Buffy was awakened by the grating sound of the room’s alarm clock. Ugh--damn things are just as aggravating overseas... She smacked the top of her night table a few times before realizing that the clock was on the other side of the bed. Half awake, grumpy and irritated as hell, she climbed over the still-sleeping vampire to shut the annoying thing off.

She looked down at Spike and wondered at how weird it was to watch him sleep. Hair tousled and lips slightly separated, he looked like any other sleeping man; however, no breath passed his lips and his chest was perfectly still. She sat back and stared at him, wondering how something that was so peaceful in rest be so damned annoying awake. Not knowing why she was doing it, but giving into the feeling anyway, she leaned over and whispered into his ear. “William, time to wake up.”

When the vampire didn’t move, she tried again. “Come on, William--time to join the waking world...”

He smacked his lips and muttered “Just a few more minutes, mum...” before turning around away from her.

Buffy sat back. This was definitely not what she had expected. Trying to push away any maternal feelings, Why the hell does he have to be so adorable sometimes?, she gave him a good shove and watched him disappear over the edge of the bed. There. That’s better.

Game face on, the vampire jumped up and looked around. When he saw the young woman on the bed, laughing like a madwoman, he narrowed his eyes. “Oh really fucking funny, Slayer. ‘S that how you’re going to wake me up every time, by shoving me off the bed?”

Gasping during laughing fits, the young blonde managed to respond. “If it’s this funny every time, yeah, I’d say I just might.” She managed to slow down to a few giggles. “Seriously, though, Spike--I tried to wake you before, and you weren’t moving so I had to resort to serious measures.”

He frowned. “Were you whispering in my ear? Is that why I started to dream of my mum? ”

“Whispering? Me? I don’t know what you’re... Mom! Oh my God, I forgot to call Mom--she’ll be freaking out! She’ll think I was kidnapped or something--she’s probably called Giles by now. I am in so much trouble.” She whined and dropped her legs over the edge of the bed.

“Look, why don’t you just calm down and call her--I’m sure she’ll understand that you were tired and took a nap. Jet lag’s a bitch, even for us vampires.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Buffy picked up the phone and dialled. After a few seconds, she hung back up and stared at the phone. “That’s weird. I dialled the number and some voice told me it was an invalid number. Do you think Mom changed our phone number since I left?”

“Yes--it was her secret desire to get you out of the country and move where you couldn’t find her. She told me as much last time I stopped by for a cuppa.” At the heartbroken look Buffy gave him, he rolled his eyes. “No, she didn’t change the bloody number! We’re overseas--you have to dial an extra code or something.”

“Well, Mr. Smartyfang, do you know what that code is, or are you just going to sit there and be useless?”

“Useless?! I’m the one who told you about the stupid code in the first place. And no, I don’t know what it is. ‘S’not like I was calling America last time I lived here.”

Buffy huffed and picked up the receiver. “Geez, you don’t have to bite my head off. If you don’t know it, just say so. I’ll call the operator--I’m sure she’ll be nice enough to tell me.”

With the help of a very friendly operator, Buffy was finally put through to her home phone and spoke to a worried Joyce.

“Hi Mom... yes, everything’s alright. No, we got here a few hours ago, but we were tired so we took a nap. What time is it? It’s just after 10. Yeah, 10 PM. Yeah, he’s ok. No, he didn’t get charred or anything--he’s managed to avoid that pesky sunlight.” Buffy looked towards Spike, who was doing his best to pretend not to be listening. “No, we haven’t had time to do any sightseeing; we just went to Council headquarters-- ugh, you don’t even want to know. That Travers is such a... well, you know what he‘s like. Then we came to our hotel, which, by the way, is not a five-star deal. Actually, it’s really embarrassing--they’ve got us set up as honeymooners. No, it is *not* cute--it’s gross! At least the bed’s huge, so....“ Her eyes grew as she realized what she’d just said. “No! He’s sleeping on the couch. No sleeping with Spike!“ She got up and walked to the window, parting the blind. “Look Mom, I’ve got to get going. This call’s probably costing a fortune and the Council isn’t exactly paying us a mint while we’re here. No, I don’t need you to call them for me--we’ll do fine with what we have. Say hi to everyone for me. Uh huh, I have to call him too. I know, Mom--I’ll be careful. I love you too. Uh huh. Yup. Ok then, I’ll talk to you soon. Bye.” She hung up the phone and groaned.

Spike looked up from the television. “You know, pet, mothers are like that ‘cause they care so much. Joyce is just worried, ‘s all.”

Buffy came over to the couch, and sat beside the blonde vamp. “Was your mom like that?”

Throwing an arm over his face in a dramatic gesture, Spike laughed. “Was she ever--couldn’t leave the house without tellin’ her where I was going, when I was comin’ back. She was the quintessential mother hen. I was twenty-five and she still insisted on making sure I was wore a scarf when I went out.”

That made Buffy laugh. “Wow--there’s a mental image: Spike wearing a scarf.”

The vampire became serious. “No, pet. William wore the scarf. Not Spike.”

Buffy bit her lip, pondering a question. What the heck--worst thing he can do is laugh at me. “Is it that you don’t feel the cold, or does it just not bother you?”

Spike raised an eyebrow. “Well, yeah, I can feel it; it’s just that it doesn’t bother me so much--not like it would for you. If I have a choice, though, I prefer warmth. Didn’t your Watcher cover any of this?”

“Well, no--not exactly. We got to ‘vampires bad--kill vampires’ and that was about it. It’s not like I’m gonna ask a vamp if he’s cozy before I stake him.”

Standing up, Spike stretched. “Pfft. Figures. Why don’t you call Rupes and get that out of the way so we can head out? I don’t plan on having to carry a snoozing Slayer back here.”

Buffy did just that, and proceeded to recount all that had happened at Council headquarters.

The vampire made his way to the bedroom to get dressed. As he walked by his flatmate’s open suitcase, a sudden urge hit him. Listening carefully, he heard that she was still on the phone. Typical woman--she’ll be on that thing forever. Peering into the bag, he saw that it contained the Slayer’s underclothes.

Holding up a pair of red silk panties, he nearly hit the floor. They had lace at the waist, and a small lace heart on one of the sides. He put those to the side and pulled out a satin thong that had ’I Chase Boys’ printed on the front--he let out an unnecessary breath. “Christ...”

“Spike! What are you... Argh! Is that my underwear? What the hell are you doing in my underwear?”

Although lying had never been his forte, Spike, for once in his unlife, came up with a quick valid excuse. “Hmph! Get off your high horse, Slayer. I was just tossing your bag off the bed when the bloody thing opened up on me. Figured you wouldn’t be too keen on having your knickers lying all around the bedroom.” He stuffed the two pairs back into the suitcase and shoved it towards their owner, who eyed him suspiciously but didn’t say a word.

Leering, he cocked an eyebrow at her. “Not my fault you packed a suitcase of naughty knickers--don’t know what you were plannin’ on doing here, but maybe you could...”

He didn’t have time to finish his sentence before a hairbrush was thrown at him rather harshly. Grabbing whatever clothing was close at hand, he ran out of the room, secretly high-fiving himself for the first believable save of his unlife, doubled with a well-placed taunt.

***

“So, what’s the plan for tonight?” Buffy sat on one of the kitchen chairs, tying up the laces on her sneakers.

Throwing on his duster, Spike wished for the first time in a long, long time that he had a reflection. The Council video camera had reminded him of just how damn good he looked in that coat.

“Figured we’d head over to the Calico. It’s pretty tame for a demon joint, so it’s a good place to start. We can probably get the lowdown on these Pelorak and what they’re up to.” He looked at the Slayer up and down, and frowned.

“And then we’ll go get you some decent clothes. The Calico’s about the only place you’ll get in dressed like that.”

Buffy looked in the mirror. She was wearing a pink knit top and light blue flares. “What’s wrong with this? At least I’m not dressed like the Grim Reaper.”

“Think of where we’re going, pet. I’ll blend in, but you’re just screaming ‘Hello, human! Please kill me now!’ You look like an Old Navy ad.”

She didn’t know why his words were bothering her. It’s not like it was a personal attack, and it was certainly not like he’d never insulted her before. “And what’s wrong with what I look like? You’ve never had a problem with how I’ve dressed before!” What does it matter what he thinks? Stupid vampire--it’s not like I wore this for *him*...

