Spike downed his blood in a single gulp. His eyes met the Brit's as he slammed his glass back on the table so hard that a crack began etching through its surface. "Since when," he demanded point blank, "did you start liking th' flavor o' blood, Watcher?" He'd known something was wrong from the moment he'd entered the library.
Giles removed his glasses and rubbed his nose. Then, letting the spectacles dangle from his fingers, he met Spike's glower. "For quite some time now, actually." His wide grin revealed his every sharp, deadly fang. He was going to savor this.
To Be Continued . . .