A/N: Hey all! As you can probably tell from the lack of updates, I have no muse for 'Broken' at the current time. I decided that a lighter, fluffier story was just what I needed to cure my writer's block clues, and this is what I came up with. Never fear, the chapters will be longer than this (it is only the prologue) but I'd like to know whether you think the idea is worth continuing or not. Enjoy, my little ones!

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When she looked back on it, Buffy Giles, nee Summers, thought that it started with that fateful Monday morning, early in the summer of 1999. Her husband, however, argued that if you wanted to be that particular about it, it really started back when she first applied for the job at the world-famous Hotel Elise. Smiling, she let herself be caught up in the memories.

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Buffy tugged nervously at the hem of her smart, charcoal grey pencil skirt. It was part of a ‘casual suit’ (though she privately wondered if such a thing existed) her mother had bought for her, stunning in its simple elegance. This was the third interview she’d had in as many days, but it was by far the most nerve-wracking. Hotel Elise was notorious for its willingness to do whatever it took to keep its customers happy.

Buffy was applying for a place that was considered highly unattainable by many of the people who worked in similar positions worldwide. Each five- or six-room suite in the hotel, reserved for either very rich business people or celebrities, had its own private team of staff, numbering ten in total. There were two cleaners, a chef and two assistants, a masseuse, a butler, a PR coordinator, a personal secretary and a general overseer.

This was the job Buffy was applying for. If she was hired, which she knew was highly unlikely, her job would be to direct her team and make sure that the resident’s every need was catered for. She would settle disputes between the staff and set the tasks each morning, working around the schedule she and the PR coordinator would have to work out with the resident’s secretary in advance. She would also have to smooth out the little kinks that arose as the stay progressed. It was a demanding job.

The door opened to reveal a tall, dark-haired man with a closed face but warm, dark brown eyes and a slightly smaller but stunningly beautiful woman. Her hair curled in loose, glossy ringlets down past her shoulders, emphasising a delicate but intelligent face with huge, soft brown eyes. As Buffy rose to greet them, the man nodded politely as the woman flashed perfect, dazzlingly white teeth in a smile. The man cleared his throat before speaking.

“Good morning, Miss Summers. Sorry to have kept you waiting. I’m Liam Angelus, general manager and owner of Hotel Elise.” At a cough from his side, he suddenly smiled down into the raised brow being directed his way. “Co-owner.” He amended.

The woman turned to Buffy with a warm smile and thrust a hand out to be shaken. “I’m Cordelia Chase. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” As Buffy shook the small, dainty hand gingerly, she felt the cool press of a ring against her skin. She glanced down, unable to stop her jaw dropping.

Cordelia, seeing her reaction, grinned smugly. She brandished the glittering stone on her ring finger proudly. Buffy examined it carefully, for a moment forgetting herself as she sighed wistfully. “Wow. I hate you.” Mr Angelus, on hearing her, covered a deep chuckle with a cough. Buffy coloured, snatching her fingers away.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it literally! It’s just, it’s so pretty and you’re so lucky…” Seeing the barely concealed smiles on their faces, she felt a new wave of heat settle on her cheeks. Mortified, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath before smiling weakly. “I’ll be quiet now.”

As Angel shook her hand, he managed to fight off the grin that was threatening to appear at any moment. Unlike their previous applicants, Miss Summers obviously had a sense of humour. That was always a plus. He waited for Cordy to stop giggling before settling himself down into the comfortable leather chair used solely for the interviews the hotel held. Once upon a time, he would have had a board of important staff members facing the applicant, all sitting in hard, uncomfortable chairs and firing questions at random.

When Cordy had swept into his life, however, she had quickly made some changes. She had firmly insisted that at least half of the aforementioned staff board be gently dismissed, though they were all glad to retire, as most were past the age when they should have done so but had stayed on out of love for the hotel. She’d made some simple adjustments to the rooms that made them warmer and more inviting, as well as hiring private managers for each of the more luxurious suites.

It was Cordy who had first started the personal interviews, soon after he had made her co-owner of the hotel and his fiancée. They had quickly discovered that the less intimidating setting provided a more truthful view of a possible staff member’s personality and professional qualities, which had in turn made the hotel much more popular, especially among the ‘Money Bags’, the Elise’s private slang for the clients who were rich beyond belief.

Looking at the flushed face of the young woman before him, he pictured her in her potential place. The suit she was wearing, soft grey and fitted to her slender, petite body, gave the impression of a graceful professional, as did the business-like bun her hair was pulled back into. A few months living with Cordy had taught him to see the artful way she’d pulled loose a few strands of hair to frame her pretty, open face; it made the hairstyle less forbidding and made her seem more approachable.

Lost in thought, he barely paid attention as Cordy soothed the girl’s embarrassment away and they began chatting like old friends. She certainly looked the part, and more. The plain but elegant suit didn’t hide the slight curves of her body or the fragile slimness of her waist. The quiet black heels she wore made her slender legs look longer than they actually were, her light make-up not too obvious but noticeable enough to show she believed in keeping up appearances.

He was jolted from his thoughts when he realised that the women were looking at him expectantly. He cleared his throat, opening the file she’d submitted and studying it for a moment before beginning the more official part of the interview. He watched her straighten, the smile no longer lingering on her pouting lips, her expression briskly business-like. Pleased, he began.

“Miss Summers, I’d just like to verify some of the information we have here. You are twenty-six years of age, correct?” She nodded at his questioning look. “Good. As far as past experience goes, you have worked in a number of hotels, though none in the near vicinity. You have usually been part of an administrative team, but want to take on a more active role in customer care. Is there anything you’d like to add that makes you suitable for the job?”

Cordy noted that Buffy paused and thought about the question for a moment before answering, which pleased her. Some candidates were too eager, blurting out rash answers to similar questions without considering what they were being asked. Buffy looked relaxed but alert, and when she spoke it was with a soft, contemplative tone of voice.

“I’ve always wanted to have a job in management, but at the same time I enjoy and am good at interacting with different kinds of people. I guess that I could say I’m not afraid of hard work and I’m good at dealing with problems, both administrative and practical. This kind of position would suit me as a person and as a professional, which is great because I don’t see the point in being stuck in a job that you hate. It would be a dream come true for me to work here.”

Angel smiled reassuringly and Cordy beamed warmly. Buffy gave a silent sigh of relief and smiled back. She relaxed more as the interview progressed, finding that the questions were much less challenging than she’d thought they would be. By the time she rose to shake their hands at the end, she felt completely confident in herself. Even if she didn’t get the position, she’d learned that she could be cool and collected under pressure and show herself off well, for want of a better phrase.

She closed the door quietly behind her, her heels clicking on the gleaming tiles as she exited the building. Angel and Cordy looked at one another and nodded, smiling. He lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles as their eyes met, smouldering with heated promise. They left the room quickly, headed for their private rooms at the back of the hotel. As they passed through his office, he stopped at his secretary’s desk.

“Cancel the other interviews for the Whip.” He ordered. This was the slang the hotel staff jokingly used when referring to the overseers. She covered a smile with her hand as she picked up the phone, watching as the hulking man was pulled through the entrance into their flat and the door was slammed. Ah, young love she thought with a chuckle.

A week later, Buffy stood took a deep breath as the elevator doors slid smoothly open and she got her first view of the floor she was to manage. Level twelve out of the total fifteen floors of the huge hotel was one of the more expensive suites, and thus came with the full customer service package. Of the fifteen levels, only the top four and the penthouse suite had their own teams of staff. Floors ten and nine shared a team of equal size to Buffy’s, and the other floors were tended to by the same number of staff found in most hotels worldwide.

The floor itself was two thirds suite for the client and one third private quarters for the overseer. Though she had found the idea of a live-in job daunting at first, Buffy had soon realised that she was expected to cater to all the customer’s needs at any time of the day or night, so living in such close proximity would turn out to be a blessing, she was sure. Stepping out onto the thick, lush carpet, she took in her surroundings, her lips parting on an awed gasp.

The hallway was a pristine, creamy off-white that made the narrow space look infinitely larger than it was. Two chandeliers, small enough to be tasteful but glimmering with exquisite beauty nonetheless, softly lit the long room, the soft carpet stretching for what seemed like miles ahead of her. Every five metres or so, an elegant painting gleamed in a flawless gold frame, matching the gilded brackets of the overhead lighting.

She decided to check out her own flat before exploring the customer’s suite. Passing the dark, varnished oak of the client’s door with its graceful, curving letters proudly displaying ‘Suite 9’ she continued on. Her own door was in much the same style, though there were no elegantly swooping letters for her. Instead she was surprised to see a small but shiny brass plaque with ‘Buffy Summers, General Overseer’ printed on it. To the left of the door was a simple doorbell, with a sign above it that read If you have requests, problems or questions, do not hesitate to contact your general overseer. Please press the button and wait for assistance.

Raising a brow, she put down her two fairly large suitcases of belongings and reached for the key she’d slipped into her pocket. Pulling it out, she inserted it in the lock and twisted. With a firm push from her foot, the door swung inwards. She gripped her suitcase handles hard and, with some trepidation, stepped into her new home, the door swinging silently shut behind her and automatically locking with a soft click.

Buffy looked around, a relieved smile sliding onto her lips. Her flat consisted of a small entrance hall, complete with utility room containing a washing machine and tumble dryer, a bathroom, a living room, a kitchen, an office and a bedroom. Beyond that, she could fill it with whatever possessions and furniture she desired, provided she cleared it out if she found that she wanted to leave.

Though they were by no means as effortlessly elegant as the hallway leading to them, her quarters were homey and quite spacious for someone living alone. The entrance hall had a glossy wooden floor and a single display cabinet, large but not overbearingly so. A tall lamp with a simple wrought iron stand that twisted up and disappeared under a cream lampshade provided ample light for the room.

From there she passed through a door to the left, which led straight into the kitchen. The walls were painted a light blue with darker blue trim and the floor was tiled with soft plastic squares of blue and white in a checkerboard style. Pretty white cupboards lined the bottom half of the wall along one side of the room, topped with dark blue tiles to form a work surface. In one corner a fridge with a small freezer on top of it hummed quietly, a microwave standing next to it, the clock figures displayed there glowing warmly. A fan oven was settled in place of a cupboard at the opposite end of the room, next to it a dishwasher that lay dormant.

Going through a door at the top of the room, she went in turn through the living room, her office, the bathroom and the bedroom, each decorated simply but with a minimalist kind of elegance. The bedroom held the only true luxury in the whole flat. A king-size bed took up most of the room, complete with posts and a gauzy cream canopy. This one frivolous pleasure made up for the almost too-simple décor of the rest of her new living space; with a few personal touches here and there, it could be turned into a warm and comfortable home.

After depositing her suitcases on the soft mattress and unpacking the one that contained all the basic necessities, she stowed it away under the bed and straightened, pausing in front of the bathroom mirror. She touched up her eyeliner and the clear lip-gloss she wore instead of garish lipstick, she smoothed her hair back into a simple ponytail and coaxed imaginary wrinkles out the suit she had decided on buying – a gorgeous silk-and-cotton affair that had set her back a fair amount but was in a midnight blue so dark it was almost black that set off her colouring perfectly.

Taking a deep breath, she slipped her key into the discreet inside pocket of the jacket and grabbed the clipboard and pen she’d been provided with. She exited her flat, waiting only long enough to hear the click of the lock activating before turning to the matter at hand. It was time to meet her team, the people who would be her primary mode of care-taking when it came to clients. Without them on her side, her job would be very difficult indeed. The suite door was activated by an electronic key-card, unlike her own quarters, so she knocked gently when she got there.

The door was almost instantly pulled open by a tall, dark-haired man with neat glasses perched on his nose. He was dressed in true butler fashion, down to the white gloves on his hands. He bowed her through the door with a polite “Good evening, madam.” She noted his English accent with faint surprise: he was a long way from home in the City of Angels. She grinned, remembering the way she’d overheard a couple of pleased tourists referring to the hotel as the City of Angel; it was certainly busy enough.

Thanking him, she let him lead her into the suite’s entrance hall, far more richly decorated than her flat’s simpler counterpart but by no means gaudy. There in a semi-circle, all dressed for a days work, stood her team. Some regarded her with curiosity, others with nervous but welcoming smiles and one or two with hostility. Biting back her own nervousness, she greeted them with a dazzling smile.

