"Watcher wait." A shadow seperated itself from the surrounding night. Recognition was swift "I don't want to hurt you you bleedin' wanker. I just want to talk."
"W-we have nothing to talk about. What do you want Spike?"
He moved closer, only to stop as his prey backed up further. "If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn't 'ave announced my presence now would I? I want to talk."
"About what?"
"Manchester United."
"Wha..?"
"You 'eard me. Look, I had to come to you. Nobody else'd understand. Do you know what's 'appening on Wednesday?"
Giles thought hard, wondering if he'd missed a prophecy concerning the soccer team."W.."
"It's the semi-final man! God! You've been 'ere too long. It's the F.A. semi-final."
"Wasn't that last week?"
"Yeah. And they drew, and they're replaying on Wednesday." He couldn't believe the thickness of this guy. How'd he manage to stay alive for so long? "They're going for the treble this year. The league, the F.A. Cup, and the European. Even you should know that."
"Oh. Oh yes, right." They both waited. "What does that have to do with me?"
"I wanna watch it!"
"And?" Enlightenment came. "No! I am not letting you in my house. I'm not that suicidal!"
"Come on. You gotta help me. I promise not to hurt you."
Giles couldn't contain the incredulous laugh. "And I should believe you,why?" Spike thought hard. "I saved your life."
"Because it was the only way Buffy would agree to spare Drusilla. Besides, you made her mess with my mind. That I can't forgive."
Spike started pacing, frantic with worry. He didn't think it would be this hard. "I'd say a gentlemen's agreement, but I wasn't one of them before I was vamped.Two fellow countrymen sharin' a common bond?" He looked hopefully at the other.
Giles just snorted. He leant against the wall, making himself comfortable as the vampire continued pacing. This was going to be interesting.
"Look, you can do some sort of protection spell, you can uninvite me from your house. Anything. Please?" Was that him whining? Had he been reduced to this? Suddenly, inspiration hit. "I'll bring some Guinness."
"Real Guinness? From England?"
"Still warm from the flight. It's that bottled stuff only, but the best you can do over 'ere. What do you say Rupert?"
Giles knew he was making a terrible mistake. "Alright. But I also want something in return. I don't know what yet, but I'll think of it."
Spike nodded. "Done. I'll see you on Wednesday."
"Very well. Oh, and Spike?" This as the vampire turned to go. "How much are you going to beg next week when they play Juventas in the European?" He turned, whistling the Manchester United anthem as he heard a distinctive "Shit." behind him
Three weeks later "They're throwin' it all away." Spike lifted his fifth bottle of Guinness to his lips. He'd arrived earlier, and he and the Watcher had already made inroads into the evening's supply. They were sprawled out on the floor, their backs to the couch as their team fought a hard battle against the evening's opponents.
"Where's your faith? You do this ev'ry week. Beckham'll bring 'em up. He did last week." Funny how Guinness made him feel like a lad again. Must be the contents. Giles looked inside the bottle. He hoped Ethan hadn't gotten to this too.
"Jush. An' wot's Yorke playin' at? 'E shoulda scored by now."
Giles looked at the vampire in disgust. "You're a depressing sod, aren't you? Give Beckham a chance."
"'Im. E's got no taste. Look who 'e married!"
Giles pointed with his bottle. "Look. Look at that skill, that style. Surely, he's allowed one lapse in common sense."
"But Posh? Scary maybe, or that little Baby, but not Posh!"
"You have no taste Spike. Obviously he should have chosen Sporty."
"Next you'll be saying he should have hooked up with Ginger!" They both began making gagging noises at the thought. "That redhead 'as nothing goin' for 'er. Well, except maybe those hotpants she used to wear before she got prissied up."
"Yeah, well at least she isn't some blonde bimbo. Or some nutter.?
"And you obviously prefer the athletic kind. I'm surprised you 'aven't gone after the Posh one yerself!"
The slamming of the door made them both jump. Buffy stormed up to the two guilty looking men. "Giles! What are you doing with Spike! And I heard you two comparing us! How could you?"
"Analyzing you? Wot you talkin' about Buffy?"
"Hey Slayer."
"I heard you. Redhead, blonde bimbo..."
"Glad you know yerself pet."
"Shut up Spike. Not you Buffy. The Spice Girls."
"The who?"
"We was just talkin' about who David Beckham shoulda married. He's such a brill player, he should 'ave only the best. Eh Spike?"
Buffy finally noticed the images on the television set. "Soccer? You're watching soccer with our enemy?"
"Not soccer. Man United. 'S different. They're goin' for the treble."
"I should stake both of you idiots! I don't care if they're going for the quadruple!"
"Hey...." Both men tried to rise on their wounded dignity.
"GOAL!" The scream stopped the combatants in their tracks, as two pair of eyes turned toward the screen.
"They did it! Ripper they did it!"
Buffy watched in shock, as a great deal of hugging and celebration went on among the men on the screen. She turned back to the two before her to see they'd both passed out from the excitement. Or the drink. Buffy shook her head in disgust. "Boys! Get them together with a TV and they watch that....that.." She peered more closely at the figures on the screen. In their tight shorts, showing off their taut butts. "That fantastic game of talent!" She grabbed the nearest chair, making herself comfortable as she began humming. "I'll tell you what I want, what I really REALLY want."