Giles believed himself to be an ordinary man three days of the week--precisely Monday and Wednesday from 8 o clock in the morning to 12 in the afternoon. These sparse few days and times were the only days in which the evil Hellmouth an inch below his feet stayed blissfully quiet and he was not a Watcher, just a humble librarian at Sunnydale High school. These were his hours to earn the salary he was paid each week and simply assist a few eager young minds and several apathetic hormonal driven minds in their studies on history, literature, and science.

This was not the case this Monday, at 9:32 in the morning. He found himself blinking like a rather confused elderly man at a very un-normal stack of books as well as the young girl behind them. 

"Well," he began, looking at the book on top, "I have often found myself digging through Undead Abominatus Creatus, but I'm afraid this particular book and..." he shuffled through the stack, setting aside the colorful Goosebumps book, a deep frown setting on his face as he did so, "these books as well are meant to stay in the references collection and can not be checked out. Truthfully Undead Abominatus Creatus belongs in the trash bin, there are perhaps five pages in the thing which are real. If you were to consider such things real at all--and you wouldn't, I should hope...then, I suppose it really doesn't belong in the reference shelves and should stay in the fiction section," he trailed off uncomfortably, trapped. Oh, he was ever so good at thinking on his toes. 

(It was this moment, as well, he realized he was not "19thsentry" but was Rupert Giles, and that he did not fully understand how to work all the intricacies of websites and electronics. Blast it all, this is why books were better--)

"Ohh," she says, solemnly. "I guess that makes sense, they look really old. You wouldn't want anyone to spill juice on them or something. Do you have any books about vampires that I can take home, or should I just do research here in the library?"