They stood outside the hotel, even for a Sunday night, the streets were humming with activity. Buffy looked left and she looked right.

“So where’d you wanna go?” Spike asked her.

“I was hoping you would tell me,” she looked at him helplessly.

“Soho,” he decided.

“Does it have alcohol?” she asked.

“More bars, clubs and alcohol than you can poke a stick at,” he grinned.

Spike was starting to like this Buffy a lot more than the Sunnydale version. Away from her slayer duties, she almost seemed another person. Soho was definitely going to be an education to her. He smiled to himself. There were bars, clubs, and stripper joints of the male and female variety. He was interested to see how she would react.

The doorman of the hotel, walked over to them both.

“Is there a problem sir?” he asked.

“We need a cab,” Spike replied.

“Where to?” asked the doorman.

“Soho,” Buffy replied.

A few moments later they were headed off together in the cab. Strip joint, here we come Slayer, he grinned.

“Why are you looking so pleased with yourself?” Buffy asked.

“Just glad to be home, never knew how much I’d missed the place,” Spike admitted.

Buffy sighed wistfully.

“It must be tough, being so far from family and friends, not that you have any Spike,” she replied.

Spike rolled his eyes in exasperation.

“Sorry, that was cruel of me,” Buffy added.

Spike was more than a little taken aback by her apology. Something he’d never expected to hear directed at him, in a million years.

“Nothing more than I’m used to from you, look why don’t we call a truce on our fighting for one night? You can go back to treating me like dirt in the morning. Otherwise this is gonna be a long two weeks,” Spike replied.

Buffy regarded him in silence for a moment. Naturally suspicious of the proffered olive branch, she dampened down her doubts and put out a hand in agreement. Spike took her tiny, but lethal hand in his and shook it. The taxi pulled up on the side of the road.

They paid the cabbie, and walked down Moor Street. Spike could see the distant flashing lights of the various ‘Gentlemen’s clubs’ beckoning in the distance. He smiled to himself and then looked down at her face, the almost childlike excitement written on it. He struggled inwardly with himself. The idea of revenge that had once excited Spike now seemed hollow and petty to him.

He growled as he took her hand and pulled her into the first respectable looking pub that they passed. Which happened to be a pub called the “Spice Of Life”

“You know what they say variety is?” she quipped.

“Like I haven’t heard that one before. Shame they don’t still have the separate bar for women in here,” said Spike.

“You’re kidding right?” she asked.

“Not at all, it was very common during the Victorian era, haven’t been in here since then. Dru wasn’t very understanding about that rule either. She er…. ate the landlord,” Spike finished awkwardly.

“Save your anecdotes for someone who actually wants to hear them. You have all the money, buy me a drink,” Buffy demanded.

“With pleasure, do you think you could handle tequila?” he asked.

“Straight up,” Buffy replied.

The truth was, that she had never tried it before in her life, but she wasn’t going to appear so naïve in front of Spike if she could help it. Buffy wandered over to a table in the corner, taking in the atmosphere of her surroundings. Spike returned with a bottle of tequila and two shot glasses.

“Who’s a naughty girl then?” he asked as he poured her drink.

“What do you mean?” she asked, puzzled.

“I know you’re not allowed liquor until your 21. Last time I counted, you hadn’t reached your 19th birthday yet,” Spike smiled.

“I know you are allowed to drink from the age of 18 here, so bite me,” she answered.

“If only,” said Spike as he downed his drink in one shot.

Not to be out done, Buffy did the same. As soon as the raw liquor hit the back of her throat, she burst into a fit of coughing, Spike swore softly under his breath before patting her lightly on the back.

Buffy flushed, but quickly poured herself another to hide her embarrassment. Spike followed suit and relaxed back in his chair to study her.

“So what do you think that old git’s really after?” asked Spike.

“Travers? I don’t know, but it’s best not to take him a face value,” said Buffy.

“What did he do to you that was so bad?” asked Spike curiously.

“Wanna know much?” she asked.

“Just making conversation that’s all,” he replied.

Buffy sighed.

“He almost got me killed if you must know. Some sorta initiation test for slayers, but it went a little wrong. Well from my point of view it did any way. He got Giles to inject me with some sort of muscle relaxant, couldn’t fight a fly in a paper bag. And the idea was for me to fight and dust some crazed vampire,” She told him.