Fuck... Don’t cry, whatever you do... Spike had no idea why he felt bad. Insulting the Slayer was on his daily top 10 things to do, but her reaction this time got to him. Bloody sentimental poof... “Look, there’s nothing wrong with what you’re wearing *if you’re in Sunnydale*. If you’re trying to get into some of the seediest demon bars in London, pink won’t cut it.”

Buffy began to feel a little less self-conscious. “Well, it’s not like we can go shopping tonight--it’s after 11pm. I doubt even the Goth stores are still open.”

“You just don’t know where to shop, pet. Look, why don’t we just head out and we’ll talk about clothing later.” He got up and headed for the door.

Buffy looked at him for a moment and not for the first time took note of the blonde vamp’s clothing. Watching his muscles move, even from under his duster, she thought to herself: Yeah, the Big Bad look definitely works for him. She creased her brow. Where’d that come from? Ugh, God help me; he insults me and all I can do is check him out...

***

On the way to the Calico, Buffy made a point to stop at a bank machine. Taking out £50, she bemoaned the fact that that sum was exactly one tenth of their total spending money for this mission.

As they passed a street vendor, the young woman realized just how hungry she was. When was the last time she’d eaten properly? “Did you want to grab something to eat? I’m starving.”

“Sure--we can share; you can have a hot dog and” he waggled his eyebrows “I’ll have the vendor. Sound fair to you?”

The Slayer stopped dead in her tracks and faced the blonde vampire. Dragging him into an alley, she pointed a finger in his face. She spoke slowly and menacingly. “Spike--we’ll get this straight right now. You will not, under any circumstance, feed off humans while we’re on this mission. I don’t care if you have to brown bag it like Angel--find a way around it.” She backed up a step and crossed her arms.

The vampire sneered. “’S a bit late for that, Slayer. Had a bite to eat at the airport.”

Buffy narrowed her eyes. “You’re lying--you were with me the whole time. You didn’t leave my side except to go...” her face paled “...to go have a smoke. Oh, tell me you didn’t...”

Smug, Spike straightened his stance and reclaimed some of his ‘Big Bad’. “’Fraid so, luv. Had myself a bit of a snack in the bathroom. Some pudgy middle-aged bloke...”

The stake was pressed against his heart before he knew it.

“Anything you want to say before you leave this world, Spike?”

In the four years he and the Slayer had fought, Spike had never let her get the upper hand quite to this extent. Sure, she’d won a few rounds and so had he, but never, ever, had any of their fights ended with his unlife so seriously on the line.

“Yeah. I didn’t kill him.”

“Huh?” Buffy had expected him to fight back, or to goad her into going through with it, but his quiet confession took her by surprise. “Did you say you didn’t kill him?”

“Yes.”

His eyes met hers in an unwavering gaze and she knew he was telling her the truth.

“Why not?” Her question was just a whisper.

His eyes left hers and darted around. It was obvious that not only was he trying to decide whether or not to tell her, but he was also searching for the answer.

“I don’t know why. He was pleading for his life--they all do that, you know, if they’re conscious--anyway, prattled on about a wife and girls that he hadn’t seen in weeks. He kept crying the whole time. Bloody wanker, I am. Look, if you’re going to kill me, just do it--don’t stand there with that thing poking into my chest.”

Buffy looked into his clear blue eyes and, pulling the stake away from him, lightly pressed her lips to his. “Thank you.” She turned away and walked back to the sidewalk.

The Slayer part of her was going ballistic. What in the world was that?! Slayers do *not* kiss the undead! You thanked him for not killing someone--great incentive there, Buffy. Maybe he’ll be expecting kisses for all the people he won’ t kill from here on in. Another thought came to mind, however. Or did you thank him for not having to kill him? She didn’t know why she’d kissed him, and at that moment she honestly didn’t want to know why.

Spike remained with his back glued to the wall, eyes round like saucers. Buffy Summers, *The* Slayer of vampires, had kissed him. Maybe he had been staked after all and this was some weird afterlife. He brought his left hand up to his right forearm and pinched himself hard. “Shit!” Ok, so he wasn’t dead... again. He pulled away from the wall and filed this incident under ‘things to revisit later’.

He caught up to the Slayer and fell in step with her as she made her way down the sidewalk.

Author's Note: Wow. I can't believe we're onto chapter 14 already! I hope you guys are enjoying the banter between Spike and Buffy--that's so much fun to write :) As usual, thanks to all those who left reviews. It warms the cockles of my heart, it does.
Please keep 'em coming.

Spike led them through a maze of old factories, stretching out his senses, pausing every now and then to cock his head and listen or to sniff at something in the air. It had been a long, long time since he’d made his way through these buildings and he never thought he’d ever forget the way to Calico. Not that he’d spent that much time there, but when one’s a vampire you tend to remember places like these because, well, because you could be around forever...

Buffy watched her ’guide’ as he tried to suss out where this bar was. She’d never actually watched him in full vamp mode, and was secretly contemplating the display. She wondered if he realized that he’d vamped out--his body probably did it automatically to heighten his senses. Sight, hearing, smell--she imagined that with his demon in the forefront, they had a much better chance at finding this place before dawn. She hopped over some toppled wooden skids and nearly tripped.

“Why do these places always have to be in industrial areas? I mean, even *you* are having trouble finding it. This is so stupid...”

For a moment, Spike had almost forgotten that he wasn‘t alone. Her voice brought him back to his current situation, which at the moment was kind of close to ‘demon bar bloodhound’. “’Cause if we set shop up on main street, I gather folks would do more than raise an eyebrow. Imagine that--coupla Fyarl demons rolling out in the wee morning, right snookered--something tells me that might just make the front page.”

He stopped suddenly and looked to his left. He sniffed a bit and turned. “This way.” When he saw that she was still following him, he resumed. “Demons scope out this kind of location because we can mind our own business and not be pestered by humans. Cops know better than to come around--those who do, well they don’t come by twice. Most folks can’t deal with seein’ stuff they’ve only ever seen in scary movies.”

Buffy couldn’t help but agree, easily remembering her own reaction to first meeting all that goes bump in the night. “That might be true for people from most cities, but not in Sunnydale. I swear, they must put something in the water over there. People see a Grauk demon--you know, those big insect-like things that are, like, yea tall” she stretched her arm as high as she could above her head, and waited for Spike to nod in assent “and they think it’s something that’s escaped from the zoo. Makes my job easier, in a way--no having to try to make up some crazy story to cover my butt. They do a good enough job with their own imaginations.”

“Yeah--always wondered about folks in Sunnyhell. I thought it was too much sunshine. You know, the heat an’ all--makes people a bit barmy.” He stopped and turned to his left. “Ah! Here we are--the Calico!”

Buffy followed the vampire to the front of the building. It didn’t look all that much different than any other bar she’d ever seen, although it looked a bit odd sitting there among scores of abandoned factories. It had a blue neon sign near the top that had ‘Calico’ written in cursive and had billboards and a menu posted on the wall near the door; the only difference from most bars is that it didn’t have any windows. Guess that eliminates any stragglers from getting dusted by the sunrise...

In an unusual display of manners, Spike held the door open for the Slayer. She looked at him oddly, but accepted his gesture at face value. He followed her into the establishment and saw that it hadn’t changed much since he’d last been there. The owner had added a few electronic gambling machines and there was now a cigarette dispensing machine near the bar, but aside from that it was pretty much the same. Same chairs, same tables, same owner... “Edward!”

Buffy’s immediate reaction to the bar was that it reminded her a lot of the cantina scene in Star Wars. Lots of weird looking beings speaking very loudly in lots of different languages, with some really funky music playing in the background. She looked in the direction that Spike was hollering and noticed a floppy-eared demon. Its face lit up at the sound of his name and he practically pole-vaulted in their direction.

“Spike! Good Lord--I never thought I’d see you again. How are you, old chum?” He came over and grabbed Spike in a bear hug, nearly squeezing the unlife out of the blonde vampire.

“Ugh--I’ll be fine if you haven’t broken any ribs there, Eddie. Place looks the same as it always did--looks good ‘s what I mean.” He looked around once more and smiled. It was nice to be back home, back with people he actually liked.

Eddie looked at Buffy and nudged Spike. “Have you lost all manners or are you going to introduce me to your friend?” He smiled at Buffy, who felt herself relax just a little.

