Summary: Buffy and Spike must put aside their differences to find a baby whose sacrifice will bring about an apocalypse (yep--another one). This will be an adventure that will test their mettle and help them learn about each other and--most importantly--about themselves. A Slayer who’s afraid of flying, a vampire who’s afraid of... well, he just won’t say, and a few really colourful characters will hopefully keep you entertained.

Rating: Overall NC-17, most chapters are PG-13

Disclaimer: If I owned ‘em, I wouldn’t be spending my free time writing fanfic ;)

Note: This story is loosely based on Buffy’s 4th season. Dawn does not exist (for purposes that will be obvious early in the fic) and--to the joy of most of you, I‘m sure--Riley has but a marginal role. It’s a story I started writing over a year ago, but was interrupted by pretty much every other fic of mine that‘s out there. I’ve got to warn you, though, that--for me, anyway--this is a long one. I’m guessing it might end up being at least 35-40 chapters, most of which are already written. Please excuse my marginal (if that) knowledge of London--I’ve tried to be as on the ball as possible, but basing myself on very old memories and a map of the city probably won’t certify 100% accuracy. And, last but not least, please enjoy and review!

Buffy stood before the door, hand poised at the knob. She hadn’t felt this level of trepidation since... since when? Since the Master? Since Angel had turned back into Angelus? Since Principal Snyder had forced her into preparing parent-teacher night?

“Buffy?” Willow placed her hand on the other girl’s shoulder in a gesture of support only a best friend can offer. “You can do this. You’re the Slayer--you’ve been through so much; you shouldn’t let something like... this... get to you.”

The young blonde turned her head slowly and let a shy smile show itself. “I know, Wills, but you know how I feel about this. I’ve never been good at this kind of thing. Give me giant worms, give me mermen, give me creepy little principals--that’s where I’m a Viking. But what lies beyond this door--I’ve never been able to handle this.”

Willow took her friend’s hand in her own, and decided that she would have to be the strong one, the one to take the first step. “Ok, then, how about I open the door. You’re still the one who has to deal with them, though. Does that sound like a deal?”

Fear in her eyes, the Slayer straightened her shoulders. “Yup. It’s a deal. Now open the door before I run away, screaming like girl.” She furrowed her brow. That didn’t come out right. “Well, you know what I mean.”

Willow turned the knob, and opened the door.

***

Twelve pairs of eyes turned to face them.

A chorus of little voices screeched, and all hell broke loose. “Yaaay!! They’re here!!” Eleven 8 year-olds rushed the two girls as they entered the room.

Buffy’s mother, Joyce, approached them and gave them each a hug. Turning to her daughter, she smiled and sighed. “I thought you wouldn’t show up, dear.” She handed both girls Pokémon party hats. “Now put these on and follow me.”

Buffy looked behind her, eyeing a quick exit. Damn, the rugrats are blocking my only exit. Oh, why me? She felt a tug at her hand and looked down to see a little black-haired girl grinning up at her.

“You gonna come play with us? We all got a pack of cards when we came in.”

The Slayer found her voice. “Uh, yeah. Sure, why not? Cards is fun.” Cards? What the heck kind of kid’s party hands out cards? What, are they going to play poker or something?

She followed the little girl, who’d introduced herself as Sylvia, to the table where all the children sat. Sylvia chose a seat, and motioned for Buffy to do the same. The young woman plopped herself down on a small orange chair and threw a desperate glance around the room; with envy, she saw that her supposed best friend was safe and sound, helping Joyce prepare the food. She was convinced that her Wiccan counterpart had used magic to avoid picking the short straw. Willow always got the better deal...

She felt cards pressed into her hands, and looked down at them. What the heck?

Sylvia took on the air of a teacher. “I’ll share my cards with you, since you don’t have any. We’re playing Pokémon, by the way.” She pointed out a card that had something like a kangaroo-cat on it. “This is Mew-Two. It’s my favorite Pokémon. I’ll let you borrow it, since it’s powerful. The game’s easy enough. The animals are divided into water, air, earth...”

Buffy’s confusion must have been obvious.

Sylvia scrunched her nose. “You’ve got the same look on your face that my mom gets when I try to play with her. Maybe you can just watch us play for a while.” She took the card back from Buffy, who was all too happy to ‘just watch’.

She watched them play for 20 minutes, and was no closer to understanding the rules than she was when she walked through that blasted door. Either kids were getting smarter, or she was getting dumber.

She didn’t want to ponder that thought too much.

Breaking from the reverie, she noticed that one of the children was talking to her. “Sorry- what was that?”

A little boy with glasses repeated his question. “Do you go to school?”

“Yeah, I do. I go to college.”

“Who’s your favorite teacher?”

“Uh, I’d have to say Professor Rogers. He’s my English prof.--he‘s pretty cool.”

Another little girl decided that playing 20 questions with the big girl was more captivating than the card game. “Do you have a boyfriend? You’re really pretty.”

Buffy was starting to feel ill at ease. “Uh, thanks. No I don’t have a boyfriend.”

The boy responsible for this interrogation shifted in his seat. “Does that mean you’re going to be a nun? My aunt Andrea doesn’t have a boyfriend and my mom always says she’s going to end up being a nun.”

Now she remembered why she was uncomfortable around kids. All those questions and weird logic that she couldn’t for the life of her follow. “No! I don’t want to be a nun. I, uh...”

As she grasped for words, a voice from the kitchen called out.

“Who wants a hot dog!”

In the middle of a chorus of “Me!”’s, Buffy shot out of her chair.

“Mom! Willow! You guys look like you need a hand. Here, let me wash some dishes for you.” She grabbed a dish cloth, and looked under the sink for some rubber gloves. Just because she was a Slayer didn’t mean she should put up with dishpan hands...

Her attempt at an escape was thwarted by Sylvia, who ran up to her, pulling her back to the table. “Buffy, I want you to sit beside me!!”

Utterly defeated, Buffy resigned herself to the fact that she was relegated to the “kiddie” table for the remainder of the afternoon. For some obscure reason, children always took a shine to her.

The fact that the attachment was purely one-sided never seemed to occur to them.

When the kids were done eating, Joyce and Willow came over to clean off the table. Buffy was handed a pile of paper plates and napkins, with the instruction of handing one of each to the children. This was the part of the day that the Slayer liked best: the cake. Every year, it was the same, but that didn’t bother her in the least. She could have chocolate cake every day of the year, and she still wouldn’t tire of it.

She heard her mother and best friend singing ‘Happy Birthday’ and turned to watch them approach with the cake, candles burning bright. The chocolaty confection was placed in front of a little girl, whose eyes were round with wonder. The child made her wish, and blew all the candles out in one breath. The cake was then cut, and a small piece handed to every little (and bigger) kid.

The afternoon was spent playing games Buffy actually knew: pin the tail on the donkey, bobbing for apples, hot potato...

Willow and Joyce had eventually joined her in playing with the kids, and the young blonde found herself relaxing and actually enjoying herself.

Not that she’d ever admit it to anyone.

***

When the last child had been retrieved by his parents, all three women sat down, exhausted.

In a weak voice, Buffy asked: “Mom, why is it you let yourself get talked into this year after year? I figure it’s traumatic enough that you’d remember to decline the next time around.”

Joyce raised her head up from the table and looked at her only daughter. “Buffy, it’s only once a year, and the Walkersons are my best customers. I just can’t allow myself to say no. If I refuse, maybe they’ll find another gallery for their annual donation. Anyway, I used to go through this every year when you were young. It’s something you’ll have to get used to, if you ever want kids.”

Buffy got up and stretched. “Well, I’m not planning on having kids. They’re noisy, annoying and they take up all your time. I prefer to look after my favorite three people: me, myself and I.”

Joyce smiled knowingly at her daughter. Let’s see if you change your tune when you find the right man... “Well, either way we have some cleaning up to do. If we all put in a good effort, we should be out of here in less than half an hour.”

Buffy looked down at the table and saw that Sylvia had left her cat-kangaroo-thing card behind. She picked it up, shrugged, and put it in her pocket

“Xander! Will you please take care not to spill any jelly on that book! Really, I don’t know why I allow you to eat while you research...”