“He should have got me to do the job, I wouldn’t have failed,” Spike replied.

Spike smiled at her, and poured them both another shot.

“Knew the idea of my almost death would put a smile on your face,” said Buffy, as she took the drink.

“Not at all, was just trying to imagine evil Giles, that’s all,” said Spike.

Buffy almost missed the table as she put down her shot glass. She put a hand to her head, unused to such strong drink; it had already started to go to her head in a big way. She looked up at Spike and giggled.

“What so funny?” he asked.

“Here I am in a strange country getting piss…drunk, my first trip to Europe, and it’s with my mortal enemy. That’s pretty ironic wouldn’t you say?” she asked.

The lights in the pub went down and a man came on the little makeshift stage with a microphone.

“What the bleeding hell is this all about? Can’t even get a quiet drink around here these days.” Grumbled Spike.

“Welcome to the Sunday night karaoke night. Don’t be shy, get up here and wow us with your vocal talents. Who’s going to start the ball rolling?” asked the man.

Spike smirked at the man and turned back to Buffy.

“At least we know neither us would be stupid enough to give it a go,” Said Spike to the empty chair.

He spun round to see Buffy weaving her way unsteadily to the stage. He thought about stopping her for about five seconds, before he decided he didn’t feel like getting a punch on the nose.

“Give a hand for the young lady, what’s your name love?” asked the man.

“Buffy Summers,” she slurred.

“What do you want to sing?” he asked her off mike.

It was almost as painful to watch as to listen to. He went up on the stage to recover her dignity. The crowd clapped and cheered at the newest occupant of the stage.

“Looks like we have the makings of a duet mates,” said the landlord.

“Not me,” said Spike as he started to remove Buffy from the stage.

The landlord put a hand on Spike’s arm to stop him.

“No one gets off the stage without singing it’s the rules,” he told him.

“Stick the rules!” said Spike.

A couple of burly men stood at the front of the stage their arms folded in a menacing manner. Spike looked at them, inwardly cursing the chip in his head for the millionth time.

“Okay, maybe a couple of verses,” he said through gritted teeth.

“That’s the spirit,” said the man, all smiles again.

The crowd cheered as he passed Spike another mike. Spike looked at Buffy swaggering all over the stage. She looked faintly green about the gills. Time definitely looked of the essence as Spike belted out a couple of chorus’s of the Britney song and removed Buffy from the stage.

“I think I need some fresh air,” said Buffy.

“I think you need to go to bed,” said Spike.

They exited the pub and walked out onto the street, Spike hailed a cab.

“Is that an offer by any chance?” she giggled.

Spike swallowed hard at the imagery of them in vast expanse of the hotel bed. He shook his head in self-derision as he opened the cab door and bundled her inside.

He propped her up against the wall of the cab, but every time they turned a corner, she kept slipping down, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Hit me baby one more time,” she slurred and then burst into fits of giggles.

“Buffy!” he groaned as she slipped a hand around his waist and lifted her head. Her warm breath teased at his bare neck.

“Kiss me,” she whispered in his ear.

“You’re drunk,” he stated.

“No I’m not,” she protested as she crushed her lips to his.

Spike froze in total shock as she slipped her tongue in his mouth and threw her arms around his neck. After the initial surprise at her onslaught wore off, he returned the kiss in full. Grinding his lips against her own. Buffy made a little cry in her throat as she pulled back, and slumped against the seat of the cab.

“Dammit, you do pick your moments Buffy,” he sighed.

And what was wrong with him? Getting all horny and hot with the slayer. At least she was drunk at the time. What was his excuse? The cab pulled up to the entrance of the hotel, Spike looked at her semi- conscious form, She wasn’t going anywhere, not in the conventional sense of the word anyway. He paid the driver and picked Buffy up in his arms, receiving a few raised eyebrows as he entered the hotel.

He managed to get her into her room and laid her down on the big bed. Buffy stirred momentarily and she sleepily removed her blouse and jeans and got under the covers. She had stripped down so quick that he hadn’t had a chance to look away, and if he was really honest with himself, he hadn’t wanted to. Spike turned to leave, he picked up a couple of pillows and a spare comforter that was draped on a nearby chair.