“Good morning, everyone. My name, if you haven’t already heard it, is Buffy Summers. It’s a pleasure to meet you all.” A brief pause, in which she let her eyes settle on the butler, who had stood himself at one end of the curved line. “Could I ask you all to introduce yourselves? I can’t guarantee to remember your names of course, but feel free ‘accidentally’ forget mine if I call you some hideous nickname.”

There was a low, muted hum of mirth and she almost felt the tension in the atmosphere lift. The ice broken, all but a few of the men and women before her smiled as her eyes came to rest on them. First she greeted Wesley Wyndham-Price, the surprisingly young but very British butler. Then there were Anya and Willow, the two cleaners, Warren, the chef and his two assistants, Andrew and Jonathon. Buffy took an instant liking to the shy, blonde-haired Tara, the massage expert, but felt a flicker of irritation as Drusilla, the PR coordinator, and Harmony Kendall, the personal secretary glared at her with evident dislike. They hadn’t even got to know her, but seemed to have an aversion to her already.

Determined not to let the two women’s antagonism get her down, she recited their names, drawing a ragged cheer when she got them all right first time. Giggling, she shook hands and, in Willow’s case, received a warm hug. When the chatter of voices died down, she cleared her throat. All but Drusilla and Harmony gathered round to hear her speak, recognising her as a boss who was likely to be more fun than not, at least for the time being. When she was sure she had their attention, she spoke with quiet authority.

“Well, it was good to meet you all and I hope you’ll get used to seeing me around sooner rather than later. I have an announcement to make. Tomorrow afternoon, we’ll be getting our first customers.” She glanced down at her clipboard. “Misters William Giles and Alexander Harris will be arriving here at approximately ten p.m. tomorrow night.”

She stopped abruptly as she noticed the deathly silence and the pale, excited faces of her staff. Frowning, she put one hand on her hip. “Is there a problem? I know it’s not much time, but…”

Willow raised a hand. “Umm, Miss Summers? You don’t… Don’t you watch TV?”

“It’s just Buffy, and no, not that often. Why?”

Harmony’s nasal voice rang out scornfully over the gathered assembly of staff members. “Oh no reason. We’re only going to be meeting Hollywood’s next big things.” Her voice dropped in volume, but there was no mistaking her next words. “God, culturally retarded much?” The other staff members except Drusilla gasped; the PR rep only sniggered.

Buffy raised an eyebrow coolly. “Is that a problem for you, Miss Kendall? If you don’t feel up to the challenge of looking after a high-profile client, I can give you an extended vacation and hire someone in your place.” Her voice was sweetly polite, at odds with the veiled threat of her words. When Harmony pouted but shook her head sullenly, Buffy smiled and clapped her hands.

“Good. By tomorrow lunchtime, let’s say two o’clock at the latest, I want this place spotless. I don’t see any need to do an inspection, I trust your abilities to do your jobs, but I want everybody in full uniform and ready to greet our guests by nine forty-five. Is that alright?” She smiled at them and they smiled back, pleased by her compliment. “Excellent! If you have a problem, don’t hesitate to come and find me. I’ll be in my office most of today, just ring the bell. Lunch break will be from twelve until two, provided you think you can get the place pristine in the time that gives you. I’ll meet you all back here at six. Goodbye, my darlings.”

She fluttered her fingers in an exaggeratedly girlish wave and exited to the sound of their laughter. Once outside, she sagged against the wall. Thank God, I didn’t screw it up. Shaking herself out of her self-indulgent moment of relief, she went through to her office to look through the documents that the customer’s agency had faxed through. The company came down very hard on the fact that this was a vacation for the two, and they would prefer not to be bothered by fans during their stay. Buffy thought of Gunn, the devastatingly handsome security guard with the lean, deadly grace of a panther, and smiled.

Neither man had any allergies, but both preferred not to eat mushrooms or spinach. Making a note to talk to Warren and his assistants about setting a menu for the men’s week-long stay before tomorrow evening, Buffy laid the first few sheets of paper aside. She scanned through the initial list of publicity events that the agency wanted the men to attend and set it aside to go through with Drusilla (the thought made her groan with weary resignation). The other documents were various and assorted bits of legal rubbish, and other pompous demands from the agency.

By the time her alarm beeped at one o’clock, she was being loudly reminded by her stomach that she hadn’t eaten for some time. Knowing the fridge was empty, she grabbed her purse and headed out to the nearby supermarket. When she returned, laden with bags, she felt a pair of strong hands gently but firmly prising them from her grip. She looked up into smiling, dark eyes in an equally dark face. Gunn’s drawled voice made her giggle.

“I can’t let a lady carry her own bags. C’mon, let’s go to your room.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. She blushed and laughed but punched his arm lightly. He gave her a mournful look with wide, innocent eyes and she stuck her tongue out at him. They made their way up to her floor and he waited patiently for her to open the door before gently setting her grocery bags down.

“Thanks, Gunn.”

“No problemo.” He gave her a quick salute and strolled back down towards the elevator, whistling quietly.

By the time Buffy had stowed all her new goodies away and eaten a cheese and ham sandwich, she was feeling decidedly more relaxed about her job than she had been only that morning. She met with the staff again briefly at six o’clock, explaining that for the workers who had to commute to the hotel for only brief periods each day, namely Tara, Willow, Anya, Harmony and Drusilla, she would be working out convenient schedules tomorrow morning. She asked them to have a list of the best hours for them each day, and she would try to fit them in with the client’s needs.

For those who worked longer days, Warren, Andrew and Jonathon, she had checked with the customers’ agency, and the mealtimes had been agreed on. Breakfast would be served at eight in the morning, lunch at one o’clock, and dinner at eight in the evenings. The chefs were allowed to decide when they would come in, but she gave them each a copy of the menu she’d drawn up. Warren and his assistants instantly agreed that it was fine, made a few minor adjustments and promised to be in early enough to have the meals prepared on time.

Wesley was the other worker who had dauntingly long hours, though he wasn’t quite as readily available as Buffy herself was. He was to be available to the customers from seven each morning to eleven at night. During the night time hours, Buffy herself would be there to field all requests or questions, though the clients were reminded before they booked that keeping their caretaker’s need for sleep etc. into account would be appreciated.

She dismissed the team after her quick talk, telling them to get an early night. Once they’d left, she returned to her flat. The time flew by, and Buffy retired to bed early, setting her alarm for eight o’clock the following morning, as her team was due in at nine; she’d given them a lenient starting time for their first day of working under her. She slept well, and woke feeling refreshed and ready to face the challenges of the new day.

By the time ten o’clock rolled around, the staff members were all waiting nervously in the appropriate positions. Wesley stood by the door, ready to take coats and bags. Willow stood slightly behind Buffy and to one side, holding a tray on which sat two flutes of chilled champagne and two mint-cream filled chocolates. The rest of the team were ranged around them in a semi-circle, all looking immaculate despite the long day’s work.

There was the low murmur of voices outside the door. In the sudden silence inside the suite, the rasp of the key-card and the beep that signalled the door opening suddenly seemed too loud. Wesley pulled the door open all the way, bowing the men through the door and taking their coats and cases. The men kept their backs to the team, thanking Wesley in quiet voices. As he shut the door and turned, Buffy stepped forward, extending her hand.

“I’m Buffy Summers. Welcome to the Hotel Elise.”

Her voice abruptly stopped as the taller man turned to face her and she looked up into the most startlingly blue eyes she had ever seen.

He was tired. Scratch that, he was knackered. Every cell in his body was saturated with exhaustion. When he remembered why, a throb of pain made him close his eyes, fighting off the grief and emptiness he’d been left with, now there were no more days of shooting to keep him occupied.

He’d met Lilah Morgan, newly promoted Junior Partner at international law firm Wolfram and Heart, a little over two years ago. His own career had only just been taking off: he’d been signed on as the lead role in Slayers and Souls and the sharper Hollywood critics had tagged him as The Next Big Thing.

It had been predicted that the series would hit the ‘top ten’ list within a few years. Within six months, it had rocketed to number one, smashing the previous record along the way. To help promote the show he’d been attending an evening function, his first as a rising star, when he’d seen her.

Her lithe, curvy body was cased in crimson silk, her gleaming hair pulled into an elegant knot at the back of her head. She’d noticed him staring, breaking off from her conversation with an older man to shoot him a smouldering look from hypnotically narrow eyes. Blood-red nails trailed up the stem of her wine glass as she smirked, licked her lips and knocked back the glass of expensive wine in one swallow. He’d been hooked from then on.

Their relationship had been passionate and fiery; they’d argued constantly, every little disagreement inevitably ending in a wild, animalistic fuck in the first available place. Towards the end of the second season of the show, however, their usual jibes had turned into venomous barbs, the lightness gone back to whatever place it had come from.

Still, it had come as a terrible shock to him when they’d finished shooting the season finale a few hours earlier than expected, only to arrive at their flat to find her on her back with her legs spread, one of the extras screwing her on their bed. He’d left without a word, hitting one of the many bars LA had to offer and trying to drink himself into oblivion.

Xander, one of his co-stars and his best friend, had found him there. The deceptively boyish-looking young man had pulled him kicking and screaming back into reality, but, seeing the depth of his friend’s desperation, had arranged this little vacation. The hotel promised utter bliss, and he was secretly looking forward to being taken care of, rather than constantly having to look after others.

They arrived on Monday night in a suave black limousine, the tinted windows giving it a slightly cliché but fabulously Hollywood edge. The chauffeur, a California native currently going by the name Jay, leaped out and held open the door. Xander handed him a tip and he grinned, tipping his hat politely.

“A pleasure doing business with you!”

A porter lingering outside the door stepped forward as Spike bent to pick up his luggage. The youth’s voice was effortlessly courteous, despite the way his eyes widened in recognition as he gazed at the Brit’s pale face. “I’ll get those for you, sirs. Please, continue into the reception area. Do you have reservations?” At Xander’s nod, he continued. “Someone will be with you directly.”

They passed into a huge, hall-like room with a dark, hardwood floor. They were on their way to the reception desk when there was a gasp behind them. They turned in time to face a wide-eyed young man wearing too much cologne and scary amounts of hair gel. His voice was a bleat of awe.

“Dude, you’re Spike Giles! And Xander Harris! I can’t believe it, I love the show. Can I get your autographs? Are you staying here long? Pictures?”

From nowhere he produced a small, sleek digital camera and raised it, mouth still flapping. Seeing his friend’s scowl, Xander prepared to restrain him if necessary when a large, heavy hand descended on the fan’s shoulder. The two men looked up into a genially smiling face and sharp eyes so dark they looked almost black. The guard’s voice was friendly.

“Sorry, bro, it’s time you moved along. C’mon now, be a good boy.”

With a murmured apology to the actors, the strong fingers tightened their grip and the boy was propelled out the main entrance. Spike raised a brow at Xander, who shrugged. They turned back to the desk, coming face to face with a smiling receptionist who had crossed the hall and stood waiting patiently during the entire episode.

“Our sincerest apologies, sir. Your luggage has already been taken up. Here is the key-card to your suite; the overseer on your floor will answer any questions. Enjoy your stay!”

She directed them to the VIP elevator, where a bell-boy asked them their floor number. Xander answered and the doors slid closed with a hiss of hydraulic power. The ride up was smooth and quick, but both men were getting more tired by the minute. When they arrived at level twelve, they fumbled for a tip, but the boy just smiled and sent them off with a polite ‘I hope you enjoy your stay, sirs.’

Another porter stood silently outside their door, but he gave a nod of greeting when they saw him. Xander fumbled with the key-card for a moment before the light flipped to green and a soft beep heralded the lock disengaging. He reached out to push the door open when it swung back, revealing a stately butler dressed in an immaculate, crisp uniform.

He bowed them through the door, taking their coats and the cases handed to him from outside. Spike roused enough to thank him, Xander doing the same. Just as they turned to examine the suite, a musical, feminine voice greeted them. Spike looked up from his contemplation of the carpet (Looks comfy. Could probably sleep there…) to meet brilliant green eyes. He had to clamp his teeth together to stop his jaw dropping.

Not only was he facing the most luxurious suite he’d stayed in during his entire career, there was a line of faces smiling politely at him. On top of that, the most adorable little blonde was staring up at him with a welcoming smile on her full, glossy lips. He blinked, tempted to pinch himself but then deciding that he didn’t want to wake from this particular dream.