Giles felt more irritable than usual. He took his glasses off and cleaned the lenses. It had been too long since the last apocalypse or big bad, and he knew that something big was up--he felt it in his bones. He had come to pay attention to this sixth sense, his ’spidey sense’ as Xander called it, whatever that meant. He’d been aware of it for the first time when the Master had shown up on the Hellmouth, and since then he’d felt it every time trouble was about to rear its ugly head.

Tonight was no exception, and he could feel it coursing throughout his body, stronger than ever.

The Scoobies glanced at each other, aware of the watcher’s unusually quick switch from nagging to introspection. He hadn’t even noticed that Buffy’s latte had left a ring on his copy of Encyclopaedia of the Undead...

Worried, the Slayer decided to try and pull him back to the present. She got up and closed her book, postponing the latte stain lecture to another day. “Giles? Hello! Earth to Rupert Giles...” She waved her hand in front of his face until he acknowledged her presence.

Giles shook his head, and looked at the young woman standing before him. Putting his glasses back on, he spoke up. “Oh! Sorry about that. I was just thinking...”

His apology was interrupted by the phone ringing.

Anya, being nearest to the phone, picked it up. “Good evening Magic Box, we’re closed right now so we unfortunately can’t take your money. How may I be of assistance?” She furrowed her brow, and held the phone out to Giles. “It’s for you. It’s someone English.”

Giles sixth sense hummed steadily. This is it, this is the apocalypse I’ve been expecting. “Rupert Giles here.”

A shiver ran down his spine as a voice he’d hoped never to hear again spoke up. “Ah, Rupert. Good to hear from you. It’s been too long...”

The watcher took the phone in his hand, and made his way away out of Scooby earshot. “Not long enough. Cut the pleasantries, Travers--why are you calling?”

The pompous voice chuckled. “Always a man of business, Rupert--no time for false niceties. That’s why I like you.” Abruptly, the humour in Travers‘ voice dissipated. “Something’s come up, something of dire importance...”

As his former employer began to explain, Giles’ stomach felt like it was filled with lead. “Oh dear. Just a moment.”

He turned to the group of teens, who were trying very hard not to show that they were eavesdropping. “Er, why don’t we call it a night? You’ve been working very hard lately, and you deserve a break. Don’t worry about the books, I’ll put them away before I leave.” He’d hardly finished speaking before the last retreating figure slammed the door shut, and he was alone.

Giles turned his attention back to the interrupted conversation. “Now, about this prophecy...”

***

As they entered the Bronze, the Scoobies felt the beat of the music flow through them, washing away their stress. Giles had been working them hard, and they had been more than happy to oblige when he’d suggested calling it an early night. They’d decided that spending an evening at their favourite hangout was the best remedy. As Xander often quipped, “Milk might do a body good, but dancing is good for the soul...”

They found an unoccupied table and Xander headed to the bar for some much needed refreshments.

“So, were either of you able to make out who was on the phone with Giles?” Willow was the first to speak. “I was too far away, but it seemed pretty serious.”

“I heard him call the man Travers before he walked away to where I couldn’t hear him.” Anya sighed. “All this secrecy is silly, if you ask me. It‘s another of those human traits I don‘t think I‘ll ever catch on to, like tact--I don’t see what’s wrong with just saying what’s on your mind. All this bottling up of emotions can’t be good for you, you know. Anyway, it’s not like we know who this guy is, anyway.”

Ignoring the ex-demon’s prattling, Willow and Buffy zeroed in on the essential part of what she’d told them: “Travers?!”

Just as he was returning with their drinks, Xander overheard the girls talking; he let out a yelp, nearly spilling the colas in his hands. “Aargh--Travers? Where?!”

Buffy grabbed her drink before he did spill it. “Don’t worry, Xander--he’s not here. Anya was just telling us that that’s who Giles was on the phone with.”

The young man’s face didn’t change. “Yeah, but Travers here, or Travers back in merry ol’ England--either way it’s gonna be bad news, Buff. I doubt he called to share a Hallmark moment with Giles.”

“Well, we don’t really know that, do we?” Willow’s face fell under the gaze of her friends. “Well, we don’t! He could be calling to... to... to offer Giles his old job back!” She smiled broadly, proud to have thought of something logical. Her smile waned as the others looked at her skeptically. “OK, maybe not. But does anyone have a better idea?”

“Not really, but I’m hoping the Council isn’t planning on making another of their ‘Test the Slayer’ visits. Last time? Not so much fun. Knowing them, it’s probably another apocalypse.” Buffy had a gut feeling that the last idea was the most probable. How many apocalypses was one girl supposed to live through? Couldn’t Evil take a long, long, coffee break?

The silence at the table was broken when Anya suggested that they get up and dance. “They’re actually playing half-decent music, tonight. We might as well take advantage of it. Come, Xander.” She didn’t wait to see whether or not he wanted to dance. There was never room for discussion.

Xander raised his shoulders in an ‘oh well’ gesture, and followed his girlfriend into the crowd.

Willow finished the last of her Shirley Temple, hopped off her barstool, and looked at Buffy. “Well, I’m with them. I need to unwind. Coming?”

The Slayer’s gut still twisted with the feeling that something very bad was in the works. “Nah, I have to go to the washroom. I’ll sit this one out, Wills. Go out there, and I‘ll join you when I come back.”

***

On her way back from the ladies’ room, Buffy caught sight of a familiar silhouette at the pool tables.

She held to the shadows, watching him play against some poor college kid. ‘Play against’ wasn’t the right term; ‘beat the pants off of’ was more exact. It was obvious that the kid had never played much pool, as he missed what should have been an easy shot. This gave Spike the opportunity to sink his last balls, followed by the eight ball. She watched both men shake hands, followed by the younger man paying Spike. The vampire turned away from her, and sauntered to the table that held his drink. She decided it was time to make her presence known.

The blonde vamp beat her to it, though, and he addressed her with his back still to her. “You can come out, now, Slayer. I know you’re there.” He picked up his pack of smokes, and pulled one out.

She walked out to the pool table and stood there, hands on her hips. “Spike.” She spat his name out like it was poison.

He turned around, cigarette dangling from his lower lip. “Come to make sure I’m not cheating?” Fishing in his pocket for his lighter, he looked her up and down, smirking. “I see the Council still isn’t paying you--otherwise, you’d be able to afford a whole outfit instead of just half of one.” Leering, he added, “Not that I mind, pet.”

Buffy glared at him, and brought her arms out in front of herself in a self-conscious motion. “Shut up, Spike. You’re such a pig.”

“Ooh! Great comeback. Did you just come here to nag me, or is there a reason for your presence?” He lit his cigarette and inhaled deeply. Leaning back against the pool table he crossed his arms, mimicking the Slayer’s pose. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her answer.

Buffy caught herself looking at him. Wow--has he always been this fit? Why haven’t I ever noticed that chest, and those arms... Aargh! Spike is *not* sexy, he’s evil... and disgusting! Snapping out of it, she snorted. “Oh, yeah. Like it’s all about you. I just happened to be coming back from the washroom when I saw you taking that kid’s money. You really don’t have any scruples, do you?”

Spike looked at her like she’d grown a second head. Quietly, so that only she could hear, he pointed to himself and said: “Hello? Vampire, here. Conscience-free and enjoying every minute of it. If some college prat wants to bet me money that he can beat me, that’s his problem.”

He took another drag from his cigarette. “How else do you think I get money for smokes and beer? Work the night shift at the local burger joint?” He snickered at this last thought, finding much humour in it. “Anyway, you Scoobies are too poor to steal from anymore. I have to get my spending money somewhere else. You should be grateful.”

Buffy was incensed. “Oh, so we should thank you, now that you aren’t stealing from us?! What planet are you from, anyway?” She had to physically restrain herself from popping him one on the nose. That might work in an empty cemetery, but she doubted that hitting a patron in a crowded club wouldn’t go over well with the bouncers.

She leaned in towards him with a deadly look in her eye. “I’d better not come across you during patrol tonight, because this’ll be the last pack of cigarettes you’ll ever smoke.” She pulled the cigarette from his lip, and threw it to the ground, crushing it under her high-heeled boot.

“Hey!” Spike watched her retreating form with a scowl, lighting another smoke. “Bitch. Thinks she‘s better than the rest of us...”

***

Buffy found her friends on the dance floor, and let them know that she’d decided to go patrolling early. After her little confrontation with the vampire, she found herself needing to blow off some steam.