“Oh, sorry ‘bout that. Eddie, this is Buffy. Buffy--Edward. Buffy’s from Sunnydale--in California. It’s where I’m staying right now.” He pulled back and lit a fag. He appreciated being able to light up wherever he wanted--he didn’t have to worry about icy stares. Not that that usually stopped him, but it was an annoyance nevertheless.

“Nice to meet you, Eddie. This is a nice place you have here; very homey.” Buffy smiled and shook the demon’s hand. He had a heck of a handshake that belied his friendly demeanour. Here was a demon that was probably strong enough to take her on and do a bit of damage, but had the personality of a puppy dog. She also appreciated the fact that he was yet to ask where Drusilla was; he must have been wondering, but at least he was keeping it to himself.

Eddie’s face fell and he put one of his floppy hands to his mouth. “Oh dear! Where are my manners? Would you like to sit down? I do hope that you came in for a short while, at least? Enjoy a bit to drink” he looked at Buffy and quickly added “alcohol, drink alcohol that is, and maybe a bit to eat?”

Spike smiled at Eddie. “It’s alright, mate. She knows what I drink--might not be too ok with it, but she knows. If we can find a booth in a corner somewhere, I actually need to speak to you.” He gave his friend a serious look, letting him know that he wanted to do more than catch up on old times.

Buffy followed the two demons, looking around her as she walked. Upon closer inspection, the bar was a little more peculiar than what she was used to--not that she hung around in bars, mind you. A gang of short beige demons, who kind of reminded her of that Alf thing from TV, were sitting around a large table playing some games involving spinning rocks and hitting each other with sticks. Ookay--mental note not to join in any demon games. Weird. The walls were adorned with photographs, which in itself wouldn’t be weird if the people in the pictures didn’t have two heads, or blue skin, or weren’t covered in scales. She slid in to the booth, seating herself next to Spike.

Eddie waved one of the barmaids over. “Cora! Come here, please, luv.”

The tall woman walked over to their booth and smiled at her boss. Buffy wondered what a human woman was doing working in a demon bar, even one that wasn’t half bad; that was until she took a closer look at her. The barmaid’s eyes were like a reptile’s and she had a forked tongue that made her lisp when she spoke.

“Ssure, Eddie. What can I get for you?” She gave Spike a wink and smiled at Buffy.

Spike spoke up first. “I’ll have a vodka and O-Neg and the young lady here will have...” He looked at the Slayer expectantly. When she shrugged her shoulders, he ordered for her. “Something sweet. Easy on the alcohol, though.”

Buffy’s brow creased. “What’s that supposed to mean--‘Easy on the alcohol’? Just because I’m not a career drunk like you are doesn’t mean that I can’t have a drink like a regular person.”

Spike sighed. “I know, pet--it’s just that most demon bars a regular serving of alcohol is double that of human bars--and Eddie here doesn‘t water it down like that pillock Willy. I just ordered you what you’d get at the Bronze.”

The young woman relaxed a bit. “Oh. Okay.”

“So, Spike--you had something you wanted to discuss?” Eddie leaned in, and crossed his arms on the table.

Spike and Buffy both leaned in and aped the other demon’s pose. “Yeah--we’re keepin’ an eye out for some Pelorak. Wondering if you’ve had any come in recently--say, the past month or month and a half.”

Eddie became very serious and remained motionless. “Must be serious, if you’re looking for Pelorak. I haven’t seen any, but I’m not always here. If you don’t mind my asking, what’s this all about?”

Just as Spike was about to answer, Cora returned with their drinks. She handed the vampire his drink, making sure he got a good view of her cleavage. Turning to Buffy, she handed her a punch-coloured drink with an umbrella in it. “Ssweet--hope you like it.” She watched as the young woman took a sip of the drink.

Something was off. Buffy smacked her mouth, trying to figure out what the drink tasted like. She presented it to Spike. “Here--taste it. There’s something weird in it, and I can’t quite place it.”

“What, am I your taste-vamp now?” Spike grabbed the drink and took a sip. His face broke into a wide grin, and he leaned over Buffy, handing the drink over to the patient barmaid. “She’s human, love. Why don’t you bring her a pina colada or something fruity?”

After the waitress nodded and left with her drink, Buffy’s curiosity got the upper hand. “Ok, I give. What was in the drink?”

Spike and Eddie threw a glance at each other, before turning their gazes to the young woman. “I think it’s best for my health if I don’t answer that, pet. Believe me--you don’t want to know.”

“What do you mean, I don’t want to know?” Then it dawned on her--she looked at the colour of Spike’s drink and remembered her own drink’s colour. “Oh. Oh--ewww!” She took her napkin and frantically wiped her tongue. “I think I’m gonna be sick.” As she put her napkin back down on the table, Cora returned with her new drink. Buffy pushed it over to Spike, who rolled his eyes. He took a small sip, and made a face.

“Ugh! Yeah, it’s a pina colada all right. Don’t know how you can drink that sugary crap.” He took a long swig of his blood/vodka mix and made an appreciative ‘aah’.

He turned back to Eddie, and the conversation resumed from where it left off. “The Pelorak--they’ve kidnapped a baby and we have to find it. I know it sounds poncey, but this is some serious shit--you know: prophecy, sacrifice, inter-dimensional bleeding, end of the world, yadda yadda yadda.”

The floppy demon nodded and was temporarily lost in thought. “If any Pelorak came in, Cora would have seen them. I’ll send her over. As nice as it is to see you again, Spike, I do have to tend to my little business.” He got up, and took Buffy’s hand, giving it a light kiss. “It was nice to meet you, Buffy. I hope we get to meet again--good luck with the baby. These apocalyptic threats are never good for business.” He hurriedly made his way behind the bar and said a few words to Cora before disappearing into a back room.

Buffy’s Slayer senses were on overdrive. “Ok, am I the only one who thinks that Eddie beat it a little suddenly after you mentioned the baby and the prophecy?”

Spike looked at where his friend had gone and frowned. “Eddie’s not involved, Slayer. Believe me when I tell you that.”

“Oh yeah? Well, people can change after 50 years, you know. Maybe he found out that there’s more money to be made working for the bad guys. Gee, and he seemed like such a nice demon, too.”

Spike leaned in to Buffy, close enough for her to smell the blood and vodka on his breath. “Listen here, Slayer. Eddie lost his wife and kids to some quack warlock who wanted to start a demon breeding colony in some other dimension. This psycho didn’t take the time to notice that the gravity over there was about 500 times as strong as it is here on Earth. I doubt it makes him feel any better to know that they probably didn’t feel a thing before their bodies were crushed by the pressure. So if his reaction to our mission is less than enthusiastic, you’ll have to forgive him.”

“That’s horrible! Poor Eddie...” The young woman threw an apologetic glance at the door through which the demon had passed.

***

Cora was making it nearly impossible for Spike to concentrate on the task at hand.

After his talk with Buffy about Eddie, the Slayer had moved over to the other side of the table. They both felt more comfortable facing each other, instead of sitting hip to hip in the dimly-lit booth.

The barmaid had seated herself next to the blonde vampire and was now practically on his lap.

“You assked to ssee me?” Her tongue flicked out, tickling Spike’s ear. His mind went blank as he began to make a mental list of what that tongue of hers could probably do. He doubted that this is what his mother meant when she warned him against women with forked tongues.

He tried to speak again as she pressed her ample chest into his arm. He smiled warmly and brought his arm around her shoulders. “Yeah, I need to know if you’ve seen any Pelorak come in here in the past month or so. They’ve got something of ours and we need to get it back.”

Cora brought her hand down to his lap and began to draw circles on the vampire’s thigh with her sharp red nails. “Pelorak? Yess, a group came by for a drink about 3 or 4 weekss ago.” She pouted and leaned in closer. “They weren’t very nice, not like you. They kept to themselves--I didn’t hear much of what they were ssaying.” The circles she was drawing were getting closer and closer to their target. “The only thing I made out was the Pulchra Nex and the name Blakeford.”

“How can you even remember this conversation? It was over a month ago.” Buffy wasn’t impressed with the reptilian barmaid, especially the way she was fawning over the blonde vampire who, in her opinion, was enjoying it a bit too much. “Do you remember all your patrons’ conversations?”

