Blood volume drops by a pint when you donate -- I *think* this is what, 1/6 of total blood volume in the body? -- and working out is something that causes the heart to work harder anyway, and combine that with being low a pint...

and I think I just answered my own question about why I'm exhausted.

I got this feedback on "Graveyard Shift," and wanted to share with my lovely betas (Connie, Elena, s.a., Trudy -- alphabetical order):

"Tell your betas they do an excellent job, there is nothing wrong with it."

So there you are. You do an excellent job. It's not just *my* opinion!

Well, of course.

What an odd bit of feedback. But I'm glad that we're doing right by you.

I'm thinking of answering ita's challenge about 'Widow's Pique'... I know that others are going to do so, but it'll be interesting to see the different stories. Especially given my personal slant on Willow.

Elena, DO IT.

And thanks for the kind words!

Here's a thought. Say four of us write a story about this. We put it all together, in four parts, with the proper headers, under the title. I think it would be cool.

Hmm. I like that idea, s.a.

Who's up for some of the next bit of Vamp!Giles? Assuming the host cooperates ...

"Should we be doing this here?" Xander asked Buffy.

"The Magic Box is a public place," she answered, keeping watch on both entrances. "Besides, his name's on the lease. We couldn't keep him out if we tried."

Xander traced a pattern on the top of the counter. "I don't know if I can do this, Buff. My brain is yelling 'Evil vampire,' but my--my heart is going 'But, it's Giles.'"

"I know."

After a moment, the young man put his arms around Buffy, who rested her head for just a moment on his shoulder. "You're nice to lean on. You've got good shoulders."

Xander blushed, and Anya, behind the counter, fidgeted unhappily. "My shoulders," she muttered. "Mine to lean on." But she didn't say it loud enough for anyone to make a fuss over.

At the table in the corner, Willow and Tara were holding hands. "We've got protection spells up," Willow said. "He won't catch us again."

"Thanks, Will."

"Though he is good," the red head mused further. "I mean, if he's doing summonings and negotiating with dark powers and expecting them to listen to him--" She broke off as Tara nudged her arm and shook her head.

Buffy wasn't listening anymore. Straightening from Xander's hold, she stared at the door. "Vampires. Two of them." She glanced at Xander, who drew back into a corner, where two loaded crossbows waited. Buffy pulled Mr. Pointy out of her pocket.

The knock on the door startled everyone. "Uh, come in!" Buffy called.

The door opened slowly. Spike scanned the whole room, marking everyone's location before stepping in. "Evening, folks."

"Spike, you knocked."

"Formal occasion, pet." He glanced around once more, then gave Buffy a questioning look. She stared at the doorway behind him, then nodded. Spike nodded to someone outside, then stepped in and to one side.

Giles appeared in the doorway and paused, likewise scanning the room. He wore blue jeans and a pullover under his leather jacket; behind the glasses, his expression was slightly apprehensive. Tara and Willow only met his eyes briefly, Tara looking nervous and Willow uncertain. Xander looked back for a moment, then divided his attention between the two vampires, his hand resting pointedly near the two crossbows.

Then he looked at the Slayer. She stared at him, her jaw muscles tight. "Hullo, Buffy," he said softly. Buffy blinked rapidly, then turned away.

Giles nodded to himself before looking at Anya. "Hello, Anya. I do apologize for abandoning you and the store like this."

The ex-demon stood back against the shelves behind the counter, out of the easy reach of vampires. "The distributors keep asking where you are. And then there's the bank. Life does go on, you know--well, at least for some of us."

Giles couldn't help laughing. "I've always admired your work ethic." He reached under his jacket. "This should make things easier." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Xander put a hand on a crossbow and the two witches raise their hands. He pretended not to notice and pulled out a legal envelope. As he handed it across the counter, he noticed the cash register--and the cross leaning against the cash drawer. Anya saw his gaze and raised her chin unrepentantly, then took the envelope.

"I've already sent copies to all the distributors and I called the bank," he went on. "You should be able to take care of anyone I missed."

"What is it, Anya?" Xander asked tensely.

She stared at the document she'd pulled out of the envelope. "Formal transfer of ownership and the lease of the Magic Box to me," she whispered. Then she frowned. "For the price agreed upon." She glared at Giles. "What price? I've negotiated with vampires before, what am I agreeing on?"

Giles blinked, then smiled again. "That was just a bit of legal misdirection. No price needed between us, Anya."

"I don't think so." She grabbed her purse and pulled out her wallet. "I have fifty dollars. Xander--"

Willow cleared her throat. "Um, in situations like this, one dollar is traditional, just to show that a transfer of something of value took place."

Anya held out a dollar bill. Giles hesitated, then accepted. She picked up a pen and added the words "the sum of one dollar" to the transfer statement. "There, everything legal and aboveboard. Except that dead men can't sign contracts. Stupid mortal laws."

She smiled brightly and almost leaned forward to hug Giles, catching herself partway.

"You're welcome," Giles said. "One less thing to worry about. I'm sure you'll do well. And thank you, Willow." The witch went pink with pleasure.

Xander didn't take his hand off the crossbow. "I'm sure you're glad to be rid of the place. Running a store would probably get in the way of the carnage and the whole plotting world destruction thing. Isn't that what all the unsouled, unchipped vampires want these days?"

Giles glared at him, and Xander flinched, but he didn't look away. After a moment, Giles took breath to speak. "I have no interest in the destruction of the world. That's why I'm here."

"So the whole screaming, mayhem, blood in the streets thing doesn't get you off, unlike some undead people we could mention." Xander glared at the smirking Spike and missed the expression that flickered across Giles' face. The Ripper look, they'd come to call it, a flash of viciousness and unholy glee.

"Personal proclivities aside, I don't particularly want to see the world overrun by hellbeasts and demons as Glory rips open the dimensional walls and saunters home."

Buffy turned slowly. "And to stop that you were willing to kill my sister."

Giles met her eyes without flinching. "Yes, I was. It would have solved everything."

"Everything except for the fact of you killing my sister." He nodded in resigned acceptance. Buffy clenched her fists. "You're not even sorry, are you."

"I did regret the grief you would feel, but I felt it was necessary."

Now she believed he was a vampire. "Were you always this ruthless?"

The look he gave her was calm. "Yes, actually, I was." He glanced around the room. "Where's Dawn?"

"As if I'd tell you!" Her heart ached at the familiar scolding glance he gave her.

"There are other beings looking for her. The whole point of this is to make sure Glory does not get her hands on the girl."

"She's somewhere safe."

Giles glanced around the room, obviously wondering who was doing guard duty if everyone was here. His eyes fell on Spike, who leaned against a bookcase.

"I would take the Slayer's word for it, Rupert," the blond vampire said quietly. "Don't worry yourself about Dawn."

"I most certainly shall worry myself about the location of the magical crux of this upcoming apocalypse--"

"Leave it."

The humans in the room shivered as the vampires glared at each other. Buffy took a cautious step back, feeling rage and violence rolling off her former mentor. Spike never shifted from his casual pose, but his eyes were not something anyone who might be considered prey wanted to see. She heard a very faint growl from one of them, refusing to admit that it could be Giles who was acting the part of the wild, vicious demon.

There was no Sire-Childe dynamic between the pair of them to force Giles to submit to Spike. The memory of the fight on the lawn, though, still twinged in his mended bones. He could gain the upper hand any time he wished, just by setting off a binding spell before he made his move. If he went that route, though, he'd best be prepared to go the whole way and finish Spike.