Staking a few vampires would do the job just fine...

Chapter 3

“...and I expect you to hand your reports in next Monday at the beginning of class. Class dismissed.” The teacher diverted her attention from the students in front of her to the stack of papers on her desk.

“So,” Willow turned to her best friend, “why did you duck out so early last night? Xander and Anya might have bought the ‘early patrolling’ bit, but I know you better than that. You’ve never let duty get in the way of having fun. So, ’fess up.”

Buffy tried to give her friend her best nonchalant expression. “Nothing’s the matter, Will. I just didn’t feel like dancing. I couldn’t stop thinking about that phone call Giles got. That’s it, honestly.” Averting her eyes from Willow’s look, she collected her books and began to stuff them in her shoulder bag.

The redhead put on her best resolve look, and pressed the subject. She held her hand out, and put it on the Slayer’s forearm. “Buffy, look at me. See my resolve face? We’re not leaving this classroom until you tell me the truth.” She pursed her lips further and sat back, giving the blonde every indication that she was serious.

Buffy sighed, and leaned back in the rigid plastic chair. “Fine. I met up with Spike, we had a few... choice words, and I left. He’s just so irritating. I mean, do you know what he was up to? He was hustling--that‘s how he‘s been making money!”

The witch‘s eyes grew, as her interpretation of the Slayer‘s words hit her. “He’s been having sex for money?!” She brought her hand up to her mouth. “Oh my God! That’s, that’s... ooky!”

“What? No! No sex and Spike!” Buffy closed her eyes, trying to remove mental images of Spike having sex out of her mind. She met with little success, as the image of Spike‘s chest was still imprinted in her mind; what would it look like without his T-shirt on? “He’s hustling at pool--taking advantage of poor students.” Seeing the redhead cock an eyebrow, she pressed the subject. “Ok, not as bad as killing people, but still--it’s evil in a different kind of way. Isn’t it?”

The witch smiled, relieved that it wasn‘t anything bad. “Uh, not really, Buffy. People play for money all the time. Anyway, it’s probably the closest he’ll ever come to making an honest dollar. You shouldn’t let him get to you like that, it just makes you all stressy. You’ve already got enough to worry about without having to keep an eye on who Spike plays pool with.” Willow stood, and picked her books up. “Now come on. I’ll buy you a latte--that always makes for a stress-free happy Buffy.”

As they were making their way out of the classroom, Buffy heard someone call her name. She turned around, and found herself staring into the eyes of the T.A--now, what was his name? Riley, that‘s it...

Turning back to Willow, she let her know that she’d catch up with her in a few minutes.

Buffy walked up to the brunette. “Hey, Riley.”

With a big grin plastered on his face, the T.A. summoned up the courage to speak to her; he’d had his eye on her since first class, but had never found the right moment to catch her for a word. “So, how are you enjoying class so far?”

How about: the teacher’s an evil taskmaster and I have to work at staying awake every session? Nah, might not go over too well... “It’s really a fun class--a bit harder than I thought for a first year, but it’s really interesting.”

Riley fell for her false enthusiasm. “It really is interesting, isn’t it? Professor Walsh has a way of making even the most mundane subjects interesting. Her classes were always my favourite--they may be a little more difficult than most, but they’re more than worth the effort.”

Buffy thought to herself, Is this guy for real? You’d have to be either a freak or in the army to appreciate Walsh’s drill-sergeant style of teaching. “Yeah, I can imagine. The more effort there is, the more it builds character, right?.” She was straining to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

This was the girl of his dreams. Riley couldn‘t believe that he‘d finally found someone to whom he could relate. “That’s precisely it! You know, I’m happy you‘ve made that observation; not everyone sees it like that or appreciates the value of hard work.” Here goes--might as well give it a go... “So maybe we could go to one of the campus pubs sometime. With what you’re learning in class, we’d have lots to talk about. That sound good to you?”

Buffy jumped slightly, and made a face. “Uh, my hip’s vibrating...”

Riley furrowed his brow. “Huh? Your hip’s vibrating? I know I’ve been out of the dating loop for a while, but is that some sort of code or something?”

Buffy laughed nervously. “Actually, I meant my pager--it’s vibrating.” She pulled the small piece of technology out of her pocket and looked at the name on the display. “Crap, it’s Giles.” She smiled brightly at the teacher’s assistant and put her hand on his arm. “Sorry, Riley, but I have to go make a call. The pub idea sounds nice--maybe we can do that sometime...” Yeah, and maybe I could go to the dentist and have some teeth removed while I’m at it.

“Yeah, that would be nice. I guess I’ll be seeing you around.” The last part was said mostly to himself, as the young woman had already disappeared down the hall. He shrugged and muttered to himself “Peculiar girl...”

***

Buffy sprinted past Willow, nearly knocking the poor girl over.

“Buffy! Wait--where are you going? What happened with Riley? Did he say something mean to you, ‘cause you know, best friend here--I could go and scowl at him for you!” She ran alongside the Slayer, until they reached a pay phone.

The blonde turned to Willow. “Sorry, Wills. It’s not Riley--he was nice. Bland, but nice. It’s just that Giles paged me. He never pages me unless it’s, like, an apocalypse or something. I just hope it doesn’t have to do with the Council.” As she dialled, she muttered, mainly to herself. “Who am I kidding, anyway? Travers calls, Giles kicks us out, next thing you know he’s paging me at school...”

Willow held the little machine in her hands. “When did you get a pager, anyway? I didn’t know you had one.” She jumped and nearly dropped it when she pressed the vibrate button by accident.

Ring... ring... “Where is he, anyway?” Buffy was getting worried.

She looked up at Willow. “The pager? Uh, Giles got it for me when he got sick of never being able to reach me. Surprised the heck out of me, ‘cause you know how unmixy he is with tech....” She was cut off by her watcher’s answer.

“Giles! Where were you? You page me, and then you don’t answer the phone--are you ok? Why are you paging me at school? It‘s bad, isn‘t it?”

Her watcher sighed, and replied. “I was in the kitchen getting the kettle off the stove, I’m fine, thank you, I need to call a meeting for tonight, and yes, possibly. Does that answer your questions?”

Buffy relaxed a little comforted at hearing the British man’s voice. “Sorry, Giles. You just had me worried there for a moment. Why the surprise meeting?”

“I can’t get into details right now. I just need you to gather everyone and meet me at the Magic Box tonight at eight.”

The short hesitation after her watcher’s response alerted Buffy to the fact that he was trying to find a way to tell her something she wouldn’t like. “Ok, Giles. Spit it out--what else is there?”

She could practically hear him cleaning his glasses.

“There’s someone else who needs to attend tonight’s meeting.”

The Slayer’s muscles tensed as she asked him the million-dollar question: “Giles, please tell me who... I have a feeling, a bad feeling, I already know--but I need you to prove me wrong.”

Sighing, the watcher confirmed her fears. “Buffy, we need Spike to be present at the meeting. He’s an integral player in what you... in what we’ll be discussing tonight.”

“But Giles, it’s Spike! He’s not an integral part of anything... Can’t we just leave him...”

The young woman’s diatribe was cut short by an outburst from the usually mild-mannered Brit. “Buffy! Can we please, for once, pretend that I know what I‘m talking about? Get Spike, make sure he’s at the Magic Box at eight o’clock, end of story.”

Properly chastised, the young woman knew when to capitulate. “Ok, I’ll go see Spike and tell him that you want him there tonight. Look, Giles, I’m sorry about giving you a hard time...”

The man’s voice softened at his charge’s apology. “No, Buffy, I should be the one to apologize. I’m just... tense... at the moment. You’ll understand more clearly tonight. Just make sure everyone shows up. Thank you, again.”

They said their good-byes and hung up.

Buffy turned to a worried Willow. “Giles called a meeting tonight at the Magic Box for eight o‘clock. He’s really wigged out about something; I don’t think this is going to be good, Willow--he even told me to make sure Spike shows up.”

The witch visibly paled. “Spike? Really? This can’t be good... My classes are over for the day--I can go see Anya at the Shop, to let her know about the meeting--she‘ll make sure that Xander shows up as well. I think I’ll leave Spike to you, though. Just make sure there aren‘t any bottles lying around.”

