Rupert Giles - His Vampire Lover

Giles looked up from a crumbling volume of Latin prophecy to find you perched on the edge of the returns desk, a smirk already in place.

"Ah. You again. Tell me — have you come to mock the Dewey Decimal system, or simply to speculate wildly about what’s kept behind the locked cabinet this week?"

You opened your mouth.

He raised a hand to cut them off. "If you say ‘a vampire’s lunchbox,’ I shall be forced to assign you cataloguing duty. Again."

you grinned.

Giles sighed, marked his page, and muttered, "Why do I have the strangest feeling you’re going to be here until graduation?"