“Stay?” she mumbled.

Spike knew he was going to regret it in the morning, but the bed looked so much more inviting than the sofa in the living room. He sighed and removed his leather duster, along with his black shirt and shoes. He climbed into bed and pulled up the covers.

Buffy flung an arm across his bare chest and fell fast asleep. For Spike, sleep was a little longer in coming.

Buffy awoke, at first a little disorientated in her surroundings, thinking herself to be in her dorm room, back home. She tried to stretch out. Frowning, she opened her eyes. A pale arm was flung across her shoulders, restricting her movements. A feeling of dread started to build within her chest to match the pounding of her head. Buffy turned her head slowly, to look into the sleepy blue eyes of her nemesis. Spike gazed back at her, a lazy smile on his lips.

"Never thought you'd be one to sleep with the enemy love," he drawled.

Buffy threw his arm off her and punched Spike on the nose. She quickly scrabbled out of bed, only to realise she was in her bra and panties. Spike held his nose in pain, pausing as she stood there in her state of undress. Buffy grabbed her wrap off the chair and hastily covered herself.

"A bit late to be coy now wouldn't you say? Especially after all we shared last night," he asked, licking his lips suggestively.

"We didn't share anything," she said defiantly

"Are you sure of that? Think hard pet," he encouraged.

Buffy sat down in the bedside chair. Her brow furrowed with concentration as she recalled the copious amounts of tequila she had consumed.

"Oh my, I sang! Yes I remember I sang.Oh my god, Britney!" she said.

"And the rest," he prompted.

"I remember that we went home in a taxi and I." she trailed off, blushing at the memory.

"And you gave me the touchy feely. And when we got back to our room well, you literally begged me for it," he finished.

"Don't say another word," she warned.

"Oh, but you were so good baby," he purred, blowing her a kiss.

Buffy shot up out of her seat, Spike sat up warily.

"I have to make a call, and in private," she said, before walking out into the living area, and slamming the bedroom door, hard.

Spike chuckled to himself as he got up out of bed, still wearing his black trousers of the night before. Picking up a towel, he made his way to the bathroom.

"Silly bint, if we'd really done the dirty, wouldn't we have been just a little more naked?" he said quietly under his breath.

Buffy sat down in one of the comfortable chairs in the living room, she picked up the phone and stared at it for several minutes, almost as if it contained all the answers to her current predicament. Sighing heavily, she dialled the number to the phone in her dorm, back home. It rang several times before being answered by a sleepy voice.

"Who ever you are, do you know what time it is?" groaned Willow, as she yawned.

"Hello, Willow?" asked Buffy.

Buffy looked at the clock on the wall.

"Buffy?" Willow asked.

"And in answer to your earlier question, it's almost noon," said Buffy.

"Yeah, in England maybe, take about eight hours off that time for Cali, then what do you get?" asked Willow.

"Oops, so it's 4am there right now?" asked Buffy.

"You got it, but I'm awake now so no big. Are you okay? You sound a little funny," said Willow.

Buffy paused for a moment.

"Buff?" prompted Willow.

"You know that Will spell, you did a few weeks back?" asked Buffy.

"How could I forget? Nearly ruined the lives of all my friends, but at least my cookie making skills improved," said Willow.

"Willow, I need to know, is there any chance that there could be any lingering after effects from it?" asked Buffy.

"What? My cookies?" Willow laughed uneasily.

"No, the spell. And be serious, this is important," Buffy replied.

"What's happened?" asked Willow.

"You know how we are best friends and can tell each other anything, knowing the other will understand?" asked Buffy.

"Buffy, you're scaring me," said Willow.

"Last night.I got very drunk," said Buffy.

"Way to go Buffy, guess the Watcher's council aren't such stiff upper lip types after all," said Willow.

"I wasn't with any members of the council at the time, I was with Spike, we went out together last night," Buffy admitted.

"Like on a date?" asked Willow.

"No! Absolutely not on a date, it was just a thing," said Buffy.

"Well then why are you so worried about it?" asked Willow.

Buffy paused for a moment and took a deep breath before speaking.

"Because when I woke up around ten minutes ago, I was in bed...with..Spike," she finished in a rush.