His eyes swept over the length of her body, some distant part of his brain taking note of the clipboard she carried, while the rest of him just gawped. She was petite but not too short, her soft curves emphasised by the elegant, well-cut suit she wore. Dark gold hair was pulled back into a neat but by no means stern bun, though a few strands had escaped to frame her pretty face. A slightly upturned nose made her human rather than celestially beautiful and her dazzling green eyes glittered with intelligence and curiosity.

After a moment of silence, Buffy collected herself. Trying to ignore the way Blue-Eyes was staring at her as though she was some kind of alien, she turned her attention to his dark-haired companion. He offered a smile, but she could see by his pale face and heavy-lidded eyes that he was tired. Turning back to the silent blonde, she dropped her hand back to her side, smoothing over the awkwardness with a smile.

“Good evening, gentlemen. Champagne?”

Willow dutifully stepped forward and Buffy removed the two delicate glasses, handing one to each of the men. She watched as they sipped, pleased to see their surprised expressions at the quality of the liquid. The moment they were finished she swept their glasses away, Willow offered them the chocolates and they were ushered further into the room.

Buffy, noticing how exhausted they both seemed, made a quick decision and scrapped the plans for the evening. Hopefully, the team would roll with the punches and not be too put out.

“I can see you’re tired, sirs. I can give you the tour of the suite in the morning, but I’ll show you to your rooms. Wesley will have taken your luggage through.” She gestured to the butler, who gave a nod and bowed slightly. “This way, if you please.” Turning to the butler, she gestured at the team and made shooing motions with her hands. He gave her the ghost of a smile and nodded.

The clients followed her through to their bedrooms, the doors facing each other across the hallway. She stopped outside the doors, pushing each open invitingly. Just before they vanished into their bedrooms, she cleared her throat. Seeing their eyes flick to her, she smiled politely.

“I am on call at all hours, of course. If you need anything, you can either use the telephones provided and dial asterisk, nine for my flat or come to my door. If you would ring the bell found outside there, I’ll be with you as soon as I can. Breakfast will be served at eight o’clock. Would you prefer to have it brought to you in bed, or eat at the table in the dining room?”

Both men gave a grunted ‘bed’. She smiled again, bid them goodnight and turned to leave. All the way to the door, she could feel blue eyes burning into her back.

Spike was woken the next morning by a soft knock on the door and a brisk voice. “Mr Giles? I have your breakfast.” The voice was British, and it made him smile wistfully before opening his eyes.

He groaned quietly, but sat up. “Just a minute.” His voice emerged as a morning growl, though he felt shockingly refreshed after the first night’s sound sleep in a while. The Hotel Elise had spared no expense, and the mattress and bedclothes were of the finest quality. Once he had organised himself into a sitting position and pulled on a t-shirt, he called, “Come in.”

The door opened to reveal the butler he dimly remembered from the night before, a silver tray balanced neatly on one black-clad arm, a small smile on his face. Wordlessly he set the tray down on the conveniently located bedside table and reached into the cupboard part of it. He whisked out a solid wooden board and attached two longer arms of wood, which Spike was amazed to see slotted into place in the bed’s headboard. The result was a sturdy table that spanned the width of the double bed and crossed over his lap at perfect eating height.

Impressed, he watched as steady hands laid out his breakfast. A plate containing two thick rashers of bacon, two sausages, two fried eggs and a hash brown was set in front of him, followed by a knife and fork and a napkin. The delicious aroma made his stomach growl and his eyes glaze over.

“Would you prefer tea or coffee, sir?”

“Coffee’s fine, ta.”

Upon hearing the accent in his guest’s voice, Wesley suppressed a smile. It was somewhat rougher than his own, but he was delighted to hear a fellow Englishman. He poured the coffee and set a bowl of sugar lumps and a small jug of milk down.

“Will there be anything else, sir?”

Spike looked down at the spread before him and up into the politely questioning face. Nothing sprang to mind, except… He cleared his throat and the butler, Wesley, he reminded himself, raised his eyebrows enquiringly.

“Yeah. The blonde woman, the one who met us. I din’t catch her name.”

There, that didn’t sound too much like I wanted to know for anything other than business purposes… The butler’s lips twitched and his eyes twinkled knowingly behind his glasses. Bollocks. Still, the smooth voice came out in a serious tone.

“Summers, sir. Miss Buffy Summers.”

Spike didn’t miss the slight emphasis the man put on the ‘Miss’, but it was so subtle he wondered if he’d been discovered after all. That polite voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Miss Summers has asked if you would meet her in the entrance hall at nine thirty, if you please sir. You can get out of the table through here. Enjoy your breakfast.”

The butler bowed, turned and strode from the room, closing the door softly behind him. Spike almost fell on the food, surprised at just how hungry he was. He discovered that the table had a section that was jointed, and Wesley had deliberately left it clear of food. He pushed and it swung open, giving him access to the rest of the room.

The en-suite bathroom was like a gift from Heaven, the huge bath calling to him with a siren’s song that was hard to resist. However, the thought of keeping the blonde angel waiting made him turn away and step into the equally enormous shower. He adjusted the temperature and groaned as the warm water slid over his body. He washed his hair quickly with the hotel shampoo (he hadn’t unpacked his own things yet) and dried off with the soft, fluffy towel hanging on a heated towel rail.

Dry, he dressed in simple clothes: A pair of tight black jeans and a plain black t-shirt. He decided against shoes, but quickly pulled on a pair of dark blue socks. He was surprised to see that his breakfast things had been cleared away and the table neatly stowed back in the cupboard, or so he assumed. Impressed again by the quality of service he hadn’t really expected, despite the establishment’s promises, he stepped out into the hall.

A moment later, Xander did the exact same thing. They eyed each other, then the dark-haired man grinned and clapped him on the back.

“Isn’t this just the coolest hotel you’ve ever been in? The butler, the breakfast in bed and those awesome table things. I think I’ll live here, when I land a leading role.”

Spike rolled his eyes; it was a common joke between him and Xander. The young man always complained that it should be him with the lead role and Spike playing the ‘devoted minion’. Everyone had learned that he was actually content with his current role, and wasn’t quite ready to play the lead in anything yet.
As they began to walk, Spike interrupted Xander’s rambling about how the place ‘totally rocked his socks’. “Mate, did you see the blonde last night? Y’know, Miss Summers.”

Xander grinned. “Oh yeah. Total hottie.”

Spike gave his trademark smirk. “Wouldn’t mind a bit of service from that department.”

He frowned at Xander’s suddenly nervous face, then turned and looked into green eyes narrowed with anger, though Buffy forced a cool smile onto her lips. Arrogant, egotistical pig! Her voice was soft and rigidly polite.

“Good morning, Mr Harris, Mr Giles. I trust the… service has been adequate so far?”

Spike swallowed.

Buffy was highly unimpressed and now she was pissed off to boot. Not only had their clients, her first clients as a staff member in the hotel, messed up her carefully organised schedule for their arrival by being too tired to fill in all the paperwork etc. they had to be perverts.

When she’d slept the night before, her dreams were of Hollywood, of endless queues of people staring at her, of a warm, comforting presence at her side and above it all a pair of intense blue eyes. She’d been looking forward to meeting their guests properly, but then he had to go and ruin it by saying something so… male.

Gritting her teeth, she forced a smile onto her lips and deliberately sweetened her voice to the point that it was nauseating. “Good morning, Mr Harris, Mr Giles. I trust the… service has been adequate so far?”

She didn’t know what made her say it, but she noticed the blush that stained the dark-haired man’s cheeks and the way his companion shifted nervously. She had to fight to keep the smile from turning into a smug smirk when Harris, as Anya had told her, filled the silence.

“Uh, yeah, it’s been great thanks.”

Her smile widened. “Yes, I intend to make sure you receive only the best service, starting with my own.”

The blush darkened on one, while the other made a strangled kind of coughing sound. She wanted to cheer and stick her tongue out at the two men, but she contented herself with smirking. Just a little bit. Reminding herself to be professional, she looked down at her clipboard.

“I have a few bits of paperwork for you to fill in and a few details to clear up, then I’ll give you the tour, you can meet the staff and we’ll be out of your hair.”

Spike watched as Xander signed a few documents, taking the time to study the feisty Miss Summers while she was otherwise occupied. If she’d been pretty in the darker atmosphere the night before, she was stunning in daylight. She’d swept her hair back and secured it in a large clip, the soft style highlighting the alluring innocence that seemed to cling to her.

She was wearing the same suit as the night before, but now he could properly appreciate how it emphasised her slight curves and made her body seem fuller, more feminine. Even with the simple black heels she was wearing she was shorter than him, but she held herself proudly, making her seem much larger than she actually was.

She looked over at him and, caught off guard, he looked into her wide eyes and was lost. He watched as her chin rose, her gaze holding his almost defiantly before she broke their stare, turning to stride to the silently assembled staff. As she introduced them, only some tiny corner of his brain heard and responded to each greeting.

He watched how she moved, her hips swinging with a natural sensuousness that made his body burn with desire. He finally shook himself from his stupor when she began to take them on a tour of the suite. Finally, she led them out onto the balcony. In true California style, the sun was already shining merrily.

Shortly after they arrived there, the dark-haired woman with long, crimson nails and the blonde with the horsey face joined them. He noticed the way both of them glared at Buffy (she’d told them to call her that) before turning simpering smiles on he and Xander. He fought the urge to back away very, very quickly.

“Mr Harris, Mr Giles, this is Drusilla Evans, your PR rep for the duration of your stay here.” The dark-haired woman met his eyes boldly, her gaze trailing down his body before rising again. She licked her lips and gave him a coy smile. “And this is Harmony Kendall, your private secretary.” The blonde gave him a smile she obviously thought was seductive and flipped her hair over her shoulder.

“We’ll take it from here, Buffy.” That was Drusilla, her voice almost a hiss. He noticed the stress she put on her boss’ name and the way the gorgeous woman’s face tightened.

“Yeah, we’ll take it from here.” This from Harmony, her voice a nasal whine. Seeing the muscles in Buffy’s jaw tick as her lips thinned, he sauntered over and draped a long arm over her shoulders. She stiffened, but didn’t push him away.

“S’alright, ladies. It was nice to meet you, but ‘m sure you’ve got important things to be doing. We’ll just sit out here with Miss Summers and sort things out, all friendly like.” His voice was quiet but firm and while he smiled at the pair, he knew it didn’t reach his eyes.

Harmony sighed and Drusilla preened. Ladies, indeed. Buffy thought savagely. Nevertheless, when his comments sent the bitches packing she couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. Suddenly realising that his arm was still locked around her shoulders, she tried to step away but it only tightened, drawing her back into the cradle of his body.

For a moment, she relaxed and melted into him. It had been so long since she’d been held by a man, any man. She closed her eyes and breathed in his scent, feeling something flicker to life inside her. Her insides warmed and she knew she had to move, for the sake of her job. Slowly she stepped away, looking up to meet those dazzling eyes for the first time in full daylight.

The crystal blue had darkened with desire to a midnight colour when she snuggled into him. Those eyes were like a window into his soul, letting her read his emotions like a book laid out before her. And God, she wanted to know their story. Wanted it with an intensity that shocked and frightened her.

Now that he’d removed the huge combat boots he’d been wearing when he arrived, she could see that he was actually an inch or so shorter than his friend. Under his skin-tight t-shirt she could see chiselled muscles that made her fingers itch to explore his body and learn its secrets. When she looked up again, his eyes had darkened to almost black.

Little chit’s checkin’ me out! Spike had to resist the urge to beat his chest and howl his masculinity to all of LA. He watched as her eyes dropped to his torso, clinging greedily to the muscles displayed by his tight clothing. With a shift so small it was invisible, he tensed to make his defined abs look even more so. Xander, being a guy, noticed it and snorted.

That seemed to startle her out of her contemplation of his physique. He watched as a blush crept up her neck. Wonder if she blushes all the way down… She took in a deep breath and pasted on a smile. She was back into Business Buffy mode.

“Mr Giles-”

“Spike.” He interrupted.

“Pardon?”

“Call me Spike. He’s Xander.”

She hesitated a moment before shrugging, her false smile becoming more genuine. “Spike, Xander. I understand that you are here to be taken care of. To that end, it would be greatly appreciated if you could give me a day’s warning if you want a massage or have any special requests.”

