No Angel

 
"There he is, I can see him!" exclaimed Dawn. She scampered through the Arrivals door at Heathrow Airport, with Willow following close behind. "Giles!"

Pushing the trolley that carried all their luggage, Buffy followed behind and wondered for the millionth time whether leaving Sunnydale to visit Giles in London was such a good idea. It was January for a start, which was like the worst time of year to be visiting anywhere. Anywhere this far north especially. And Giles lived in Bath, which was miles away. But Willow wanted to do some research on something college-related and Giles had said he had some kind of business in London that week. And Buffy really needed a holiday away from Sunnydale.

"Buffy," said Giles, embracing her awkwardly after he'd finished hugging Willow and Dawn. Buffy buried her face in his scarf and relaxed for a moment, enjoying the fleeting feeling of safety in his arms.

"How are you all?" he said when he released her.

Buffy could hear the genuine concern behind Giles' polite enquiry. What could they tell him? That Willow found it difficult to resist using magic? That Dawn's arm had only just healed after Willow broke it in a car crash? That Buffy had slept with Spike?

"Anya and Xander hope you can come to the wedding," said Willow earnestly.

"Oh, and Tara says hi," said Dawn.

"We're all fine," concluded Buffy.

Giles looked understandably dubious, but just said, "So, er, you've left Xander and Anya in charge of the Hellmouth..."

"And Tara," said Willow.

"And Spike!" added Dawn.

Bizarrely, this made Giles glance at Buffy. She looked blankly at him, as if Spike meant nothing at all to her. Best not to think of Spike. She hadn't seen him in days, so she'd left a message in his crypt. He didn't even deserve that much, but, well, it wouldn't be fair to go halfway across the world without telling him at all. He might even offer to help out the remaining Scoobies.

Willow tucked her arm in Giles'. "So, come on, Giles. Show us what your old 'Blighty' has to offer! I've been reading up about English things. I've been, like, doing lots of reading lately," she added in a conspiring voice as she confidently led him towards the exit.

Buffy sighed and started pushing the trolley again. Dawn walked alongside her and smiled contentedly.

Giles had arranged -- and paid for -- their accommodation in a bed and breakfast near the centre of London. As he led them through a labyrinth of trains and Tubes, he kept apologising for the undesirable neighbourhood it was in, explaining that the B&B belonged to an old friend. He was sure they'd be safe there, and of course he would take them out to visit London whenever he was free.

They finally emerged from the smelly, hot Underground into a quiet residential area filled with long lines of tiny houses. They had probably been identical when they were first built. Now, some were painted white; others were covered in pebbles; others still presented the original bare brown brick. They all had bulky bow windows filling part of their front yard; Buffy thought this was quite a quaint feature. Willow said something about 'terraced' houses and seemed very excited because she'd read about them in a book. Giles guided them to one of the brown brick houses, and knocked on a bright red door with a 17 on it. They were welcomed by a plump lady in a blue dress.

"Rupert! Come on in," she exclaimed.

"This is Paula Brown, an old friend of mine who runs this establishment," said Giles as they all squeezed into the little lobby. "And these are Buffy, Willow and Dawn."

"What lovely names," said Mrs Brown in a voice that suggested they were unusual too. "Rupert has told me all about you. I'll show you your rooms and then we can have a bit of a chat."

The house was the tiniest Buffy had ever been in. The front door led into the front right-hand corner of the house; there was a corridor leading to the back of the house on one side, and a steep, narrow staircase running along the right-hand wall.

Mrs Brown took the girls upstairs. Buffy and Dawn were given the twin room at the back of the house, while Willow got the double bedroom at the front. There was a common bathroom beside the twin bedroom. The girls left their suitcases in their rooms and came back downstairs.

It didn't take long for them to visit the lower floor too. There was a living-room at the front of the house, a dining room and kitchen at the back, and a minute toilet under the stairs. Mrs Brown apparently lived in the house next door, so the whole house would be at their disposal during their stay. A full English breakfast was included in the price.

When Mrs Brown was satisfied that her guests knew where everything was, she invited them to settle in the living-room and offered them tea.

"Spike always says that the English run on tea," said Dawn when Mrs Brown had left. "I guess he's right!"

"Yes, um," Giles scratched his nose. "He does have a point. We do like our tea."

Spike, Spike, Spike. Buffy frowned. Why was everything always about Spike these days? She had come all the way here to get away with him, not for Dawn to mention his name at every opportunity.

"Buffy, are you all right?" asked Willow.

Buffy dragged herself out of her reverie and nodded. "Oh yes. Never better. Just a bit tired. Jetlag, that kind of stuff." She gave them a big, bright grin, and then tempered it to a more dignified smile. She didn't want to look like the Buffybot. The tempered smile had the desired effect, and the four of them were able to resume their conversation about tea.

Giles took the girls to dinner in a local Indian restaurant, where they told him about everything except what had been happening to them. Giles was as elusive about his life in England as Willow was about her magic, or Dawn about her dismal school results. Buffy felt no need to mention Spike to anyone. Thankfully, Dawn didn't mention him either.

When they had finished, Willow and Dawn returned to the B&B while Buffy accompanied Giles to the Underground.

"I'm sorry I'm so busy tomorrow. I promise I'll make it up to you on Tuesday," said Giles suddenly.

"Oh, that's all right," said Buffy. "We want to go shopping anyway. You'd find that very boring."

Giles nodded vigorously. "Yes, yes, I think I most probably would. If you want to go shopping, you should go to Oxford Street. I think the January sales are on. I suppose you could go to Knightsbridge and visit Harrods too. It's a beautiful department store."

"Oxford Street. Knightsbridge. Right."

They walked in silence. Buffy shivered in the cold winter air. She had known it would be cold, but somehow, when you had lived in California all your life, you just couldn't imagine exactly how cold 'cold' could be. The first thing she would buy on Oxford Street would probably be a thick sweater.

"I'm busy on Tuesday morning," said Giles, "but I, ah, I can come around at lunchtime. I'll pick you up and take you somewhere nice. How does that sound?"

"Great!" Buffy nodded. "We can keep ourselves busy until then. Don't worry."

The silence came back. Buffy wondered if it was possible for her nose to freeze completely off her face. That's what it felt like right now. She rubbed it with her gloved hand. A woollen scarf would probably be a good acquisition too.

"How are things really?" asked Giles when they had nearly reached the station. "I mean, how have you been since I left?"

"Fine," said Buffy brightly. She smiled as she realised it wasn't a lie. "I went through a bad patch, but I feel much better now. That not wanting to live thing -- all over now," she added with a sweep of her hand.

"Ah." Giles nodded. "That's a relief. I was...afraid you might have problems..." He adjusted his glasses. "Well, um, January is a strange time to be visiting Britain, really. I thought there might be some particular reason you wanted to see me."

Buffy shook her head. "Not really. I wanted to see England. And you, of course. Plus, I've never been out of the U.S., like, ever! And Willow wanted to do some research on something for college. And the flights were really cheap. Oh...thanks for paying for me and Dawn, by the way."

"That's all right. The least I could do." He looked up at the night sky, turned a dull orange by the streetlights reflected on the clouds. "I think you'd like it here in the summer. It's a lot nicer when the weather is warm."

The conversation stalled again. Giles stopped at the top of the stairs leading into the Underground.

"I'm glad to hear you're feeling better, Buffy," he said with a tender smile. "I do worry sometimes...but it's good to know you're all right."

"It's not all smooth sailing," she said with a sigh. Yet another unwelcome image of Spike came to mind. That would never have happened if Giles hadn't left. Probably wouldn't have happened. She looked up at Giles. "I-I did want to see you, Giles. I wish you hadn't gone."

"I had to..."

"No, you didn't. You left me alone with..."

"Your friends."

Buffy shook her head. "No. Alone..." She looked up at his bewildered pale face and swallowed the words she was about to say. Alone with Spike. "Never mind. I'm all right now. I'm alive and it's okay. I mean, not all peachy, squeaky-clean fun and all that, but things have happened and I feel okay."

Giles smiled at her affectionately. Buffy lowered her eyes and continued, "I just wish you could have stayed. Everything has changed. Xander is getting married. Willow is into her own things. You're over here... I wish we could all be together again. You and me and the gang. Just like it used to be. When things were simple."

"Things have never been simple, Buffy. And they can't change back." He smiled at her. "Whatever is happening in your life, if it makes you feel better, you should embrace it."

Buffy smiled back, as if accepting his advice. If only he knew what he was advising. Embracing Spike, indeed.

"That was so funny," said Willow with a knowing smile. "You really freaked out."

Buffy frowned. "No, I didn't!"

"Did too. That guy called you 'luv' in that English accent of his and you were like, wow, man, you've got two heads!"

Buffy shrugged and tried on one of the skirts she had bought. The three of them had spent the day walking up and down Oxford Street, wandering around shops, trying on clothes and shoes they couldn't afford, and getting hit on by young men of varying interest. Everything had seemed very cheap until Willow had pointed out that they should double the pound price to get a rough idea of the price in dollars. Buffy wondered how people could live in a city where clothes cost so much.

They had returned to the B&B laden with presents for their friends back home, and quite a few of the items of clothing they could afford for themselves. Although dinner wasn't included in the price of their rooms, Mrs Brown had made them some 'beans on toast' that evening, since even Buffy didn't have the strength to go out again to eat; for some reason, shopping was a lot more tiring than slaying. The 'beans on toast' turned out to be slices of toast covered in what the English called baked beans: tinned beans in sweet tomato sauce, with no meat.

Dawn had complained of being tired and had already gone to bed, so Buffy was in Willow's room for a late night chat. She looked down at the skirt she had just put on, and smiled. Not bad; who said the English didn't have style?

Sitting on the bed, Willow hugged her knees and looked at Buffy quizzically.

"I think I know who that guy reminded you of," she said with a grin. "But he was much better looking. And not a vampire."

"Willow." Buffy gave her a dirty look. "I didn't come all the way to England to talk about Spike."

"Okay," said Willow, fingering the scarf she had bought for Tara. "I just thought, you know, that guy was kind of cute. And, well, it's been, like, over a year since you had a boyfriend..."

Buffy sat down on the bed. "Yeah, all I need right now. An English boyfriend. No, you're right. I've had a vampire boyfriend who turned evil when we slept together, and a human boyfriend who thought I didn't need him. Yeah, I really need a long-distance relationship to round things off."

"Well, not a relationship. You know, just a bit of fun and flirting and, um, getting the juices flowing. It's like, you know, you'd never have to see him again..." Willow noticed Buffy's dubious expression and frowned. "But I guess I can see why that wouldn't be a good idea."

There was a pause. Buffy picked a thread from the thick sweater she was wearing. The central heating -- one radiator under the window -- had gone off at 9.00 pm. It was now past eleven and the room was getting as cold as Spike's crypt.

"I-I know it's, like, none of my business," started Willow. "But has Spike been bothering you again?"

"No." Buffy shook her head. "No, Spike doesn't bother me. I mean, yeah, all that icky crush thing is kinda...icky. But well..."

She thought back to their last encounter. The last time she'd seen Spike, he'd done his usual jumping-out-of-the-bushes-just-in-time-to-help-her-slay-something routine. Then she'd done her usual sticking-her-lips-to-his-face-for-no-particular-reason routine. And then, well, the usual stuff.

"Well...?" prompted Willow.

"Yeah, well, he..." Buffy hesitated. She looked at the large flowers on the wallpaper, considering what she should say. Willow was her best friend, after all.

"He...we...well..." She sighed. "We kind of kissed."

Willow looked at Buffy with horror. "You kissed Spike?" No doubt noticing Buffy's hurt expression, she continued more calmly. "Well...I mean, did you want to?"

"No, of course not!" exclaimed Buffy. "He's an evil vampire. Xander's right, only a simpleton or a nut sack would want someone like that!"

"Exactly," said Willow with relief. "And you remember all that stuff with the Buffybot. I mean, that was a ew with a capital Yuh! You should have seen some of the things I had to program out of her. It was, like, things he wanted to do to you and stuff." She leaned forward conspiratorially. "I mean, I'm not completely innocent, but there were things he and Warren programmed her to do that you only see on the Internet...not that I'd know about that, but you know, you follow a link about Anne Heche and then... Anyway, I can tell you Spike really gets off on all the Slayer/Vampire thing, and it's like ugh! That guy's completely bent."