Offering her friend a wry smile, the blonde sighed. “Don‘t worry, Will. I’ll make sure he’s bottle-free. Thanks for letting the others know--it’s nice to see I’m left with the fun assignment.” Hoisting her bag up to her shoulder, she took a deep breath. “If you don’t see either of us at the meeting, we’ll have killed each other. If that happens, take good care of Mr. Gordo for me...”

At that, both girls went their own way, spirits heavy with apprehension.

Cheesies--check. Mug of O-Neg--check. Remote control--check.

Spike readied himself for yet another thrilling episode of Passions. Snacks and drink in hand, he dropped into his wingback chair, curious to see if Tabitha was finally going to give in to some dark magic. She needs to liven things up a bit--maybe turn them all into pigs, like the witch in that midget movie Dru always used to make me watch...

As he brought his mug to his lips, a resounding crash echoed through the crypt. The blonde vampire jumped up, nearly spilling blood all over himself. “Fuck!”

Then a voice he recognized too well piped up.

“What’s the matter, Spikey? Bit jumpy today?”

“Bloody hell, woman. Didn’t anyone ever teach you to knock? This is my home--I don’t go barging into yours, so what makes you think you have the right to come prancing in here uninvited?” He paused, wiping blood off his chin, and motioned to the TV. “And, you’re interrupting Passions. Whatever it is, it’ll have to wait until my show’s over.” With that said, he turned away from her, sat back in his chair, and wolfed down a handful of cheesies.

Buffy was dumbfounded. He was ignoring her! For a stupid soap opera, at that! She had two options. One, she could kick his TV off its stand and force herself to be the only distraction in the crypt; the trouble with destroying his only form of entertainment was that he wouldn’t be in much of a mood to cooperate--she’d never convince him to go to the meeting.

The second option was to hang around until his stupid show was over. She could actually have fun with that one--she could annoy the hell out of him. That way, maybe he’d give in and listen to her before the end of the show...

Second option it is, then.

“Fine. I’ll wait until your stupid soap is done. You don’t mind if I watch, do you?”

“Whatever, just don’t pester me.”

“Do you have an extra chair?”

“No.”

“How ’bout a stool, or something?”

“No. Sit on the floor.”

“The floor’s cold.”

“Put up with it.”

“How ‘bout a blanket?”

“On the bed.”

“Ugh. A clean one?”

Spike rolled his eyes. “There might be one in the box at the foot of the sarcophagus.” One more word and I rip her throat out...

Buffy decided to give it a break and walked to scrounge for a blanket. She’d only been at it for two minutes and his left right eye was already twitching. This would be so much more fun than kicking his TV in...

She found what looked like an old handmade quilt and spread it out beside his chair. Surprisingly, it was actually a very nice quilt--didn’t have any skulls sewed onto it or anything, like she would have expected; it was just a plain, pinwheel-style quilt. She lay down on her stomach, chin resting on her hands. She figured she’d give it a few more minutes before picking up where she‘d left off.

During a commercial break, Spike glanced down at the Slayer, who had made herself quite comfortable on his old quilt. He had no idea what she was doing at his crypt, but he was certain he wouldn’t like it one bit. At least she’d shut up--if there was one thing that really cheesed him off, it was when people talked to him while he watched TV or a movie. He’d stopped going to the movies with Dru for that reason--she would prattle on endlessly throughout the entire flick, driving him absolutely nuts.

He found himself looking at Buffy’s form, admiring the body of the one person who was his equal in battle. She was petite, but that would be misleading to anyone who didn’t know that she packed a punch that could knock Mike Tyson out. He let his eyes take in her curves, and stopped them at her rear. Mortal enemy or not, she was a hot little number.

Buffy could feel his eyes on her. She looked up and noticed that he was staring at her. After an initial feeling of pride, been a while since someone’s noticed me, Buffy clued in that the one doing the looking was Spike--her mortal enemy and ever annoying one. She knew that she should be disgusted and figured that he deserved a good kick in the nose for not even trying to hide his ogling.

Forcing herself to sound irritated, she asked him “You still watching your show? It’s back on, you know. Unless you wanna turn the TV off and listen to me...”

Busted! “No! I‘m going to watch my show...” He returned his focus to Passions, working hard on ignoring the ass that was still wiggling in the corner of his field of vision.

Ok, time to take out the heavy artillery... In the most juvenile voice she could come up with, Buffy asked. “Who’s that lady?”

“That’s Tabitha.”

“Why’s she doing that?”

“’Cause she’s a witch.”

“Oh.” Buffy paused just long enough to give her ’host’ the impression that her 20 questions were over. “Who’s he?”

Shut up, shut up, shut up... “That’s Timmy...”

“He’s short.” Holding back a snicker, she soldiered on. “Why’s he so short?”

Ok, that’s it... Spike turned his attention to the Slayer. “You know, if you can’t let a bloke watch one fucking TV show in peace, just leave, will you? That or shut the fuck up!”

Buffy gave him a blank look, then frowned at him. “Well! If you don’t know why he’s so short, why don’t you just say so? You don’t have to yell at me!”

Spike was about to get up and break his chair over her head when he noticed the slight twitch at the corner of her mouth. She was playing him, and he actually fell for it. He’d done it so often to others, but he’d never had anyone push his buttons so smoothly.

Inwardly, he smiled. Two can play at this game.

“Lack of sex.”

Buffy’s head shot up. “What?!”

“You asked why he’s so short. It’s because of lack of sex.”

“Shyeah, right. Like that makes sense.”

“Sure it does. Look at yourself, for example. You’re short--when was the last time you got some?” He had to keep his eyes focused on the TV, to avoid breaking out in a wide grin. He could hear her pulse quicken. Touched a nerve, have I?

“What does that have to do with anything? You’re such a pig, Spike.”

“So you’re not denying that you haven’t had any in a while, then, pet?”

“I’m not answering--I’m no longer talking to you.”

His plan successful, Spike sat back and enjoyed the remainder of his show without interruption.

***

He held the remote out, and turned the TV off.

“Ok, Slayer, what brings you to my humble crypt? I doubt you came over just to watch TV and play 20 questions.”

Buffy sat up, and realized that she had also been played. She’d obviously lost, as he got to watch his show in silence.

She stood up and folded the quilt. “Giles sent me over. We have a meeting tonight at the Magic Box and he needs you to be there.”

Spike looked at her, silently wondering if this was some sort of joke, or worse yet, a trap. He raised an eyebrow, and decided to call her bluff. “Sure--I’ll play along. What time does he need me there?”

Snuh? He‘s not even putting up a fight! “Ok, who are you and what have you done with Spike?” Buffy couldn’t believe that the usually belligerent vampire wasn’t even putting up a fuss.

Spike cocked his head to the side. “Come again?”

“Why aren’t you telling me to ‘sod off’ or whatever you’d usually say?” She squinted her eyes at him. “Do you already know what this is about? Is this about something you’ve done?” More to herself, she muttered. “Could be, if the Council’s involved...”

The blonde vampire laughed out loud. “Ha! Isn’t this special--the Council of wankers is involved, and the Slayer doesn’t even know what it’s all about!” Seeing the anger in her eyes, he continued. “No, I don’t know what this is all about. I figure that if ol’ Rupes thinks I’m needed, then I should probably drop by and see what it’s all about. Anyway, this should be more interesting than spending a night playing pool with a bunch of college tossers.”

Handing him the folded quilt, Buffy huffed. “Just be there at eight. And if I ever catch you looking at my butt again, you’ll be finding yourself on the wrong side of a stake.” She stormed off, leaving him alone once again.

Bloody bint, wiggling her arse and then yelling at me for staring at it. I may be a vampire, but I’m still a male. That led him to think of just how long it had been since he’d had some. “Bloody hell...”

“Thank you. Please come spend your money here again.” Anya handed her last customer the shopping bag, and offered her a bright, capitalist smile. She escorted the older lady to the exit and closed the door after her.

Flipping the Open/Closed sign to Closed, she sighed. “You know, earning people’s money is really exhausting. All that false smiling and being nice--it would be so much easier if they came in, knew what they wanted, and gave me the money. All that browsing...” Her rant continued as she made her way her way to the till to count the day’s earnings.

Ignoring his girlfriend’s grumbling Xander walked over to the table that was situated on the store’s main floor. “So, does anyone know why Giles called this meeting?”