Spike watched Xander’s eyes glaze over at the thought of a massage. Buffy, noticing it too, smiled. “Of course, Tara had to come in this morning to meet you both. I’m sure she’d be more than happy to give you a demonstration now, Xander.”

Xander nodded, a goofy grin spreading across his face. Buffy called Anya over. “Anya, could you take Mr Harris here to see Tara?” She cast an impish look at Spike. “He wants a demonstration of her skills.”

The young man blinked as the pretty maid grabbed him by the hand, chattering blithely away as she towed him towards the room set aside for Tara to work in. Buffy suppressed a smile and turned back to Spike, only to find him leaning casually against the wall. When he saw her looking, he curled his tongue behind his teeth in a gesture so erotic she thought faintly that it should be illegal.

“So pet, care to give me a demo of your skills?”

She looked at him through wide, innocent eyes. “But Mr Giles, I’m in action all the time. I’m like the Energiser Bunny: I keep going and going.”

He choked at that and she shot him a sweet smile over her shoulder as she strolled back inside. He shook his head, sighed and followed after her. He found her talking to the chef, though his assistants weren’t there. Spike thanked God for small mercies. One of them had been giving him a disturbingly longing look earlier…

A wave of irrational anger swept over him as he watched the glorified potwasher lay a hand on her arm and give a lewd leer. The smile instantly vanished from her face, replaced by cool professionalism. He saw her lips move and moments later the man’s eyes narrowed as his hand dropped away and he stalked back towards his domain.

Spike tried not to smirk as the man passed him, but he had to raise a mocking eyebrow. Warren, if he remembered the guy’s name correctly paused and scowled at him, fists clenching. Buffy, seeing this, cleared her throat and shot him a coldly pointed look. He moved away, almost vibrating with the strength of his anger.

As Buffy turned to talk to Wesley, a smile replacing the frown marring her features, Spike felt someone’s eyes on him. He turned, scanning the room. Drusilla met his eyes boldly, running one finger across her painted lips before sucking the end into her mouth. Disgusted by the blatant, in-your-face vulgarity of the move, he turned his back on her.

Buffy was looking at him, head cocked appraisingly. She’d seen Dru’s attempt at appearing seductive and had watched for his reaction. Pleased, for some unknown reason, that he seemed unmoved, she let a slow smile spread across her lips.

Spike caught his breath. She was gorgeous all the time, but when she smiled like that it looked as though some inner light shone from her, making her gleam with exquisite beauty.

“My angel.” He breathed, unaware he’d spoken out loud.

Warren watched the exchange from the doorway of the kitchen, feeling rage course through him. So, I’m not good enough for the little bitch, but mister big shot celebrity is. We’ll see who has the last laugh. Hey, cool! I sound like some kind of super villain!

Drusilla had seen the lingering looks and smiles between the couple too. Sweet William, how naïve you are. That stupid cow, she won’t hold your attention for long. I’ll make you see what a real woman’s like.

As Buffy reluctantly turned back to business, saying goodbye to Anya and Willow for the day and sorting through the papers she needed to hand over to Drusilla, Spike wandered off to find Xander. He poked his head through the door into the massage parlour, chuckling at the sight that met his eyes.

Xander was stretched out on his stomach on a padded table, his head supported by a square pillow with no middle that allowed him to keep his face free. A small, stocky woman with dark blonde hair was working expert hands over his back, which glistened with unscented oil.

At his laugh she looked up, giving him a shy smile. He winked at her. “Mornin’ pet. Hope he hasn’t given you too much trouble.”

She blushed. “N-no, sir.” Her voice was soft and clear, despite her stammer.

Xander’s own voice was slightly muffled, his words slurred as though he was drunk on pleasure. “Spike, man, you have to try this.” He groaned as she began to vigorously knead his shoulders. “Tara, my love, my darling, my sweet. Can I keep you?”

She giggled. “I don’t think you could a-afford me.”

Spike grinned as Xander sighed. Buffy’s amused voice from the doorway startled them all. “At least we’ll know who to look for if she goes missing.”

Drusilla approached Buffy when it was no longer avoidable. She waited impatiently for the smaller woman to finish talking with Andrew, one of Warren’s assistants. He’s lucky he found a job in LA. Nowhere else in the world would anyone want their meals cooked by a revolting little homo. And she’s no better, chatting up the clients like a cheap slut. Do women these days have no decency?

Buffy turned to face the PR coordinator with the utmost reluctance, though she kept a polite smile on her lips. “What can I do for you, Drusilla?”

“I’ve finished the final schedule for the customer’s PR activities this week.” Her voice was haughty and cold. Buffy had to repress the urge to shudder when the dark eyes flicked down to meet her own, the scorn there evident.

“Thanks, it’s greatly appreciated.” She hated sounding so formal, but she couldn’t think of another tone of voice to use that wouldn’t betray her urge to smack the glossy, sneering lips in front of her. Buffy decided that treating her with detached professionalism would be the least problematic way.

Dru, however, merely sniffed and stalked away. Gritting her teeth, she turned away. Calling Wesley over, she forced her muscles to relax before she got a headache. When the butler immediately arrived at her side, she took a deep breath to calm herself down.

“Wes, after I’ve handed these over to Harmony so she can RSVP where it’s needed I’m gonna go hide out in my flat for half an hour. Give me a buzz if you need anything?”

“Of course.” He smiled, the first proper smile she’d seen on his naturally serious face. Feeling her bad mood lift slightly, she beamed in reply before he strode away. She was about to track down Harmony when she heard a timid voice at her side.

“She’s just jealous, you know?” Willow looked at her boss uncertainly.

“Um, who are we talking about now?”

“Drusilla. She’s just jealous because Mr Gi- I mean Spike- was checking you out.”

“Oh, skanky vamp ho. Gotcha.”

Willow giggled. At first she’d been kind of nervous about approaching the blonde; after all, the woman was their boss, even if she looked like she could use a friend. When she’d seen how friendly Buffy had been with Wesley, however, she’d decided to risk it. The truth was, she was in need of a friend too. Anya was all well and good, but her bluntness was a little disturbing at times. Buffy was so blessedly normal.

“Huh? What sorry?” She blushed, the pink clashing with her fiery hair colour as she realised that she’d been too engrossed in her thoughts to hear what Buffy had said to her. To her relief, the blonde giggled and repeated herself.

“I said ‘what kind of man is attracted to that sort of woman anyway’. Are you done with your work?”

Willow jumped, suddenly nervous again. “Um, yes Miss Summers, but I can find Anya and help her out, or I can go visit with Tara and see if she needs anything, or I could help out in the kitchen, I’m sorry I should be working, I’ll get on it right away and okay I’m babbling now aren’t I, sorry Mi- What?”

Buffy raised a gold eyebrow, giving a bemused smile. “I was just wondering how long you could talk for without starting a new sentence or taking a breath, that’s all.”

Willow blushed again and began muttering apologies, making her boss laugh and wave a delicate hand dismissively. “I only wanted to know because I could use some company. I’m going back to my flat for a break as soon as I’ve delivered these to the Skank-In-Training. Um, I mean Harmony.” She coughed nervously.

It was Willow’s turn to laugh. “I prefer the first one. And that would be nice. I’ll just go and tell Wesley.”

As Willow sought out the butler, Buffy sighed and went to find Harmony. The bitchy blonde had a private office, situated at the far end of the suite. Buffy knocked briskly and entered without waiting for an invitation. The secretary looked up at her from the huge leather chair and scowled for a moment before giving a sickly sweet smile.

“What can I do for you, Miss Summers?”

Buffy plonked the sheets of paper down on the desk. “Drusilla finished the PR schedule, so could you respond to all the invitations, with positives only for the ones she’s checked.”

“Yes, Miss Summers.”

Biting back a snippy retort, she turned and walked rapidly towards the door, where a smiling Willow was bouncing eagerly on the spot. Buffy couldn’t help but giggle; the redhead reminded her of an eager-to-please puppy. The two women left the suite together. Willow broke the companionable silence the moment they were out the door.

“So, what’s your flat like?”

Buffy grinned, fishing the key out of her pocket. “Have a look for yourself.” She unlocked the door and pushed it open.

They stepped into the neat hall and Willow gasped. “Oh wow! I thought it’d be smaller and dark and horrible and stuff, but it’s beautiful!”

Buffy grinned, tugging the redhead behind her into the kitchen. As though it was scripted, there came a loud gurgle as both women’s stomachs announced themselves at the same time. They looked at each and broke out into giggles. Buffy moved to the cupboard.

“Well, looks like its time to feed the animal.” She patted her stomach gingerly before beaming at Willow. “I have cookies!”

The redhead surged forwards, snatching the bag and peering inside. Four enormous, double chocolate chip cookies stared back at her. She gave a squeal of delight, following a smirking Buffy through to the living room. The blonde collapsed onto the comfortable couch with a whimper of ecstasy, while the redhead went and stood by the enormous window, giving her a view of most of LA.

Willow threw her boss a cookie and they munched in happy almost-silence for a long moment before they gave simultaneous sighs of contentment. They looked at each other with wide eyes before collapsing into giggles again. Willow came and plonked down on the couch, drawing her legs up so she could face Buffy, who imitated her.

The blonde spoke first. “How long have you been working here?”

“About two years, I think. I studied to be a preschool teacher, but it was taking so long to find a job I could get to easily.” At Buffy’s questioning look, she continued. “My only method of transport at the time was my boyfriend Oz’s van.” She blushed prettily. “We used to live in the same neighbourhood, so he used to give me lifts everywhere. We live together now, but I can walk here in about twenty minutes.”

“Anyway, I couldn’t find a job that wouldn’t put him too far out of his way, ‘cause he was always late for band practice as it was.” She blushed crimson this time and Buffy laughed, giving her a wink. “So one day I was walking past here and I saw the notice for a maid. I didn’t want to try at first, this was the Hotel Elise, you know? But then this girl came outside and saw me looking at the sign and told me to go for it.”

Again in response to Buffy’s raised eyebrow. “It was Anya. And so I went for an interview the next day. This was right after Cordy and Angel got engaged, so they were still a little unsure about the personal interview thing. But they made it really relaxed and comfortable, I got the job and I’ve been here ever since. What about you? What brought you to the City of Angel?” Willow giggled at Buffy’s confused expression.

“You mean the City of Angels.”

“Nope. The City of Angel. It’s what we call the Hotel.”

Buffy grinned. “You’ll have to teach me the slang so I know when you lot are insulting me. Well, I was born in a one-Starbucks town called Sunnydale, a couple of hours from here. My dad left me and Mom when I was eight to come and live here. He’s a businessman now, I guess.” Willow made an inquiring noise. “I haven’t seen him since my fifteenth birthday.”

“Mom got sick a few years ago and had to go into hospital for six months. If she hadn’t, she would have died. Anyway, she had to move into a home when she came out, in case she had a relapse. So I sold the house to help pay for the fee, though there were grants and stuff we got too, and moved to LA.”

“My degree was in business studies, more specifically hotel management, so I rented a disgusting little roach-infested apartment and got a job as an assistant manager in a nearby hotel. About two months after I started working there, the manager resigned and I got the post. I moved out of the apartment, thank God, and shared a flat with my sister’s friend. I moved around a couple of times, always in a management job, but I got bored pretty quickly.”

“So I came here, obviously not thinking I was gonna get the job, but the rest you know. It was kinda wiggy at first, you know, having a whole team to manage, but you guys are pretty cool. You’re like my own personal Scooby gang.”

Willow laughed. “So, no significant other in your life, huh?”

Buffy blushed. “Not really. I’ve had a few…” She paused, remembering the ill-fated night with Parker. “Flings here and there, but nothing serious.” She smirked. “It’s a pity Angel’s taken, really. He’d be a catch and a half.”

The redhead giggled. “Don’t say that around Cordy. She’s sweet as long as you stay on her good side, but she’s a scary lady when she’s riled, let me tell you. This time last year, one of the maids, Amy, from the Crown.” Buffy raised an eyebrow. “The penthouse suite, made a move on Angel.”

Willow’s face took on a half fearful, half awed expression. “Cordy totally freaked. She shouted for everyone to hear that the Hotel Elise didn’t want to employ sluts like that, and that if the girl didn’t leave immediately, she’d be sued for sexual harassment. Then she picked Amy up, actually lifted her off the ground, and threw her out into the street.”

