Chapter Text
Giles woke to the sound of chains rattling, wondered sleepily if Marley had come to visit. But it was only Thanksgiving, not Christmas.
"Rise and shine, Watcher!"
Not a ghost. Something much worse.
Giles staggered to the bathroom. "What?"
"Creature of the night, yeah?" Spike lifted his chains to point at the narrow window.
"You'll have to confine your 'creaturing' to daylight hours if you're to stay, Spike."
Spike heaved a sigh. "It's unnatural."
"So is a tub full of vampire. Good night, Spike."
"Blood and biscuits at dawn?"
"No, Spike."
"Right. Unemployed. Up at noon, is it?"
"Sod off."
*
"Please?"
"No."
"Please?"
"Spike, I'm far too busy to watch television with you. Surely you don't need company for that."
Spike pouted. "Got used to it. Harm used to watch with me, liked that the town had her name." He brightened. "You know, you might actually find it educational."
"I highly doubt it."
"But it's got all manner of supernatural plots. Witches, warlocks, closet doors to Hell, and the like."
Giles raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
Spike gestured. "Look."
Giles watched in silence, then sat. "Well, that doesn't make any sense. No witch would use those ingredients for a love spell."
*
"My albums are out of order," Giles complained, lifting an improperly alphabetized record for emphasis.
"What are you gonna do? Chain me up again?"
"Need I remind you that you are entirely dependent these days on the forbearance of others?"
"No, you needn't," Spike responded peevishly. "I am painfully aware. Can't you scrape together a modicum of sympathy for my…condition?"
"If by 'condition' you mean 'inability to kill people,' the answer is no."
"A bloody tyrant's what you are."
"Yes, I'm a bloody tyrant."
Silence.
"Can we listen to that?" Spike pointed.
"Because it's an excellent album, yes, we can."
*
Giles sighed. "Boots off the furniture, please. And why exactly is it you are wearing them indoors? Surely you realize you'll not be going anywhere."
Spike's eyes narrowed. "You expect me to go around in stocking feet, you're barking, mate. It simply isn't done."
"Really?" Giles sat at his desk, rummaged for a pencil. "What other behavioral customs do vampires practice?"
Spike shook his head. "Uh-uh. I'm not turning up in some Council of Wankers rag titled A Vampire and His Boots Are Never Parted."
Giles made a note in his diary. Vampire subject very protective of footwear. Investigate further.
*
"We've been over and over this," Spike said in exasperation.
"Yes, we have," Giles said, massaging his temple. "I've made my position quite clear; you'll simply have to learn to respect it."
"You do realize the Professor Higgens treatment is wasted on me, right?"
"You, Spike, are hardly my idea of Eliza Doolittle."
"Vampires can't be housebroken, Rupert!"
"I'm only asking that you hang up your jacket when you're not wearing it."
He frowned. "Guess my bad manners means I get no afternoon cuppa, then."
Giles stared. "Of course you'll get tea. At least one of us is still civilized."