Cora took her eyes off Spike for a moment and set them on the young woman sitting across from her. “Honey, I’ve worked in bars like thiss for over 60 years. If there’s one thing I’ve learned it’ss that Pelorak are bad news--they’re always up to no good. I always keep an ear open to their converssations--jusst in case ssome handsome bloke decides to pop in and have a chat.” Her attention once again diverted to Spike, she leaned in and whispered in his ear. “What ssay you sstick around until closing? My place isn’t far from here.” Her yellow gaze turned to Buffy. “Maybe your lady friend can join us, too.”

Buffy’s eyes narrowed and her patience waned. She didn’t understand why Cora’s flirting irked her; it wasn’t as if she and Spike were seeing each other. They were just travelling together, and staying in the same hotel room... and sleeping in the same bed. It didn’t mean that she had any feelings for him! So he had made chocolate-covered strawberries for her, that didn’t mean anything! Stupid bleached vampire, she’ll show him. With a smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes, she addressed the barmaid who seemed to have more in common with octopi than lizards. “Sorry Cora, but I don’t share. Isn’t that right, Spikey?” She followed through with a good kick to his shin.

“Ow!” What the heck was the Slayer doing, anyway? He was the one being molested--not that he minded, but still... “Sorry, luv, but I’m a one-woman vamp.” He kept a wary eye on the Slayer and pulled his legs under his bench.

Cora pouted, but slid off the seat. “Pity. All that stamina for just one woman. Lucky...” She fixed her apron and smiled at them as if nothing had conspired. “Would you like something from the kitchen while you’re here?”

Before Buffy had time to open her mouth, Spike ordered for both of them. “Yeah--two fish and chips. It’s been ages since I’ve had proper fish and chips.” He watched the barmaid walk away, hips swinging alluringly, and readjusted his pants. It had been way too long since he’d had any...

Trying to shake the stamina comment from her mind, Buffy tried to veer the conversation to safer grounds. “So what’s our next move, then? I say we go to that Nex whatever and shake some information out of a few slimeballs. I don’t want to be here any longer than I have to, and anyway--every moment that we waste is extra time that Blakeford has to get further away.” She frowned, as she tried to remember something else that she’d wanted to tell him. “Oh yeah--” she slid down the seat a little, and reached out with her foot, kicking him again “I don’t need you to order for me. We’re in the 21st century--I can order for myself.”

“Bloody hell, woman--are you trying to cripple me?!” Spike rubbed at the bruises forming on his shin. “First of all, we are not going to the Pulchra Nex anytime soon--you’re not ready for that place just yet. Second, if Blakeford wanted to leave London, he would have done so by now, so either we’ve missed him or we’ll find him soon enough. Third, I ordered for you because I knew you’d order something ‘healthy’ like a salad or something. You need some flesh on those bones of yours, Slayer, and a good English diet will do just that. And lastly,” he returned an equally harsh kick to her shin, making her yelp, “stop hitting me.”

***

As she polished off her last french fry, Buffy got to thinking about what Spike had told her earlier. “What was it that you said about me not being ready to go to the Pulker Next? I’m a way better liar than you are, and I can kick your ass any day.”

Spike sighed. Sometimes... make that almost all the time, he really couldn’t believe that Buffy Summers was the Slayer. Was she truly that thick, or was she just short on attention span? Or... did she simply like pushing his buttons? Of course, she was just a young girl from California--barely twenty years old, if that. What had he been like at twenty? A stuttering bookworm whose heroes were Wordsworth, Coleridge and Tennyson. A young man who still clung to his doting mother’s coattails. He shuddered as the memories rushed back, of his mother’s illness and his worry for her condition, and of what had transpired... No, don’t go there, mate. You’ll never be ready to go back there.

Snapping fingers brought him back to the there and then, and he shook his head. “Sorry ‘bout that. Guess I must’ve wandered. Where were we?”

“Ugh. You were going to tell me why we’re not going to that other bar. Are you sure you’re ok? You look paler than usual...” Buffy took a hold of the lamp that hung over their table and shone its light in his face, trying to get a better look.

“Look, I’m fine.” The vampire grabbed the lamp from the young woman’s grasp and set it back in place. “And don’t shine that in my face--you almost blinded me.” He took a deep breath, shaking away the residual emotions of his memories. “The bar’s name, once again, is Pulchra Nex. There are a few reasons we’re not going just yet. We’ve already established that you don’t have a wardrobe fitting for such a place, but the main reason is that the only humans to get into Pulchra Nex are either on the menu or part of the entertainment. And don’t think that that means stand-up comedy, pet. The owners of the Nex could give the Romans a run for their money when it comes to entertaining their patrons.”

“So what does Pulchra Nex mean, anyway?”

“Loosely translated, ‘Beautiful, Violent Death‘”

Slayer back in the driver’s seat, Buffy sat straight and looked Spike in the eye. “Ok, so potentially bad for me, human and all. We get me new clothing and... and that gets me in? Just like that--or is there something else?”

“Haven’t gotten quite that far, yet. Clothing’s only the first step. I haven’t thought of a way of getting you in there--well, one that won’t get me staked upon suggesting it. Give me a bit of time--I always think of something.”

Buffy snickered at that. “Yeah, like all those plans to kill me and the Scoobies? Those always worked out so well.”

Spike made a motion to get up. “Ha bloody ha, Slayer. Sit tight for a moment--I’m gonna go say goodbye to Eddie, and then we’ll be on our way. We’ve got a bit of shopping to do and I don’t feel like being out all sodding night.”

“So what’s the name of this store we’re going to?” The cool air was a welcome refreshment to the Slayer, who felt a bit sluggish after having eaten the biggest portion of fish and chips she‘d ever laid eyes on. She took in many of the sights and sounds they passed, trying to get a feel for this city that had been ancient even before Spike’s time. She regretted not having time to stop and read the plaques that spoke of the history of the old buildings and landmarks--maybe, she hoped, she could come out sometime during the day and see London in the sunlight.

“It’s called Divine Opulence.” Spike had appreciated the comfortable silence that had accompanied their walk. He found it refreshing to be able to be in someone’s company without having to fill every moment with senseless banter.

“Divine Opulence? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s not supposed to mean anything. That’s just what it’s called. It’s not very far from here, if I remember correctly. I know it’s around here somewhere...” He stopped in his tracks and closed his eyes. He’d been here numerous times, but that was before the McDonald’s and the Gap that now occupied this intersection were even a notion in their creators’ minds. He opened his senses, reaching out to feel the pull of the other demons.

He opened his eyes and looked at Buffy. Nodding his head to his right, he confirmed his suspicions. “It‘s right over here.”

Buffy looked at the building they were facing. She cocked her head and stared at the golden arches for a second before glaring at the vampire. “Ok. Am I missing something, or are you implying that you’re getting me dressed at McDonald’s? ‘Cause uniforms so aren’t my look right now.”

Spike groaned. “Have you learned nothing yet?” He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her down a pathway that lay next to the restaurant. The rank smell of grease and garbage hung in the still air of the alley, which was unlit save for the moonlight that trickled in between the two brick buildings. Buffy felt as if she was being coated in a layer of stench and quietly wished that for just once, her life would lead to somewhere normal like the Gap.

The path opened up onto a small cobblestone courtyard over which about half a dozen storefronts faced. Two small Japanese Maples were growing in the center of the court, and miniature white Christmas lights decorated many of the storefronts. Buffy’s eyes scanned the stores, curious as to what kind of stores upper class demons might frequent. There was Dvelia’s Chocolates and Confections, Savannah Beauty Salon, Silk and Lace Garments and, of course, Divine Opulence.

Scanning the selection at the chocolate shoppe, Buffy was impressed. “You guys are really set up, aren’t you?”

Spike tore his eyes from the lingerie display and shrugged. “Well, if you’ve been around long enough, you’re going to develop an infrastructure. It’s bound to happen.”

“Ah—the joys of demon capitalism. Anya would be proud.” She walked through the door as Spike held it open for her, and found that the store looked like any other fashionable boutique she’d ever been to. Although she hadn’t really known what to expect, she never really thought it would be so... normal. She made her way to one of the racks and looked at a pair of jeans. “Ooh--these are nice!“ She turned the price tag over and felt faint. “Uh, Spike? We can’t afford to shop here! Look at the price of this stuff—what, does it come from another dimension or something?”

