Spike woke alone, which wasn't odd, even since he had the Whelp in his room. Seemed that the young man pulled himself out of bed pretty early despite the fact he hadn't slept through the night once since he had arrived three days ago. Must have been one of those ingrained things from high school or whatnot.

Spike for the past two years had been going to college at UCLA, but since he had been working at Renegades just as long most of his classes had taken place after noon, as often as he could get away with, after one. Since Whelp didn't have that luxury, all high schools going eight to three, it made sense that he would wake up before Spike.

He pulled himself up from his bed, where he had eventually moved to after he was sure Xander was asleep, and rubbed at his hair tiredly. Glancing at his alarm clock, he saw it as almost noon. Everyone would probably be up by now. Joyce would likely be at her museum, and everyone else would be downstairs somewhere. He groaned tiredly as he hauled himself up.

He changed quickly and moved downstairs after a snappy detour to the loo where he did his morning regimen. The girls were all in the living room, watching some chick flick, but strangely Whelp was missing. He wandered into the kitchen next, at which point he found not only the Whelp but the Watcher as well. Xander was making some strange sandwich that had odd colors that most definitely didn't go on a sandwich of any kind. When he spotted Spike, he gave a strange half-smile, which warmed something in him.

Didn't stop him from demanding, "The hell is that, Whelp?"

"Xander's special sandwich. Honestly, you don't wish to know what the contents are. Every item is positively ghastly," Watcher said from his place at the table, where he calmly turned the page of his book. This was obviously something that happened fairly often. Xander must have been making strange concoctions left and right since he had been in the old man's care. "Xander and I took the liberty of buying some Weetabix when we were running some errands this morning. They're next to the, erm…Count Chocula."

The name of the cereal must have been a hardship for Giles to say, because he actually did have to pause and brace himself for it. However, that was quickly lost when his mind registered the blessed word, Weetabix. He flew over to the pantry in the blink of an eye, yanking it open to reveal… "You got…? Where?"

Xander shrugged, taking his plate to the table next to his watcher. "We found an international grocery store about twenty minutes away from here. We stopped by there after Giles went to the community college he's teaching summer classes at."

Spike snatched up the box, then dashed to get a bowl and some milk. "Oh yeah. Forgot you were gonna be teaching this summer, Watcher. When's that start?" He grabbed a spoon and sat on Xander's other side, taking a bite and muttering, "Tha'ks b'the way."

Watcher rolled his eyes, but the Whelp nodded in answer. After his brief bout of disgust, Watcher answered his question. "I start Monday, thank you for asking. It will last until August 17th, after which is when Xander, Willow and I will return to Sunnydale."

"Mm. Whatcha teachin'?"

"I'll be instructing Mythology and Folklore as well Western Civilization," Giles answered, finally taking his nose away from his book. "I'm actually quite looking forward to it. The subject matters are two of my favorites…and you have no appreciation of either," he finished with a somewhat bemused smile.

Spike smirked, not necessarily uninterested, however, he had no real investment in either of them. "Sorry, Watcher. I major in pre-law. Not much of humanities to do with law."

He saw both the other men perk up and Whelp asked incredulously and probably without much thought, "You go to college?"

The smirk grew. "May not look like much, Whelp, but I got a 3.8 GPA at UCLA."

Giles shook his head. "Forgive Xander. It's simply that with your…apparel…"

"I get it," he replied when he saw Xander shrink down a bit. "Not many folks 'round here take a glance at me and think 'scholar.' Still! 'M almost done with my Associates. Got a few more classes and then I can start with the fun stuff."

"What are you focusing in?" Giles asked, setting his book completely on the table. He slid his glasses off as well, giving them a quick polish.

Beside Spike, Whelp looked increasingly uncomfortable. However, he answered the older Englishman. "My Associates is just basic law, but for my Bachelor's I'm thinkin' criminal justice. Considered politics, but I really have no head for any of that shite."

Xander stood from the table, taking his plate to the sink. "I'm gonna go take a shower…"

He was walking passed the table again to exit through the door, when Spike reached for him, almost wrapping his fingers around his left arm before he simply ran his hand down the length of it, squeezing just a bit at the fingers. "Why don't you wait a mo'? I shared my educational goal with you. 'S your turn, by my estimation."

"My educational goal right now is simply to graduate," he groused, staring obstinately at the floor.

Spike nodded. "What classes ya takin'?"

His stare turned into a glower as he lifted his brown eyes onto Spike. "High school classes. I'm sure you took nearly the exact same ones," he snapped, trying to walk away again.

This time Spike did reach for his hand, tugging him back gently. The glare landed on him again, but he was happy to note that the Whelp didn't tense at the touch. He smiled widely at the younger man, and said, "I went to boarding school, Whelp. Don't have the foggiest what you Americans get up to."

Xander's glare mellowed, but didn't go away.

From where he was stationed, the Watcher spoke up. "Xander, tell him about your woodworking class. You do such wonderful work." He smiled proudly at his charge.

With a deep breath, he took his seat again and began speaking of 'shop class' and of the chest he had made for Buffy on her birthday.