Putting a bottle of newt spleens back on the shelf, Buffy scrunched her nose. “No, he didn’t say anything. He usually gives me a general overview, like ‘we need to do research‘, or ‘there’s another big bad in town‘, but this time he just said ‘can’t go into details--just make sure everyone’s there by eight pm’. I bet you anything that it has to do with that phone call he got last night...”

“And what phone call would that be, pet?”

All heads turned to the back of the store to gape at the newest arrival.

Xander let out a irritated groan. “Great! It’s Spike! What the hell are you doing here?!”

Rolling her eyes, Buffy answered the vampire. “A phone call that’s none of your business, Spike. Just sit down and shut up until Giles gets here. I don’t know why he wanted you here for the meeting...”

Looking up from her homework for the first time, Willow cast a wary glance at the vampire; she jumped and let out a squeak when he sat down beside her, propping his feet on the table.

Spike looked at the young witch with a devilish grin. “Evenin’ Red. Hope you’re not still bitter about the bottle incident. I was a bit despondent--wasn’t quite my usual charming self.”

Willow’s face took on a bright tinge of pink. “Oh no! I’m over that!” Nervous laugh. “I don’t cringe anymore when I see bottles--no bottle phobia for me...” She took a deep breath and tried to calm down. Truth was, she still hadn’t completely gotten over the incident that had taken place a year before. Being kidnapped by a sociopath, sorrow-stricken vampire and being threatened by said vampire with a broken bottle takes some getting over. And it wasn’t like she could attend a few therapy sessions, either. With her tale of slayers, vampires and witches, she’d more than likely be given a good dose of happy juice and sent to Sunnydale Psychiatric.

Spike grinned widely and slapped her on the back. “Good to hear that, Red. No hard feelings, then?”

“Oh, no. None at all. Just like it never happened. Uh, I have to go to the bathroom now...” She gave him a nervous smile and ran away.

Anya’s ears perked up to Willow’s last words. “Hey! The facilities are for buying customers only!”

Xander sighed. “Ahn, let it go...”

The ex-demon ignored his tone, pushing the topic further. “You know, just because the store’s closed, it doesn’t mean that we have to throw all rules out the window, Xander. When was the last time Willow actually bought something? She just hangs around at meetings, using...”

Her lecture was cut short by the jingle of the bell hanging above the door, signalling the Watcher’s arrival.

Rupert Giles scanned the room, relieved to see that everyone was in attendance. He had his doubts as to whether or not Spike could be convinced to attend, but he’d assumed that the vampire’s curiosity would ensure his presence.

“I’m glad that you’re all here. I’ve some... news that I need to share with you.” He removed his glasses and wiped the lenses before placing them back on the bridge of his nose. “And before any of you ask,” he caught most of them with their mouths open, “yes, this meeting is related to the phone call I received yesterday.”

All mouths but one snapped shut.

“Will someone please share what this bloody phone call is all about? Everyone seems to know about it but me.” Spike’s tone took on a more whiny inflection. “I’m always left out of these bleedin’ revelations...”

“Don’t worry, Spike. You‘re about to catch up.” He cleaned his glasses again, and took a seat.

***

“Yesterday, as most of you know, I received a phone call. What you don’t know was that it was from Quentin Travers. It seems that we’re faced with yet another potential apocalypse.”

Xander groaned. “Why apocalypses? Why doesn’t the Council ever call to let us know something fun, like ‘Hey guys, the circus is coming to town!’. Nah, it’s always got to be about the end of the world.”

Spike rolled his eyes. “Will you just shut up and let the man talk?”

Grateful for the vampire’s intervention, Giles continued. “Er, thank you, Spike. As I was saying, the Council has uncovered a prophecy that has been put in motion, not to end the world, but to alter it.”

Now he had the Scoobies undivided attention.

“Thousands of years ago, a key was created that would allow the opening of trans-dimensional portals. Now, before you interrupt,” he glanced pointedly at both Spike and Anya, who were rolling their eyes, “I am well aware that objects used for inter-dimensional travel aren‘t rare; however, this key has very special properties. It isn’t used to travel from one dimension to another--it’s used to make one dimension accessible to many other dimensions.”

He looked at the faces before him, and saw that he needed to explain further. Blank stares and raised eyebrows were never a sign that one was well understood.

“What this means is that if someone opens this portal here on earth, beings from hundreds, maybe even thousands, of other dimensions will have access to our own dimension.”

Anya was the one to break the silence. “But... but that key is supposed to be a legend. It doesn’t really exist. I’ve heard about it, in demon circles, but it was like a fairytale or something...”

“Well, Anya, I assure you that it is far from a fairytale. The key is very real, and is now in the hands of some people who plan on using it, earth be damned.”

Ever the pragmatic one of the group, Buffy shared her solution with the group. “Well, we have to find this key and destroy it. That’s the beginning, the middle, and the end of the story, isn’t it, Giles?”

Her Watcher cleared his throat. “Well... no. It’s not quite that easy, Buffy. You see, the key isn’t exactly really a key.”

Spike’s patience was nearing its limit. He’d never had the attention span for all the planning and background work that came with most plans. He was more a man of action. Walk into a room, guns blazing... that was more his style. Truth be told, however, he wasn’t planning on taking this prophecy lightly. If the Watcher called an emergency meeting, asked for him to attend, and mentioned the high council of wankers, things had to be pretty scary.

“Ok, Watcher, I‘ll play your game. When is a key not a key? When it’s... Come on, Rupes, fill in the blank for us non-Watcher types, will ‘ya?”

Giles removed his glasses, and put the earpiece in his mouth.

“Yes, well, the monks who created the key needed to put it in a form that would make it more difficult to find. You see, those who would use it for nefarious purposes would be looking for an actual key, something that resembles what we all have on our key chains.” To demonstrate this, he pulled his house keys out of his pants pocket and held them up for all to see. “However, a key that opens portals doesn’t exist in a tangible form. Rather, it’s made of energy. What the monks have done is given this energy a form that no one will have expected.”

Feeling brave, Xander piped up. “So what you’re saying is that this key could be anything. It could be some old lady’s refrigerator, it could be that pencil that Spike keeps tapping on the table, or it could have been the Lucky Charms I had for breakfast...” At this last point, a look of terror came over his features. “Oh my God! I might have eaten the key for breakfast!”

Annoyed with the young man’s dimwitted conclusion, Spike cuffed him upside the head.

“Oh, please! The monks wouldn’t turn the key to a portal into something that a stupid git like you could eat for breakfast. I can’t believe that the lot of you have foiled my every plan.” He rose from his seat, and began to pace.

“Use your brains here, folks. It would have to be in form that could be easily accessible to those who keep an eye on it, but it would have to be easy to move around. Can’t be a bloody refrigerator--how would they move that at a moment’s notice?” At this point, he seemed more to be thinking out loud than actually addressing any of the others. “It could be a book, but that’s been done so many times--it would be too obvious. The only other logical thing would be...”

He stopped short so suddenly he almost toppled over. “Bloody hell!” He turned to Giles as if they were the only two people in the room. “They’ve turned it into a human!”

Now it was Giles’ turn to be surprised. He had argued against Travers’ insistence that Spike be involved. He was not to be trusted, he was dangerous, hell--he’d tried to kill them all on several occasions. What he had not counted on was Spike’s intelligence. Of course, if he thought about it, the bleached vampire couldn’t have survived as long as he had--while caring for an insane girlfriend--without being able to think two steps ahead of everyone else.

Council: 1, Rupert Giles: 0.

Oh, well. Can’t bloody win them all, can I? The Watcher cleared his throat, and spoke up.

“Very well done, Spike. That’s precisely what the monks have done. When Council members learned that the child of the prophecy was to be brought to this world, er... born, I should say, they sought it out, in the hopes of reaching it first.”

“But they didn’t, did they?” Buffy was beginning to see where this was headed. She didn’t like it one bit; this wasn’t going to be good for Buffy Summers...

The Watcher’s gaze fell to the floor. “No, they did not. When they arrived at the child’s home they found its entire family slaughtered. Mother, Father and a sister bludgeoned to death. The child was nowhere to be found.”

Everyone gasped, except for Spike and Anya--they’d both seen this kind of thing before and weren‘t surprised.

Tears in her eyes, Willow spoke up for the first time. “Do... do they know who did this? I mean, the Council must know who took the baby, doesn’t it?”