Tell me something I don't know. Buffy grunted noncommittally, her mind suddenly full of recent memories. If Spike was bent, then what did that make her?

There was a pause and then Willow asked, "So, like, he actually kissed you, but you didn't stake him?"

"No, I thought I'd run away to England instead!" said Buffy flippantly. She shook her head. "Spike's been good, you know, looking after Dawn and everything. And he's been really...nice to me since -- for a while now."

"Since he's been in love with you," said Willow, before a puzzled frown wrinkled her low forehead. "Except for the tying you up in chains and threatening to kill you bit. But yeah, I guess he was kind of good after Glory beat him up and everything. He did help us a lot this summer. I mean, he was the only one who could keep up when I was coordinating everyone."

Willow got a wistful look in her eyes, but then shook her head as if to bring herself back to the topic at hand. "So he was nice to you, you were nice back, and he kissed you?"

"Something like that." Buffy got up and started to remove the skirt she had tried on. It gave her an excuse to pace and hide her turmoil. "Spike...he really loves me, you know. And when he...when we...well, I guess I really needed to get away from him." Her mind rewound back to that afternoon. Her hand hovering over a lighter in the shop where they were looking for a present for Xander. "I can't-can't let him seduce me into lov... I mean, he's evil, he's disgusting, he's...the last person I want!"

"Like, duh!" exclaimed Willow emphatically. "He's so ugly too. Mean little eyes, weird-coloured hair, sort of scrawny and repulsive, like a snake. Not your type at all. I mean, I know you, Buffy. You like big, hunky types like Angel and Riley. Spike doesn't stand a chance!"

Buffy had to smile at Willow's confidence. She was right, Spike wasn't what she would call her 'type'. But God, when he touched her... Feeling suddenly weak in the knees, and quite repulsed by the feeling, Buffy pulled on her jeans and sat on the bed again.

"He doesn't stand a chance," she said, unconvincing even to her own ears. Her type or not, he'd had his chance already. "He isn't like Angel. He's a soulless vampire. Definitely someone I don't need to see." That didn't sound convincing either.

"Definitely." Willow smiled brightly. "I tell you what. You've been helping me to keep away from magic. I'll help you keep Spike away. When we go home to Sunnydale, I'll cast a de-invitation spell --" She frowned. "Okay, so maybe not. But we can get Tara to do it, and then we'll..."

Buffy tuned out the rest of Willow's plans to get rid of Spike. She half-wished she hadn't told her anything. On the one hand, she would now have Willow's help in keeping Spike away. On the other, that would make it harder for her to see Spike. She frowned, examining that strange thought. She didn't want to see Spike! Willow's help was a good thing. Very good. Buffy raised her head and smiled at her friend.

It was noon before Buffy woke up the next morning. She looked around groggily before dragging herself out of bed. Major jetlag. Shaking herself awake, she got dressed and went downstairs. She could hear a voice in the living-room. Specifically Dawn's voice.

The first thing Buffy noticed when she opened the door was that the curtains were drawn. Then she saw Dawn sitting on the carpet, eyes glued to the television, and, more surprisingly, a fedora on her head. Then, she heard another voice.

"'Cushty' means 'great', niblet. It's slang."

"Spike?" Buffy's heart seemed to simultaneously leap into her throat and sink into her stomach. She stared at the couch. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh hello." He sat up straight and looked at her as if she had caught him stealing cookies. "I...It's a very grey day so I thought I'd risk a Michael Jackson routine..." He pointed at the hat Dawn was wearing. Buffy also noticed his coat and a pair of gloves on the couch beside him. "...and come around to see what you're up to." He looked up at Buffy. "We're watching a sitcom called 'Only Fools And Horses'. It's the funniest thing I've ever seen!"

"I don't understand any of it," said Dawn dejectedly. "Oh, Del Boy is in that funny van again!"

Buffy peered at the small television screen. The protagonist was sitting in a dirty yellow van that looked as if it only had one wheel at the front. That didn't make sense. But then it didn't matter either. Buffy turned to glare at Spike again.

"That's not what I meant. What are you doing here? In England -- Britain -- the United-Kingdom, whatever it's called!"

"Oh that." Spike smiled charmingly. "Well, you know. You didn't think I'd let you visit my motherland without me, did you?"

"Spike, you give a whole new meaning to the word 'stalking'," said Buffy, shaking her head.

Dawn turned to look at her and frowned as if to say that Buffy was being unfair. Spike tapped the space beside him. With a heavy sigh, Buffy sat down. At least her heart had stopped hopping around.

When Dawn had returned her attention to the television, Spike glanced at Buffy and smoothed a lock of hair behind her ear, stroking it gently. A rush of adrenaline squeezed her stomach and her heart started to hammer again. She stared at him. He stared back. She wondered if he was going to kiss her.

The door opened suddenly and Willow walked in wearing her dressing-gown.

"Boy, it's dark in here!" she exclaimed, before looking at the couch. "Spike? What are you doing here?"

"Just visiting the motherland," he said. "You can open the curtains now, I don't think there's any sunshine coming in."

Willow frowned when she noticed that Buffy was sitting next to Spike on the sofa. Visibly angry, she sat down in an armchair and made the curtains open with a wave of her hand. Both Dawn and Buffy looked at her reproachfully.

The uncomfortable silence was broken when Mrs Brown came in carrying a mug, a milk-jug and a teapot on a small tray.

"Oh, I say. I didn't know you were awake," she said, noticing Buffy and Willow. "You must be exhausted after all that shopping and the jetlag. It's just as well I made a pot; I'll get some more mugs. A good cup of tea will soon get you back on your feet. Do you want some lunch? I can make you some sandwiches."

"No thanks, we'll be okay," said Buffy. "We're having lunch with Giles."

"Good," said Mrs Brown with a kind smile, which she then directed at Spike. "William, I forget, did you say you wanted some sugar?"

Spike was already pouring himself some tea. "No, thank you, Mrs B, I'm fine."

"You look right at home," said Buffy once Mrs Brown had left.

Spike sat back with his mug of tea and put his feet up on a footstool, his eyes once again riveted to 'Only Fools and Horses'.

"That, my darling, is because I am."

"I want to be a hunter again
 Want to see the world alone again
 To take a chance on life again
 So let me go"

 
Spike turned away from the wind, cupping his hand around the lighter as he lit his cigarette. It couldn't be much later than four in the afternoon, but the sun was already low behind its shroud of thick grey clouds. Spike inhaled the smoke and looked up at the dull sky. He'd forgotten how easy it was to be a vampire in an English winter.

It hadn't taken long for Willow and Giles to kick him out that afternoon. The Watcher he could understand; protecting the Slayer was his vocation, even though he'd abandoned her so blithely a few months earlier. And he'd never liked Spike much anyway. But the witch was a worry. She was a bloody powerful bitch and a few sandwiches short of a picnic in Spike's opinion. Anyone stupid enough to go anywhere near Rack was bad news.

And now Willow was suddenly all hostile towards him. Him! The so-called evil vampire who would lay down his life for either of the Summers sisters. That coming from the bloody witch who yanked one of them out of Heaven and drove the other one into a wall. Yeah, that gave her the moral high ground all right.

A black cab driver swore at him as he crossed Charing Cross Road a few yards way from the zebra crossing. Spike playfully gave him the two fingers salute and then returned to his thoughts. He'd built himself a new life of sorts in Sunnydale now. The Hellmouth gave him plenty of opportunities to 'kick ass' as the Americans said, which was no mean thing now the chip had rendered him toothless so to speak. And of course, there was Buffy. Best bit of totty in the universe and she was hot for him. That was a buzz. The centre of his universe and she was falling in love with him. Well, he hoped so, anyway. Now that was an exhilarating thought. Yes, Sunnydale was his home now.

But London was in his blood.

Standing on the corner of Wardour and Brewer Street, Spike drew on his cigarette and looked around, observing the changes. Not that many since he last came here, some ten years ago. A million changes since he'd first come here with Dru. Back then, Soho had been the land of the Greeks and the French, who eked a miserable living in a land of adoption that rejected them. Those people were gone now, their foreign origins forgotten as old immigrants became Englishmen and turned against more recent arrivals. Now Soho was tourist-land; a meeting place for queers and artists and recent immigrants, half-China Town, half-red light district. Spike stared at the building across the road, surprised to find that the Chinese restaurant he was looking for was now a strip club. Looked as if the red light district was winning.

There was a man pacing in front of the club. Despite his heavy winter coat, he was visibly cold, and kept beating his arms against his body to keep warm. Every now and then, he would harangue the passing tourists with promises of the live sex show in his club.

"Oi, mate, fancy a good show while you're waiting?" the man shouted at Spike.

He pointed at the sign behind him. 'Live lesbian show every hour', it said in lurid red colours. There was a small, faded photograph of two naked women intertwined, their nipples and private parts covered with yellow stars.

Spike shook his head. The man shrugged. "Fair enough. Don't suppose you could spare a fag, could you?"

Spike chuckled, imagining what his American acquaintances would make of that question. He crossed the street and handed the man his packet of cigarettes. The man took one and leaned forward to let Spike light it.

"Cheers, mate," said the man, giving the packet back to Spike. "Fecking freezing, innit?"

"Yeah," said Spike, though he wasn't feeling it.

"You waiting for someone?"

"Nah, just looking around." Spike looked up the street and smiled when he saw Raymond's Revue Bar. So it was still there; he remembered attending the pole-dancing club's opening night back in 1958. An image of Dru in stilettos and a pencil skirt came to mind, her hungry green eyes picking out their next victim among the club's patrons.

"Used to come around here, a long time ago," Spike told the strip club's doorman. "Actually, I was looking for a mate of mine. Old Chinese guy. Used to own a restaurant that was right here."

"Oh." The man looked at the ad on his strip club as if that would help. "Oh, yeah, you're right. There was a Chinese restaurant here. I remember. The old man probably popped his clogs or something." He took a drag from his cigarette and frowned. "Try the herbal shop in Wardour Street. I think his brother runs it. Wrinkly old geezer. Looks about a hundred and fifty."

Spike flicked his cigarette into the gutter and grinned.

"Bu xiyan!" admonished the Chinese woman standing behind the counter in a white lab coat.

"Don't smoke," translated the little boy beside her, though Spike had already chucked his cigarette onto the pavement outside.

"I'm here for Kwan," he said in Mandarin. "Tell him there is an friend to see him. From America."

The woman hesitated, eyeing Spike suspiciously, then disappeared into the back of the shop. The little boy leaned his chin on the counter; he was wearing a grey school uniform, complete with little cap and striped necktie. He stared at Spike with the inquisitive purple eyes of a half-demon.

The shop had little of a traditional herbalist's boutique. It was all white, no doubt modelled after a Western hospital. Red letters stuck to the front window listed all the ailments they professed to cure; seemed to include everything from eczema to morning sickness, including old favourites like baldness and impotence. The shelves behind the stainless steel counter were filled with glass jars. They reminded him vaguely of the jars in the Magic Box. Full of twigs, shells, grit, bits of bark. Each jar was labelled with neat Chinese characters. Above the shelves were some pots and decorative fans, all with prices written on little labels.

"The wind rises, and the ghost returns. I never thought I would see you again."

Spike looked up and smiled at the wizened old man standing in the doorway. "Nice to see you, too, Kwan."

"William." Kwan greeted Spike with a cold little nod. "You have come far to see me, I am told." He indicated the Chinese woman, who had returned to the shop with him. "Come, William, follow me and we can talk of old times."

The old man hadn't lost his immaculate English, that was for sure. Spike remembered coaching him on the long trip back to England, while Kwan played the role of their servant and prepared potions to soothe Dru's ever troubled mind.

Spike followed Kwan into a cosy little sitting-room at the back of the shop, with a three-piece suite huddled around a television set. The set was tuned to a cookery programme. Kwan turned it off, and sat on the sofa. Spike chose one of the armchairs.

"I could not believe my ears when Yun said there was a young gentleman from America to see me," said Kwan. "I don't know many Americans."

"Who's Yun?"

"Dr Chia Yun, the resident doctor. We do humans and demons; her husband is a demon, so she has interests in both worlds. We make very good money. They should offer our services on the NHS; it would be better value for money than all that technology." He waved his shrivelled hand dismissively.

"I'm surprised to see you've gone back to curing humans. Fattening them up for the feed?"

