him. I wrote about him and he’ll live a long time and protect you from harm. What would you like for Christmas? Oh I know." Giles held out his hand and a rose appeared seemingly out of thin air. "For you. A rose a day to make you slay, slay, slay." He smiled and she giggled relaxing into his chest.

"Who’s going to help me with the tree?" Jack asked, Spike and Xander volunteered.

It took about half an hour to get the tree into the house with the threat of Spike being impaled narrowly averted twice. A lot of laughter and "left hand down a bit" finally had the giant conifer installed in its pot in the living room.

Jack, Spike and Xander fell into the library hot and pink and covered in needles.

Cordelia and Anya shushed them and beckoned the boy’s over. Giles was asleep as was the Slayer curled up on the sofa next to him. Jack got his camera and took a secret photograph.

End of Pt.5

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