“No. I’m afraid this is where we come in. Travers has requested our help in helping them find the child, and whomever is responsible for having kidnapped it.” He took a deep breath, expectant of an outburst.

“He has requested, in particular, Buffy and Spike’s assistance...”

Both Slayer and Vampire rose at once. “What?”

Buffy scoffed. “I’m not helping them--I quit! Do they think I forgot about when they locked me up, defenceless, with some crazy-ass vampire? I sure as hell haven’t forgotten that one. They can find someone else, because I‘m having nothing to do with this.”

Spike, for once, had to agree with his counterpart. “She’s right, mate. Council’s got nothing on us. They’re the ones with a world of resources, let them deal with it. Don’t bloody know why they need me, anyway...”

Giles had anticipated their reaction. Why should they agree to the Council’s request? Buffy owed them nothing; they‘d always treated her like simple chattel. She was no more than a tool in their fight against evil. And Spike? What allegiance does a vampire owe the Council of Watchers? Its main purpose is to eradicate his kind--his reaction to brush off their request was dead on.

However, it was important for both of them to go through with this; as corny as it sounded, the world depended on them.

The Watcher cleared his throat. “Buffy, I understand that you would be... leery... of assisting the Council in any matter. I don’t blame you for the animosity you hold against them. However, this isn’t just between yourself and the Council. If whoever has the child is successful in fulfilling the prophecy, the whole world will pay. Every man, woman and child on earth will be faced with untold suffering. You are the Slayer--it is your calling to help keep the world safe from unnatural forces. You can’t let grudges keep you from doing your job.”

Buffy‘s shoulders slumped, primarily at having been properly chastised, but mainly at having let her emotions get the best of her. Giles was right. If she refused to help just because she wanted to feel the joy in telling the Council to ‘stick it’, who knows what the outcome would be. What would happen to her mom? What about Willow, Xander and Anya? No, she couldn’t refuse for selfish reasons.

“Fine. I’ll do it.” Nodding in Spike’s direction, she asked: “Now what’s the story behind him?”

The vampire chimed in “Yeah, what do they want with me? Can’t bloody expect me to help them, can they?”

“Actually, Spike, they do. Just hear me out, and you’ll see that it will be in your favour to assist us in this task.” Giles paused, and when he saw that Spike didn’t intend to interrupt, he continued. “First of all, you’ve already made it clear, when you helped us against Angel in his attempt to call forth Acathla, that you have an attachment to the world and its status quo. Something about ‘happy meals on legs’, if I recall...”

Spike’s poker face remained steadfast. He motioned with his hand for the Watcher to continue.

“Also, and I think this might be the part that catches your interest, you can expect an all-expenses paid trip back to the mother country. Airfare, lodging, food... The Council is willing to fund your travels. And last, but not least, you’ll get to expect, as you’d put it, ‘a good spot of violence’.” Satisfied with his argument, Giles sat back in his chair and waited for Spike’s decision.

As good as the Watcher’s points were Spike was still sceptical. “That’s all lovely, Rupes, but what does the Council want in return? I doubt I’m bein’ asked to act as tour guide for the Slayer...”

“To be honest, Spike, of all the individuals the Council has access to, you’re the one with the best knowledge of England’s demon underground, with the best contacts. You, and I’m quoting Travers on this, “are pivotal to the success of this endeavour“.”

Spike stood up and walked slowly towards the bookshelves, duster billowing behind him. He stopped in front of one of the shelves and slid his fingers across the titles on a number of books, as if searching for something specific. To no one in particular, he spoke. “I’ll expect nothing less than first class tickets for the plane, five star hotels and a limitless credit card. If you can promise me those three things, Watcher, I’m in.”

Buffy knew this wouldn’t be easy. Even though her mother had been told about the slayage a few years ago, she still didn’t really understand what it was all about.

“Mom--I have no choice in this. I have to go to England, and I have to try and stop these people from killing that baby. If I don’t, it’ll be the end of the world as we know it.” Stupid REM song--now I’ll have that in my head all evening...

Joyce was having trouble wrapping her mind around this. “But Buffy, what if they just called the police? If it’s a kidnapping, I don’t see why you should be involved. You’re just a young woman.”

The Slayer groaned. Maybe there’s a reason why Slayers don’t usually have families. “Look, what do you think would happen if we did call the police? ’Here’s the story, officer: some shifty types have kidnapped a baby, who’s really an energy key, who they plan on sacrificing in order to open trans-dimensional portals.’ What do you think, Mom? Do you think they’d rush right out looking for demons?” She took a deep breath, and sat down on the couch beside her mother. “There’s a reason why there’s a Slayer, and that’s because no one else is prepared to handle these kinds of emergencies. I know it’s hard for you to understand, but this kind of stuff really exists, and for some cosmic reason, I’ve been chosen to fight the good fight.”

Joyce sighed, and wiped the tears from her eyes. “Buffy, I understand what you’re telling me. It’s just so scary for me to let you go; you’re so young, and this is such a big task. I’m just happy that Spike is going with you--he’s such a nice young man.” She smiled as her thoughts turned to her hot chocolate buddy. Her daughter didn’t know it, but the bleached blonde came over regularly for chats. It was nice to have someone to talk to about art, about being a single mom (raising a Slayer, to boot), heck... about pretty much anything.

Buffy bristled at her mom’s comments. “He is not a ‘nice young man’, Mom. He’s a vampire! He spent over 120 years brutally killing people. Do you know why his nickname is Spike? It’s because he killed people with railroad spikes--that doesn’t make him a ‘nice young man’.”

Now it was Joyce’s turn to be angry. “Buffy Summers! I will not have you take that tone with me. I may not be very knowledgeable about demons and prophecies, but I’m a damned good judge of character. The Spike that I know is smart, funny, and caring. If you gave him half a chance, you could get to see the man he’s become, instead of the monster he used to be.”

“Mom, it’s just that I worry. I mean, you’re inviting someone who’s tried to kill me into our home. You can’t blame me for being worried. But, for some insane reason, I have to agree that he seems... taken... with you; I don’t think he’d try to hurt you. Probably because no one else would bother to have him over for hot chocolate and listen to him whine about his batty ex-girlfriend...” At her mother’s surprised look, Buffy continued. “Yeah, Mom. I know he comes over. I can sense it when he’s been in the house--all part of the Slayer package.”

Joyce smiled. “Well, there goes my last secret. Look, it’s almost 6 and Giles should be by to pick you up soon. Let’s have one last look through your stuff to make sure you haven’t forgotten anything.”

***

“You know, I appreciate you doin’ this for me, and all.” Spike’s head appeared through the hole that led to the lower half of his crypt. He tossed a leather bag up onto the ground as he made his way back into the upper level. “No knowing what kind of nasty would decide to move in if I’d leave this place unattended to...”

Clem, the demon whom he was addressing, had already made himself comfortable in the vampire’s chair. “Don’t even mention it, Spike. This is a great set-up for me. I don’t even get cable at the apartment.” Rifling through his packsack, he muttered. “Now, should I open the Pringles or the Bugles first?” Settling on the red tin, he turned his attention back to Spike. “So where is it that you’re going, anyway?”

Rummaging through the fridge for a bag of O-Neg, the vamp turned back to his friend. “Bein’ sent back to the mother country to help avert some apocalypse. You know, the usual: prophecy, tot in danger, dimensions bleedin’ into each other...” He emptied the bag into a mug and stood in his ‘living room’, across from the other demon.

“Haven’t been overseas in over 50 years. Dru wanted to see America, bleedin‘ land of opportunity. That stupid doll of hers told her that our future lay across the water. We should‘ve just gone across the Channel; would have fared better in France, even if we‘d have to put up with the French.” He took a sip of his blood and stared ahead, not really looking at anything in particular. Shaking his head, he brought his attention back to the present. “Betcha all the best pubs have been replaced by Starbucks, ‘s gonna be all different...”

Clem let the blonde vamp talk. He was aware that a reply wasn’t expected of him; Spike just needed to get some issues out of his system. Since he’d announced that he was going back to England, his emotions had run hot/cold. One moment he’d be whining about having lost Dru, the next he would be kicking his furniture in, cursing ’that bloody Slayer’. The quiet demon assumed that the vampire might have some unresolved... feelings... for Buffy, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to be the one to bring that idea out into the open.