Kwan shrugged. "Yun doesn't let me eat her patients. But London is a big city; there are always plenty of others to feed on. Sometimes, perhaps, I will come across an old patient. I have never had a good memory." He tapped his head with a self-deprecating smile. "Ah, to have been turned when I still had all the strength of youth." He observed Spike with interest. "Speaking of which, what brings you back to London?"

"Just thought I'd come and see if Britain is a third-world country yet," said Spike with a grin. "By the way, I don't suppose you know somewhere a vampire could get a good day's sleep, do you?"

"I can recommend a good hotel. No questions asked. They cater for lowlife humans and demons, even vampires. Provided they don't feed off the other guests."

"Sounds great," said Spike gratefully. "Not that I can't sleep in the Underground, but it's really badly maintained these days. They just don't look after things like they used to." He chuckled. "But all in all, London hasn't changed much. Still as big and bad as ever."

"London is the best feeding ground I've ever known." Kwan lit a cigarette and offered one to Spike, who refused and took out one of his own. "And Soho is the best hunting ground in London. Tourism has tapered off a little since September 11th, but there are still good pickings out there. Tourists, runaways, lowlifes."

Spike smiled at some fond memories. "Yeah, Dru and I used to have a good time. I'd like to go hunting in London again," he said with relish.

He remembered the windy, narrow alleyways plunged in darkness, the victim's footsteps on hard cobble, their ragged breath and furtive looks as they sensed the beast approaching, the elation of the chase, the thrill of the kill. That had been his life in London.

"Oh, I can maybe take you on a hunt..." Kwan paused and drew on his foul-smelling cigarette pensively, his small narrow eyes fixed on Spike. "But I do not think you are a hunter anymore. It's a pain in the head, I hear."

Spike nearly dropped his cigarette. "What?"

"Do you think there is a single vampire of our line who does not know about you?" Kwan rearranged his wrinkles into a sly smile. "Such devious creatures, those Americans. Slayers fought our kind with stakes and swords for thousands of years. But they put a piece of metal in your skull, and the demon is harnessed." He shook his head. "To think Little Daughter's slayer is muzzled. Technology is amazing."

"Yeah." Spike lowered his eyes and leaned on his knees dejectedly, his momentary joy completely gone. "Bloody amazing."

"I will be honest," continued Kwan more seriously. "You are welcome here only because of our long acquaintance. I have always honoured and respected you for ridding us of the Slayer. Little Daughter was a disgrace to my family, as well as my mortal enemy after I was turned. So I will help you now. But you have changed, William. You once roamed the night, your hands bathed in the Slayer's blood. Now you come here in the daylight, carrying the scent of her hair."

Spike looked at his hands and remembered stroking Buffy's hair that morning. "Now, look here..."

"I was visited by my sire," explained Kwan. Spike fell silent, knowing there was no point protesting. "Beautiful as a lotus in bloom, her mind still filled with clouds. But she said the last time she saw you, you were with the Slayer, standing united against her."

"United until the Slayer turned around and thumped me," said Spike to himself.

"Part of me would like to meet this Slayer." Kwan too seemed to be talking to himself. "She must be very special to have both you and Angelus under her spell."

"Oh, she's special, all right," muttered Spike glumly.

So much for replaying My Life As Big Bad, thought Spike mournfully as he wandered aimlessly around London. He'd been west to Notting Hill and the Portobello road, where West Indians mixed with New Age hippies. Then he'd walked east as far as the Docklands area, now filled with the disaffected Eighties yuppie flats which had replaced the old dockers' slums.

Big bad London. The streets were still narrow and windy, but now they were brightly-lit and paved with tarmac. The old buildings he had known as a human had been flattened in the Blitz, and replaced by layers of post-WWII architectural monstrosities.

Other things had changed too, of course. There were cars on every available piece of road, jostling for positions in the early evening traffic. The faces on the pavement were different too. Where once there would have been nothing but white people, there were now also West Indians and 'Asians' -- the nondescript term used to avoid offending Pakistanis and Indians if you couldn't tell them apart.

Spike was in the City now. The narrow Medieval streets were lined with large, squat buildings mirroring Margaret Thatcher's Eighties ideal of capitalist Britain. It was six o'clock, and the massive concrete blocks were vomiting their load of pen-pushers onto the pavement. Their pinstripe suits wrapped in dark woollen coats, the office workers hurried down the streets, swarming everywhere like ants, so numerous that they were almost queuing to get into the various Tubes and nearby train station.

Spike deliberately stood still in the flow, letting the swarm jostle him, taking some meagre pleasure in annoying all these self-righteous business types as they crawled back to the miserable little stones they lived under. Living in Sunnydale, he had forgotten the elation of a large crowd, the anonymity of a city so big that each death was barely a drop in the flow of humanity.

Had he not been restrained by the chip, Spike would have picked a victim, a man, maybe, to prove to himself that he could still face a worthy opponent. That Asian bloke over there, for example, the one holding the Financial Times and looking down the street as if he was waiting for something. Accost him all friendly-like, 'Hey, mate, got the time?'. Lure the chap into a quiet spot; that service alley over there, for instance, between the wheely bins and the noisy air-conditioning outlet. Then move in for the kill, dig your fangs into the warm, throbbing vein, feed on the jet of blood his heart pumps into your throat in strong, regular strokes, until oxygen deprivation shuts down the brain and the heart finally stops beating.

The Asian businessman got into a black cab. Spike moved out of the crowd, leaning against the window of the camera shop near the entrance of Cannon Street station. He dismissed his fantasy and lit a cigarette.

Time to face facts: to all intents and purposes, he wasn't a vampire anymore. Dru had no doubt been all around the world in the past year, telling every vampire community in their lineage about the chip and the Slayer. Even if he could kill again, things would never be the same. No vampire would consort with him if they knew he'd been so close to the Slayer, watched her sleep helpless beside him, able but unwilling to kill her. The old Chink was right: he was tainted with the scent of the Slayer's hair.

The Underground hadn't improved. Cramped little trains packed with overheated commuters, crawling through dank tunnels deep in the earth. Spike could remember when this system was the envy of the world, soon imitated by Paris and Berlin. But London had long since lost its pride, and was now going through the motions of its past greatness.

Or maybe I'm projecting, thought Spike wryly, as the Tube train rocked and screeched its way through the Victorian tunnels. The next station was recently decorated and quite attractive in a gaudy human way. Spike's attention was distracted when he saw who was getting on the train. Well, there was Fate for you.

He pushed his way through the packed crowd as best he could, squeezing between smelly hot commuters until he was nose to nose with Giles.

"Hello, Watcher. Small world, isn't it?"

"Ah, Spike," said Giles. "Yes, this is quite a coincidence...Though I suppose you were heading for the B&B anyway."

"Well, yeah." Spike peered through the commuters in front of him. He could only just catch a glimpse of the girls, tucked in a corner further away. And at that, all he could really see was the witch's flat-ironed ginger hair. They didn't even notice he was there.

"This, ah, this might not be the best time to bring this up," started Giles, wincing as the man behind him moved, elbowing him in the ribs. "But...why did you come to London, Spike? What were you hoping for?"

Spike shrugged. "Oh, nothing. Just wanted to see the old hunt--haunting grounds again." He tried to get a better look at the girls. "Have you been taking them sightseeing?"

"Yes, we're exhausted," said Giles with a sigh. "We did the London Eye, St Paul's, Westminster... the Tower of London, and the Globe... And then we got tired and decided to go back. I forgot it was the rush hour; they're not used to this kind of congestion... I was thinking about taking them out to Hever Castle or Windsor tomorrow, but I think Dawn is coming down with a cold."

"Poor pet. Maybe the old monks didn't make her winter-proof." Spike smiled tenderly at the thought of Dawn with a cold. Poor little thing. "Still, I'm sure Mrs B will give her the sovereign cure for every ill as soon as you get back. A cup of tea."

Giles chuckled. "Yes. Yes, Paula is definitely a fan of traditional remedies."

"I'd forgotten how strong they make it here, you know. That cuppa Mrs B gave me this morning really brought back some memories. It's funny how you forget things when you're away. Little things, like sinks that have one hot tap at one end, and one cold tap at the other end, and no plug in the middle. I mean, how the bloody hell is that supposed to work?" Noticing Giles' smile, Spike continued. "And I nearly got run over looking the wrong way up a street earlier on. Clean forgot about the old driving-on-the-left thing.

"But there's all the good stuff too. Fish and chips wrapped in a newspaper; a pint of lager in a friendly pub; Cadbury's Flake in an Italian ice-cream; Punch and Judy shows on the beach. Mind you, that's probably all changed now. They've probably outlawed Punch and Judy shows because they're politically incorrect."

"Hmm, I don't know, but if they have, they have a point. I always thought the traditional Punch and Judy story was a bit bloodthirsty. Punch kills his wife and his baby, and then gets arrested, and kills a policeman." Giles shook his head. "To say we used to all sit on the beach and laugh at that kind of puppet show. On the other hand, children are terribly cruel."

Spike gazed unseeingly at the crowd around him, his mind lost in nostalgia. "Dru loved Punch and Judy shows. We'd go down to Brighton sometimes; the weather was so bad in those days, we could even walk on the beach in the daytime. And then--" He interrupted himself. No need go into the details of what else they had done. Life had been simpler back then. But those days were long gone now.

Mentioning Dru had no doubt reminded Giles who Spike had been, because the Watcher's pale eyes were now suddenly hard behind the thin glasses. "You know, Spike, following Buffy halfway across the world still isn't going to make her love you."

"It's not that simple, Watcher." Spike lowered his eyes and wriggled to get into a more comfortable position between Giles and a large woman carrying a bulky bag. "Things have become complicated since you left. Buffy and I...well, it's none of your business, really. It's between me and Buffy."

Giles looked at him dubiously, obviously believing that Spike was deluding himself. Spike found it very annoying.

"Let's just say that Buffy isn't the one who kicked me out into the cold when you turned up at the B&B," he pointed out.

There was no change in Giles' expression, but Spike was sure the point had been made. "Stay away from her," said the Watcher, managing to sound threatening even though they were squeezed against each other in a busy Tube train. "If you love Buffy, you must know this is wrong. You'll just destroy her like Angel did."

"I'm not bloody Angel!" exclaimed Spike. The large lady gave him a dirty look. "I'm not going to turn back into the Big Bad overnight. If anything, I'm turning into Buffy's bloody lapdog!"

"Buffy is very fragile right now," said Giles as if he hadn't spoken. "I don't think she came here to see me. I'm beginning to think she's trying to get away from you. Whatever you think she's going to give you, she can't do it if you don't leave her some breathing space."

Well, it was nice of the old ponce to at least consider the possibility that Buffy might return his feelings. His anger assuaged by Giles' speech, Spike began to consider what he had said. It was true: Buffy was very messed up. Going completely AWOL just because she was invisible didn't really jibe with being a sensible, well-balanced person. Maybe Giles was right. Maybe Spike should take his trips down memory lane on his own and then go back to Sunnydale, and wait like a patient little puppy for his Mistress to come back. Self-sacrifice. That sounded romantic.

The next stop was the one for the B&B. There was a mass exodus, but Spike stayed where he was, watching Giles and the girls exit onto the platform. As the doors closed, Buffy turned and saw him through the window. 'You've been dead long enough. It's time to come alive again,' proclaimed the poster behind her, an ad for some novel. Buffy smiled instinctively, joy flooding her lovely features, and then fading to disappointment as the train moved on. Spike knew then that he wouldn't leave London without seeing her again.

How could he? She was all he had now.

"I don't want to call my friends
 They might wake me from this dream
 And I can't leave this bed
 Risk forgetting all that's been
 Oh, I am what I am, I'll do what I want, but I can't hide
 I won't go, I won't sleep, I can't breathe
 Until you're resting here with me"

 
It had been a good day, thought Buffy as she washed her hands in the tiny bathroom under the stairs. Giles had taken them to Hever Castle somewhere outside London. The castle had been Anne Boleyn's home before she married Henry VIII and got her head chopped off; it was full of mementoes belonging to Henry, Anne, and their daughter Elizabeth I. One of the items on display was a letter Anne had written to Henry just before her execution, filled with bewilderment and touching protestations of innocence; Buffy had felt really sorry for the poor woman when she read the letter.

