Buffy came into the kitchen, reading the back of the small box she held in her hands. Her head snapped up and she dropped the box, startled, as she saw Spike trying to slip out the back door surreptitiously.

"Spike!"

"Buffy!"

Her hands went automatically to her hips and a frown creased her brow.

"What have you been stealing from me this time? More pictures?" She had caught him doing just that a few weeks ago right before the whole Queller-demon incident, and she’d just let it slide. But really, this behavior had to stop.

Spike closed the door and turned around to face her, shifting his weight from foot to foot nervously.

"Uh, er... no, actually I was putting stuff back." He splayed his empty hands before him, fervently hoping she didn’t check his duster pockets. Of course, if she did, she would actually have to get close enough to frisk him, so that was okay.

Trying to distract himself as much as her, he asked abruptly: "How’s your mum? Is she doing better here at home?"

Buffy regarded him suspiciously before retrieving the box she had dropped.

"She’s doing OK. Recuperating from the surgery." She was no longer looking at him; she was mouthing words from the back of the box while filling the teakettle with water. Disconcerted, Spike watched her for a moment before impatiently asking: "Slayer, what the bloody hell are you doing?"

She looked at him as if he were a complete moron, then held up the box.

"I’m making tea, duh." She turned the front of the box and read, "Earl Grey, to be exact."

Spike sighed and came around to the sink where she was filling the kettle with hot water.

"Bloody Americans." He sighed, taking the kettle she’d begun to fill and dumping the water out again.

"Hey! I can manage to make my mom tea, Spike!" If Spike didn’t know better, he’d think she actually sounded hurt.

"You were reading the directions," he stated flatly.

"So? That’s why they put them there!" she said defensively, folding her arms and standing back. He wasn’t moving away from the sink so she stepped back.

He shook his head in dismay.

"There is a proper way to make tea, and you’re already doing it wrong! Your mum’s feeling sickly, she deserves a decent cuppa!"

Buffy stared at him in disbelief; he was serious!

"Well, I’m sorry ‘Oh King of All Things British’; I kinda thought it was boil water, pour water, add stuff, drink!"

He emptied the kettle and turned on the cold water, letting it run for a few moments. When he’d filled the kettle with cold water, he turned the tap off and placed the kettle on the stove burner. He set the burner on ‘high’ and turned to her.

"You use cold water because the oxygen in the water releases the flavor. Use hot or old water and you get stale tea," he explained, taking the box and opening it. Peering into the wax paper that held the tea, he turned to her. Buffy was still staring at him as if he had gone completely ‘round the bend. He chuckled, then held up the box.

"Did you buy this?"

"No, er, Giles sent it over. Why?" She didn’t understand why she hadn’t kicked him out yet. Was he--William the Bloody--really standing in her kitchen teaching her how to make tea?

"Because, pet, it’s loose tea." He grabbed a pinchful of the blackish tea and let it sift through his fingers.

She stared at the tea blankly.

"Why would it come like that? Isn’t it supposed to come in little bags with strings on them?" She reached over to take a look at the offending leaves, brow furrowed in confusion.

Spike put the box down and covered his face with his hands, breathing in a deep, unnecessary breath. God, did she really not know anything about something as simple as... OK, he thought, give her the benefit of the doubt. She’s a slayer but before that she was a cheerleader. Neither activity was conducive to learning how to make tea, he reasoned.

"Listen, luv. Does your mum have any tea diffusers?"

Another blank stare. He tried again, as if speaking to a child.

"Little silver balls with soddin’ holes in ‘em! You put loose tea in them so’s the..." He could tell the answer was no, so he began rifling through the cupboards.

"What are you looking for?" she asked curiously, having given in to the fact that this situation was just way too wiggy and... domestic for her to just throw him out unceremoniously. Besides, her mom actually enjoyed tea, and if there was a better way to make it, she could learn, right? Even if it was from an obnoxious century-undead vampire!

"A teapot. Cheesecloth." With a triumphant "aha!" he pulled a teapot from a top shelf. It was covered in dust, and he held it out for inspection, checking for cracks as he wiped most of the dust off.