“I wouldn’t worry about it, Spike. Even if it has changed there’s nothing you can do about it now. Anyway, I’m sure all the better demon bars haven’t changed a bit. You’ll walk back in and it’ll be like you never left.” He gave his friend a quick smile and offered his some Pringles.

Leaning in to grab a few chips, Spike sighed. “Yeah, I should stop being such a wanker about this. ‘S not everyday you’re offered a paid vacation to England. Can’t really pass this one up, even if I’ll be stuck travelling with the Slayer.”

Putting his empty mug on top of the TV, the blonde vamp shrugged. “Well, sun’s finally down. I expect they’ll be waiting for me.” He threw his duster on and grabbed his bag. With a sly grin, he added. “I’m off to save the world...” Chuckling to himself, the vampire headed out.

***

When he entered the Magic Box, Spike nearly walked right in the middle of a great big Scooby group hug. Bloody Hell... Sneering, he sauntered past the sniffling teenagers and sat himself down at the table beside Giles.

“You’d think we were leaving forever, the way they’re all goin’ about...” He turned to face the Watcher. “So, Rupes, do you have everything we need for this little trip?” His main interest lay in the limitless credit card, and he couldn’t wait to get his hands on that little piece of plastic. It had been a long, long time since he’d had access to that kind of money.

Giles cleared his throat. “Erm, oh--yes. All the papers are in the car. Plane tickets, passports, identification. All the addresses and numbers you’ll need once you’re in England have been jotted down in a booklet. Of course, you’ll be met at the airport by a Council representative, but I’ve still provided you with all the necessary information, in case anything... unforeseen... happens.” Please don’t ask about the credit card...

The Watcher hadn’t the guts to tell either Buffy or Spike, but the Council was yet to confirm their agreement to two of Spike’s three conditions: the five star hotel and the limitless credit card. They figured that if they splurged on the plane ticket, that the vampire would forget about the other two requests. Giles knew better than that. Spike would be expecting the royal treatment. Thing was, though, he had to make sure that the vampire made his way across the ocean; if that meant omitting some important details, well, so be it. Honestly, he couldn’t truly expect the Council to give in to all his requests--he knows better than that...

As Spike watched Willow and Buffy hug (now that was an image he would be storing away for when he got ‘lonely‘), his mind began to wander to the upcoming trip. Wonder what hotel they’ve got us booked at? If I had my choice I’d be set up at Brown’s Hotel--now *there* was a grand place. Hope it hasn’t been turned into a Radisson or anything like that...

The vampire’s musings were interrupted by Giles announcing that it was time to leave. If he hadn’t known better, he’d say that the Watcher was eager to set them on their way. He stood up and picked up his bag. “I’ll be outside; all this blubbering is making me sick.” With that, he stepped outside to have a smoke.

A few minutes later, Buffy and Giles exited the building and joined Spike by the Watcher’s car. Flicking his cigarette, the vamp exhaled a last puff of smoke. “Right, then. We off?”

“Five suitcases, eh, Slayer? Plannin‘ on spending the rest of your life overseas?”

Spike lit up a cigarette as he watched Giles pull Buffy’s luggage out of the car’s trunk. He’d considered helping them with the luggage, but shook off the odd feeling, attributing it to nerves. Must be goin’ soft. Pretty soon I’ll be helpin’ little old ladies cross the street...

“Shut up, Spike. Unlike yourself I have more than one outfit. Anyway, who knows how long we’ll be there? It could get cold!” She put the last of her bags on the trolley and followed her Watcher into the airport.

The blonde vampire rolled his eyes and took one last deep drag before tossing his fag to the ground. It would be a long while before he got the chance to light up again...

***

Inside the airport, Giles and Buffy were saying their good-byes. Although the flight didn’t leave for another hour, the Watcher had to make his way back home--he had to pick up the slaying duties, along with the Scoobies. He gave her a final hug and moved back a step.

“Now, Buffy, I don’t need to tell you this, but don’t let the Council tell you what to do. Your advantage is that you’re their only hope in stopping this prophecy.” He handed her a manila envelope. “Now put this in your carry-on. It contains all the information and paperwork you’ll need once you’ve landed. And last, but not least, I want you to be on your guard around Spike. He’s not to be trusted; who says he won’t turn on you, or try to disappear the minute you arrive at Heathrow...”

“I say, Watcher.” Spike had been standing apart from the two others, but had obviously been listening to their conversation. He walked up to Giles, decreasing the distance between them. “I said I’d help, and I’m here to follow through on my word. I don’t fancy having to fight whatever kind of riff-raff might drop in on us if this portal opens up--this is as much for my well-being as for everyone else’s. Anyway, the Council’s kept its end of the bargain, and so will I.”

That last phrase unnerved the Watcher. Would Spike abandon the mission when he got to London if the Council set them up in a rooming house, or if his ‘limitless’ credit card had a limit of £500? It was a chance he’d just have to take. If the vampire found out now, he’d never even get on the plane. Perhaps he could develop a sense of right on the flight to England...

He pulled Spike aside, and whispered. “That‘s all well and good, Spike, but I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that if you do decide to jump ship and strand Buffy I will find you--you’ll be getting up close and personal with jolly old Ripper. Angelus isn‘t the only one adept at torture. You‘ll have wished that you never left her side...”

An unveiled threat from the Watcher. Well, well. Not the stiff prat I always took ‘im for... With an air of nonchalance, Spike conceded. “Well said Watcher. I’ll consider myself aptly warned. Now let’s get our bags checked in, or we’ll never be on our way.” With that, he grabbed two of Buffy’s suitcases and walked off. Bloody ponce, I’ve become--carrying the Slayer’s suitcases. Oh look! There’s an old lady; maybe I can help her with hers, too.

Buffy took in a deep breath and held back her tears. “Giles, don’t worry about me. I’ll be back before you know it. I just want everyone to be careful on patrol, and please watch out for Mom, and...” She threw herself at her Watcher and gave him a big hug. Wiping back the tears she couldn’t hold in, she smiled at him and backed away. “Bye, Giles.” She turned around, and walked towards an obviously exasperated vampire.

“’Bout bloody time. Thought I’d be goin’ on my own there, for a minute.”

***

After they had checked their baggage, the two travelers still had 40 minutes to kill before boarding their plane.

Buffy looked around. “So, what do we do now? Just sit around waiting for the plane to get here?”

Spike turned to look at her. “Have you ever flown before, Slayer?”

The diminutive blonde tossed the vampire a ’duh!’ look. “Of course I... haven’t. Actually this will be my first time.” Pausing, she added: “I am an airplane virgin.” Eyes round, she groaned and put her hands over her face. “I can’t believe I actually said that out loud.” She looked up at him and poked her index finger in his chest. “One comment from you, and you’re dust.”

Spike bit back his retort and chuckled. “There’s lots to do while we’re waitin’, pet. We can go have a drink, or a bite to eat. Then we could go and take a gander at the shops, see what they’re peddling...”

Buffy stiffened and narrowed her eyes. “Ok mister, what’s up? Why are you being... nice... to me?”

“Look, Buffy, if we’re going to be stuck together for at least a fortnight, we have to get along, or neither of us will survive this trip.” He offered her a genuine smile. “Anyway, I’m in a good mood--I’m going back to London. I’ll get to see my old haunts. So, what do you say? Will you let me buy you a latte, or whatever it is you girls drink?”

His gaze was on her, waiting for a response. It was then that she realized she’d never noticed how blue his eyes were. Kind of like the ocean, just before a storm... Snapping out of it, she relaxed a little. “Ok, William, I’m game. A latte would be nice just about now.”

They wandered around for a short while, finally sighting a coffee shop. They entered and joined the queue.

Spike looked up at the selection, frowning. He had no idea what half the drinks were. When the hell did a coffee stop being a coffee? Frowning, he asked his companion: “So, what is it that you want?”

Obviously more at ease than her companion, Buffy answered quickly. “Medium latté, with low fat whipped cream, and low fat caramel drizzle. Oh, and a carrot muffin, too.”

“Bloody hell! You’re seriously asking me to order that, aren’t you? They’ll think I’m gay or something. I’m getting two black coffees and that‘s that.” He moved up the line, leaving Buffy behind to grab them a table.