Buffy’s eyes widened as her mouth dropped open. “Whoa. I am so glad that I stuck to admiring the rock. Remind me to stay on her good side.”

Both girls reached for another cookie. Buffy looked somewhat mournfully at the now-empty bag and Willow sighed wistfully. “Them’s good cookies.”

Buffy took a bite, nodding enthusiastically. She swallowed, the grinned wickedly. “So what’s this boyfriend of yours like then, Will?”

Willow blushed. “Oz. He’s a musician, he plays guitar in a band called Dingoes Ate My Baby.” Buffy snorted with laughter, trying to smile around a mouthful of cookie. “Yeah, I know. That’s what I did too. But hey, I love him anyway. He’s kinda quiet, so people think he’s stupid, but he’s not. He’s just stoic and sensitive…” Willow’s eyes turned dreamy. “And he does this thing with his tongue that just-”

She cut off, blushing furiously as Buffy collapsed in laughter. “This thing with his tongue, huh?” Suddenly she remembered Spike leaning against the wall, said organ curled up behind his teeth as his eyes burned hotly, just for her. She felt a throb between her legs and shifted, sighing. “I can relate.”

When Willow choked on her cookie, Buffy turned beet red. “Not personally! It’s just Spike did this thing earlier, when we were outside…” She trailed off at Willow’s suddenly gleaming eyes. “What?” she asked, somewhat nervously.

“You and Spike, that’s what! I may be totally in love with Oz, but I have eyes. You could do a lot worse.”

“Willow! He’s a customer and a celebrity and a… a customer!”

The redhead smirked. “You said that twice. But he won’t be a customer forever.” She pointed out with a raised eyebrow.

Buffy shook her head. “No no no! There’s nothing there, really.”

Willow raised both eyebrows. “Denial isn’t just a river in Egypt, evidently.”

Buffy pouted then looked at the clock. Willow finished her last section of cookie as her new friend rose with a groan. “Time to get back to work. C’mon, let’s see what the Scoobs are up to.”

Willow smirked again. “I say Drusilla’s the dog.”

Buffy’s laughter followed them out.

Buffy waved to Wesley as he departed, his eyes behind his glasses as sharp as ever, but his clothes slightly rumpled after a long day. She smiled softly. Wesley and Willow, only a day into their clients’ stay, had become her right-hand man and woman respectively. Willow had stayed long after Anya left, just chatting and generally entertaining everyone, including Spike and Xander. Wesley was less gregarious, but he was always there in the background, quietly doing what needed to be done.

She sighed, turning back to the room only to give a startled yelp as she came face-to-face with a (delicious) shirt-covered chest. Her jaw dropped as her gaze clung hungrily to the sleek torso offered so temptingly for her viewing. A deep, masculine chuckle from above made her snap it closed so quickly that her teeth clicked together. She looked up to meet laughing blue eyes, her lush mouth unconsciously forming a pout as Spike folded his arms across his chest, blocking her view.

He had to suppress a groan. Look at that lip. Gonna get that lip he promised himself silently. He was brought from the pleasant daydreams brought on by that thought by the sound of her soft, sweet voice in his ears. He blinked, cursing his over-active imagination, before looking down into her patiently expectant face with its raised golden eyebrow.

“What was that, pet?”

She gave a smile at the nickname. “I said, did you want anything in particular, or is this just a social call?”

Remembering his purpose, Spike finally collected himself. The devilish smirk that had become his trademark spread across his face as he leaned down. “The agency told you ‘m a vampire on the show, din’t they? Means I have to stay outta the sun, but I fancy a swim. Now.”

Buffy raised the other brow. “Of course. The pool has been opened for your private use, as requested. If that’s all…?” She smiled and turned to leave.

Spike’s eyes darkened as he reached out a hand and snared her arm. “I fancy a swim… An’ I want you to come with me.”

Buffy blinked, her eyes glazing over at the intense look of predatory desire on his face. Her breath quickened as her gaze dropped to his chest, imagining it bare as the water trickled over his lean muscles. Her conversation with Willow flashed through her mind. You and Spike, that’s what! You and Spike, you and Spike, you and… Then suddenly it wasn’t the water but her hands that caressed his silky skin, sliding sensuously over still-damp flesh.

Lost in her fantasy, she didn’t notice her breathing quicken, the delicate flush of arousal creeping over her cheeks. Spike did. His own breath hitched at the lust suddenly glittering in her eyes, and he gave a muted groan of desire. His callused fingers rose and gently slid along the delicate curve of her jaw, skating over the skin in a feather-light touch, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Buffy made a mewling sound of restless pleasure in the back of her throat, and he was lost.

His fingers tilted her face up, her eyes automatically fluttering closed. The rest of the world faded away at the first touch of his lips on hers. It was tentative, almost shy for the unbearably sweet few seconds that they could hold back the force of their passion. Then the dam broke and he pushed her back against the wall, his hard body leaning into her softer one as he plundered her mouth.

His lips were sweet but unforgiving as he took his pleasure and insisted she feel her own with the fiery command of his tongue. He moaned in delight when her hands ran up his back and fisted in his surprisingly soft hair, her tongue snaking out to tangle with his own.

It was a long few minutes before Buffy could think beyond Spike lips… Lips of Spike… Mmm… Then air became a necessity and she reluctantly pulled away, the fingers of one hand surreptitiously sneaking down to play across his sharp cheekbones. His passion-drugged eyes flipped open to meet hers and their gazes locked, unseen sparks darting between them. The enormity of what they’d done hit her then. Her eyes widened and she pushed frantically at his shoulders.

Spike obligingly stepped back, though he kept a firm grip on her waist. Buffy looked down, fighting to get her traitorous body back under control. It would be so easy to step forward into his arms, to let the sweet simplicity of his embrace enfold her in warmth… She bit her lip, steeling herself, before looking up at him from sad eyes.

“We can’t do this. I work here, you’re a customer. I’d be fired, and I need this job. I like this job. I’m sorry, Spike, but-”

Infuriated by her denial of the passion that simmered between them, he cut her words off with a growl and yanked her to him, his arm snaking around her waist and forcing her against the delicious strength of his body as his lips crushed hers. He wrenched back after a few breathless seconds, ruthlessly pushing her hand down between them until it cupped the unyielding hardness that had swelled in his pants.

“Feel that?” His voice was deep and low, made rough by desire. “That can’t be denied, Buffy, no matter what you say. There’s somethin’ between us, and ‘m damned if I’ll let anythin’ get in the way. You can’t ignore it, an’ you know it. You have so much passion, my sweet Buffy, so much fire. ‘m drownin’ in you, kitten, an’ God help me, but I don’ wanna be saved.”

She moaned her acquiescence and the next few minutes were filled with hot, drugging kisses that made her belly tighten and her knees tremble, threatening to give way. When she finally felt limp and pliant in his arms, he cradled her against him and, with infinite tenderness, pressed a kiss to the top of her head, closing his eyes and inhaling the dizzying scent of vanilla there.

Her voice was muffled against his shoulder. “Stop smelling me!”

Spike chuckled, the vibrations from his chest making her shudder in his grip. He bent his sleek blonde head, his voice a seductive murmur in her ear that made her sigh in ecstasy. “So, what about that swim then?”

She pulled back just enough to look at him, her eyes searching his. For a moment, just a moment, she saw his blue gaze flicker. She saw the depths of his desolation over the break-up of his previous relationship, the lingering pain and doubt, the terrible fear of rejection. Her heart softened at his vulnerability before his walls went up again and he raised a brow questioningly.

Buffy smiled softly. “Give me a minute. I’ll meet you down there?” She reached for the door before turning, giving a frown. “What about Xander?”

Spike smirked. “Don’t worry, he was so knackered by Anya natterin’ his ear off all bloody day he’s gone to bed. He’ll be fine.”

She hesitated for a moment more before slowly letting a seductive smile cross her lips. “Alright, I’ll see you down at the pool.” She gave a flutter of her fingers and slipped out the door; Spike stared after her for a long few seconds before grinning and sauntering into his room to get changed.

He was waiting impatiently in the pool for her to arrive only five minutes later. Already he could feel the familiar, gnawing fear that she wouldn’t turn up, would just leave him waiting for her. He gritted his teeth. I’d wait for her forever. He suddenly rolled onto his front and began powering up the length of the pool, the ache in his muscles driving out his doubts.

That was how Buffy found him, a few minutes later. She stopped short at the pool side, watching his pale, lithe form slicing through the water. He reminded her of a shark, all savage strength and sleekness. The thought made her giggle and he stopped abruptly, his head coming up as his strokes ceased. His eyes met hers, and the tension in his eyes faded, to be replaced by a ‘come hither’ desire.

“Drop the sheet.”

Buffy obediently let the gauzy red sheet of material that had come with her bikini fall. Spike’s eyes widened in admiration, his tongue snaking out to moisten his lips as his mouth watered. The petite blonde stood at the edge of the pool, her tanned body only covered by a crimson bikini. The straps over her slender shoulders and riding low on her hips were narrow strings, tied in adorable bows, and the unwiring of the top half pushed her breasts up so they rose and fell teasingly with every breath.

The eerie, greenish light reflected from the pool illuminated her face, making her green eyes dance provocatively. Spike swore and swallowed hard before his deep, silky voice filled the pool hall. “You look like a nymph or a fairy. Something unearthly, anyway. Bloody miracle, you are.”

Buffy giggled. “You don’t look half bad yourself, vampire.”

Spike growled, swimming lazily over to the poolside. Bracing his arms on the wall, he pulled his pale, gleaming torso from the water. It was her turn to stare. The water trickled over the hard planes of his chest, streaming over his muscled abdomen and leading her gaze down to his red and black swimming shorts. She gulped, dragging her eyes back up to his face, the water making his hair sleek and smooth.

He watched her cheeks flush with desire and began to stalk around the pool towards her. She gave a comical shriek, darting away. He gave chase, but she was already around the other side of the pool; the way her hips swayed alluringly was more than distracting. She giggled again and he met her eyes, giving a mock-growl.

“Somebody help me! The big, bad vampire’s trying to get me!” She pretended to swoon, hand on her forehead dramatically.

Spike couldn’t resist. The wicked smirk spread across his face and he waggled his eyebrows. “Come on now, just let me have a nibble. I’m gonna eat… you… up!”

Buffy blushed, freezing on the spot as a kaleidoscope of erotic imagery flashed through her mind. She shook herself out of the daze just in time to see Spike lunge at her and she squealed as they both tumbled into the cool water. She emerged, spluttering and amused at the same time. He surfaced a few feet away, grinning. She splashed him.

“You! I’ll get you for that!”

They spent the next five minutes engaged in all-out war, splashing and dunking by turns. At the end of it, Spike was thoroughly pleased and beyond turned-on. Buffy’s chest heaved with laughter and exertion, and he noted with delighted arousal that the little red top had slid down further than she had realised.

In a flash he was no longer grinning, his eyes dark with desire. Her own eyes widened as she looked around, backing away as he approached. “Spike, no! No no no! Not here!”

She didn’t take her eyes off of him and he carefully manoeuvred her backwards and sideways, towards the shallower end of the pool. She held out her hands to ward him off and her eyes grew huge as her back bumped against the corner of the pool. She squeaked and he grinned, drawing closer to run cool, wet fingers over her lips. His voice was a husky growl.

“Big Bad’s got you now.”

Before she could protest, his lips were on hers. Her fingers crept over his powerful shoulders, holding her to him as the dizzying warmth of desire rose in her. She moaned, sinking down into the water slightly as his hand expertly plucked at her shoulder straps, peeling them down. He broke away to watch, his mouth turned up in the excited smile of a boy unwrapping a present.

When the second strap slid down, he pulled the cups of her bikini top away and she was bare to his gaze. He took a long moment to study her before his left hand gripped her elbow, pulling her towards him, as his right began to run light, teasing circles around the swell of her breast. She mewled in protest and he shushed her, a slight frown of concentration on his face.

The circles slowly got smaller, until at last he rubbed softly at her nipple. The heat in her belly flared in response and she gave a gasping moan, quivering under his touch. Spike buried his face in her neck, panting. She’s so responsive. God, I could stay like this forever…

He began muttering sweet eroticisms against her neck, his hot breath combining with his skilled fingers to make her vision blur with pleasure. “Sweet Buffy… Gonna be so good… It’s never been… Never been…”

His other hand started to knead and gently pinch the other nipple as he groaned, pressing his hips to hers. It was the final straw. She stiffened as that burning heat spread through her limbs, her vision going white as she threw back her head and shuddered with the power of her orgasm.