It was a pretty piece, porcelain covered with hand-painted English roses. As Buffy stared at it she got a flash of a memory - her mother, pouring tea from it into matching tea cups so that they could have a tea party on the living room floor. Her mom had laid out a floral tablecloth and put a plate of sugar cookies in between them. She’d been so innocent, then. A soft smile played on her lips and, as Spike turned, he caught her expression. She looked as if she was having a pleasant memory, eyes staring off at nothing he could see, mouth turned up sweetly. His heart expanded, and he placed the teapot gently on the counter.

"Buffy? Luv?"

She shook out of her reverie and focused on the teapot.

"I think there are matching teacups. Can you look to see if they’re up there where you found it?" she gestured up at the cupboard.

He nodded. Reaching as high as he could he felt around blindly until he located two teacups stacked on their saucers, pushed to the back of the cabinet. He fetched them down and placed them next to the matching teapot. Staring at the tea set, an image formed in his mind: a tiny blonde girl, dressed up in her Sunday best, sipping tea with Joyce.

"Spike?" Her voice caught his attention and he refocused on the girl in front of him. ‘Cor, she’s beautiful,’ he groaned inwardly.

"What the hell is cheesecloth? Why do we need cheese to make tea?"

‘Beautiful and stupid,’ he thought with irritation.

"Cheesecloth isn’t for... well, it’s just... it’s a kind of cloth with really small holes that you can use to strain the tea leaves out with." Okay, that hadn’t come off as too condescending, he thought proudly.

"Oh. Well I don’t know if we have any. I’ve never seen my mom using anything like that." As she tried to think of where her mom might keep that kind of thing, Spike pulled open the drawer that held stuff like tin foil and plastic wrap; sure enough, there in the back was a package of cheesecloth. He pulled it out and waved it around, shouting "Eureka!"

He ignored her; the tea water was beginning to boil. He quickly washed the teapot and teacups and then handed them to her to dry, which she did without a second thought. He turned off the burner and let the kettle sit. "Do you have a serving tray?" he asked.

She put down the dishcloth and went to the hutch. She pulled out a breakfast tray and placed it on the counter. They’d been using the tray a lot since her mother came home.

"Ok, now, you put about a tablespoon of tea in for each cup. So," he measured out about a handful and threw it into the teapot, "about that much should do. Pour the water over it, and let it steep for three and half minutes or so. Any longer and it becomes bitter."

Buffy nodded absently, rifling through their snack cupboard. She knew there were some cookies in there somewhere...

"Yay!" She held up her own discovery triumphantly, a bag of Pepperidge Farms sugar cookies, the only kind her mother ever bought. Spike just grinned at her, amazed at how a simple thing like cookies could bring such an unguarded look of pleasure to her pretty face. He briefly wondered if this was how she had been all the time before being called.

She laid out the cookies on a little plate and placed it on the tray, along with the teacups and saucers. Spike turned back to the teapot and placed a doubled-up piece of cheesecloth over the spout. He filled the two teacups then looked at Buffy expectantly.

"What? Don’t tell me there’s more?"

"You had a list, didn’t you? What was it? ‘Add stuff’ is next. You do at least know how Joyce takes it, don’t you?"

"Well yes. I do at least know that," she huffed, taking out the milk and grabbing the sugar. She put sugar in her own, and milk in both of them. As she put the milk back into the refrigerator, Spike moved to the back door.

"Well then pet, Lesson the... what are we up to now? Third? How to make the perfect cuppa," he said casually, burning blue eyes belying his calm exterior.

Breaking eye contact, Buffy lifted the tray gingerly and turned to regard him seriously. Something caught in Spike’s throat as he realized that her face was devoid of the usual hatred, loathing, or even dislike.

"Listen," she said, " I know making tea is a stupid thing, but..."

"Hey! My entire culture is based on making tea!" Spike pretended indignation, but in reality he was reveling in the fact that they’d shared a few moments together that didn’t involve fighting.

"Well, you know," she said awkwardly, "thanks."

He watched her move slowly up the stairs, taking care not to spill the tea. He heard Buffy say cheerfully: "Mom! Spi--I made us some tea! And I brought our favorite cookies! Remember when I was little..." Her voice became a murmur as Spike left the house with a rueful smile playing on his face, closing the door gently behind him.

"You’re welcome," he said softly.

The End