There was a continued silence at the other end of the line, apart from the almost inaudible sound of Willow's breathing.

"Willow? You still there?" asked Buffy.

"I-I don't know what to say Buffy. Did you guys, you know, do it?" said Willow.

"I remember kissing him on the way home in the taxi, after that everything was a blank," Buffy replied.

"What did Spike have to say on the matter?" asked Willow.

"He says we had a wonderful um, time," finished Buffy quickly.

"It's not because of that spell. Once a will spell is broken, there are no side effects. It's final Buffy, anything you've done since that day has been of your own accord," said Willow.

Buffy groaned. It was not what she had hoped to hear.

"Thanks Willow, I think I need to go and die now," said Buffy.

"Buffy are you okay?" She asked.

"Fine, talk to you soon Willow," Buffy replied emotionlessly.

"Buffy..I." Willow said to the dead phone line.

Buffy lay on the sofa, curled up into a defensive little ball. She stared at the floral wallpaper, as if her life depended upon it. Spike entered the room; she could smell the spicy aroma coming off his recently showered skin. Buffy hated her new awareness of him, she groaned inwardly. **I am such a slut** she thought to herself. **I've only been here twenty-four hours and I've already jumped the bones of the guy I should hate the most!**

Spike sat down in the chair opposite her. Buffy glanced at him quickly then averted her gaze. He started whistling softly, some unknown tune. It started to grate on her nerves.

"Spike, do you have to do that?" she snapped.

Buffy could have almost cried with relief, when there was a knock on their room door, she shot up off the sofa to answer it. A young boy, maybe no more than sixteen years old, stood there with an envelope on a silver tray.

"Miss Summers?" asked the boy.

She nodded and took the envelope from him. The boy continued to stare hopefully at her. He had already heard how the couple in room 210, were a little slow on the uptake, when it came to tipping. Spike dipped his hand in the pocket of his trousers, looking for cash. He walked over to where Buffy stood. Spike then wrapped his arms around her; she stiffened as he kissed her neck. She felt his smirk rather than saw it. Buffy was fuming inside, but she continued to smile sweetly at the boy. Spike leaned in closer to her as he reached past her to hand the boy his tip.

"Bye, have a nice day now," said Buffy, with saccharine sweetness.

She let the door fly, almost slamming it in the boy's face.

Spike backed off the moment the door shut. It was too late. Buffy kicked his legs out from under him, so that he fell onto the carpet and his back. While he was for a moment, stunned, Buffy snapped the leg off the nearby coffee table and jumped on him. Pinning him to the floor, with her superior strength.

"You're not gonna go all Johnny Depp on me, and trash our nice room are you love?" he asked nervously.

"That depends on you," Buffy said, as she rested the point of her makeshift stake against his chest.

"You know you're not going to use that, why do you keep playing these little games. How about we have another round of hide the stake? You seemed to like it well enough last night," Spike replied.

"There will be no hiding of any 'stakes' anywhere, unless it's of the wooden variety and it's me sticking it in you," she snapped.

"Didn't know that you went in for that kind of thing. Hidden depths there slayer. As much as I enjoy you're being on top, hadn't we better see what that letter was all about? I'm not risking my two million quid for a cheap thrill," he mocked her.

"You pig," Buffy swore as she grabbed the envelope, from where it had fallen on the carpet.

She tore open the envelope and read the contents, her face falling still further. Buffy got up off Spike.

"Bad news?" he asked, as he sat up.

"You mean worse than waking up in your arms this morning?" she replied.

Spike ignored her barbs. Growing a little weary of her attitude, he decided that he'd better come clean about the night before if he was to get any peace.

"Look, about last night." he began.

"I don't want to hear another word on the subject, it happened, there's nothing I can do to change that. I just wanna forget the whole thing, not that I remember much any way," said Buffy.

"But that's the point, the reason why you don't remember any thing is because."

Buffy cut him off.

"Not another word," she said warningly.

Spike swore.

"Bleeding hell, you are one stubborn bit.er girl. Have it your way then, but you'll be sorry," he snapped at her.

"I doubt that, by the way, Quentin is sending a limo to pick us up at 4:30, it should be dark enough for you to venture out by then," Buffy said as she picked up a magazine and pretended to read it.