When her eyes rose to meet his, her every move speaking of languid, sensual fulfilment, he grinned. The next moment he winced as he shifted, the tightness of his shorts making him more than uncomfortable. Her eyes widened, and though the languorous delight made her eyelids heavy, she slid a hand down his body.

He grabbed her wrist just as she reached to stroke him. Her eyes widened with hurt, but he gave a somewhat strained smile. “No, kitten. Tonight was all for you. We’ve got all the time in the world, right?”

Understanding flashed through her gaze, followed by gratitude. He didn’t want to take things further than she was ready for while he was still a customer. She grinned, leaning up to whisper in his ear. Spike’s eyes rolled back in his head and he gave a stifled moan, reaching for her even as he felt a tug around his lower regions and the hand that had been cupping him vanished. She was already on the side of the pool, the thin red sheet of material wrapped around her body.

She walked towards the door, hips swaying, before pausing. Looking back over her shoulder, she gave a saucy wink, waving her prize. “Sweet dreams, Spike.” Then she was gone.

Spike looked down his body at his raging erection and groaned. Her words still rang in his ears and he growled. “Down, boy.”

You might wanna do something about that before you try to get back to your room.

He looked back up at the door where she’d waved his ripped swim shorts at him and grinned wickedly. She’d pay for that. Looking around furtively, he let his hand wander down his body, eyes closing as he tried to ignore the thought of walking through the hotel wearing only one of the tiny bathroom towels they provided.

Spike woke the following morning with a huge grin on his face. He let himself lie in the huge, comfortable bed, reliving every moment of their midnight adventure. Recalling the way she had looked, barely clad in her tiny bikini, illuminated in pale green light, he felt himself harden. He looked down at his stirring erection with a sigh.

“You ‘n’ me both, mate.”

Heaving himself out of bed, he padded naked to the shower. His eyes still blurry from sleep, it took him a few second as he waited for the shower to heat up to realise what he’d seen. He backtracked, swivelling his head to face the torn red and black fabric that made a neat little bow around the bedpost. A wicked grin lit his face. So, kitten wants to play?

He took a leisurely shower, washing every trace of chlorine from his hair (he put it through enough as it was) before his hand inevitably wandered downwards, and when he came it was with her name on his lips. Dressing in the usual comfortable, black jeans and skin-tight black t-shirt, he glanced at himself in the mirror, undecided. Then he remembered the way she’d responded to his tender caresses and decided that slicking his hair back would take too much time. He needed to see her.

As a result, he was more than a little disappointed and irrationally angry when she didn’t immediately swoop down to ask him if everything was alright and could she get him anything. He wandered into the living room, a little surprised to find a fully dressed and wide awake Xander lounging on the couch, looking both overwhelmed and not a little infatuated as the blunt, blonde maid perched on his knee continued to talk at him.

She broke off when she saw Spike approaching. “Good morning! How may I be of service? Tips are appreciated.” She beamed at him.

Remembering one of their first conversations in the hotel, Xander and Spike looked at each other, the blonde smirking as his dark-haired friend coughed nervously, blushing. “’m alright, thanks.” He paused, glancing around. “Where’s Buffy?” He was startled to hear a hint of a whine in his voice and it was his turn to cough, mortified.

“No tip?” The young woman pouted, folding her arms. At Xander’s nudge, however, she came out of her sulk long enough to answer. “She’s in her flat making arrangements for tonight.”

Spike looked blank until she rolled her eyes, but it was Xander who answered. “We’ve got some PR ball to go to.”

“And I’m going to be Xander’s escort!” Anya broke in, beaming again. Spike cocked an eyebrow, grinning. His friend blushed again.

Trying to bite back a sigh of disappointment, Spike resigned himself to a day without Buffy. It didn’t occur to him that she lived just down the hall until lunchtime, when Wesley pointedly announced that he was just popping over to see if she would be joining them for lunch to discuss the evening ahead. Spike almost tripped over his chair as he leaped up.

“I’ll go. Wanted to ask her ‘bout that anyway.” Cursing himself for acting like a pimply high school nerd with his first crush, he sauntered out the door, relieved to see that Harmony still simpered from her office doorway as he passed, though he had no interest in her at all. Oh yeah, I’ve still got it. Just act cool, Spike.

That plan went out the window the minute she opened the door to her apartment. She was dressed in her soft grey suit, but her cream, silk blouse was untucked, she wore no tights or shoes and her blonde hair hung in soft waves over her shoulders. He watched as her perfect lips moved, eyes glazing over as they dropped to the gentle swell of her breasts.

“Spike... Spike... Spike!”

“Wha-?”

She rolled her eyes, her lips twitching as she tried to hold back her grin. “I said, what do you want? Kinda busy here.”

He finally regained his composure, though his hands still itched to reach out and tear away the clothing that blocked her body from his sight. “Can I come in, pet?”

She eyed him warily before pulling the door open, stepping aside to let him in. He studied the room intently, a little surprised by its somewhat limited space but almost groaning in pleasure as her vanilla scent washed over him. Her flat seemed so homey, so lived-in, that her personality seemed to seep from every pore of the room, despite the fact that she’d barely been in the hotel longer than he.

The door closed behind him and she led him into her sitting room, curling up in one corner of the couch, hastily rearranging the papers spread across the coffee table. He took a moment to stare out at the view before turning, settling himself on her spacious couch and pulling her onto his lap. She squeaked in objection, but went silent when his lips were crushed against her own as he devoured her, reasserting his feelings for her through his touch.

When he finally pulled back, her suit looked slightly more crumpled and his chest was heaving as he panted for breath. She gave him a dazedly impressed looked. “Wow. What was that for?”

“Be my escort to the ball tonight?” He winced; blurting it all out in one go was not what he’d had in mind. She bit her lip, obviously undecided, and he rushed on. “Anya’s going with Xander, so you’d have some girly company an’ you could jus’ say it was part of your work, that you’re keepin’ an eye on us. Nobody’d know that you’re really my girl.”

Buffy had been unsure up until that point. Then her eyes softened and she smiled shyly. “Is that what I am? Your girl?”

He pressed his lips against hers again, gently this time, exploring her mouth with a lingering tenderness that made her melt. He drew back until they were only inches apart, his breath warm on her lips. “Christ, Buffy, do you even have to ask?”

By the time Spike left the flat half an hour later, he was grinning smugly, he knew every detail of their evening plan and he left behind him a very flustered and thoroughly aroused Buffy. He couldn’t wait for the day to end.

At nine o’clock that same evening, Spike and Xander waited nervously in the hotel’s private foyer, both pacing back and forth in counterpoint to one another. At five past, the elevator bell chimed merrily and both men swung around, hearts pounding. Xander’s breath exploded outwards as Anya emerged, looking uncharacteristically shy.

Her blonde hair had been curled into loose ringlets and was loose, softening her subtly made-up face. Her body was encased in a tight, dark green dress made of satin that clung to her rounded curves, ending just above her ankles to reveal elegant shoes with thin straps that were twined around her ankles. The halter neck gave the illusion of severity, but the split that revealed one leg to mid-thigh and the way the back seemed to be missing completely from the dress made it fashionably daring, though not indecent.

Spike, however, saw none of this, because Buffy had stepped into the room just behind her outspoken friend. She wore a dress the same vivid colour as her bikini the night before, and just the thought made his cock begin to harden. The silky material gripped her soft curves, emphasising the graceful femininity of her figure. It was strapless, the top half a fairly rigid bustier with a sweetheart neckline that pushed her breasts up and together. The skirt dropped away from that, moulded to her body like a second skin, reaching to the floor. A split up the side bared her slender, tanned thigh, her legs made longer by simple, strappy red shoes.

There is absolutely no way she is wearing knickers with that sinful dress.

He had to hold back a moan as she approached, her elegantly upswept hair gleaming in the light as she wrapped a sheer, gauzy crimson scarf around her neck and rested one hand lightly on his arm. She smiled up at him hesitantly, but seeing his look of stunned arousal, she relaxed and smiled, her red-painted lips drawing his gaze.

“Do I look that bad?” Her voice was softly teasing.

“You look incredible, kitten.” His eyes suddenly turned hungry to match his deep, husky voice and he leaned closer, lips brushing her ear. “I just want to throw you over my shoulder, carry you upstairs and fuck you senseless.”

Her own eyes darkened, but his arm supported her as they glided out to the limousine awaiting them. Jay the driver gawped at Buffy for a moment before opening the door for her, winking at Spike as he passed. Anya and Xander settled opposite them and the engine purred to life, smoothly carrying them out into the twilight. Spike kept Buffy’s hand locked in his as they exited the car and swept into the ballroom.

The little blonde couldn’t help but stare at the scene before her. They stood on a balcony-like platform with two huge marble staircases leading down to the main floor from either side. The vast room was lit by enormous chandeliers, their glow falling on one of the most extravagant displays of wealth Buffy had ever seen. Dresses in all shapes and colours glittered like the jewels adorning their wearers under the light, the gentlemen no less beautifully clothed, though they almost all wore black. She suddenly felt out of place.

Somehow Spike sensed her nervousness, pulling her into his side. Reassured, she lifted her head and they glided serenely down onto the main floor. The evening passed in a blur, the only bits that stood out in her memory afterwards the times she danced with Spike, feeling his muscular body pressed against hers, his warmth seeping into her skin and making her heart beat faster.

All went well until about half past twelve. Spike and Buffy were just leaving the dance floor when a couple approached them. The woman was tall and slender, but there was a harshness about her face that made Buffy’s hackles rise. Her partner was a giant man with a vacant expression, his big brown eyes friendly but slow. They made a striking pair.

Unable to bring herself to smile, she was about to turn away when Spike stiffened beside her, his fingers clenching on her waist. She winced, but he didn’t seem to notice. When she looked up at him, she found his face suddenly pale and tight, his eyes glittering with loathing and pain. She rubbed his back soothingly and his jaw muscles relaxed slightly, but his eyes narrowed on the woman.

Buffy turned back as the stranger spoke, her upper-class drawl loaded with cruel mirth. “Hello, Spike. How have you been? Well, I hope?”

His voice was flat and cold as his fingers tightened painfully on her hip again, digging into her flesh. “Hello, Lilah. This your latest customer? Or haven’t you spread your legs for him yet? I always wondered how you could afford those expensive dresses.”

The brunette woman suddenly stopped smiling, turning to Buffy. “Is this your latest conquest, William? She can’t have spread her legs for you yet, you’re still with her after all.”

The lawyer’s companion gave a confused frown and muttered something to his partner. She sighed and nodded, patting him on the head like an overgrown puppy. Once he’d turned and shambled away, she returned to the attack, reminding Buffy of some poisonous snake, fangs bared evilly.

“You could do better, sweetheart.” It took a while for Buffy to realise that Lilah was addressing her. “William here is a nice boy, but you could only ever use him for his money. He’s the most appalling fuck, and he’s not the most intelligent man either; conversation gets a little stilted after a while.” She smiled at Spike, eyes narrowed spitefully. “Really, he’s rather inadequate.”

Buffy returned the smile to hide her flinch as the fingers gripping her waist closed so tightly she felt her eyes sting. Blinking back tears, she replied in a sweetly patronising voice. “Really? Weird. He’s one of the in bed that I’ve ever had. I wonder if it was something you were doing wrong?” She smiled beautifully. “Though it looks like you’re practising. Good for you!”

Lilah’s face tightened angrily. “This is what you stoop to after me? You’re pathetic.” She spat at Spike, rage making her face ugly. “Couldn’t have what you really wanted, so you picked up some cheap whore from the gutter. You make me sick.”

Spike snarled something unintelligible and his fists clenched, but Buffy laid a restraining hand on his arm. Lilah sneered, but the little blonde stepped forward, prying Spike’s now-rigid fingers away from her waist. She turned to him, standing on tiptoes to murmur in his ear. “Don’t make a scene; this is a PR event, and you really don’t want bad press. Go and find Anya and Xander and get out to the limo. I’ll see you there in a minute.”

He looked like he was going to argue, but she narrowed her eyes threateningly. She could almost hear his teeth grinding as he spun and stormed off. She turned to a triumphantly smirking Lilah, smiling sweetly. Her voice, however, was low and menacing.