Mumbling to herself, the young woman found a table. Stupid vampire--who the heck drinks black coffee but the undead?

As she looked ahead, she couldn’t help but grin at the sight of Spike, a master vampire, standing in line at a coffee shop. Just like the rest of the world... Except he’s nothing like the rest of the world, is he? He’s spent the last 120 years torturing and killing people; he’s a monster wrapped in a human disguise--kind of like an evil eggroll.

That last thought had Buffy giggling to herself, until the sound of a plastic tray being slammed on the table got her attention.

Seething with bitterness, Spike spat out “I hope it’s how you like it, Slayer, ’cause I’m not bloody goin’ back up there. Felt like a complete poof trying to order that concoction.” He handed her the latte, as well as a small paper bag which contained her muffin.

Taking a sip of his own drink, he pulled a chocolate croissant out of the other bag and took a bite.

Buffy could smell that his own drink was definitely not a black coffee. With a sweet-as-honey grin, she teased him. “So, Spikey, whatcha drinking? That smells pretty good for black coffee...”

She made a move to grab the mug away, but the vampire was quicker. He pulled his hot chocolate out of her reach and grumbled. “It’s none of your business what I’m drinking; you just drink what’s in front of you.”

Buffy decided not to push the subject. It wasn’t worth getting in a fight over, anyway-- being kicked out of “Flora’s Coffee and Sweets” wasn’t on her A-list. She was sure she’d be able to weasel the information out of him eventually--she just had to bide her time.

They finished their drinks and snacks in an uncomfortable silence, not really knowing what to talk about. Sitting there, Buffy tried to think of what they usually discussed. Monsters, demons, prophecies, beating each other up... not really stuff we could get into sitting here at Flora’s. As she opened her mouth to say something (anything would be better than just sitting there saying nothing), Spike beat her to it.

“Well, if you’re done maybe we can go and see if we can find ourselves some reading material. Six hours stuck in a plane isn’t exactly the most entertaining of things; gotta bring something to do, or you’ll go insane.” He got up, and walked away.

As she stood and looked to where the vampire waited for her, waiting patiently, at that, Buffy noticed Spike for the first time. Caught slightly off-guard by his unusually gentle demeanour, she’d allowed her walls to come down a little. Had she actually ever taken time to look at him as a man instead of just a monster? At that moment, his eyes bore the look of someone with infinite patience, but his body was like a coiled spring, ready to let go at a moment‘s notice; the supple duster he wore like a second skin contrasted his sharp cheekbones and taut muscles. He seemed a contradiction of himself. Although he was a self-professed ‘big bad’, he shamelessly wore his heart on his sleeve--if she were to look deep into his eyes, she could see into his soul... Wait! He has no soul--this is Spike you’re thinking about! There will be no fantasizing about the enemy, no matter how beautiful he is... Groaning to herself, Buffy grabbed her purse and carry-on and rushed out to join him.

Standing there waiting for the Slayer, Spike noticed that she was staring at him. Wonder what’s got the chit’s knickers in a knot this time. She’s probably mad that I didn’t wait for her. No pleasing that one... She seemed to snap out of it and bent to pick up her bags; he couldn’t help but take a short moment to appreciate her rear end, again. Cor, I’d give anything to have her squirming beneath me, screaming my name... He readjusted his pants as he wondered when his fantasy shifted from killing her to shagging her. This trip might be a bit harder to handle than he’d first thought...

***

Hmm... Cosmo or Seventeen? Both! Buffy was quickly amassing a library’s worth of magazines to keep her busy during the flight. If the time spent in the coffee shop was any indicator, she couldn’t really rely on conversation eating up much time on the plane. She turned to see what section Spike was in, but couldn’t find him anywhere. Now where the heck did he go? He’s the one with the wallet, for crying out loud... With a screech, she was jolted from her thoughts when a set of hands grabbed her around the waist.

“Boo!”

Hand on her chest, and heart beating wildly, she turned around to see Spike standing behind her, innocent look on his face. “So, have you found anything yet?”

Glaring at him, Buffy gave him a very unslayer-like slap on the arm. “Stupid jerk--I nearly had a heart attack.” Showing him her armful of magazines, she watched his eyes grow round. “As a matter of fact, yes. I have found a few to keep me busy...” She didn’t have time to finish her sentence before the stack was ripped from her arms.

“Bloody hell, woman! How many...” The blonde vamp flipped through the reading material. “...three, four, ...seven, eight... twelve magazines? Better narrow down your choices, I’m paying for 3--that’s it. Stupid things are expensive, too; don‘t know how they’re allowed to charge ten dollars for a stupid magazine, just because we‘re in an airport...”

Well, maybe I did get carried away... Buffy picked at her pile, and chose three. She dumped the remaining ones in a pile, garnering a cheesed-off look from the lady at the cash. She offered them to Spike so he could go and pay.

“No way, Slayer. I am not standing in line holding a copy of...” He looked at one of the magazines. “Cosmo.” His eyes narrowed as he read one of the captions on its cover. “10 ways to reach orgasm quicker?!” He let out a snort. “Yeah, like you can learn that from bleedin’ periodical.” He put his hand on her far shoulder, leaned in and whispered in her ear. “You know, Slayer, if you want, I could help you feel good in ways you‘ve never dreamed were possible...”

Without realizing it, Buffy closed her eyes and leaned back into his arm. His cool breath, mixed with what he was telling her, had her in a near trance. A little voice at the back of her mind goaded her into giving in to his offer of 120 years of practice--betcha he could really teach you a thing or two about pleasure... With a start, she snapped out of it. She pulled away from him and sent him a threatening glare.

What Buffy hadn’t noticed, however, was that Spike’s words had affected him as much as they had her. He’d never stood this close to her in the absence of violence. He felt the heat of her living body, could hear the blood pumping through her veins, her heart beating... Just the thought of the Slayer letting him show her just how good he was between the sheets had him readjusting his jeans once again.

As they approached the cashier, Buffy’s eye caught a beanie baby display on the counter. They weren’t real beanie babies, but an imitation. She recognized one of them, and tried to place where she’d seen it before. Eureka! She rifled through her coat pocket, and pulled out the card the little girl had left behind, at the birthday party. She read the name on the back of the card: Mew-Two. She picked up the cat/kangaroo beanie, and stared at it.

Spike put his magazines on the counter and waited for Buffy to do the same. He turned around an saw that she was engrossed in some stuffed animal. Bleedin’ women and their bleedin’ stuffed animals--I’ll never figure that one out... Rolling his eyes, he grabbed the magazines out of her hand, and turned back to the cashier. “Looks like we’re takin’ the stuffed... whatever she‘s holding...”

The cashier smiled at him. Wow--she didn’t even ask for it. The guy looks tough, but he must really be a softie. I wish George would do stuff like that for me... She rang in his purchase and gave him a 100-watt smile before giving him his change and the bag that held his purchase.

Spike nudged Buffy, who was still staring at that stuffed... well, he still didn’t know what the hell it was. “Let’s go, Sl... Buffy, ’s time to go wait for the plane.”

Buffy had really wanted to ask him for the beanie toy, but he was buying her 3 magazines, and he’d already treated her to a latté and muffin; she didn’t want to push it. With a perceptible sigh, she returned Mew-Two to its box.

She was surprised when Spike took it back out of the bo, and put it in her hand.

“Don’t worry, pet, it’s paid for. All I want to know is--what the hell is it?” As they left the store, he took it in his hand and examined it.

Buffy was floored. Wasn’t this a boyfriendy thing to do--buy stuffed animals for girls? And she didn’t even have to beg him for it! She was beginning to realize that Spike was a multi-layered vampire; what would she find under all those layers?

She turned her attention back to his question. “Actually, I don’t really know what it is.” She handed him the kid’s card. “I helped Mom host a birthday party for some kids last week, and they had these cards--by the way, kids are way too smart these days-- and one of them left this one behind. I recognized the beanie baby when we were waiting in line.” She took the beanie back, and looked at it just as Spike had. “Looks like a kangaroo-cat, though. The card says it’s called Mew-Two--whatever that means.”

Spike shrugged. “Lots of stuff ’bout kids I haven’t understood in a hundred years.” As he led them to the waiting area for their flight, he found two seats. “Here you go. They should announce the flight a few minutes before we have to board. We just have to sit here ’till then.”

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