Finally, here's Giles's chapter. You can read my apology at the ending. :] Enjoy.

Frustrated

The things that happen in Rupert Giles's kitchen displease him…greatly.

It's their fault, really. Or perhaps they should blame the mayor's ascension. Quite honestly, someone needs to be blamed and whether it's the deceased mayor-snake-monster or the various members of the Scooby gang is something he doesn't have enough energy left to decide. But, ever since the high school was gone and he was short a job, they'd been having their meetings at his apartment. Normally he'd be fine, that is, if the things that were carried out in the place where he made his food could be classified as normal.

Spike, who had granted himself free reign of the living space, had been caught more than once by his gracious host. Several times, Giles had walked in to see Spike…pleasing himself through his trousers. 'To each his own' is a phrase that Giles enjoys to live by, except, however, when 'his own' is being carried out in his kitchen. Even Xander and Anya, though who could be surprised by that really, had been discovered.

The last time had been the worst by far. Giles had walked in to see Anya on her knees in front of Xander. Now, there were a number of reasons why she could have been on her knees—the list beginning with tying her boyfriend's shoe and ending with picking up something she'd dropped. None of these were correct. He found this out after a flustered Xander pulled Anya to her feet and ignoring her speech about Giles's impeccable timing. Giles had simply told them, kindly, to leave and barred himself in his room to think of other things.

Each and every time Giles walks into his kitchen, it seems that two or less people are attacking each other in fits of hormonal need. He doesn't bring it up—doesn't even think about it. He scolds them, sure, but he expects their embarrassment to get the job done. Which it doesn't, mind you. At least, not often enough to make him happy again.

Today, he decided, was the worst. As if his last run-in with Anya and Xander hadn't been bad enough, he'd gotten red enough to boil as he'd walked into his kitchen earlier on.

He'd been sent out by Buffy to get food once the meeting had finished and the others had left. Ever since the fiasco that had been Buffy's gracious attempt at a normal Thanksgiving, he'd been sent out weekly to restock his refrigerator and cabinets. He hadn't complained yet as his philosophy continued to be set around making sure not to get the Slayer unhappy.

The trip had not taken long—since going out every week and being a bachelor, he didn't have need for much food—and he'd returned to his apartment complex within the hour. Thinking he would alone in there, besides Spike, he strolled in happily and walked straight for the kitchen, stopping short at the sight.

Willow was pinned against the far wall, her arms above her head. Buffy was holding them there, assaulting Willow's lips with her own as she pressed their bodies together. The only fortunate part about it was that both of them still had all of their garments on. They were, however, making…unsavory sounds that Giles felt he could have gone a lifetime before hearing.

Sighing, Giles called them to attention with a raucous, "Oh, for heaven's sake!" Buffy pulled away and they both turned to look at him, their faces flushing as they saw his stern expression. "Next time, I'll find some wards to ban you all from my kitchen. All of you. The things you lot think you can do in here." He shook his head and pulled off his glasses, cleaning them in a nervous frenzy. "There are two beds in this apartment alone, not counting the beds you have in your dorm room. Yet, every time it's here in my kitchen! Mine, do you understand that? It's mine. What part of that is not being understood?" he demanded.

Willow blushed and looked to the ground as Buffy watched him, a look of apology crossing her face. "Sorry," she offered. "We'll…um, remember that next time." With that, she tugged Willow's hand and led her from the apartment.

"Did you get the Wheetabix?" Spike drawled as he walked in and began to rummage through the bags.

"You," Giles hissed and Spike looked up at him in shock. "The next time I catch you in here, I'm not going to the butcher shop for a week. You can bloody well fry in the sun trying to get your own blood for all I care."

Turning on his heel, he stomped up the stairs and closed himself up in his room, trying and failing, once again, to not think about what might have happened if he had taken any longer in the store. Spike looked at the steps for a moment before continuing his treasure hunt through the bags, mumbling a, "Ruddy mid-life crisis," before picking up a blood bag in triumph.

Haha. There you go. Sorry about the long wait and the abrupt ending to this chapter. It took me a while to get this idea down. Tell me what you thought. I'll probably do Faith's or Angel's next. :3