"I never knew you cared," he replied.

Spike walked over to the mini fridge in the corner, opening the door. He raised his brows in surprise as he saw several blood bags resting inside. Feeling a little peckish, he tore the corner off one of them and drained the contents into a glass. He raised it to his lips and took a huge gulp.

"It's better warm, but beggars can't be choosers," he shrugged.

"Eww, that was a little more information than I needed," said Buffy.

Spike frowned, smacking his lips lightly.

"Is it just me, or does this blood taste funny? Here try a bit," he said, thrusting the glass under her nose.

"And again I say eww!" she replied as she flinched away from the coppery smell.

"Probably just me then," Spike said, as he swallowed down the rest of the blood.

Spike clutched his head as a wave of dizziness came over him. The glass he was holding, fell to the carpet. Buffy looked up at him.

"Spike! What is it?" She asked.

"I don't feel so good," he groaned as he sank to the floor.

Chapter 8

Buffy scrambled up, off the sofa, and knelt down beside Spike.

"Spike, Spike, are you okay? Answer me," demanded Buffy, as she shook him none too gently.

Buffy looked at the empty glass that lay on the floor next to him. A few crimson drops had spilled onto the creamy white carpet. *That's going to stain* She thought hysterically.

Buffy tried not to panic. How did you check for signs of life in a person, who was already technically dead. She picked him up and carried him over to the sofa. He couldn't be dead. Otherwise, he would have dusted, she reasoned with herself.

She sat on the floor, next to the sofa. Buffy waited for some sign from him that he would be okay. Several minutes had passed and still nothing had happened.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures," She said aloud.

Buffy ran to the bathroom, finding a glass by the sink, she filled it with cold water. Taking it with her to the lounge, Buffy threw it all over the unconscious Spike.

Spike regained consciousness, the icy cold water, bringing him round. He turned to look at Buffy; she was still standing there, holding the empty glass in her hand.

"What the bleeding hell did you do that for? And how did I end up on the sofa?" He asked.

Buffy let out a deep breath. He was okay, or it seemed he was okay. Well, as Spike was ever going to be. She was truly relieved. Buffy didn't want to think about that now, and instead filed it away for future reference.

"You really don't remember?" asked Buffy.

Spike frowned, wiping his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

"One minute I was having a drink, and then the next thing I know, I'm lying on the sofa, getting a face full of cold water," He replied.

"You passed out, I think it may be something to do with that blood you were drinking. You said it tasted funny," Buffy, reminded him.

"You think?" He asked sarcastically.

Spike tried to sit up, he clutched his head as another wave of dizziness washed over him.

"Hey, take it easy. Just sit there for a moment," said Buffy.

She put out a hand to steady him. Realising what she had done, she snatched it away, as if burned. Buffy looked at him to see if he had noticed, but he had closed his eyes again.

"Spike?" she asked, worried that he had fallen unconscious again.

"I'm still here, stop fussing woman," he groaned.

Buffy was stung by his words, but she tried to ignore it, knowing he was probably feeling unwell. She went over to the mini fridge, where the discarded blood bag rested. Picking it up, she sniffed at it cautiously.

"Doesn't smell any different, maybe I should ring Giles. He'll know what to do," said Buffy.

"What ever you do, could you do it in the bedroom? My head hurts," admitted Spike.

Buffy looked at him.

"You'll be okay for five minutes?" she asked.

"I'll be fine. All this concern for my welfare is scaring me. Are you sure they didn't swap you for a new Buffy while I was out of it?" asked Spike.

"Fine, rot for all I care," Buffy lied, as she picked up the handset and marched off into the bedroom.

Buffy returned to the lounge several minutes later, Spike was sitting up watching the TV.

"You seem a little brighter," said Buffy.

"I feel a little better, what did the old git have to say about it all then?" asked Spike.

"Giles thinks it's more than a little suspicious. He wasn't too pleased by the early morning wakeup call either. Seem to be making a habit of that. Look, I have to go out for a moment, are there any post offices near here?" She asked.

"How should I know? If you have some holiday postcards to send, give them to the desk," grumbled Spike.

Buffy frowned.

"Don't be a dumb ass Spike, Giles wants me to send him a sample of that blood you drank," She said.