She looked at herself in the mirror, smoothing her medium-length hair and checking her makeup. Tudor history had kept her distracted most of the day, but the fact was that the rest had been spent thinking about Spike. But then, that was becoming a hobby these days, whether she was indulging guiltily in fond remembrances of his embrace, or just thinking up new and imaginative ways of putting an end to his existence. Sometimes, she even thought of both things at the same time.

Buffy wiped her hands on the pink towel beside the tiny sink, and then stepped out into the corridor. Her Slayer instincts were immediately on alert: there was something outside the front door. She glanced at the living-room door; it was closed and she could hear Giles talking to Mrs Brown and the girls. Good. That meant she could tackle the whatever-it-was in peace.

As she approached the door, Buffy could already sense what she would find. Unarmed, she opened the front door; an icy wind blew into the entrance.

"Spike."

He seemed as unsurprised to find her opening the door as she was to find him on the doorstep. "Evenin', Slayer," he said, leaning on the door frame.

"And there I was thinking you were actually going to leave me alone for once," said Buffy. "Where were you going yesterday anyway?"

"Nowhere. Your...Giles thought you needed some breathing space. So I thought I'd just go for a walk."

"A walk? Okay." Buffy shivered and waited for him to say something.

"Buffy, we really need to talk," was what he said. "While we're here, away from everything."

"Except Willow, Giles and Dawn," said Buffy, stepping out beside him.

Spike frowned and shrugged angrily. "Okay, so I can't get you away from your entourage." He leaned behind her and pulled the front door to, careful not to lock Buffy out by closing it completely. "They'll be getting a draft in there if you leave that open," he explained.

"I guess you know a thing or two about English houses."

"Tell me about it." Spike looked up at the house. "I used to live in something very similar once upon a time. Water used to freeze indoors. 'Course, we didn't care."

We. Spike and Dru living together in one of these little houses. Best not to think about what else they must have done. But the thought lingered in Buffy's mind; Spike and Dru together, killing humans and then making love. Spike doing the things to Dru which he now did to her.

"Spike, I gotta go back in." Her teeth were chattering now; she pushed the door open and stepped inside. "We're going to dinner in like half an hour. Maybe we can talk another day."

"No, I've had an idea. I just need to discuss it with you." Spike touched her cheek. "Please, love, there's so much we need to talk about."

Buffy observed him curiously. "Okay. But, not out here..." She glanced at the living-room door again. "Come upstairs. We can talk there."

"Well, that helped," said Spike sarcastically, buckling up his belt.

Buffy sat on the edge of her bed and looked down at her boots. "This is wrong. This is all so wrong."

"You normally let me recover a bit before you start on all that again."

"No, not you-me-vampire-slayer kind of wrong." Buffy kept her eyes firmly planted on the patterned carpet beneath her feet. "You-me-supposed-to-talk-but-kinda-getting-sidetracked kind of wrong."

"Well, at least we agree on something."

Buffy stood up to check her appearance in the dresser mirror. This was the room she shared with Dawn, and she'd just invited Spike in here and... This was so wrong. She glanced at the empty reflection of her bed. Very wrong. Then why did this keep happening?

She turned back towards Spike. He was smoothing the bed covers, hiding any trace of their brief tryst.

"I'm not letting you treat me like this..." he started angrily. But then he looked over his shoulder at her. "Well, actually, yeah, I am letting you treat me like this. Keep coming back for more too... I should have stayed in bloody Sunnydale."

"Then why didn't you?"

Spike opened his mouth, but then just raised his eyebrows, as if to say that she should guess the answer herself. He stood up and approached the door, rearranging his clothes. Buffy watched him; if he left now, it would be all right. Giles and the others would never know her dirty little secret.

Spike paused, his hand on the door handle. His eyes still on the painted wooden door, he spoke.

"You're right, Buffy: this is wrong. I love you. I love being with you, and watching you, and just...'hanging out' as you'd say. But it's not enough. I want to know there's something coming back. That I'm not just a convenient stopgap until the next guy comes along. This is serious for me, Buffy, and I want it to be serious for you too. I want to have all of you, or nothing."

"Guess you'll have to settle for nothing." It had sounded witty in her head, but now it just sounded lame.

Spike looked her in the eye. "I don't think that's what you want, though. This --" he pointed at the bed, "--was not my idea."

"Oh really?" said Buffy, sitting down on the bed again. "I guess I was so overwhelmed by your charms that I missed your strident cries of protestation."

Spike sighed, then shook his head and came back to sit beside her. He put his arm around her and after a moment's hesitation, she leaned into his embrace.

"Oh, who am I fooling?" said Spike. "The truth is, I'd rather be a convenient stopgap than not have you at all. I'm like a man dying of thirst; what I really need is the whole hog, but any crumb is sustenance already."

Buffy felt like teasing him about his mixed imagery, but he probably wasn't in the mood to be teased. She lifted her head off his shoulder and looked at him, her face only a couple of inches from his hollow white cheek.

"Spike, it's not that I don't like--"

She interrupted herself as someone tried to open the locked door. Spike and Buffy exchanged an alarmed look.

"Buff, are you okay?" came Dawn's voice through the door. "We're going to dinner now if you're ready. Buffy?"

As if in a dream, Buffy stood up and opened the door. Dawn tried to push past her, and stared at her sister in surprise when she blocked her way.

"Um, can I get my coat? It's kinda cold out there."

"Yeah..." Buffy hesitated, then stepped aside.

Dawn walked in and saw Spike still sitting on Buffy's bed. A delighted little smile crossed her lips. "Wow. What's going on here?"

"Nothing, biscuit," said Spike gently. "We're just talking."

"Okay..." said Dawn dubiously, though she did look very pleased. Then she frowned. "Biscuit?"

"Like a cookie, only English."

That made no sense whatsoever to Buffy, but both Spike and Dawn were amused. Maybe it was something to do with all that time they'd supposedly spent together last summer.

"Dawn, get your coat and we'll go," said Buffy decisively.

"Are you coming?" Dawn asked Spike. Buffy shook her head at him over Dawn's shoulder.

"No, I don't think so," said Spike with his best I-am-being-serious frown. "People to see, mayhem to cause, and all that."

"Buffy!" said Dawn pleadingly. "We had to come all the way here with Willow, why can't Spike come to dinner with us?"

"Because he doesn't need to eat," said Buffy severely.

"But he's come all this way to 'talk' to you, so he might as well come with..." Dawn interrupted herself when she noticed Buffy's withering glare. "But then what do I know? I'm just a teenager who doesn't get acne."

"The Bit's right. We need to talk." Spike looked at Buffy entreatingly. "I promise to be good."

"Mind you, this was all back in the days when being British was something to be proud of. We were the most civilised nation on Earth; even the French and the Germans looked up to us with respect. And we were the most powerful too. You could go all around the world without ever leaving British territory."

"Ah, yes, the All Red Route," said Giles, folding his napkin. "It was still in the Atlas we used at school in the Sixties. Except by then, most of those territories were coloured pink and the whole thing was called the Commonwealth."

Buffy stared at Spike across the table, mesmerised by his voice and demeanour as he debated various British subjects with Giles. He was wearing his usual black jeans and T-shirt, but there was something different. He sounded more English, ate his food with more refinement. Maybe being back in his native country brought back memories of his life in the 19th century. She wondered what he had been like back then... Just another big bad vampire, she reminded herself.

Backed by both Summers sisters, Spike had managed to invite himself to the 'Harvester' restaurant Giles had chosen. Although Giles seemed to think it was too down-market for his American friends, Buffy liked the restaurant; the food was good, and there was a pub section at the other end. It looked like a good place to hang out. Buffy wondered if they could get Mrs Brown to watch Dawn one night, so the rest of them could go to the pub.

"Anyway, enough about boring old Britain, eh," said Spike. He caught Buffy's eye and moved his foot against hers under the table. "Did you like Hever Castle, pet?"

Buffy frowned at him calling her 'pet', but then remembered that he had always done that. Even back in the days when he wasn't allowed to play footsie with her. Not that he was allowed to now, Buffy reminded herself; she withdrew her foot.

"It was beautiful," she said politely. "But sad too. I learned a lot about Anne Boleyn and why she was beheaded."

"That kind of thing always happens to the wrong people," grumbled Willow, casting a sideways glance at Spike.

"I liked the maze outside," volunteered Dawn. "That was cool."

"I've never been there," admitted Spike. "I was never a great one for history and all that rot. At least nothing further back than the late Victorian era. I'm unbeatable on 20th century stuff, though. Witnessed most of it first hand, after all."

Buffy nodded, distracted by the fact Spike's boots had chased her feet and successfully caught them. "Maybe you should help Dawn do her homework," she said absently, her eyes locked with Spike's blue gaze.

"Can he really?" Dawn grinned. "Now that would be way cool!"

"Um, I'm sure there are people better able to help you do your homework than Spike," said Giles hastily.

Dawn pouted and played with the leftovers on her plate. Then she looked at Spike. "Say, now we've finished eating: that game over there looked really cool. Can I try it?"

She was pointing at an arcade game in the lobby, between the restaurant section and the pub. Spike twisted around to look at it too.

"I've got some change if you want a go, pettle," he offered.

Dawn nodded enthusiastically. Spike gave Buffy a little smile and the two of them left the table to play the game.

"I can't believe Spike followed you all the way to Britain," said Willow as if she had been dying to say this all evening. "That guy is really obsessed!"

Giles seemed about to say something, but he glanced at Buffy and remained silent. He took off his glasses and cleaned them.

"I know. It's a vampire thing," said Buffy, keeping her voice neutral. "There's no point stalking random victims anymore so he's stalking me instead." And I'm actually sleeping with this guy? she thought. "Still, he'll be useful if some British demon decides to attack us. There must be demons in London, right?"

"Oh yes," agreed Giles. "They tend to congregate in areas like Soho and Highgate. The Hellmouth might be in the States, but there are still plenty of nasty things for the Council to keep an eye on over here... Which reminds me. I got an SMS message on my mobile today -- that's like a pager message, but on my, um, 'cell' phone... Anyway, it seems the Council have got wind of your presence here and want to see you."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Like I have anything to say to them. I'd sooner spend a day with Spike than see the Council!"

"Talking about Spike." Willow seemed unwilling to be sidetracked from their original topic. "Someone must have given him the B&B's address."

"Hey, I didn't tell him to come!" said Buffy defensively. "I figured he might need to get in touch with us."

"He seemed quite homesick when I spoke to him yesterday," said Giles. "Maybe you can leave him behind when you go back. I'd take good care of him," he added with a sinister smile.

Buffy looked in the direction of the lobby. Dawn was playing the arcade game on her own, her face full of concentration. Spike had just removed a packet from the nearby cigarette machine. He said something to Dawn, eliciting little more than a nod from her, and then disappeared into the pub section.

The pub smelled of beer and cigarettes. A roomful of Spike smells embedded in the wooden floor and upholstered stools.

"Hey," she said timidly as she approached him. Spike was leaning on the bar, staring at the empty space in the mirror behind the counter.

"Hey to you too," he responded, exhaling a cloud of smoke. He looked Buffy over and smiled. "Finally managed to shake off the bodyguards?"

"I can't stay long. I told them I was going to the bathroom." She noticed the large glass of beer in his hand. "Is that what the British call 'ale'?"

"Nope. Lager," said Spike with a grin. "Want a sip? You're all legal in this country."

Buffy leaned forward a little and took a sip. She made a face and shuddered.

"Ugh. That's gross. It's warm!"

"Well, it's not like your average American beer, that's for sure." Spike drank a healthy proportion of the pint. "It's funny how you forget what you're missing until you get it again."

"Don't tell me big bad vampires get homesick."

Spike chuckled. "Homesick. I get it all, don't I? I'm neutered, I'm in love, and now I'm homesick. Maybe we should get your mate the witch to twiddle her nose and give me a soul as well. Then I can mope around like Angel." He put out his cigarette on the floor and drank some more of the beer.

"Well, at least that would give you one redeeming feature."

Spike glared at her, his dark-rimmed eyes full of irritation. "I'm getting a bit tired of the bloody old soul thing, pet. I don't have one but there isn't a great deal I can do about it. If a soul's what you want, maybe you should sod off and get yourself another weak little human."

"Yeah."

This was no doubt her cue to go back to the restaurant and forget all about this stupid fling with Spike. But she stayed where she was and observed the cigarette butt, and the toes of Spike's army boots. She felt Spike's arm slip around her waist and she leaned her head on his chest. He kissed the top of her head.