“’S possible, pet. Lots of work to be had making clothes for the filthy rich, even in the demon world. We just haven’t got the same resources you humans do—not like we can enslave 8-year old Chinese kids to make our shirts.” He peered around, as if he was looking for someone in particular. “Look, I’ll go find some help for you. And don’t worry about the money—I’m cashing in on a favour so you just choose whatever you like.”

As Spike walked away, heading towards the closest salesperson, Buffy busied herself by looking at the clothing on the racks. She’d forgotten that the store catered to the non-human variety until she found a beautiful green dress that had four armholes. Wow—this is worse than not finding my size...

A piercing shriek brought her attention to the back of the store, to where Spike was being attacked by a squat demon in a bright yellow dress. Well, it looked like he was being attacked but the vampire wasn’t fighting back so Buffy could only assume that it had been a happy kind of shriek. Making her way to where the commotion was taking place, she nearly doubled over in laughter.

Right next to the cash register, a short, rotund demon had Spike in a bear hug. Although he seemed royally embarrassed, he was returned the embrace; that was until he spied the Slayer.

“Right, then.” Pulling away from the hug, he straightened his duster and tried to regain some of his Big Bad. “Zairah, this is Buffy. She’s a... friend. From California. Buffy, this is Zairah; she owns Divine Opulence.”

The demon turned to Buffy and gave her a warm, matronly smile. She didn’t seem to have any body hair, and the Slayer found it a bit disconcerting to be speaking to someone who didn’t have any eyebrows or eyelashes. She was reminded of the time that the football team had gotten their clutches on Xander--they’d duct taped him to a bench in the change rooms and had shaved his eyebrows. Not a fun time for Xander, no siree...

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Zairah. You’ve got a really nice store here.” Buffy was genuine in her feelings towards the demon. She gave off a feeling of warmth and kindness that the Slayer didn’t encounter often--either in demons or humans.

“Thank you, dear. I’ve worked very hard to get it to what it has become, and I have William to thank for that.” As the large demon spoke in a thick Eastern European accent she beamed at the vampire, who tried his best not to look abashed. “It is always in difficult times that you know who your true friends are.”

Before Buffy had a chance to ask the demon what she was referring to, Spike spoke up. He didn’t feel like taking another trip down memory lane. If Buffy really wanted to know what the older demon was talking about, he’d tell her when they got back to the hotel. “Reason we’re here, Zairah, is Buffy needs a bit of a makeover in the clothing department. We have to pay a visit to Pulchra Nex, so she needs to have something less bubble-gum.”

The demon’s eyes grew round. “The Pulchra Nex? William--you’re not still associating with those people are you? After all these years I would have believed you’d grow out of getting into trouble.” She seemed truly disappointed and clucked her tongue. “And bringing a nice young girl like Buffy in such circles--you should be ashamed of yourself!” She smacked him upside the head and continued her castigation. “I should have known when I saw you with your hair all white and the long black coat...”

Buffy stifled a giggle. It must have been horribly embarrassing for William the Bloody to be chastised like a ten year-old in front of the Slayer, especially when he was not at fault--for once. Man, where was Zairah when he kept coming up with those plans to kill us? The thing that surprised her most, though, was that he just sat there pouting instead of defending himself.

She decided to save him from further torment. “As funny as it is to see you tear a strip out of Spike, Zairah, this isn’t quite what it seems. We’re going to the Nex for business purposes, and I’m more than able to take care of myself around vampires and demons. Now, if you want to continue blasting him for his hair, well--be my guest.”

Zairah sighed. “There’s no stopping you young ones once you’ve set your sights on something. I will help you--I owe William as much.” She snapped her fingers and turned with a flourish, yellow dress flowing after her. “Come! Let the transformation begin.”

Buffy looked at Spike questioningly, not sure what kind of ‘transformation’ she’d be undergoing. As if he’d read her mind, he reassured her. “Don’t worry, pet. She won’t make you do anything you don’t want to. She might try real hard, but she won’t force you. Go on, now, before she smacks you upside the head too.” He rubbed his head where he’d been hit earlier. “She doesn’t hold back--that’s quite a backhand she’s got there.”

Buffy nodded in understanding and turned to follow Zairah to the back of the store. “Um, I don’t know what deal you and Spike have--he mentioned some sort of favour or something--but I’d feel much better telling you that we don’t have much money and can’t really afford any of this. You know, just in case he was pulling my leg...”

“Tut, tut! There will be no speaking of money. William is correct. He helped me many years ago and I promised him that he could come and claim any favour he wanted, as long as I was alive. You must be a very important young woman in his eyes, for him to use his favour for you.” She winked a lash-less eyelid at the Slayer and turned to a wall of clothing. “Now, let’s have a little fun, shall we?”

The young woman looked up, and gulped. The wall displayed what could only be described as a fetishist’s wet dream. “Oh, no... I can’t wear any of that! Not in public--and not in private either! Does that skirt even have a rear end?” There was no way on earth that this demon, and Spike to boot, could get her to wear clothing that had holes in all the wrong places. She backed up until she hit a rack of pants. “I’m sure Spike might be able to cash that favour in sometime in the next century...”

“Don’t worry, love. We won’t be too risqué, especially if you’re shy. There’s still lots of clothes to choose from. Now, let’s see if we can find you a few delicious outfits...”

***

While the women busied themselves with clothing, Spike browsed the footwear section of the store. He’d had his boots for a long, long time: they’d been with him in New York when he’d killed his second Slayer, they were there when he and Dru first set foot in Sunnydale and now they were with him on his first visit to London in over 50 years. He felt a pang of sadness at the thought of parting with them, but he knew that all good things must come to an end.

A pair of 10 hole Doc Martens caught his eye. Black and shiny, they reflected the overhead lights like a mirror. He rifled through them until he found his size, and picked them up. Yup, definitely time for a change. He looked down at the boots he was now wearing. “Sorry, boys. Looks like you’ll be retiring tonight.”

New boots in hand, he made his way over to the back of the store. There he found Zairah in by a row of dressing rooms, an armload of clothing in hand. He pressed his index finger to his lips, quietly asking her not to acknowledge his presence. Eyeing the clothing on the wall, he pulled down a Chinese-style dress. It was made of red silk, and had fabric-covered buttons up the front. He handed it to the demon and watched her pass it over the top of the door.

The vampire leaned towards the other demon. “Has she decided on anything yet?” He tried to make rhyme or reason of the piles of clothing that were scattered across the chairs lined up against the wall, but gave up.

Zairah sighed. “No--she hasn’t even come out of the room yet.” She smiled at the vampire. “Maybe you could convince her to come out. You know, try a few well-chosen words...” She assumed that there was a potential ‘something’ brewing between William and the nice young woman. No harm in trying to help a bit, was there? She watched as Spike winked at her and walked up to the cubicle door.

“Buffy?” He called in a patient, calm voice.

“What?!” Exasperated and embarrassed, Buffy couldn’t believe that they expected her to leave the dressing room wearing some of this clothing; there was no chance in hell she was showing up in some demon version of a biker bar wearing a few straps of leather.

Flexing his hands into fists, Spike tried to keep his voice even. He didn’t know how she did it, but the Slayer could deflate a good mood quicker than Harris could down a jelly doughnut. “Why don’t you come out so we can see what you look like? Zairah’s working hard out here tryin’ to find some clothes for you--the least you can do is come out here and show her how you look.” Ugh. He was reduced to coaxing Buffy Summers out of a dressing room; his life was going down the shitter.

She might have considered acquiescing if she’d believed even a word of what he was saying. Why on earth would Spike want to see what she looked like, unless it was to laugh at her? “Don’t try to butter me up, Spike. I am *not* leaving the confines of this cubicle. I can see for myself if what I’m wearing looks good. I don’t need you to try to coax me out of here just so you can ogle me.”

That’s it. “Ok then, we’ll play by my rules. If you don’t come out here in thirty seconds, I’m coming in. I am going to find you something to wear--I don’t care what you think of it--and that’s what we’re leaving with. Choice is up to you, pet.” Enough molly coddling--threats always worked much, much better with the Slayer.

Buffy didn’t doubt for a moment that he would have the audacity to rip the door off her dressing room--even with Zairah and a few other customers present. She grabbed the red dress that had been passed to her last and slipped it on. She took a quick peek in the mirror that lined the inside of the door, and smiled. Okay--maybe I’ll keep this one...