"It must be those bastards at the council that did it. Thought that Quentin guy was a little too good to be true, but messing with a vamps food supply, that's a bit below the belt," He growled.

"Well the sooner I send this off, the sooner we will know. And don't say anything about what happened when we see him either," said Buffy.

"My lips are sealed," he said.

Buffy looked at his mouth, wondering with a perverse sense of curiosity, what she had allowed those very lips to do to her only last night. Heat flooded her body at the thought. She couldn't let personal feelings get in the way right now, not that Buffy would admit to having any, where Spike was concerned.

"Yes, well I'd better get going," said Buffy.

She picked up the empty blood bag and wrapped it a plastic bag. Buffy grabbed her coat from a nearby chair and quickly shrugged into it.

"Sure you won't get lost? It's a big city out there. Bigger than Sunnydale," He stated.

"I came from a big city, I used to live in LA once," she informed him.

"Don't be long, and you'll need some money," Spike replied, as he reached in his jeans pocket.

Buffy took the money, and grinned at him saucily.

"Why will you miss me? Not!" Buffy said, before she left.

Buffy was gone, and he was left alone with the TV and his thoughts.

"Maybe just a little," He replied, to the empty room.

Spike's eyes kept wandering to the clock on the wall; Buffy had been gone for over two hours. He just hoped the silly bint hadn't gone and gotten herself lost. It wouldn't start to get dark for at least another hour and a half, and that was the time, when the car would be arriving to take them to the watchers council. He got up from his seat, and starting pacing the room like a caged tiger.

Buffy turned the door handle, drawing back in surprise as it was wrenched out of her grasp. Spike stood there, looking furious.

"What sort of time do you call this? I thought you were lost or worse," said Spike, accusingly.

"I am the slayer, I think I can handle a couple of hours on my own. Stop acting like my mom, Spike. Besides, I can't always rely on you to show me around. Especially in emergency situations that require, my going out during daylight hours," She said airly.

"So, did you get the deed done?" He asked.

"Of course, the package is winging its way to Sunnydale as we speak. I also stopped off at a butchers to get you some fresh blood, we don't want a repeat performance of earlier," Buffy replied.

"Thanks gorgeous, does this mean you are getting a little sweet on Spike?" He asked.

Buffy clenched her fists, keeping them pinned to her side.

"Never, we may have made love...er had sex last night, but it changes nothing," She said.

"For some one who didn't want to hear another word about it, you seem to like bringing it up a lot. Feel up for another round? We have a little time to kill before the car comes for us," said Spike, touching his lower teeth with the tip of his tongue.

Buffy flushed uncomfortably, if she was honest with herself, she had thought about little else while out. If only she could remember exactly what had happened. Surely, it was better this way, Buffy reasoned with herself.

"I have to go and get ready, you can put these in the fridge. You're a big boy," said Buffy, as she handed him the bag with the blood in it.

"I'll take that as a no then," he said, as she walked off, slamming the bedroom door behind her.

The Limo turned into Exhibition Road. The prestigious Watcher's Council was situated in Knightsbridge, Harrods was just around the corner. The car had just driven past it. Buffy sighed longingly; she had always wanted to visit the world famous store. It probably had a wicked shoe department.

Spike had watched the expressions flit across her face, interpreting them correctly.

"Maybe another time slayer," He whispered in her ear.

Buffy looked at him in surprise, not even aware that he had been observing her.

The car came to a stop and the chauffeur opened the door for Buffy to get out. The building that housed the watchers council was every bit as imposing as Buffy had thought it would be.

Spike got out of the other side and walked over to Buffy.

"Would you look at that? A building full of anally retentive English guys," said Spike.

"You are English too don't forget, so does that make you one?" asked Buffy, innocently.

"There are two hundred and fifty employees of the watchers council to be exact," the chauffeur informed them.

"Gee, thanks for the infomercial," said Buffy, sardonically.

"Well in for a penny, in for a pound. Well actually two million pounds, but who's counting," said Spike.

They entered the main doors; Mr Travers was waiting for them in the lobby.

"Good evening, I trust everything is well with you?" asked Quentin.

Spike frowned.

"Actually there is something.Ouch!" said Spike, as Buffy elbowed him in the ribs.