"I love you, baby," he said, his voice soft in her ear.

Buffy lifted her eyes to his face. "I can't believe I'm doing this. My friends, the people I care about, are in the restaurant, and I'm in here with you."

"And what's wrong with that?" growled Spike. "I don't see why I have to be your dirty little secret. Why can't you just go out there and say 'Thank you all for coming, and I'm going to spend the rest of the evening with the man I lo-- I'm shagging'."

"Yeah, that would go down real well." Buffy disengaged herself from his embrace and took a step away. "No, I can't tell them about this. This is wrong. They'd be so disappointed in me."

Spike bridged the gap she had created. He cupped her face in his large hands and Buffy felt like melting. "So what if your friends don't like me? It isn't as if any of my old vampire mates are thrilled about me loving the Slayer either. But this is about you and me. No one else. I love you and I want you to love me. That's all that matters."

He kissed her lips and Buffy wrapped her arms gratefully around his neck. She wished he would make the first move more often; it would make it easier to pretend that she didn't want him. As it was, Spike forced her to come to him, to beg him for the attention she craved.

She was disappointed when he broke the kiss and pushed her away slightly. "Aren't you supposed to be out of the 'bathroom' by now?"

"Yeah." Buffy let go of him reluctantly. "Absolutely."

Spike caught her arm as she moved away. "Wait. I haven't told you my idea yet." He emptied his pint glass and put it on a nearby table. Then he took both Buffy's hands in his. "Why don't we start from scratch? Pretend none of this has happened; just start at the beginning and see what happens."

Staring into his blue eyes in the dim light, Buffy frowned. "Huh?"

"Well...I, um." He bit his lip. "I want to ask you out."

"Out? Like on a date?" Buffy smiled. "I think we're a bit past the dating stage right now, don't you?"

"But that's the point. We went straight from fighting to shagging. We never went through the 'showing each other our good side' bit."

"You have a good side?" asked Buffy with wide eyes.

Spike looked hurt. "It's just an idea. I'm up for continuing the shagfest if that's what you want."

"Well..." Buffy thought about for a moment. She'd been on pseudo-dates with Spike before. The occasional heart-to-heart -- or lip to lip -- in the Bronze. Some weird patrolling experiences back in the days when she didn't know Spike was in love with her. A brief stint in the demon underworld when she didn't know what to do with her life. She wondered what good side he wanted to show her. It might be fun to find out.

The house was dark and cold when Giles and the girls got back to the B&B. Spike had stayed in the pub. Buffy expected Giles to leave them at the door, but he entered and asked if he could speak to her in private. Willow and Dawn exchanged a puzzled look and went upstairs. Buffy followed her former Watcher into the living-room.

Giles turned on one of the dim table lamps and observed Buffy with a grave expression. "Buffy... This may be none of my business, but... is there something going on between you and Spike?"

Buffy shrugged. "Nothing but the usual hatred and disgust. Why?"

"Because you spent the evening staring at him." Giles observed her for a moment, his features serious in the yellow glow from the lamp. "You shouldn't encourage him if you don't want to take things further. He's dangerous; even with the chip, there's no saying what he's capable of."

"I'm not encouraging him!"

"That may not be your intention. But if a young woman I loved looked at me like that, I'd believe I was entitled to think she returned my feelings." Giles lowered his eyes and stepped towards the door. "But I am no longer your Watcher and if you say there's nothing going on..."

Buffy turned towards him as he passed. "I'm sleeping with him."

Giles stopped, his back to her. Then he turned towards her. "How long has this been going on?"

"Weeks." Buffy sat in the seat in the bow window, the furthest from the light. "We...we kind of got together just after you left." She looked up at him. "Is it obvious? I mean, aside from the staring thing."

Giles approached and sat on the arm of the couch, a couple of feet away from her. "Well, Spike did drop a few hints when I saw him last night in the Tube. But to be honest, I knew something was different the minute I saw you both together yesterday morning. He seemed very pleased with himself."

"Yeah, he's finally got a girlfriend. The high and mighty Slayer what's more!" Buffy smiled wanly.

Giles was frowning but seemed to be waiting for her to speak. Buffy ran her hands through her hair.

"I know this isn't right, Giles. I mean, my God, how did I end up with Spike? The guy's tried to kill me I don't know how many times. And he chained me up and threatened me to make me love him. And he got Warren to create that Buffybot. And he's an evil, ugly monster who would go right back to killing innocent people if ever his chip stopped working."

"Well, at least you don't need me to remind you exactly who Spike is. If you still believe he's an evil, ugly monster, then why are you sleeping with him?"

"That's the million-dollar question, isn't it? Oh, Giles," she moaned. "The truth is, he's been good to me. He really has. He was the only one I could turn to when I came back. And he loves me so much, he was so pleased I was alive... And I guess I was grateful, so I kind of, I mean, I kissed him and then we... things kind of moved on from there. He's still evil and it's all wrong, but when we're together, there's all this... this..." She struggled to describe it adequately. "All this incredible, amazing... sex!"

A fleeting smile crossed Giles' lips, though it was quickly suppressed. Buffy frowned.

"What's so funny?"

"I'm sorry, I'm just finding it difficult to imagine Spike as the purveyor of 'amazing sex'." Giles chuckled and Buffy returned his smile. Then he frowned again. "Well, this is a mess."

"Tell me about it. The most pathetic piece of vampire dead meat in the universe and I'm sleeping with it." Buffy leaned on the window sill. "I don't know what I'm doing. You were wrong, the other night, you know. Things were simple once. All I had to worry about was what vampire to slay next. And now, I'm sleeping with Spike and it's incredible and scary and I don't know where it's all going." She looked at Giles. "Do you think what I'm doing is very bad?"

Giles smiled. "I'm trying to keep an open mind... which is difficult, since I don't think there's any way I'll ever see Spike as a good partner for you..." He shook his head. "If... If you had a different partner, I'd probably say that what you're doing isn't bad. I've always believed you shouldn't argue with amazing sex."

Buffy gave him an embarrassed smile. "Even if that's all it is: just sex?"

"Well, since you're so keen on the opinion of an old fogey like me, let me tell you a little story." Giles pulled a tissue out of the Kleenex box on the coffee table, then took his glasses off and cleaned them. "A long time ago, when I was about your age, I met this girl at university. Now, I've always liked my women exotic and mysterious. But this was a plain English girl, upper middle-class, banker daddy, member of the Young Conservatives. The epitome of everything I despised in British society at the time."

He smiled fondly. "She despised me too; different ideals, too much of a rebel. But when we were alone together, it was as if sparks were flying between us. All that hatred, all that mutual disdain just turned into raw sexual energy. There wasn't anything we wouldn't do to each other..." He paused.

"What happened?" prompted Buffy, pleased to be talking about Giles' past rather than her current problem. Even if it meant picturing her former mentor having raunchy sex. Which was pretty icky.

"Eventually, the novelty wore off and all we had left was the mutual dislike," said Giles with a shrug. "It hurt me to think I'd betrayed my ideals by sleeping with the enemy, as it were. But ultimately, it was a worthwhile experience. I learned a lot about what I wanted from life. When you're young, you have to explore all the possibilities life offers you. Then, when you're older, at least you have the consolation of being wiser too."

Buffy leaned her back against the hard, cold windowsill. "But this is different. Your girlfriend wasn't evil."

"Oh, you know, the Young Conservatives seemed pretty evil to me back then," said Giles with a chuckle. He became more serious as he added, "But you're right. And there's another difference too: this girl and I both knew the score, and it wasn't romance. But whatever the motives for his feelings, Spike's in love with you. It might be just sex for you, but it must mean a lot more to him."

"I know." Buffy hung her head. "Sometimes I feel bad about it. Most of the time, I just think he's a vampire and it doesn't matter. But I know he loves me, and I shouldn't...take...advantage." She pronounced the words slowly, as the implication sank in. "I guess that is pretty bad."

"Do you think you could ever return his feelings?"

"I don't want to."

Buffy turned back to the window, leaning her forehead against the cold pane. She wished this was a problem she could just kick and punch until it went away.

"Yes, I could return his feelings," she said in a small voice, watching her breath condense on the window. "God, he's so strong and handsome, and, and he makes me feel strong and beautiful, and so alive and loved... but there's so much history, so many memories of him being evil, and pathetic, and a laughing-stock. Dru and Harmony's reject. How could I sink so low?"

She glanced at Giles, concentrating hard to express all the conflicting feelings that had been churning in her heart since she first kissed Spike.

"And I...I don't want to fall in love again."

"Oh, Buffy." Giles held out his arms to her. Buffy hesitated, then approached and let him hug her gently. "It doesn't always hurt, you know. You were unlucky with Angel." He stroked her hair soothingly. "That was more than any woman should have to put up with, let alone the innocent little girl you were." He released her, but Buffy stayed close, leaning against him.

"Don't be afraid to fall in love, Buffy," he said softly. Then he paused and looked at her with a worried expression. "Just don't let it be Spike. Please."

"And I want to thank you
 For giving me the best day of my life
 Oh, just to be with you
 Is having the best day of my life"

 
"You're going on a date with Spike? Cool!"

Buffy smiled wanly at her sister. "I didn't say I was going on a date with him. He just asked me out. I haven't decided if I want to go or not."

Sitting on her twin bed close to the window, Dawn looked at Buffy with amusement.

"So why are you getting all dolled up?"

"I'm not!" protested Buffy as she painted in the line of her lower eyelid. "I'm just refreshing my makeup. Just in case... in case I change my mind. He said he'd be here at seven."

"Only an hour to get ready. I'll do your hair," offered Dawn, jumping to her feet and picking up the hairbrush from the dresser. "I think we should style it up a bit. Make you look different for your first date with Spike."

Buffy laughed at the idea of this being her first date with Spike. She saw Dawn frown at her in the mirror, and responded with a smile.

"I can't believe I'm doing this again, Dawn." She sighed. "Another vampire. I must be insane."

"But it's Spike! He's really crazy about you, you know. He talks about you all the time whenever I see him. Which isn't very often these days," Dawn added thoughtfully. "But I'm glad you've decided to give him a chance."

"Well, of course you'd defend him. You've got a crush on him."

Dawn shrugged. "Yeah, kinda. But I know nothing's ever going to happen. He thinks I have a lovely figure, but I'm too young and you're the one he loves, so it's okay."

"Do I want to know in what context Spike told my baby sister she has a 'lovely' figure?" asked Buffy, suddenly alarmed.

"He was letting me down gently," explained Dawn. "Are you going to go back to your natural hair colour?"

Buffy smiled at the abrupt change of subject. "Maybe; fighting the dark roots was getting me down, and bleach costs money. But we were talking about Spike."

"If you and he get together, does that mean you'll be spending more time away from home?" asked Dawn.

Buffy turned to look up at her. "No. No, of course not. He can come..."

She let her voice trail off, unwilling to entertain the thought of Spike coming over for an evening at the Summers' home. Instead, Buffy concentrated on the reproach she had heard in Dawn's request.

"I promise I'll spend more time at home in future," she said, stroking Dawn's cheek. "When we go home to Sunnydale, I'm going to take better care of you. I'll get a job and make sure everything is okay."

Dawn smiled, reassured by this promise her sister hoped she would be able to keep. Buffy turned back to the mirror, and wondered what she should do about Spike.

Seven o'clock on the dot. Spike adjusted his tie and hoped his hair was all right. Back in the old days, he'd always got Dru to check his appearance; a mutual necessity when both wanted to look their best and neither could use a mirror. His mind lingered on the old days. Back when he had all his potency, and could have any woman he liked. Sink his fangs into her neck and just f--

But that was all in the past. Now, Spike was standing outside a terraced house in Stoke Newington in a jacket and tie, suitor to a young woman whose only plans for his offered heart were probably to drive a stake into it. He wished he had brought flowers.

Spike pressed the doorbell. No answer. He wondered if Buffy had forgotten all about him. Or perhaps she had gone back to thinking he was evil and disgusting, and was planning to stand him up. That wouldn't be entirely surprising; she'd made it abundantly clear she didn't want a relationship with him. Buffy wanted the house-shattering sex only Spike could give her, but not the love that came with it.

He was about to turn away when Dawn opened the door. She grinned at him; there had no doubt been some sisterly communication about the 'date'.

"I'll get Buffy. She's not ready yet."