The door to the room finally opened, and the young blonde stepped out. She cast a threatening look towards Spike and turned to Zairah. “Well? What do you think? I guess it’s nice--it’s sexy” she admitted shyly “but it’s classy.” She walked around a little and looked herself over in the mirrors that were on the wall. The demon agreed that it was very flattering, and encouraged her to hang on to it. “Yeah, I think we can put it in the ‘keep’ pile.” She turned to go back into the cubicle when her eyes met Spike’s. He hadn’t said a word as she and the shop’s owner had fussed over the dress; he’d just stood there and stared. His gaze unnerved her--she wasn’t sure if he was regretting the whole plan. Maybe she wasn‘t choosing the right kind of clothes. He didn‘t really expect her to wear a leather bustier, did he? “Spike? What do you think--is it a Pulchra Nex keeper?”

She was speaking to him, but he didn’t hear a word she said. Spike stared at the fabric as it slid over her curves and caressed them. How he wished he was the silk at that moment--wrapped around her warm body, hugging it tightly in all the right places. Why did she waste her time with blues and pinks when she looked absolutely smashing in red? The dress stopped at mid-thigh--just the right length to tease--and showed off her lean legs. So much power in such a delicate-looking package... She approached him, and spoke again.

“Spike? Earth to Spike!” She snapped her fingers in his face, and watched as he took a deep breath. Why does he do that? He doesn’t need to breathe, but it’s so damn erotic when he does... Whoa! Stop right there--Spike and erotic in the same sentence? She cursed her libido as it caused her to look up into his face and see the lust that burned in his eyes. She licked her lips and watched as his own lips parted. She smiled coyly and whispered. “So, what‘s the verdict?”

Fuck fuck fuck fuck. I have to share a bed with her after *this*, and I can’t touch her. Her hips and breasts call out to be traced by my fingers, her lips are begging to be kissed... “You look beautiful, pet.” He tentatively drew a finger down her side, sliding it along the soft fabric, and found himself burned by her heat. He had to snap out of it before he took her right there in front of the whole store. Clearing his throat, he stepped back and tried to regain a semblance of control. “Now, why don’t you actually try some of these clothes on instead of just staring at them?”

There was no malice in his voice, and she didn’t take offence to his words. The silent moment they’d shared bolstered her self-esteem. If the dress had this kind of effect on him, what would that short leather skirt do? The Slayer smiled as something within her awoke; all of a sudden, displaying her sexuality was no longer daunting or dirty but freeing, in some sense. Buffy Summers, you’re one good looking woman--why not show it off? If you’ve got it, flaunt it... And to think that it took Spike for her to realize this...

***

By the time they were ready to leave the store, Zairah had convinced Buffy into getting the red dress, a black leather mini-skirt, a pair of very low-waist red leather pants, a couple of stringy tank tops that didn’t leave much to the imagination, and a pair of high Victorian-style granny boots. It might not have been as daring as Zairah would have liked, but it was more adventurous than Buffy would have seen herself agreeing to.

As the Slayer juggled with her shopping bags, Zairah pulled Spike aside. “William, my dear, we’re now even. You’ve made good use of my offer; Buffy’s a lovely young woman.” She threw a glance at the diminutive blonde, who was still struggling with all the bags. She smiled warmly. “I want you to make me a promise, William.”

Spike raised an eyebrow, following her gaze. “What’s that, luv?”

The older demon took a hold of Spike’s sleeve and held it tight. “Don’t let this one go.” She put her finger over his lips to stop whatever he was going to say. “Tut! I see how you are around her, how you look at each other. She may not be from our world, but she has a spark inside her and she can bring out the best in you.” She turned him towards the Slayer and gave him a push. “Now go, and remember--next time you decide you need clothing, bring your wallet. I can’t afford to clothe all your lady friends.”

Buffy handed her bags to Spike and bade Zairah goodbye. “Thanks for everything. The clothes are beautiful, and... are you sure we don’t owe you anything?”

Nudging the young woman towards the door, Spike grumbled. “Hurry up, Slayer, before she changes her mind.” Throwing one last glance at the other demon, he smiled. “See you ‘round, luv.” He waved with the hand that wasn’t laden with bags and left the store.

Zairah was left there with a puzzled look on her face. “Slayer? My, how times have changed.”

***

Back at the hotel, Buffy busied herself with putting her new clothing away. Humming, she put her dress on a hanger and hung it in the closet. She turned her eyes to Spike, who had been quietly sitting on the couch watching her putter around. He hadn’t said a single word on the way home, and she was getting a little worried. Not that the moment of blissful silence wasn’t appreciated, but she needed to know what thoughts were turning around in that demonic mind of his.

“Ok, spill.”

The vampire snapped out of his daze. “Huh? What are you talking about?”

The young woman took a seat next to him on the couch, and crossed her arms. “Spike, you haven’t said a word (since you told me I was beautiful) since we were at the store. Something’s bothering you, so out with it.” She leaned back a little and tried to mimic Willow’s resolve face.

The Brit’s mouth opened, then closed. I’m attracted to you--you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on and I want to make you mine. And I hate myself for it. “Sorry pet, just thinking, ‘s all. Got caught up in old memories while we were out tonight.”

Buffy’s heart sank a little. “Oh. Thinking about Drusilla and lost love?”

“Something like that.” You don’t know how close you are.

They sat there on the couch, listening to the tick-tock of the clock. Spike stared straight ahead, not really focusing on anything, while Buffy kept stealing glances at the bleached vampire.

“Spike?”

“Hmm?” The vampire turned his gaze to the young woman sitting beside him.

Buffy bit her lip. How could she remain lucid around someone who spoke volumes with barely a glance? His clear blue eyes seemed to bore into her soul--she should have felt violated, but strangely enough she felt comforted. Gone were the cold, calculating eyes of a killer; what she saw were the eyes of a man who had loved someone for over a century, who had fought a Slayer to find a cure for the woman he loved. She had to find her voice before she did something very un-Slayer like...

She cleared her throat. “Do you think we’ll have time to look around while we’re here?”

Spike chose to ignore her pause--for the moment. “What, do you mean patrol? ‘Cause I’m not helping you kill any demons...”

“No, no. I mean like touristy stuff. I don’t think I’ll ever get the chance to travel overseas again--you know, because of the slayage--and I’ll kind of feel like I missed out if I don’t take a bit of personal time.”

The vampire didn’t look too certain. He lay back on the couch, remote in hand, in a slouch that would have made Al Bundy proud. “You mean go on a tour group?” The last two words dripped off his tongue like they were poisoned.

Here goes--get the charm out. Buffy gave him a 100 Watt smile. “Well, I was thinking of asking this certain blonde vampire if he wanted to play tour guide for me. Betcha he’d be much more fun than your average tour guide.”

The Brit barked out a laugh and sat up straight. “You know, Slayer, kissing ass always gets you what you want. So, did you have anything in mind? Big Ben, Tower of London, Piccadilly Circus? I don’t think I need to mention that all places of worship are off our list...”

Buffy leaned back and pulled her feet up onto the couch. “Why don’t we just go out and see where we end up?”

Spike slowly drifted into consciousness and quietly registered his surroundings. In that lazy place between sleep and wakefulness he momentarily forgot where he was. Fluffy pillow, soft feather blanket, comfy bed... he opened his eyes ...surrounded by heavy draperies. Ah yes, the Sheffield Arms. He pulled himself into a sitting position and leaned back against the headboard.

From the direction of the kitchen he heard the clanging of pots and pans, followed by muffled cursing. He pulled the curtain aside and looked at the clock on the nightstand. Quarter to five--pretty good day’s sleep if I might say so myself. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, the blonde vampire caught sight of the Slayer in the kitchen. She was puttering around, seemingly unaware that she was putting on a show. A smile formed on his lips as he saw her cutting something up and drop it into a pot. The Slayer in a kitchen--not something he ever dreamed of witnessing. His stomach grumbled as he caught a whiff of what was cooking. Whatever it was, it smelled good. It may not have been blood, but it would do nicely in the meanwhile.

Spike had always been singled out by Angelus and Darla because of his affection for human food. Demon or not, his stomach grumbled at the smell of pot roast and he still craved a good beef curry every now and then. Oh, and then there were those deep-fried onions he always got at the Bronze. Heck, he’d take up killing his own kind if he could get his hands on one of those every meal.

