Spike dropped heavily into one of the leather wingchairs flanking the fireplace in Giles' study.

"I'm bored," he announced.

"One would think that after well over a century of life or something similar you would have learned to find ways to amuse yourself," Giles replied from the other chair, not looking up from the thick tome in his lap.

"Well, Dru and I used to play checkers when we were stuck inside during the day. 'Course, she'd get distracted after the first move, and I'd have to play for the both of us, but it passed the time."

"I believe that there is a board in the hall closet, although I must admit that I have always preferred chess."

"Unless you've got a couple dozen severed heads stored somewhere around here, it won't be quite the same game, mate," Spike said.

"I daresay you could lower yourself to use actual pieces."

"Nah. Not much point without the dripping blood, is there? Lends verisimili-whatsit to the battles."

"Dripping blood? Good l-" Giles finally raised his head and caught sight of Spike's wide grin.

"You enjoyed that, did you?" he asked, smiling slightly.

"What? Putting you on?" Spike shrugged. "It's too easy, really. Always ready to think the worst of me, aren't you?"

"I'm not thinking the worst of you, Spike. I simply know who you are."

"Playing checkers with severed heads and bleached knucklebones is who I was, not who I am."

"I don't expect you to live this life indefinitely," Giles said.

"What life? The lazy-Saturday-afternoon-argument-with-the-Watcher-before-we-have-a-nice-shag life? Suppose it can't last forever, can it? You'll up and die eventually."

"Or you'll get bored and leave."

"Not if I can keep surprising you with things like the checkers. And where would I go this time of day, anyway? Don't fancy blowing away on a breeze and fertilizing your bloody flowers."

"That's not what I meant." Giles met his gaze again, and Spike was disconcerted by the amount of emotion in those somber eyes.

Tempting, awful words like 'love' and 'promise' and 'forever' skittered through his treacherous thoughts, and Spike shoved them as far away as possible. He could still hear them whispering in the back of his mind.

"Do you have to ruin things by getting so maudlin?" he asked. "I was having a nice afternoon."

"Were you? You were bored, or so you claimed... at frequent intervals, I might add."

"Yeah, but I was with you, so I didn't mind so much."

"Really?" Giles asked, his voice serious.

"I've lived that other life, Giles. I like this one better."

Giles reached over to squeeze Spike's hand.

"I'm glad to hear that."

"'Course you are," Spike said, but he returned the pressure of Giles' fingers.

With a smile, Giles released Spike's hand and focused his attention back on his book.

"But I'm still bloody bored," Spike said with sigh.

~end~