"Tell her to make it quick, pet, I've got a cab waiting."

Dawn acknowledged this with an expression that suggested Buffy was unlikely to be quick. Spike leaned out of the front door and instructed the cab driver to wait; the chap didn't mind, he was on the meter after all. Spike went back into the house and closed the door. Great, so not only was he a bundle of undead nerves, but he now had to wait for Buffy. At least she hadn't forgotten him.

Things suddenly got even worse; Willow came out of the kitchen with a mug. She frowned when she saw Spike.

"What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for Buffy," said Spike nervously. The last thing he needed right now was an argument with Buffy's best friend.

Willow approached, her large dark eyes filled with anger. She seemed about to say something, but stayed silent and pushed past him into the living-room. Spike followed her.

"What exactly is your problem, witch? What's wrong with me trying my luck with Buffy?" he demanded. "I thought you liked me. Okay, so not liked. But you did stop me from killing myself once."

"I kinda wish I hadn't now." Standing in the middle of the living-room, Willow turned to scowl at him. "Buffy doesn't want you, Spike. Why don't you just leave her alone?"

"Oh she doesn't want me, does she?" scoffed Spike. "Well, if that's the case, she can tell me herself."

"Yeah, and she did, but you never listened. You just waited and then took advantage of her when she was at her weakest. Took advantage of her when she was still recovering from her resu--"

"Don't you dare!" exclaimed Spike, taking an angry step toward her. "Don't you dare imply that I would...I never forced anything on her. Yes, I've--I've done some things that hurt her that I'm not proud of. But since you ever so considerately yanked her out of Heaven for me," he sneered, "I've offered her nothing but my love and friendship." So that wasn't entirely true, but it wasn't as if the Wicca would believe him anyway.

"She said you kissed her."

Spike was surprised, both that Buffy had told Willow, and that Willow seemed to think that kissing was such a big deal. How would the self-righteous little bint react if she learned what they'd really been doing? Spike was tempted to tell her every building-destroying, Xander-baiting detail, just to see her reaction.

"Yeah, I suppose you could say that," he said instead, wishing he had a cigarette to keep his hands busy.

"So you offered nothing but 'love and friendship', but you still kissed her?"

"Last time I checked, people who are in love like kissing."

Willow's enormous eyes grew even larger. "Is she in love with you? Did she tell you that?"

"No!" exclaimed Spike automatically. He belatedly wished he'd just said yes. That would have been the Big Bad thing to do; spread a bit of discord among the self-righteous Scoobies. Just like the old days.

"Look, it's none of your business," he said, turning away and heading for the living-room door. "I'm not going to discuss my relationship with Buffy with you or anyone else. If you want the juicy details, why don't you just ask her?"

"Is she sleeping with you?" asked Willow in a nervous voice, as if she were afraid to hear the answer.

"Ask her." Spike shook his head and faced the witch again. "Why are you so obsessed with this anyway? I hate to bring up El Ponce Supremo, but it's not like I'm the first vampire she's had the hots for. I might not have a soul, but I've been a good boy. So give the dog a bone and let me work things out with Buffy, okay?"

"You're no Angel, Spike, and this is wrong. What she's doing with you is wrong," said Willow, her expression full of disgust. "I didn't bring her back just so you could degrade her!"

"Is that so?" Spike approached her angrily. "Oh, no, I forgot. You brought her back because you could. Because it would be the ultimate proof of how powerful and mighty you'd become. You don't give a toss about Buffy. You're only upset about me and her because in that twisted goody-two-shoes mind of yours, you think Buffy would only be interested in me if she'd come back wrong. If your powerful little spell had failed."

Enraged, Willow lifted her hand. "Vade retro!"

In a flash, Spike was projected to the other side of the room. He collided with the wall, knocking over a table lamp as he fell to the floor.

"Bloody hell!" he exclaimed. "You have some serious problems, lady!"

Willow wasn't listening; she was holding her hand to her bleeding nose. "Shit. I knew this would happen if I didn't practice," she muttered, staring at her bloody hand.

Noticing that Spike was watching her, she turned away. He stood up and rearranged his clothes. He hoped Willow's telekinetic spell hadn't caused him any visible injuries. It would be a shame to go out on a 'normal' date with Buffy while looking as if the witch had been beating him up.

"I can't believe this is happening," said Willow. Much to Spike's alarm, she then burst into tears. "I've been t-trying so h-hard. I've been so good. I didn't use any magic at all...I did everything B-Buffy said, and I t-told her everything about Rack and Amy, and all the time, she was having sex with you and didn't even tell me! I'm supposed to be her best friend and she won't tell me anything!"

His irritation completely dissipated, Spike put the lamp back on its table and started hunting for the box of Kleenex he'd noticed the previous day. Having found it, he gave a handful to Willow.

"If it's any consolation, she hasn't told anyone else, as far as I know," he said. Repeating a gesture he'd performed many times for Dru, Spike wet a tissue with his tongue and rubbed some blood off Willow's cheek.

"Ugh. Don't touch me," said Willow when she realised what he was doing. She took the box of tissues from his hand and retreated to the seat in the bow window. "Buffy said she wanted to stay away from you, and the next thing I know, she's going on a date with you! Why couldn't she just tell me the truth? I'm her friend. She told me everything about Angel. B-But since she came back, it's like she's shut me out. Maybe she's still mad at me because of the heaven thing. But I didn't know. How could I know?"

Willow looked at Spike entreatingly, as if he could make her feel better. He could no doubt have said something comforting, but the only thought in his head was that Buffy had told him about heaven. Not Willow.

"You and Buffy," she said finally, shaking her head. "It's nothing personal, Spike. But she's the Slayer; she's meant to be killing soulless vampires like you, not--"

They both turned as the living-room door opened. Buffy came in, all dressed up for their date. She was wearing more makeup than usual, and her light hair was pinned up -- probably the cause of her lateness. Whatever special outfit she had selected for the evening was hidden under a large hairy coat that looked as if someone had skinned a yak. Spike thought she was gorgeous.

Buffy smiled at Spike, evidently taking in his changed appearance as well. It was a genuine, friendly smile. But then she looked from him to Willow, her expression gradually becoming serious.

"What's going on?"

"Nothing," said Spike hastily, leading her out into the lobby. "I'll tell you all about it later. Come on, love, the cab is waiting."

The restaurant was beautiful, and decorated in an Art Deco style her mom would have liked. Buffy looked at Spike as they entered. He was looking good, she thought. Shirt and tie, a dark suit, clean nails; all very respectable, with just the scar on his brow and the slicked-back platinum hair to remind her who he was.

The waiter at the door took Spike's name and checked the reservation.

"Ah, yes, Mr Pilchard. If you'll follow me."

Spike gently guided Buffy with a hand on her back as they followed the waiter. She felt self-conscious in her high-heeled shoes and black dress. It was the kind of outfit her mom would have worn. Spike observed it appreciatively when he pulled out her chair for her. The pair of them were the very image of respectability.

"Is Pilchard your real surname?" asked Buffy when they were seated.

"Mmm-yes," said Spike sheepishly as he unfolded his napkin. He brought his thumb and forefinger close together. "I had an ego about that big by the time I'd finished school... a-a pilchard is a type of small fish," he explained, noticing Buffy's blank look. "You buy them in tins here, like sardines, but with tomato sauce. It's the sort of name that doesn't help when you're already being bullied for being a nancy boy."

"Oh. I thought it sounded quite grand. William Pilchard." Buffy smiled. "So you were bullied at school and that's why you became evil?"

"No, actually, William stayed a complete prat," said Spike absently as he checked the wine list. "The evil bit came when Dru turned me."

"So much for 'I've always been bad'," said Buffy with delight. She was amused by the idea of Spike's human alter-ego being a 'nancy'. "If William was a prat, then what does that make you?"

"A prat with fangs." Spike chuckled.

Buffy observed Spike thoughtfully. "Tell me about him."

"You want to know about William?" Spike fixed his expressive eyes on her. "Well, he was a Victorian twerp who wrote bad poetry and dreamed of getting laid. Then one night, he met a vampire called Drusilla in a dark alley, and all his dreams came true. Now, his grave lies empty opposite Karl Marx's monument, and his corpse is having dinner with the most beautiful woman in the world. That's just about all you can say about William Pilchard."

"You wrote poetry?" said Buffy with disbelief. "Spike, I did a course in poetry once, and you have the worst way with words of anyone I know."

"I was a very bad poet." Spike sighed. "Look, I was hoping tonight would be about you and me, and starting afresh. Not about my past."

"Your past as a human. A good thing. Being a poet is a good thing." Buffy shook her head. "I had no idea. I really believed you when you said you'd always been bad."

"Well, people were known to threaten suicide if they had to listen to my poetry. Nowadays, William would probably have been a member of Boyzone." He grinned. "You think me being a poet was a good thing?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

Spike shrugged. "I thought you'd prefer to think of me as something more manly. I mean, how would you feel if I suddenly started reciting bad poetry, or indeed singing soppy love songs?"

"Well, I've already had the soppy love songs."

They exchanged a smile. "That's true," said Spike tenderly. "I meant every spell-induced word too."

"About me letting you rest in peace?" teased Buffy.

"Well, that was before all the shagging started. Things are different now."

There was that look again. As if she was the centre of the universe and the world would stop turning if she didn't smile. Buffy lowered her eyes and studied the menu. After a pause, Spike reached for his own menu.

"I guess you're right," said Buffy finally. "I was never one for the artistic kind. But it's interesting to think there's the heart of a poet somewhere in there." She glanced at his chest.

"All the better to love you with, my dear." He looked at her over the menu. "Are you ready to order, love?"

When she nodded, he called over the waiter. Spike asked for a wine whose name Buffy didn't recognise. But then all wines were a mystery to her. She decided this was a failing she had to remedy; the wine Spike ordered was delicious. Buffy felt very grown-up, eating in this beautiful restaurant and drinking fine wine.

Spike told her about the restaurant, Quo Vadis, and the West End area it was in. There was no mention of vampires or demons, or even of Dru, who must have been Spike's companion in the sanitised adventures he was relating. He was making an obvious effort to be normal, telling his stories as if he were a historian of the Soho area, not an immortal vampire who had once stalked and killed humans in the district's narrow streets.

Buffy watched his hands as he leaned over to refill her glass. He had big hands, with thick fingers; she liked a man with big hands.

"How is your meal, Buffy?" he asked politely.

"It's delicious. It's... everything is perfect. And the restaurant is beautiful."

"Well, I thought about taking you to Garlic and Shots, around the corner. They claim to have garlic in all their dishes -- even garlic deserts, I've heard. But well, I thought you might prefer a restaurant your date can actually enter."

Buffy laughed; she thought the idea of Spike taking her to a garlic restaurant was hilarious.

"That's all right. I'm not crazy about garlic either." She sipped her wine and looked at him flirtatiously over her glass. "So when we've finished eating here, what's the plan for the rest of the evening?"

"All good clean fun. We can either go and see a film at Leicester Square -- though all they seem to have on is Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings and I'm not in a wizard mood tonight - or we can go dancing; there are quite a few clubs around here."

"Dancing sounds good to me," said Buffy with a grin. Neither Angel nor Riley had particularly enjoyed dancing. She was tempted to tell Spike, but decided she wasn't in the mood for a '101 Reasons Angel Is Lame' conversation.

"I was hoping you'd say that," said Spike. "It's been a while since I went to a decent club. And tonight, my wish is your command," he said suavely.

Buffy eyed him with mock suspicion. "Okay. Who are you and what have you done with the real Spike?"

"Well, I..." To her surprise, Spike responded to her joke with a grave expression. "You're always on about how you hate me because I'm a vampire. Obviously, I can't help what I am. But I can stop behaving like one. I used to be human; I can do it again. For you."

"That's... sweet," admitted Buffy, giving him a timid smile. God, he loved her so much, it was terrifying.

"Sweet?" Spike raised his scarred eyebrow, a flash of anger in his blue eyes. Then he reached for his glass of wine with a forced sigh. "Okay. I can live with 'sweet' if it makes you like me better. I'm going to be a good guy; sweet is good."

Buffy looked up at him as he took one of her hands and held it.

"Sweet is good, and terrifying," said Spike gently. "You make me feel like a man, Buffy. And you're my equal in so many ways. But at the same time, you make me question what I was. You make me wish I was good; sometimes even make me wish I was mortal. Just so you would love me. And that's terrifying."