He hoisted himself off the bed and padded barefoot over to the counter that separated the kitchen from the bedroom/living room. Seating himself on one of the stools, he reached over and stole a slice of the carrot that Buffy was cutting.

Frowning as the bleached vamp helped himself to another slice, the young woman moved her cutting board out of his reach. “I thought you were just going to sleep all evening, too.” She dumped the remaining vegetables into the pot and placed its lid back on.

“Well, I must admit I was tempted, but the smell of cooking always dragged me out of bed.” He tried to stretch over the counter to peek in the pot, but was thwarted by its lid. “What’s in the pot?”

Buffy smiled shyly. “I’m trying to make soup. I’ve never actually cooked anything more complicated than Kraft Dinner on my own, so you’ll be my guinea pig.”

The vampire hopped off his seat an walked around to the stove. He pulled the lid off the bubbling pot and inhaled. “Well, it smells bloody fantastic. What d’you put in it?”

The Slayer seemed to make a mental list before rattling it off. “Uh, carrots--obviously” she gave the vampire a pointed look “celery, onions, some of those mixed herbs you buy in a bottle and... and I’ve got some beef cooking in the oven. I put some of the herbs on it too. Do you really think it smells good?” She looked hopeful.

“Slayer, you know me well enough that I wouldn’t say it smells good if I didn’t think it did.” The bleached blonde began to rummage through the grocery bags. “Where did you go for this? Were you out all day?”

“Pretty much, yeah. I went out around one and took a walk around. I went to some war museum--it was full of cool old weapons. They had this really cool sword--it must have been about 6 feet high--Scottish, I think...”

“That would be a Claymore, pet. Pretty impressive--does some good damage.”

Buffy nodded at the clarification. “Anyway, I could have walked around in there for days... On my way back, I passed a small grocery store and figured I might as well get some food, since I doubt we’ll be lucky enough to live off your friends’ generosity the whole time we’re here. Oh--I also got you some blood from the butcher’s, since there won’t be any biting while we’re here.”

The vampire grumbled. “Bleedin’ pig’s blood. Next thing you know, I’ll be buying some poofy hair gel and become all broody...” He poured himself a mug of the blood and nuked it. He took a drink and made a face. “Ugh! How can Peaches drink this crap?! Yech!”

Buffy tried to hide a smirk. “Listen here, Drama Queen. You’re having some soup in about 10 minutes. Put up with it until then.”

As he rinsed out the mug, an idea came to Spike. “You wouldn’t happen to have bought some canned tomatoes eh, luv?”

The Slayer’s brow creased as she opened a cupboard door. “Yeah--I was going to use them for some pasta.” She pulled it from the shelf and handed it to him. “Why do you want these, anyway?”

Spike rifled through the drawers until he found a can opener. “I figured we could add them to the soup.” Upon seeing her lower lip jut out, he added: “Not that it doesn’t look or smell amazing, but tomatoes in soup are like hot peppers on a plate of nachos--they bring it that much closer to perfection.” He looked up from the can opener and found that Buffy was watching him with a wry smile on her face. “What?”

The sight of Spike, clad only in flannel pj bottoms, hair still tousled from sleep, standing there holding a can of tomatoes was a sight to behold. “This.” She waved at them, in the kitchen. “This whole scene is surreal, Spike. Step back for a sec, and take a good look at us. You in your slouchy pants, helping me make dinner. It’s... it’s, domestic.”

Spike furrowed his brow and paused to observe the strange scene. Slowly, a grin appeared on his face. “Yeah, kinda looks like a scene from the Hellmouth’s version of the Odd Couple, doesn’t it?”

Buffy grabbed one of the bar stools and propped herself on it, watching as the vampire cut the tomatoes and dropped them in the simmering soup. “So--did you stay up late last night?”

“Yeah--went to bed just around sunrise.”

Jumping off her seat, the Slayer walked up to the pot and peeked under the lid. “Wow--that does look great. Ten points for the Undead Galloping Gourmet.” She replaced the lid and watched her temporary flatmate rinse a knife off. “Why were you up so late, anyway? Did channel 5 have a Passions marathon?”

I tossed off half a dozen times so I wouldn’t impale myself when I crawled into bed beside you. Didn’t work very well, though. “Just thinkin’ ‘bout how we’re going to get you into the Nex. I haven’t been able to come up with anything workable that you’ll like.” Truth was, he had come up with the perfect plan, the only viable plan, but its mere suggestion would get him damn near staked.

“Pass me those oven mitts, will you?” Buffy removed the beef from the oven. Yup--it was cooked. She knew she came off as the dumb blonde type and, well, she often made it rather easy for folks to get that idea, but she was actually more than capable in the kitchen.

After her parents divorced, she and her mom had lived at her grandmother’s until Joyce was back on her two feet. Buffy would help her grandmother cook dinner and bake all kinds of sweets. She took to cooking quickly, but after the great muffin fiasco baking on her own was a big no-no.

As she began to cut up the meat, she returned her attention to the interrupted conversation. “Well, give me your ‘best’ idea. Worst thing, I shoot it down and we keep brainstorming. Just like we do at the Scooby meetings. You know, soup is good brainstorming food--it’s a scientific fact.” She gave him a smile as she turned the heat off on the burner and let the soup simmer. “So--shoot.”

Spike threw a glance around the Slayer, taking a quick inventory of potential weapons. Damned kitchens, he thought to himself, just chock full of sharp things. “I’ll tell you, but first I want you to hand over that wooden spoon. I’m not taking any chances.”

As she handed him the cooking utensil, the Slayer’s senses were humming. Spike wasn’t usually cautious around her. If anything, he did anything to egg her into a fight. She couldn’t even count the times that he pissed her off to the boiling point. Now, he was making sure she didn’t have any stakey implements of death within reach, and he seemed to be pussyfooting around telling her this master plan of his.

Wooden sticks out of the way, Spike took a deep breath. “Remember when I told you that the only humans at the Nex were either on the menu or part of the entertainment?” He waited for her to nod before continuing. “Well, I may have neglected an other... category... of humans present.” She raised an eyebrow, and he wondered what he was nervous about. This plan of his had been a secret fantasy for some time (well, aside from the whole ‘and she lived happily ever after’ part of it), and now that there was a possibility that it might actually take place... Why was he hesitating? More so than that, why the hell did he care?

An impatient clearing of the throat brought him back to the issue at hand. “Sorry ‘bout that, luv. Where was I?”

Hand on hip, the Slayer was getting more impatient by the second. “The part where you were saying that you lied to me.”

Damned selective hearing. “Ah, right. There’s one other way to get you in there, but I really don’t...”

“Oh for God’s sake, just say it!”

“I’ll have to bite you.” The blonde vampire braced himself for impact, but nothing came.

Buffy laughed. Hard. “Spike--of all the lamest plans you’ve ever come up with, I think this one takes the cake.” Wiping away a few tears, she shook her head. “Thanks for the laugh, though. I really needed that. Come on, let’s get this soup on the table.” She turned around, shaking her head, and reached into a cupboard for some bowl.

She jumped when a strong hand gripped her arm and swung her around. She found herself staring into cold blue eyes specked with gold. That was when she realized that he hadn’t been joking. She repressed a shiver at having the demon so close to her.

Spike didn’t like to be mocked. As a vampire with an ok sense of humour, he could take a jab as good as he could dish one out, but he never put up with being laughed at. Buffy’s reaction to his idea, after the effort he put in it to cushion the supposedly touchy subject, caused something in him to snap. He’d barely held back the demon, that was more than happy to sink his fangs in her right then and there.

“Really simple plan, Slayer. You let me drink from you. We go to the Nex and we both get in because I’ve claimed you. No bite, no entry--it’s as simple as that. Don’t think I’m lying when I tell you I was up until sunrise trying to think of something, of anything else. There. Is. No. Other. Way. Unless your sharp wit can come up with a more brilliant plan...”

“Shut up, Spike.” Buffy was mad. Not because the vampire had the gall to suggest what he was suggesting, but because she knew he was right. The thought had come to her mind but she had pushed it aside, hoping for a less intense proposal. She pulled the bowls out of the cupboard and walked to the stove.

Spike followed her, still irritated. “Look, pet, you can’t just ignore this. I can’t believe I’m the one saying this, but we’re on a bit of a mission here and we have to make some decisions. That baby...”