"Shall we do the grand tour?" He asked them both.

Quentin walked off on the direction of the elevator doors; he took a gold key from his waistcoat, and turned it in a panel on the wall. He stepped into the elevator, waiting for Buffy and Spike to do the same.

Spike looked at Buffy, she nodded at him almost imperceptibly. She entered the elevator and he followed, hoping they were not about to fall in to some elaborate trap.

They were both surprised as the elevator started travelling downwards. To all intense purposes, the façade of the building didn't look like the kind to have a basement level.

Quentin looked at them and smiled.

"Most of what we do, goes on below ground level, all the high security operations, anyway. Underneath this building is an abandoned underground station that we have made our own," He informed them both.

Spike shrugged indifferently.

"Sorry if the history lesson doesn't give me a happy mate, let's just get down to business," said Spike.

The elevator doors opened on to a poorly lit, underground platform. The air was colder, below street level. Buffy shivered against the drop in temperature. Spike slipped off his leather duster and placed it around her shoulders. To his surprise, she accepted it gratefully.

"All in good time William," said Quentin, pompously.

"If this is the heart of the watchers council, then it looks like it's had a coronary to me," said Buffy, as she eyed the dusty neglect of her surroundings.

"Never judge a book by its cover, Miss Summers," said Quentin.

"Hmmm, does that apply to you too?" asked Buffy.

"Touché," Smiled Quentin.

Quentin leaned forward to press a broken tile on the wall. The whole surface of the wall slid back to reveal a solid steel door, which then proceeded to open inwardly. It opened on a huge operations room. Many people, both male and female were scurrying around in white lab coats.

"This looks a little too familiar for my liking," said Spike, uncomfortably.

"This is our genetics department. We have a big project we are working on at this very moment," said Quentin, proudly.

"And what does that entail? Genetics makes me nervous," said Buffy.

"The project that our team of scientists are working on, will insure the survival of the human race. We are safeguarding the future," said Quentin, gravely.

"What's it called?" asked Buffy.

"Project Re-Birth, I will acquaint you with it during your stay here, just so you know it's all above board," said Quentin.

"Great, science my favourite," said Buffy, feigning a yawn.

"William, there are some scientists here, that are very eager to talk to you about your experiences during your captivity," said Quentin.

"That's easy, got zapped and woke up a nancy boy who can't fight a fly off a rice pudding, end of story," Spike replied.

"Yes, I am sure there's more to it than that, I have to introduce Buffy to some trainee watchers, if you go over to that woman in the brown suit, her name is Miss Davies, she will show you where to go," said Quentin, dismissively.

He walked off, leaving Spike to make his own way. Buffy turned towards Spike, her look serious.

"Be careful, don't take any chances. There's something about this place that gives me the creeps," said Buffy.

Spike smiled at her warmly.

"You too," he said as he strode off.

Buffy's heart beat a little erratically in her chest, as she watched him go.

"Miss Summers?" asked Quentin, impatiently.

"Sorry kinda got lost there for a moment," Buffy sighed, as she followed him.

"Well that certainly rated as one of the most boring afternoons of my life, and believe me, I have a lot of room for comparison," said Spike.

"It was kinda like watching paint dry, no wonder they want to pay us so much, it's danger money just in case they bore us to death," said Buffy.

"You know what Summers, you're not too bad when you drop the holier than thou act," said Spike.

She yawned tiredly.

" Thanks for the compliment, I think. Now if you don't mind, I am gonna hot the sack. It's been a long day," said Buffy.

Spike was a little disappointed, but he hid it well.

"No, you go ahead love, I'll just sit here and see what fine programmes England has to offer. Can't be any worse than last time I was here," he said.

Quentin, sat reading Lavinia's daily report on Buffy and Spike's movements of the day. Buffy had been to a post office and had posted a small package to Mr Giles around 1pm. Another operative had reported that one of the blood bags had been missing from the mini fridge also. Time was running out, he was going to have to bring things forward a little, if this was going to succeed. He knew Rupert was not a stupid man, once he had analysed that blood, the game was going to be up.

He had infected Spike's blood bags with the blood of the of the Lazarus demon, the last of his demonic kind. Moreover, if Spike had indeed ingested the blood, then things were going very well indeed.