THURSDAY MORNING

Giles awoke to a harsh banging on the door. Groggily he blinked the sleep from his eyes and lifted his head from the table, he'd been researching and somehow he'd fallen asleep. Huh! The banging continued.

"Okay, okay," he unlocked the door and opened it, in rushed a smoking blanket.

"Bloody hell, Ripper. This had to be the one day you actually lock your door. If you left it any longer you would of been speaking to a big pile of dust!"

"You wouldn't of made that much dust Spike, you're mostly full of hot air!"

"Giles you've got to listen to me,"

"No Spike I don't," Ripper was re-surfacing, taking off his glasses, he moved closer to Spike.

Giles shoved him backward into a bookshelf. Giles walked slowly up to him, glaring angrily.

Picking up the blanket he slammed it into Spike's chest. He leant in close and looked Spike in the eye. "I have had enough of your barging in here, hogging my TV all day. Clear out of here. And Spike, this thing ... get over it. Move the hell on."

Spike took a deep breath as if he was going to say something. But he was stopped by Giles steely glare. Giving up he put the blanket over his head and left.

Stupid bloody watcher,

tbc...