Buffy stared at him, lost in his eyes and his voice. She bit her lip and tried to think what he wanted her to say. Spike pulled her hand closer and chastely kissed her fingers. It sent a thrill through her body.

"Well, I--I can relate to the terrifying," she agreed. "But it's...also kinda fun. In a terrifying way."

The lights along London's riverbanks sparkled and twinkled in the cold night, reflected in the dark waters of the Thames. The sun would be rising in a few hours, but for now, the sky was black and speckled with little pin-prick stars. Spike wrapped his arms around Buffy, feeling the heat still radiating off her slender body after their hours in various nightclubs.

He told her about the Thames and its tides; reminisced about the days when Londoners went down to the 'beach' of silt and pebbles which formed near Tower Bridge when the river was at its lowest; remembered the floods back in the days before the mighty Thames Barrier was built to stop high tides from invading Britain's precious capital.

He pointed out landmarks to her, though it had been a long time, and he couldn't remember if that building with the big red clock was Charing Cross Station or the Savoy hotel. She pointed to Tower Bridge and asked if that was 'London Bridge'. Spike laughed and told her about the gullible Americans who had bought the old London Bridge, thinking it was the beautiful, ornate Tower Bridge, only to discover they'd bought an ordinary bridge made of stone. Still, they'd put on a brave face and set it up somewhere in Texas. Or was it Florida? Or maybe one of those enormous states in the middle, whose names he could never remember.

She thought 'Waterloo' was a strange name, so he told her about Napoleon's final defeat at Nelson's hands. Then he realised that Nelson was the hero of Trafalgar, and Wellington the man who won Waterloo. So easy to get muddled after all this time. Repeating stories he'd learned as child, back in the days when Britain could defeat her enemies alone.

It felt good just to hold her in his arms on this cold night, and watch her taking in the view from Waterloo Bridge. He sang her a bit of The Kinks' "Waterloo Sunset". She knew the song, but had never realised it was about this place.

"But I don't feel afraid
 As long as I gaze on Waterloo sunset
 I am in paradise," she sang gently.

"I'm definitely in Paradise," he murmured. He hugged her closer, running his fingers through the long fibres on her coat.

"London is a beautiful city," said Buffy, leaning her head on his arm. "I'm so glad I came."

"Yes," he answered, though his eyes were fixed on her pale, rounded cheek.

She glanced at him. "That last club we went to...the owner was a vampire, wasn't he?"

"Who, Peter Stringfellow?" Spike chuckled. "Yep. He fancied himself the king of London's nightlife, so he got a mate of his to turn him, so he could party on forever. I thought he was a good example of a 'good' vampire. We're not all bad, you know. Well, we are, but we're not all into murder and mayhem."

"You know any other celebrity vampires?"

"Only British ones, like Rod Stewart. Though I have my suspicions about Winona Ryder."

"What about Marilyn Manson?"

"Nah, he's just a twat."

Buffy laughed and turned towards him. Her large hazel eyes gazed up at him in their outline of black kohl and mascara. What was she trying to hide behind all that paint? That her big eyes turned down at the sides, that her nose was long and uneven, her smile so delightfully crooked? He loved every imperfection, every uneven feature, because together they added up to Buffy. The woman he loved.

She was observing him too, as if searching his pale face for -- what? Evil, perhaps, or some clue as to why she was so attracted to him.

"Willow says you look like a snake," she said suddenly.

"Well, that's always a nice thing to say to your date," said Spike with a chuckle. "Besides, her ex has a face like the back of a cab. Love is blind, everyone knows that, pet."

"That's true. What would I be doing with you otherwise?"

Buffy looked up at him, her little upturned face positively screaming 'Kiss me'.

Spike had promised himself that he would be gentlemanly, but his lips had no sooner touched hers than they were locked in a passionate embrace. It would be stupid to deny how much they wanted each other. But tonight wasn't about sex. Not about her coming to see him every time an itch needed scratching.

"I love you," said Spike as he pulled away.

"Oh, Spike." She paused and leaned up to kiss his cheek. "I love you too."

"I'm no angel, but please don't think that I won't try and try
 I'm no angel, but does that mean that I can't live my life?
 I'm no angel, but please don't think that I can't cry
 I'm no angel, but does that mean that I won't fly?"

 
Despite not going to bed until late, Buffy woke up early the next day. Giles was going to take her to see the Council of Watchers that morning, and she had promised to spend the rest of the day with Dawn. It was time she took better care of her little sister.

"Good morning, luv," said Mrs Brown when she looked into the kitchen. "Your friend Willow is already having breakfast. Do you want me to do you a full English breakfast, or are you having cereals again?"

Buffy was about to ask for her usual cornflakes, but then she shook her head. "I think I'll have the full English breakfast, thank you."

Smiling, Buffy entered the dining room. Her smile faded when she saw Willow's sour expression.

"How did the date go?" asked her friend, not lifting her eyes from the paper she was reading.

"It was...good." Buffy sat down opposite Willow. "You going to the British Museum today?"

"Yeah, might as well do that research I wanted to do. Can't be sitting around worrying about vampires." Willow put down the newspaper. "I mean, I'm your best friend, Buffy. Why didn't you tell me what was going on?"

"Because you were going through so much yourself; breaking up with Tara and stuff." Buffy poured herself a cup of tea and, knowing how strong Mrs Brown made it, added a lot of milk. "And I guess I was kind of ashamed about me and Spike. I mean, what's with the vampires anyway?"

Willow's censorious expression softened into a more familiar one; pride mingled with just a bit of smugness.

"Actually, I've been thinking about that," she said brightly. "I mean, I had all last evening to think about it, and I think I know why. You're a modern 21st-century girl, and you want an equal partner."

Buffy frowned. "Huh?"

"You know, like I'm attracted to witches. Well, a witch anyway. And not that I need to be with a witch, but, ah, wrong train of thought... The point is, you're looking for a male Slayer. Only you're out of luck because they don't make male Slayers. So, you go for the next best thing, vampires that help out, like Angel and, um, Spike. Except Angel was kind of better at the male Slayer thing; I mean, seeing as he had a soul and everything."

"That's true," admitted Buffy. "But on the plus side, Spike doesn't turn evil when he has sex."

"Well, you obviously know more about that than I do," said Willow, raising her hands. "I really don't think a vampire who doesn't kill just because there's a chip in his head is the best choice you could come up with. But on the other hand, he's the only guy around who comes anywhere near the Mr Slayer mould. And he's kinda cool in an evil way."

"I guess so," said Buffy with a sigh.

"And, let's face it," continued Willow more cheerfully, "this isn't the first time I've had to picture you and him together. I mean, this is like, what, the third time? I'm kinda used to the idea by now. Even if the first time was a spell and the second time was the Buffybot."

"I'd nearly forgotten all that," said Buffy thoughtfully. "I guess it was just a long time coming."

"You must be really disappointed in me."

Giles took off his glasses and polished them. "Disappointed isn't quite the word I'd use."

"Pissed off?"

"Worried." Giles sighed. "A relationship between you and Spike goes against everything the Council has ever worked for."

"I guess it's just as well we didn't tell them," said Buffy. "It's none of their business."

She was still angry with Giles for taking her to see the Council in the first place. The brief meeting had been awkward and tense. Buffy got the feeling it would probably be the last time she spoke to them. With no Watcher, and a vampire lover, her days of working for the Council were over.

"They'll find out eventually," said Giles. "But that isn't what worries me, Buffy. I understand what you mean about finding someone who is an equal. But even as vampires go, Spike doesn't have the most well-balanced personality. I know he loves you, but he also loved Drusilla. He doesn't have a history of sound relationships. The two of you together...you'll tear each other apart."

Buffy looked out of the cab's window, watching the neat rows of little houses alternate with ugly concrete skyscrapers.

"I guess that's something we'll have to find out for ourselves," she said. "But, Giles, he's the only one. I need someone right now, someone who can make me feel alive. And there's no one else."

"That doesn't sound like the basis for a sound relationship either." Giles placed his hand on Buffy's shoulder. "But if you want to give it a chance, then do. If it's a mistake, then it's your mistake to make. You're a grown woman now."

"Not really. But I'm getting there."

"Wow, you and Spike. That is so cool!" said Dawn excitedly, plunging her spoon into the large ice cream in front of her. "He can hang out at our place. We could rent movies and order pizzas. It'd be way cool."

"Yeah. Great."

Buffy tried to picture the idyllic scene Dawn was imagining. Spike the blood-sucking vampire, eating pizza. Buffy, the girl who liked violent sex, sitting primly between her man and her baby sister. Spike and Buffy as the perfect, normal couple. That wasn't going to happen.

"He is your boyfriend, right?" asked Dawn, perhaps noticing her sister's silence.

"Kind of. But he's not the kind of guy I can take to the mall."

"No, but then, that's not really what you want, right?" said Dawn. "I mean, you couldn't take Angel to the mall, and you thought Riley was boring."

"No I didn't!"

"Did so. I liked Riley; he was always nice to me. But Spike's cooler."

Buffy sighed. "Yes, Spike is perfect if 'cool' is your criteria."

"I'll tell you what else is cool," added Dawn, pointing her chocolaty spoon at something behind Buffy. "That lingerie shop over there is called Ann Summers." She grinned. "Maybe you should get something sexy to wear for Spike."

"Dawn!"

Rain was pouring off Buffy's umbrella in uneven waterfalls. This was really the worst possible weather to be walking through a cemetery. The only good thing to be said about it was that it was warmer than it had been the last few days.

Buffy easily located Karl Marx's monument, then started to look around at the closely packed graves on either side of the path. She noticed that someone was standing underneath the trees opposite Marx's grave.

"I guess this is what you call serendipity," she said, approaching him.

"Do you reckon those wankers put a Slayer-attracting beacon in my chip?" Spike glanced at her. "How did things go with the Council?"

"I think they'd fire me if they could." She laughed sourly. "But Faith is in jail and they're stuck with me. I don't think they know what to do with a twenty-one year old Slayer, to be honest. I was supposed to be dead by now, but for some reason, people just keep bringing me back to life!"

Spike frowned, but said nothing. Buffy looked around; a low mist was rising from the soaked ground, bathing the uneven gravestones in an eerie white fog.

"Spooky place," she commented.

Spike nodded. "Apparently, Highgate Cemetery was the setting for Bram Stoker's Dracula. The misrepresenting twat was right about one thing, though: this has always been an ideal breeding ground for vampires. In fact, I was bred right there."

He pointed at the gravestone in front of him. There were three names on it; three Pilchards with death dates over a hundred years old. Buffy's eyes fell on the last name on the stone. William Andrew Pilchard. 1856-1880. Beloved son. Requiescat in pace.

Spike had once clawed his way out of this grave. But before that, someone had loved William, had grieved for him, buried him and added those simple words to his gravestone. 'Beloved Son'. The mother's name was above her son's, but had been added much later; her date of death was 1900.

"You were in China in 1900," she said thoughtfully.

"Well, yeah. Why?" Spike paused, and then actually looked shocked. "Did you think I killed my mother? I had far more important things to do than terrorise little old ladies. That was Angelus' idea of a good time, not mine."

He fumbled in the pocket of his wet duster and struggled to light a cigarette. Buffy tried to think of something to say that would alleviate her comment about his mother.

"'Beloved son' is kinda more dignified than the epitaph I was going to have for all eternity. I mean, I had the 'Beloved sister. Devoted friend' bit. But 'She saved the world. A lot.'? Is that the best you could all come up with? I saved the world a couple of times, yeah, but 'a lot'?" Buffy realised she was starting to babble, so she became quiet and glanced at Spike.

"'Beloved son' is a bit lame when you're a vampire, though," said Spike, a plume of smoke escaping as he spoke. "Dru thought it was cute. 'You'll be moy beloved son now, sweet Wolliam'." He chuckled. "I wonder what the batty cow is up to nowadays. She's obviously been spreading the news about me. I'm persona non grata in the vampire world. I'd probably have an easier time getting your friends to accept me at this point."

"Oh. Big whoop. Vampires are more evil than my friends."

"Hmm." Spike stepped away and leaned against a nearby tree. "I thought I'd feel something. You know, coming here, seeing where it all started." He frowned. "After last night, I wanted to see if I could find some connection with the human I was before I died. I remember my parents, you know. I remember standing right where you are as a little boy, and crying my eyes out at my father's funeral. But it doesn't mean anything to me now."

