Daytime TV with Giles and Spike

Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy or any other copyrighted things I mention in this story.

"Would you mind turning down the volume? I'm trying to concentrate…" Rupert Giles said irritably, frowning at his vampiric houseguest, who was currently draped across his couch.

"Try harder," Spike said, his eyes never leaving the television screen.

"You know Spike, feeding you is entirely my choice, so I suggest you do as I say."

"There are plenty of butcher shops and hospitals open at night, boyo! I can get my own blood whenever I want…you getting it for me is just a bonus."

"Yes, and I'm sure those commandos aren't intelligent enough to be watching the places you're likely to go. So: turn down the bloody volume, or the volume of blood you'll receive will!"

Spike sat up and smirked at him. "You been practicin' that have you?"

"Perhaps, but regardless, if you don't turn that racket down from a dull roar, I'm afraid I'll be forced to starve you."

"I've never been afraid to starve anyone…" the platinum blond immortal muttered, finally lowering the sound, "And it's not racket! It's 'Passions,' the finest daytime television has to offer!"

"Yes, well, that's a bit like finding the cleanest bit of manure in a compost heap, isn't it?"

Spike ignored him, thoroughly entranced with his program.

"Oh Theresa…what wacky plot have you concocted to get Ethan to love you this time…"

"You can't make someone love you," Giles snorted from over the top of his book.

"Tell that to this bird…crazy she is…bet she's dynamite in the sack though…the crazy ones usually are!"

Sighing in disgust at Spike's vulgarity, the former librarian left without a word to find somewhere quieter to read.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Give me the remote!"

"No!"

"Give it here this instant!"

"No! 'Passions' is almost on!"

"Must I get a stake?"

"Fine," Spike sneered before licking the entire length of the device, "Still want it?"

"That was entirely unnecessary!" Giles said, refusing to touch it, "For someone who's older than I am, you are remarkably immature…"

"What can I say? I'm well preserved. Now hush up! It's starting."

The sight of the formerly threatening vampire humming along with the soap's theme song evoked a conflicting reaction in Giles.

"I don't know if I should laugh or vomit…" he muttered.

"Just don't do both!" Spike said, having heard him perfectly, "I knew a bloke who did once and it wasn't pretty…"

As the show went to commercial, the former Watcher felt compelled to ask, "Why do you watch that bilge?"

"Well, the birds a'course."

"Of course…" Giles sighed, rolling his eyes.

"And then there's the topnotch writing."

"I see."

"Oh, and it's got a witch and other things supernatural."

"Really? I would've thought you'd have enough witches and whatnot in your own life without watching it on the idiot box."

"Well, it's not like I can relate to Ross and bloody Rachel, now can I?"

"Who?"

"It's 'Friends,' you old codger! Hell man, I'm at least twice your age and even I know what it's about…"

"Yes, well, excuse me for not indulging in the daily mind-numbing today's generation seems to enjoy," Giles said, picking up a book and frowning over it.

"Oh blow it out your-…Shhh! It's starting!"

Feeling his eye begin to twitch, Giles began forming a retort when something on the screen caught his eye.

"So who's, er, who's she then?"

"Her?" Spike replied, smirking at his companion's sudden interest, "That's Sheridan…she is a honey isn't she?"

"I…I suppose," Giles muttered, attempting to bury his nose in his book again.

XXXXXXXXXX

Several days later…

"And Timmy turns back into a doll whenever anyone else is around?"

"Yeah, it's heartbreaking it is. All he wants is to be a real boy. It's been done a bit, but never with such…er…what's the word?"

"Passion?"

The two men shared an uncharacteristic laugh.

"Weetabix?"

XXXXXXXXXX

A week later, Giles was drawing a bath for himself when a sudden thought struck him.

I wonder if Luis and Sheridan will ever work things out…

His eyes, which were still half asleep, shot fully open as the implications of the thought dawned on him.

"Good lord…I need a job…"

XXXXXXXXXX

Author's Note: I've tried not writing during finals week, but I'm failing at it. I've been kicking this idea around for a while and my own joblessness kind of impelled me to churn this out. If you'd like to see more Buffy fiction from me, either through an extension of this story or others, let me know.