“My name’s Buffy Summers, Spike’s suite overseer at Hotel Elise. If you come near my client with harmful intent, physical or otherwise, ever again, I’ll have you arrested for harassment and the Hotel will sue you. I don’t care if you’re the best lawyer in LA; once we’re through with you, nobody will take your sleazy ass.” She paused, looking the taller woman up and down scornfully. “Though it looks like everybody already has.”

She turned and stalked away, leaving a furiously mouthing Lilah behind her. They made the limo ride back to the hotel in silence and she left Spike with a gentle goodnight kiss, trying to ease the pain that had swept over him. She never told him about the finger-shaped bruises that didn’t fade from her hip until several days later.

The following morning, Buffy’s alarm clock woke her at six o’clock after a restless sleep filled with shadows and cold, serpent-like eyes. She blearily thumped the button to turn it off and rolled onto her back with a groan. A sudden shudder ripped through her and she bolted upright, heart pounding. The chill fingers of dread caressed her spine. Something bad was going to happen today.

She dressed in her freshly-pressed suit quickly, using make-up to hide her pale cheeks and the dark smudges under her eyes. Pulling her hair into a ponytail, she bypassed breakfast, her stomach unsettled after her nightmares. She took a deep, steadying breath and walked down the hall to the suite. As usual, Wesley opened the door to a surprised boss.

She sighed. “Wesley, what time do you get up?”

His eyes twinkled as he smiled. “With the birds.”

“The only birds in LA are really, really not morning people.”

He grinned and she smiled thinly, going to the kitchen and returning a moment later to help the butler set up for breakfast; after the first morning, both men had agreed to eat breakfast at the table rather than in bed. Willow and Anya arrived together, and Buffy smiled at the short, red-headed man who pulled her friend back for a kiss before gently urging her through the door. He caught her staring and raised an eyebrow before he turned and strolled out of sight.

Buffy pulled her blushing friend aside and spoke quickly and quietly to her. “Willow, I might need some time off today, so you and Wes might have to hold the fort.” She stopped, scrunching up her nose. “I don’t get that. It’s not a fort, it’s a suite. Anyway, do you think you can?”

Willow giggled before sobering. “Sure, but... Why? If you don’t mind me asking. I’m not trying to be nosy or anything, honest!”

Buffy smiled weakly. “I don’t know, I’ve just got this feeling...”

They were interrupted by Buffy’s phone chirping merrily. The blonde jumped before she recognised the sound, fishing it out of her pocket and flipping it open. She looked at the number and went pale, swaying on her feet. Willow supported her as she sank into a chair and pressed the green button on her phone.

“Robin?”

The familiar deep voice came sounded strained. “It’s time, Buffy. She wants you here.”

Buffy felt her eyes sting. “Of course. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Just... Tell her to hold on.”

She clicked the button to end the call and pushed the phone back into her pocket as if in a dream. Willow looked at her worriedly and opened her mouth to say something when Spike and Xander wandered into the room, both looking pale and a little tired, Spike more so than his friend.

They stopped when they saw Buffy, eyes blankly locked on the floor in front of her, face colourless. Spike cautiously approached and Willow discreetly stepped back, turning and motioning for Xander to follow her out of the room, closing the door quietly behind them. Spike crouched at Buffy’s side, hesitantly brushing a loose strand of hair away from her face.

“Pet?”

She started at the sound of his voice, and he felt her begin to tremble slightly. Her eyes glittered with unshod tears, her voice hoarse. “I have to... I have to go. Wesley and Willow will take care of anything you need.”

He didn’t like the way she continued to stare at the floor, shutting the world out. Shutting him out. “Buffy, what’s wrong?”

“Faith.” He blinked, thrown; seeing it, she carried on. “My sister. She’s...” She swallowed hard. “She’s was diagnosed with breast cancer six months ago, but it was too late. She’s dying. I have to go to her.”

Spike wordlessly embraced her as she suddenly threw herself into his arms, body wracked with silent sobs as hot tears scalded her cheeks. They stayed like that for a long time, Buffy venting her grief and pain, Spike holding her and rocking her soothingly, his heart aching at her capacity for love.

She finally pulled herself together, sitting back and looking at him from red-rimmed eyes, her face blotchy from crying. He thought she looked beautiful. She tried a smile, rising a little unsteadily to her feet. “Sorry I got you all yucky.”

He smiled softly in return. “S’ok, kitten.”

She pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek and headed for the door. Words weren’t necessary between them.

Having explained the situation to the suite staff and then to Angel and Cordy, Buffy felt emotionally drained. Driving out of LA towards Sunnydale, her home town and Faith’s final destination when she became too sick to care for herself, she thought about Faith. Her boyfriend, Robin Wood, had been more supportive to the whole family than they’d ever dreamed he would be, taking care of his ailing lover without help from anyone unless it was desperately needed.

At thirty years old, Faith was five years Buffy’s senior. She had always been a highly protective sister, but she had led a far more daring lifestyle than Buffy, partying all night and sleeping the day away. She’d eloped to Vegas with her then-boyfriend Ted on her twenty-third birthday, marrying him and returned after a four-month-long extended honeymoon there to announce that she was pregnant.

Her daughter had been the light of Faith’s life, and she’d given up her wild ways to care for the baby. Even while her relationship with her daughter flourished, her marriage deteriorated as Ted became more and more controlling and eventually became abusive. Faith had packed her bags, left him a rude note and left. She’d met Robin two years later, with her young daughter still in tow, working as a waitress in a slightly seedy diner.

He’d helped her organise care for Dawn so she could work in a more respectable establishment and she’d taken a course at the local college, emerging the proud owner of secretarial qualifications. Since then, she’d lived a fairly quiet life in Robin’s flat in New York, where he’d stayed after his mother’s murder by the local gang leader while he was still in his teens.

Faith had started feeling that something wasn’t right about a year ago. After four or five months of constantly feeling poor, Robin had taken her to the doctor. The prognosis had been grim, so they’d taken her to hospital for a more thorough examination. The doctors told a heartbroken Faith that she had been diagnosed with malignant breast cancer, and that it was too late to treat it.

As her condition worsened, the young woman had moved to Sunnydale to have closer access to Faith’s family. Joyce Summers was a strong woman, but watching the slow death of her eldest daughter had taken its toll, so Robin had moved in to care for his lover while Joyce took care of her granddaughter.

Buffy pulled up in front of the modest house on Revello with a heavy heart. She walked slowly up the path, reaching for the false rock that concealed the house key and letting herself in. Hearing the soft buzz of voices from upstairs, she quietly went up to Faith’s room and pushed the door open.

Faith lay in the large double bed, propped up by a mountain of pillows. The months of weariness and constant stress had taken their toll on her, and her once-curvy body was thin and fragile. Her long, wavy hair hung limply around her face and dark rings circled her eyes. Despite this, she smiled when she saw Buffy.

“Hey B.” Before, her voice had been strong and confident. Now it had been reduced to a slightly hoarse murmur. “Long time no see.”

Buffy, tears in her eyes, went to her. Joyce, Robin and the silent Dawn stepped away to let her pass. She knelt at the side of the bed, grasping one of her sister’s pale hands in her own. Faith turned to look at her, her breathing slow and shallow.

“Buffy, I know this is a lot to ask. You were always stronger than I was. You took care of me, in your own way. You were never angry, you never judged me, you were just there to support me. When I had Dawnie...” She stopped, eyes drifting closed wearily. “When I had Dawnie, you were the only one I knew would be alright with my decisions. I love Robin, but I can’t ask him to raise a child, not even his child, on his own.” She smiled at the tall black man and he smiled back, eyes glittering with tears.

Faith looked back at Buffy, her hand squeezing weakly. “Look after Dawnie for me. You know Mom is too old to be raising teenagers again. We were bad enough.” Buffy made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob. Faith smiled. “Please. Take care of my baby. She needs someone who can... understand... her.”

Exhausted, the dark-haired woman closed her eyes. Buffy gently placed the delicate hand at her sister’s side, rising unsteadily to her feet. “I love you, Faithy.” Her voice was choked, silent tears running down her cheeks as her heart grew heavy in her chest, seeming to crack a little more with each beat until finally she gave in, pain swelling in her chest until she couldn’t breathe except to cry.

She sank to the floor, surprised when a sobbing Dawn collapsed into her arms. She embraced the little girl, pulling herself together enough to stroke the long, light brown hair and murmur soothingly. She watched as though from a distance as Faith’s chest rose and fell, rose and fell, rose and... stopped. Joyce buried her face in her hands while Robin comforted her, though his broad shoulders shook and his face was suddenly old with pain.

Buffy rose to her feet, cradling the tiny six-year-old to her chest. She went over to the bed, bent over and, a little awkwardly, pressed a kiss to the forehead of her sister. Dawn squirmed and Buffy set her gently down on the bed. The girl pressed her tiny fingers to her mother’s still lips, tracing the slight smile there. Then she began to cry, great, heaving sobs that shook her entire body.

The little blonde lifted her niece, carried her out the door and into the bedroom she had used as a teenager. Settling on the bed, she rocked and shushed until the girl fell into an exhausted sleep, then she went back to the bedroom where Faith had taken her last breath and embraced her mother and her sister’s lover as they cried out their grief and pain.

As a fatigued Dawn slept and a hoarse-voiced Robin and Joyce discussed funeral arrangements, Buffy packed up the little girl’s things. Dawn slept through Buffy’s final goodbye to Faith and to Robin and her mother. She didn’t wake until her worn out and emotionally shattered aunt laid her down in the large four-poster bed in the apartment.

“Aunt Buffy?” The sleepy voice was so quiet it was almost inaudible. Buffy sat down on the edge of the bed and stroked the girl’s head.

“What is it, Dawnie?”

“When will I see Mommy again?”

Buffy smiled sadly. “Whenever you want to. She’s still here, all around us, watching us. All you have to do is remember her, and you can see her again.”

Dawn’s lip trembled before she began to cry again, softly this time, until she drifted into the sleep of an exhausted child. Buffy changed into her pyjamas and crawled into her bed, not bothering with anything else. She curled around the small body sharing her home, gratified and strangely comforted when Dawn turned in her sleep, instinctively cuddling into the body of her aunt.

That night, Buffy’s dreams were full of memories of Faith during happier times, and she smiled in her sleep as a sense of great peace came over her. Wherever she was, Faith was no longer troubled by her illness and she was free of pain. And although she missed her already, Buffy knew that one day, she’d see Faith again.

The shrill ‘brrrrring’ of the alarm clock made Buffy groan. She rolled over, intending to slap the machine into silence, only to encounter a small, warm body in her way. She froze for a minute before her memory came rushing back. Swallowing past a lump in her throat, she rose to her feet and quietly padded around the bed to turn off the alarm.

Dawn stirred restlessly, her little hands curling against her chest. Noticing the dark smudges underneath the girl’s eyes, her aunt smiled wistfully and left her to sleep. She showered quickly, dressing in silence. Unsure about waking Dawn, she hesitated in the doorway to the bedroom, then went back to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Dawnie?”

Dawn murmured, frowning as she rolled away from the gentle hand on her shoulder. Buffy grinned, pressing a little harder. Finally her niece turned onto her back and her big, sleepy eyes blinked open. She regarded her aunt through serious, heavy-lidded eyes.

“Dawnie, I have to go to work now, okay? You sleep for as long as you need, then you can come down the big hall to the door with the fancy numbers. If you knock, a nice man will open the door. He’ll come find me for you, alright?”

Dawn nodded, her eyes already closing again. Buffy pressed a kiss to her forehead and exited the apartment, leaving the door unlocked behind her. When Wesley opened the suite door to her, she drew him aside. He smiled at her with sympathy in his kind eyes.

“Wes, my sister’s daughter Dawn is going to be living with me for a while. I’ve left her in my flat, but I’ve told her to come here when she feels up to it. Could you come and get me when she does?” The butler nodded. “Thanks.”

She turned to walk away, but his hand on her shoulder stopped her. “Buffy, I’m so sorry about your sister, but…”

When he fidgeted with his glasses awkwardly, her brows snapped down. The Englishman was rarely awkward. “Spit it out, Wes.”

He met her eyes, mouth quirked in a wry smile. “As you wish. Warren has given the clients food poisoning.”