"What did you expect?" said Buffy with a frown. "You're a vampire."

Spike looked down at the ground, avoiding her gaze. "I feel some regret if I imagine Joyce's reaction to you dying. My mother must have felt that way, and that's a pity. But I thought there would be more, that I'd feel guilty for not going to see her, to tell her I was okay."

"I'm sure she would have been delighted to know being a vampire was 'okay'," said Buffy sarcastically.

"Yeah, well, she never found out, did she?" Spike drew on his cigarette. "Yeah, if I equate your mum with mine, I can feel something. It's a start, right? I can become good, you know, Buffy, if you meant what you said last night."

Now Spike was looking straight at her. Caught in his blue gaze like a rabbit in the headlight, Buffy nodded.

"I did," she said, barely audible above the rush of the beating rain. "But I don't know if that's enough."

Spike laughed humorously, raising his eyes thankfully to the sky. "God, I was so sure you'd deny it. And it's enough for me, pet."

He held out his hand, but Buffy stayed where she was. She listened to the patter of rain on her umbrella, and felt tears welling in her eyes.

"Yes, I love you, Spike, but this can't last," she said softly. "Even if I can forget the thousands of people you murdered, my sacred duty is to kill your kind. Some day, that chip is going to malfunction, and I might have to come after you with a stake in my hand, and I--I can't go through that again."

Spike rolled his eyes. "Oh, I was wondering when he was going to make his appearance. Is that it: do I remind you of Angel? Are you afraid you're going to wake up one morning and find Dawn's drained body in your bed?" He turned away from her. "Bloody hell. After everything I've been through, you still don't believe I've changed? This chip inside my head isn't a soul; it just stops me from feeding. If it malfunctions, I'll be exactly as I am now."

"Can you honestly look me in the eye and say that if the chip comes out, you won't ever feed on a human again?"

"No, I can't." Spike threw his hands up in the air. "There, I've said it. If you make me, I'll promise that I will do everything in my power not to. If Saint bleeding Angel can do it, so can I. But ultimately, it's a risk you'll have to take. Just as I'll have to take the risk that you might carve my head off or push me into the sunlight some day."

He threw away his cigarette and approached her. Buffy's umbrella slipped out of her hand as he slid his arms around her waist. They stared at each other in the cold rain.

"I do know one thing," said Spike gently. "In fifty years' time, you'll be dead, and if I haven't staked myself by then, I'll have nothing to look forward to but an eternity without you. So if you love me, pet, just go ahead and love me. Because we really don't have time to be playing games."

Buffy wrapped her arms around his neck, unsure whether tears were running down her face or if it was just the pouring rain. Spike kissed her passionately, taking her breath away.

"Oi, snoggers!" came a voice beside them. "Can me and my mates join in?" There was some cackling from the voice's two mates. "Cos we're feeling a bit peckish, see, and you look like a pair of tasty morsels, innit?"

Spike and Buffy broke the kiss and smiled at each other. When they turned towards the three vampires, Spike's demon was to the front and Buffy felt a gleeful bloodlust in her veins.

"Oh, you so picked the wrong 'snoggers' to mess with," she growled, springing into her defensive stance.

The three vampires looked a little apprehensive, but charged them nonetheless. Spike soon had one sprawled in the mud between two tombstones, while Buffy easily caught hold of his comrades and knocked them together. The first vampire sprang out of the mud and punched Spike, making him reel back against the tree. Before the vampire knew what was happening, Spike had torn off one of the tree's branches and staked his muddy opponent. He tossed the branch to Buffy before taking on one of her attackers.

Buffy had soon dispatched her vampire; Spike knocked the other one to the ground.

"Nobody messes with the Slayer and her man," she declared, driving the broken branch into the vamp's heart.

"What is a 'snogger' anyway?" asked Buffy breathlessly.

Spike grabbed her around the waist and tossed her onto her back, making every spring in the bed bounce with a loud twanging noise. He gave her a big sloppy kiss.

"A 'snog' is slang for a kiss, pet."

Buffy made a face. "That's an ugly word for a kiss!"

"You're right. We should use a prettier word. Like 'osculate'."

"'Osculate'?" Buffy burst out laughing. "Seriously, that means kissing too?"

"Yeah. Probably the sort of pretentious Latin word you'd only know about if you went to an English public school."

"You learned Latin at school?"

"Of course," said Spike, leaning up on one elbow. "I had a second-hand Latin dictionary. Its previous owner had written a little poem on the front page: 'Latin is a language as dead as dead can be/It killed the ancient Romans, and now it's killing me'. Pretty much summed up Latin classes."

Buffy laughed again. "I wonder what you were like as a kid."

"Pretty much the same as I was as an adult. A complete wuss. The first thing I did with that dictionary was cross out the poem."

Spike smiled and played with Buffy's hair. Lying on her back, she looked up, and saw her body on the bed. Alone.

"That mirror on the ceiling thing is really freaking me out," said Buffy, turning onto her side.

"Sorry, pet. When my vampire mate recommended this hotel, I didn't realise it was a former knocking-shop." He glanced at the wall behind him. "You'd think the residents would be more understanding under the circumstances."

"Well, he seems to have calmed down now," said Buffy with an embarrassed smile. "I think we got quieter after the dresser fell over anyway."

"Hmm. He sounded like a Hindu rakshasa; they're notoriously uptight." Spike scratched his chest. "By the way, did I mention I really liked the stockings?"

"Once or twice. How could I resist a shop that nearly bears my name?" Buffy giggled. "I can't see myself wearing them while I'm on patrol, though."

"Oh, I don't know. It could be a whole new look. Wear them with a skirt and you'll have a ready-made distraction when you high-kick a-- ow! Okay, okay, I take it back!"

Still laughing, Spike rolled onto his front and reached down beside the bed. He straightened up with a half-full pint glass of beer. He offered it to Buffy after drinking a bit. She only took a sip.

"I still can't believe you just walked out of that pub with the whole glass," she said as Spike put the pint back on the floor.

"It's an old British tradition. Every household in the UK has at least one pint glass from a pub. That's probably why pints cost such a bloody fortune these days; they're charging you for the glass!"

Buffy laughed and spooned up to him. He kissed her neck and stroked her hair tenderly. They lay in silence for a while.

"Buffy, this might seem like a silly question, and it's probably the wrong time to bring it up. But... Do I remind you of Angel?"

"You're right, that is a dumb question." She frowned. "Of course you don't."

"I just thought, since things didn't work out with Angel, maybe you thought..." He lay on his back. "Oh never mind. I'm digging my own grave here, right?"

"You do have a talent for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. And no, you don't remind me of Angel. Riley did, a little. Physically, that is. But you're something different."

"And that's a good thing."

"Yes. I love you." Buffy sighed and put her head on his chest. "It's a shame I'm going back on Saturday. Just one day in Bath with Giles, and then it's back to the Hellmouth." She sighed. "I've really enjoyed this vacation with you. I like Britain a lot."

"Well, the UK has its little quirks, like being made up of four nations who hate each other. But on the whole, it's pretty likeable." Spike kissed the top of her head softly. "You don't have to go back, you know."

"What?" Buffy craned her neck to look up at him. His face was in sincere mode.

"You could send the witch back on her own, and move here with the bit. We could hunt demons and vampires all you like. I could take you up to Scotland to see the monster in Loch Torridon."

"Isn't the monster in Loch Ness?"

"After all the fuss that's been made of it? It moved, of course. I would too, if I had every loony in the universe trying to get pictures of me!" He kissed Buffy's cheek. "There are still dragons in Wales, you know. Mean buggers too, great fun to fight."

"Can we hunt leprechauns in Ireland too?" said Buffy with amusement.

"No, we'll give Ireland a miss. Nothing there but rocks and a bunch of bleeding Paddies."

Buffy smiled. "Oh, do I detect reason number 101 why you hate Angel?"

"No, pet, that's reason number 1. I'm a nineteenth-century Englishman: I have a God-given right to feel superior to every other nation on Earth," he said with a sheepish grin. His expression then faded into seriousness. "We'd have a good time, baby."

"Yeah." Buffy looked into his eyes pensively. "But I don't know..."

"What do you have left in Sunnydale anyway?" he insisted. "A house that bleeds money, a scattering of friends who are too engrossed in their own lives to notice you were having a nervous breakdown, a job the Council doesn't even want you to do anymore? I know a few demons who work in the City, so we could probably get our foot in there and make some money. We could get a nice flat somewhere, send Dawn to a good school. You wouldn't be far from Giles, too. He's worth more than the rest of your friends put together."

Buffy ran her finger down one well-defined cheekbone. "Putting aside the slight to my friends - and the fact you're praising Giles, which is pretty freaky too - I know from experience that running away isn't going to make my problems disappear. Living in Britain won't solve the fact that I'm the Slayer and you're a vampire. It just means I'll do my agonising in a pub instead of the Bronze."

"You still think this is hopeless," he said dully.

"And what do you think we'll have, Spike? Hugs and puppies?"

Spike grinned. "I was thinking more of sex and kittens myself." His smile faded. "I'll be honest with you. I don't have a good life in Sunnydale, but I don't care as long as I have you with me. If you love me, I'll stay with you forever."

"Well, that'll make a change." Buffy smiled and kissed him. "How can I resist a proposition like that?"

The Departures terminal at Heathrow was full of people. Humans kissing, shaking hands, waving at friends and loved ones as they passed the barriers into that no man's land of security checks and carpeted lounges, the limbo between their ordinary lives and their final destinations.

Spike watched them milling around, trying to reconcile his instinctive hunger and his intellectual understanding that these were not quarry, but real people like Buffy and her friends. That man and woman kissing in front of the British Airways desk loved each other like Spike and Buffy. The large West Indian woman warily watching her two little boys playing tag while she waited in line loved her children just the way Joyce had loved Dawn and Buffy. The group of young Germans backpackers sitting on the floor surrounded by their luggage were laughing and joking like the Scoobies.

The vampire's observation was cut short as his acute senses went on alert. The Slayer was nearby, probably no more than a few feet away. Spike put out his cigarette on the floor and turned. But all he could see where Buffy's assorted friends and family, standing around a trolley stacked with suitcases.

Dawn saw Spike and immediately ran over to greet him.

"Spike!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him. "Buffy told me everything. You're going to be like my brother-in-law."

"Um, we're not getting married quite yet, little bit."

Looking over Dawn's shoulder, Spike could see Giles and Willow watching him. The witch gave him a tentative smile; the former Watcher just glared at him briefly before lowering his eyes.

"Buffy's in the bathroom," said Dawn, taking Spike's hand and forcibly pulling him toward the others. "Are you coming back home with us now?"

"No, nibblet, I couldn't get a flight until Tuesday."

Spike and Dawn were now standing beside the trolley, with Giles on the other side. Willow was leaning on the handle between them.

"I don't suppose you'd fancy a walk in the sun before you go back, Spike," suggested Giles coldly.

"Only good vampire's a dusted one, eh, Watcher," said Spike with a chuckle. "Glad to know some things never change."

Willow looked from one side of the trolley to the other, her little face glum and uncertain.

"I-I think Spike's helped us a lot," she started hesitantly. "Well, he's still a vampire and he hasn't got a soul, but if Buffy's happy, I guess, I mean...Um, not that we were talking about him and Buffy, but that's...did she tell you?" she asked Giles, evidently afraid that she had unwittingly revealed Buffy's secret.

"She told me everything," said Giles. He suddenly leaned across the luggage and grabbed the front of Spike's shirt. "If you ever hurt her, I'll make you regret it, Spike."

"Does that mean I can also make you 'regret' leaving her when she needed you most?" sneered Spike, pulling himself out of Giles' grip. "I bet I know what happened. Council called you back and you went running like an obedient little Watcher."

Giles just shook his head, as if Spike's comment didn't even warrant an answer. Then his expression changed, just as Spike caught Buffy's scent behind him. He spun around to find her smiling up at him.

"Hello, love," he said gently. "Just came to see you off."

Buffy smiled. "I was kinda expecting you to."

"Well, my flight isn't until Tuesday..."

"I know, you told me already," she said. "Just don't forget to come back."

Forgetting for a moment that her sister and friends were watching, Spike leaned down to kiss Buffy. Giles' attitude was the only thing that hadn't changed.