Disclaimer: I make no claim to any characters, entities, or intellectual properties contained herein. You know who does own 'em, and it isn't me. I do, however, own the situations, and I wouldn't mind "borrowing" Spike (or, oddly, Frank— o_O Whole other issue!)

Feedback: Don't dream it, be it! ;)

Distribution: Hey, I say go for it. Just lemme know where it's gonna be.

Rating: G-PG. Nothin' naughty here, folks. Nothin' to see here. Show's over. Move on. ;)

Timeline: Any time between oh, say…*Shrug* mid-fifth season and mid-sixth. Pre-"Glory" crisis and post-Riley, pre-"Seeing Red." Giles is still around and Buffy's happy, so I guess mid-fifth season.

The Horror

With regard to Giles' pre-Watcher days…

"OK, guys, we've got "Road Trip," "Little Nicky," "The Princess Bride," "Mr. Deeds," "The Nutty Professor," "Big Daddy," or "Rocky Horror"…"

"Note to self," Buffy said, "never let Xander be first to pick for Movie Day…But, if I have to choose, I put my vote in for "Rocky Horror"."

Spike smirked, raising his right hand from the elbow. "You know, this could be fun…" he said, "I second that…"

Anya and Dawn just looked at each other and giggled. This was their favorite "Girls'-Day-In" movie—Without Buffy in attendance, of course!—They would sit, laughing and talking for hours over sodas and popcorn about things like whether Brad was gay, or whether Janet really was a closet tramp, or how Riff Raff lost his hair, or Frank's sexual techniques. Inevitably, with the last argument, there was between the women an impasse; Anya found the good doctor rather…inventive, while Dawn still thought him too forward. Both of them, of course, came away from these thoughts long enough to cast their vote in the film's favor.

Xander decided the vote over Willow and Tara—who naturally chose The Princess Bride. Taking Dawn and Anya's nods as affirmation, he said, "And I fifth. Rocky Horror it is, then…"

He bent down to put the tape in the machine, then hit "Play."

As the credits began to roll, all present—even Spike!—intoned "And God said 'Let there be lips!' And there were lips. And they were good…"

The Scoobies looked around at one another while Spike simply looked away, as if to say to each other, "How did you know that?" then turned back to watching the movie, chuckling.

All for a time managed to lose themselves in the sheer camp the film presented, at points offering various callbacks that caused collective laughing fits, or perhaps murmuring "I wish I had some rice," or "Where did I put that squirt gun?"

Dawn and Anya even managed to find a clear spot on the rug to Time Warp, dragging a reluctant Xander along.

Everything was fine until the viewing hit a snag right around Janet's number, "Touch-a, Touch-a, Touch Me." Apparently, a certain Slayer had read too much into the combination of lyrics ("Touch-a, touch-a, touch-a, touch me/I want to be dirty/Chill me, thrill me, fulfill me/Creature of the night…") and situation (Blonde guy. Blonde girl. You do the math!) and decided that the best way to deal with Spike's leer (for, make no mistake, he noticed, too…) was to go all wiggy and prickly and defensive, which made for very tense viewing for several minutes.

Thankfully, said tension was broken when the group heard the sound of Buffy's front door opening and a somewhat curious Watcher poked his head in.

"Hey, Giles!" she said, "Come on in…"

As he did so, he caught a glimpse of the film playing on the screen before the Scoobies and blanched, turning his face quickly away to hide his embarrassment.

::Oh, no…They're not watching that, are they? How am I supposed to…Stay calm, Rupert, the less you let on, the better…::

"So, wh-what are you all watching?" he asked, stuttering slightly and wringing his hands, swallowing to clear from his throat the knot anxiety had left there.

"Rocky Horror," Buffy answered, "Wanna join us?"

"Oh! N-no, th-thank you—" he answered much too quickly with a start, and more hand wringing ensued.

"What's the what that's givin' you the wiggins, Giles? Anything Apocalypse-y? 'Cause if it is, ya' know, we can hold this off…" Buffy waved a vague hand at the movie.

"Oh, it's nothing, really…I-It's a-a…personal matter…"

"Such as?"

He cringed, and with one more hand-wring, removed his glasses and began to shine their lenses on the hem of his shirt.

::How to begin this…:: "Well, ordinarily, I'd be adverse to telling you this—Such as it is I'm loath—I was in a stage production of this-this…endeavor whilst still at University…I had rather a prominent role…"

With this, he cast his eyes down to his oxfords in shame. If he were ever to face them after this…They would lose all respect for him—he looked at the vampire: if they had any at all!—he was sure…Good God, he'd never hear the end of it, especially not from Spike…Oh, why did he have to have the embarrassing revelations this time?

All eyes were turned towards him then in curiosity. Buffy voiced the question none other dared to ask…

"So, who were you?"

Boy that was a loaded question!

"I was…I was, well…"

Spike—mercifully!—broke in, then with a derisive snort and a snide, "Bet he was Brad, the wanker…"

Giles was indignant!

"I'll have you know I most certainly was not Brad," he huffed, smoothing out the front of his jacket and managing the "hurt-pride" look pretty well.

"Well, then, who were you? Who did you play?" Buffy again.

Xander chimed in next before the older man was given a chance to speak, "I dunno, G-man…You don't look very much like you'd make a very good Riff Raff, either…You're not much with the lurky…Unlike Deadboy…Hmm…" he trailed off, looking pensive.

By this time, Giles was nearing the point at which his normally unflappable (if somewhat stuffy) British composure was wearing thin.

"Oh, bloody hell…Can't I 'plead the Fifth,' as you Americans say?"

Giles was so perturbed by this point he actually fumbled his glasses, nearly dropping them!

"No. I mean it. No way, Giles, are you gonna tease us with a secret this big. You have just exactly one more chance to answer before I show you the same treatment I used to make our friend Mr. Punching Bag talk last night…"

Buffy told him all this in her all-too-sweet "Layeth the Slayeth Down" voice, hands folded in a parody of a reasonable manner before her chest with ice-cold eyes and a pseudo-smile on her face that could've given cavities.

"So, one. Last. Time, Giles…Who. Did. You. Play?"

One more fidget with his glasses and a deep breath later, he drew himself up to his full height and managed "I played…" A brief pause, then he spoke the next sentence as rapidly as he could; "I played…Dr. Frank…"

Seven shocked pairs of eyes swiveled to meet his own, and he went a rather peculiar shade of pink before he made as quickly as he could for the kitchen door, neglecting even the reason he came in his desire to get away.

Not one word had been spoken in those interminable moments that had passed since the disclosure. All seven locked incredulous gazes across the room. Xander wordlessly stood up and walked over to the VCR, mercifully hitting "Stop."

"OK, guys, we've got "Road Trip," "Little Nicky," "The Princess Bride," "Mr. Deeds," "The Nutty Professor," or "Big Daddy"…