“Don’t you think I know that?” How dare he imply that she’d lost sight of their mission! “A decision’s already been made. We’re going ahead with your plan.” Still unable to look him in the eye, she shoved a bowlful of soup at him and sat at the counter.

***

Their dinner had been spent in silence. It had probably been the longest they’d ever been in each other’s company without saying a word. Even when they were angry at each other, there was the verbal sparring, the insults. But right now, they sat at each end of the counter, sullenly eating their soup.

Buffy was reminded of those dinners when her parents were fighting, before the divorce. Neither would say anything--her mom would slam the dishes onto the table while her dad would hide behind his newspaper, pretending to be anywhere but there.

If her parents’ doomed relationship taught her anything, it was that silence never fixed anything. It didn’t heal wounds, it didn’t take the hurt away. Not that she considered Spike to be anything near a spouse, but she’d reluctantly begun to see him as a friend. And friends, of course, did not share meals in uncomfortable silence, avoiding each other’s gaze.

“I’m upset because I’m scared.” There. She broke the silence. Now it was up to him to do his part.

Spike’s attention was diverted from his dish. Good--he was getting tired of staring at an empty bowl of soup, anyway. He lifted his head and turned his attention to the young woman at the other end of the counter. “Come again?”

Sigh. “I’m scared--about the plan. That’s why I snapped.” When the only response she got was an inquisitive stare, she felt compelled to continue. “My parents did this, this not speaking thing, for years. Instead of talking things out, or yelling, or fighting, they just sat there ignoring each other. It was horrible. I felt guilty for years because I was actually relieved when they split up. No more strained meal times.”

The vampire reached out and awkwardly patted her arm. “Your mum’s proud of you, you know that? She told me about your pillock of a father and how you came out of the whole thing as a stronger person. I’m starting to see what she was talking about.”

Buffy blushed at the compliment. “Thanks. Hey, are we still on for tonight?” Quick, change the subject before this gets too mushy for comfort.

Spike hopped off the stool and took his dishes. “Don’t see why not. Why don’t we take advantage of that car the Council provided us? We could drive down to the Tower Bridge and take a gander at the sights around there. Then maybe we can take a walk by the Thames--’s pretty at night, with the lights reflecting off the water. So, what do you say--sound good to you?”

She piled her dishes into the sink, on top of Spike’s, have to wash those later--ugh, why couldn’t we have a dishwasher? “As long as I don’t get a running commentary of where you and your crazy ex killed people, I think it sounds great.” She smiled at him to show that she was just teasing him.

***

To any passers-by, the young couple looked like they were admiring someone else’s parked car. The man whistled as he inspected it, while his companion seemed to be more interested at the vehicle’s inside. Hands cupped against the window, eyes squinted to make out the interior, she squealed. “Try the key! This can’t be it...”

As if in a trance, Spike walked to the driver’s side of the car, pushing Buffy aside. “Get in on your own side, pet. This is the driver’s side, and you’re not getting within ten feet of the keys. I’ve heard the stories about your driving.” He pushed the button on the key, and the doors unlocked. He let a ‘bloody hell’ escape, before opening his door.

They had expected... well, they hadn’t really known what to expect. Sure, the key had BMW on it, but with the Council and their tight purse strings it could have been one of those 15 year-old rust heaps that only University professors drove. But no--they seemed to have been entrusted with a current-year model. A shiny, black BMW with chrome accents and, to Spike’s joy, a stick-shift transmission. He leaned in a placed a kiss on the steering wheel.

Buffy rolled her eyes. Give any man, or vampire for that matter, a hot car and he turned into ’Neanderthal man’. “Would you prefer I leave you two alone for a while?”

The vampire growled. “Look, jus’ give me a minute here. ’S not every day I get to drive something as powerful as this baby.”

“Look, just start the engine, ok? Everything’s gonna be closed if we just sit here all night.”

“Yes ma’am.” Spike saluted the Slayer, revved the engine and peeled out of the parking lot.

***

Spike had been right. Night time London was beautiful. All the old buildings were lit, and it all seemed to reflect into the wide expanse of the Thames--which led her to think, not for the first time, why they pronounced it Tems, and not Thaymes. Huh--she didn’t think she’d ever figure out the English.

She brought her attention back to Spike who, after a few close calls, had heeded her warnings to slow down. No more weaving in and out of traffic, shifting gears like some sort of race car driver. She wanted to be able to walk out of the car in one piece. When he pulled into the Tower Bridge‘s parking lot, there didn‘t seem to be many cars there.

“Spike--do you think it’s even open?” Buffy looked around. The place wasn’t exactly bustling with tourists.

“Of course it is. It’s only what, ‘bout six thirty?”

The Slayer looked at her watch and nodded. “Yeah, it’s six twenty five. Let’s go see what’s going on.”

When they reached the ticket wickets, they saw that they were closed. The bleached blonde kicked a lamppost and cursed. “Six?! It closes at six? Do they even know how much business they’re losing--there’s a whole other world out here at night! Bugger this--we’re goin’ in anyway.”

“No we’re not.” Buffy put a hand on his shoulder. “How about we make our way over to the Tower. I doubt everything closes this early. Anyway, it seems like a bit of a walk. You can just play tour guide for me.”

As they walked along the bridge, Spike found himself at ease reminiscing about his past, and the city in which he had lived. “Actually, pet, the bridge wasn’t even built until after I was turned. I didn’t pay much attention to it--being a relative fledgeling, I didn’t care much for the sort of thing, you know--but Dru and I did attend the grand unveiling or whatever it was called. Angelus and Darla laughed at us, but Dru was always a sucker for fanfare...” He noticed that his companion had stiffened, and paused until he clued in. “Ah. Sorry ‘bout that--no more Dru stories.”

As they approached the other side of the bridge and approached the Tower, Spike stopped. “Now the Tower, on the other hand... My Da used to bring me here all the time. He was a bookish sort of gent, and would tell me all kinds of stories about all the history behind it.”

Whether he had temporarily forgotten who he was with, or whether it was in childish glee, he took the Slayer’s hand and pulled her the rest of the way, running towards the Tower’s main entrance.

“Buggery hell! Are the bleedin’ hours dictated by housewives? Argh!” Spike couldn’t believe it. Over 50 years after he’d left the mother country, here he stood, his latest chance at seeing the ol’ Tower again quashed by early closing times. The powers that be had some wicked sense of humour.

Although she didn’t show it with as much flair as Spike did, Buffy was also upset. She saw this as her only chance at taking in some of the sights--sure, she could come during the day, but what fun was there in sight seeing on your own? “Look, I know this sucks and I’d actually be tempted to take you up on breaking in, but it looks like it’s still guarded--how weird is that, by the way? Anyway, why don’t we find ourselves a bench to sit on--like that one over there--and you can be like your dad and tell me all about the Tower, since you know so much.”

Resigned to having to obey the law, once again, Spike acquiesced. Wanker. “Alright then. Guess it’ll have to do. Let’s find ourselves a bench that’s not so close to a light. The one you were pointin’ to looked bright enough to torch me.” As he began to walk away, he looked down and realized that they were still holding hands. Untangling his fingers from hers, he wondered: since when does holding hands with the Slayer feel so natural that I don’t even notice it?

When they’d found a bench that suited both their tastes, Spike began to regale Buffy with tales of the Tower. He talked about its ancient beginnings, Henry the VIII and Thomas More, about the young princes who were murdered in one of the towers. “...An’ back in 1830, they’d drained the moat that surrounded it--it’s all covered in grass now and looks like a culvert--they found loads of human bones. Guess it was all the folk that never made it across to the Tower.” He noticed that Buffy’s eyes were closed. Speaking to himself, he muttered. “Good going, you git, you put her to sleep.”

“No you didn’t, git--whatever that means. I’m just resting my eyes. You know, you’re very good at telling stories--I could sit here all night and just listen to you talk about all this history.” Buffy opened her eyes and looked up at the blonde vampire. “You ever consider being a History professor? ‘Cause you’d be good at it, you know.”

“Sorry, but I don’t believe it ever crossed my mind. I was more into... other things.”

Spike had a past. She’d never really stopped to think about that. What had he been like? Buffy figured that it was about time she found out. “Spike? Tell me about what you were like--before you were turned.”

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