Buffy remained still and calm for as long as it took for his words to sink in and to thank Wesley. Then she flipped.

Willow and Tara, who often stopped in during the early morning hours to care for her supplies, were talking while the redhead cleaned the living room. Buffy stormed in, green eyes flashing, fists clenched, face pale and drawn tight with fury. The two girls exchanged anticipatory grins. Neither liked Warren, who was prone to leering at and groping them as often as possible.

Somme part of Buffy noticed their smiles and was amused. The rest of her remained more pissed off than she’d been in a while. “Is he in the kitchen?” Her voice was coldly furious, deadly in its softness.

They wordlessly nodded and followed after the petite blonde as she stalked into the kitchen. Andrew and Jonathon exchanged questioning glances with Buffy’s two followers, then giggled nervously when they nodded. Their boss ignored them, planting herself firmly in the centre of the room.

When Warren looked up from his task, it was to see four smug sets of eyes above beaming smiles behind an unsmiling Buffy. He faltered in his preparation, rubbing his palms nervously on the front of his uniform and leaving greasy smears there. Buffy rested her hands on her hips and cocked her head, regarding him with a scornful, unflinching gaze.

The watchers’ grins widened when he stopped work completely, his body swivelling to face the boss. Still she remained silent, just watching him. The hairs on the back of his neck rose and he shifted his feet nervously, but then a giggle from his shorter assistant made him puff out his chest. It wasn’t just his job at stake here, it was his ego.

“Did you want something, Buffy?” He leered at her, eyes dropping to her slender, toned legs, revealed underneath her skirt.

She smiled coldly. “I want you pack up anything that’s yours. I want you to go downstairs and tell them that you’ve been fired for misconduct and sheer incompetence. I want you to hand in your employee ID and get your fat ass out of this hotel. And I want you to do it within the next ten minutes, or I’ll call security.”

She turned on her heel, leaving him gaping at her back, and marched past their openly laughing audience. Warren snarled something unintelligible, pursuing her out of the kitchen and into the living room, where he grabbed her arm and yanked her around to face him.

“You can’t fire me, you little bitch. I’ll tell every newspaper in the country about you and Spike Giles having your sordid affaire.”

Buffy gestured around them, still giving him the benefit of an icy smile. “Try it. There are at least five other people in this suite who could stand as witnesses against you and your allegations, though where on Earth you got them from I don’t know. I have never slept with Spike Giles or any other client.” She eyed him with disgust. “And if you don’t get your hand off me, I’ll sue for harassment and assault.”

He swore at her, face twisted into a mask of hatred, before spinning and storming out of the suite, slamming the door behind him. Wesley looked up from where he was polishing the picture frame of a photograph by the door, eyebrows raised.

“I think that it would be a good idea to call Mr. Angel and tell him that you require a new chef.”

Buffy suddenly smiled, the tension leaving her as the last vestiges of anger left her. She looked at the door with satisfaction. “Good riddance to bad rubbish. And tell Angel that we want a chef’s assistant, not a chef.” She turned to face the gaggle of watchers. “Congratulations, Andrew, you’ve just been promoted. Jonathon, you’re now primary assistant. Could you make something our guests will be able to keep down by lunchtime?”

The two men looked at each other, grinning incredulously. Andrew clapped his hands and, still beaming happily, led his friend back to his domain. Just as Buffy relaxed, she heard the soft knock on the door and the sound of Wesley opening it. She hurried through to him, just in time to catch Dawn as she flung herself into her aunt’s arms.

Spinning the little girl around until she giggled, Buffy kissed her forehead gently before setting her down to face Willow and Tara, who were both gawping at her. The blonde grinned, but her niece turned and wrapped surprisingly strong arms around her calves, cuddling close to her caretaker.

In response to Willow and Tara’s looking at her with a mixture of ‘aww, cute!’ and ‘oh my God, who are you?’, however, Dawn turned and gave them a wide-eyed, heartstring-plucking stare. The two women melted and descended in a rush of hugs and kisses. Buffy watched the little girl with admiration. She was truly an expert.

“Guys, this is my niece Dawn. She’ll be living with me for a while. Dawnie, this is Willow and Tara.”

Dawn smiled at the besotted women and held her arms out for another hug, which they both gladly gave. Finally her soft voice distracted them from their cooing and general fuss-making. “Aunt Buffy said I should come here. Do you work here like the nice man with the funny voice?”

Giggling at this description of Wesley, both girls nodded and spirited Dawn into the living room, leaving Buffy smiling behind them. Once she’d seen that the little girl had two adoring caretakers, she turned and strode down the hall towards Spike’s bedroom. Pausing outside the door, she knocked gently. A groan from inside made her push open the door.

Spike was lying in the bed, the duvet pulled up to his waist, his bare chest glistening with sweat. His already pale skin looked almost white, a sheen of clammy moisture covering his whole body. The acid reek of vomit and illness hung in the air. Wrinkling her nose, she crossed to the bed.

“Spike?”

He groaned again, rolling his head towards her and opening his eyes to the tiniest slits in order to see who was addressing him. He saw the light gleaming on her golden hair and her concerned green eyes glittering down at him and it clicked. Buffy. He turned his head away, cursing her timing.

“Spike?”

“Go ‘way, Buffy. Don’t want you to see me like this.” His voice was a harsh croak.

She suddenly stood up, becoming brisk and business-like. “Nonsense. Here, let me get you a drink of water and some ibuprofen or something.” She returned a few minutes later and glared at him until he swallowed the two little capsules down. “Alright, time to get you cleaned up.”

He wanted to protest, but he was exhausted after long hours of throwing up the previous day; although he was recovering now, he still felt weaker than normal. He leaned heavily on her as she half-dragged him to the bathroom, where she flipped on the shower and propped him against it before turning away.

“Strip!” Came the order.

He sighed but obeyed slowly. The thought of a warm shower to wash away the stench of yesterday’s activities was tantalising. She reached a hand back and slid open the shower door and he carefully stepped inside. Hearing the water noise change and the door slide back into place, she exited the bathroom, leaving the door slightly ajar.

Twenty minutes later a much cleaner-smelling, now-dry Spike emerged from the bathroom clad in loose tracksuit bottoms that rode low on his hips. He was already feeling less shaky and he padded quietly out into the hall and towards the living room. The sight that met his eyes made him stop in his tracks.

Buffy was sitting on the sofa, a little girl snuggled into her lap, thumb in her mouth as she slept. Something in him softened, and he stepped towards her. She looked up and smiled gently, patting the sofa next to her in invitation. He sat down, staring at the child. Buffy’s voice was soft.

“This is my niece, Dawn. She’ll be living with me for a while.”

He nodded, running wondering fingers over the glossy brown hair, over the delicate arms and down to the tiny, fragile fingers. Buffy, watching him, almost melted at the look of awed adoration in his eyes. She could almost imagine him with their children, the little blonde curls he’d ruffle in fatherly affection, the way his blue eyes would light up when the kids came home from school…

Whoa! Back up, Buffy. Kids? Really not wanting to go there.

Shying away from those thoughts, she gratefully latched on to a safer one, though how much safer she didn’t know. “Spike?”

He looked down at her, and she realised that he’d somehow snuck closer and closer until he could wrap an arm around her shoulders. How had he done that? She shook her head to clear it, shifting Dawnie on her lap. Right. Dawnie. Focus, Buffy!

“Spike, having Dawn around… It’s going to complicate things.”

He searched her face, holding her with his intent gaze. “What’re you thinkin’ in that head o’ yours, Buffy? Tell me.”

She sighed. “It’s just… Can we hold off on the relationship front? At least until you’re not a client any more. I’m still figuring out how to juggle my life as it is, and I just… I need some time.” She suddenly smiled, giving him a smouldering look from under her lashes. “Think you can last a few more days?”

He swept down, skilfully avoiding Dawn to press a hard, quick kiss to her lips that left her body throbbing with the ache of unsatisfied arousal. He got up, curling his tongue behind his teeth in that devastating gesture so that she whimpered quietly to herself. He bent over, his face so close to hers that she could feel his breath on her lips, and her own parted as though to take it into herself. His voice was a low, seductive purr.

“I don’t know, pet. Can you?”

Leaving her squirming uncomfortably and trying not to wake Dawn, he laughed and sauntered back towards his bedroom. He was feeling a lot better already.

It wasn’t until Harmony snootily reminded her the following morning while a still-pale Xander and Spike sipped home-made chicken noodle soup slowly that Buffy remembered the PR event that evening. Cursing under her breath, she went in search of Willow. Unsurprisingly, the little redhead was ensconced in the massage parlour, where she and Tara were entertaining Dawn; the two women had become close friends, to each other and Buffy herself.

The blonde stood in the doorway, smiling gently as she watched the three girls playing snap on Tara’s table. Every so often there would come an excited squeal, followed by an explosion of giggling. Grinning widely now, Buffy cleared her throat and blinked when three huge, unwavering smiles greeted her.

“Sorry to interrupt such an intense game.” They giggled again. “But I was wondering if one of you would be able to baby-sit Dawnie for me tonight? There’s another PR event on and I’m supposed to attend.”

Willow and Tara looked at each other, then down at their charge. The little girl gave an innocent, disarming smile and stuck her thumb in her mouth again. Buffy could almost see their resolve crumble to dust. Willow volunteered with a sigh of adoration before drawing Dawn into her lap. Buffy couldn’t contain her smirk.

“She’s just so adorable!” The redhead defended herself.

Still sniggering quietly, their boss turned to find the two clients. Both had finished their soup by the time she got back to them, as she’d stopped to talk to Andrew and Jonathon on her way. She swept through the door with a dazzling smile locked firmly in place. Xander looked up and couldn’t help but smile a little weakly back. Spike just narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“Gentlemen, I have some news! You’re going to be attending the preview of The Da Vinci Code this evening. It’s a red carpet event, so feel free to make use of the personal stylists whose services come as part of the courtesy package.”

Both men groaned; Xander even went so far as to bang his head on the table, but he stopped when he turned a little green, swallowing hard. While his friend was occupied with trying hard not to throw up, Spike’s eyes glazed over in pleasure as he remembered the crimson dress. He smirked, licking his lips before curling his tongue up in the gesture that made Buffy weak at the knees. His voice was low and husky.

“You comin’ with me again, pet? I might have needs you should… satisfy.”

Xander looked up, shifting uncomfortably as the two blondes devoured each other with their eyes. “Oookay, I’m going to leave now, before I have to cut my way out through the sexual tension. Excuse me.” He fled in search of the blonde maid he was rapidly becoming entranced by.

Buffy leaned against the table, the heat in his eyes turning her legs to jelly. He stood up abruptly, almost lunging around the table to press his lips to hers in a brief, savage kiss. For a moment she forgot her self-imposed ban on all things Spike, but reality came crashing back when he wrenched himself away, leaning his forehead against hers as he panted for breath.

“God, Buffy, it’s not even been a whole day and ‘m dyin’ of withdrawals. You’re like a bloody drug, ‘n’ you’re in my blood now.” He groaned when she whimpered, willing her traitorous body back before his touch and his sweet words intoxicated her and she couldn’t tear herself away. He groaned, burying his lips in hers again for a long moment.

She pushed gently at his chest and his hands flexed on her hips before he could pull back. They stared at each other, jade eyes meeting stormy blue, before he gasped out ‘Shower!’ and fled. Buffy couldn’t help the smile of feminine pride that lifted her lips sensuously; he was in for a shock tonight.

At nine o’clock, an artfully dishevelled Xander and a thoroughly dangerous-looking Spike waited in the VIP lounge of the hotel. A sense of déjà vu washed over the blonde as the elevator bell gently pinged to announce the women’s arrival. He held his breath as the door opened and Buffy and Anya emerged, both wearing dazzling smiles. For a moment he was blinded by that smile, then his hungry eyes dropped to her clothing and he had to swallow hard.

She was wearing black leather pants so tight she must have poured herself into them, the shimmering material clinging lovingly to her shapely legs and the delectable curves of her ass. A thin strip of tanned skin teased his eyes before they rose to take in her top. Oh, bleedin’ fuck, what a top. The strapless corset was moulded to the dip above her tiny waist, its rigid material pushing her breasts up into the picture of feminine perfection. The black material gleamed as she walked, and he could see flashes of red satin behind the laces that crossed all the way down her front.

His now-dark stare lifted to her face, taking in the flawless features, her eyes ringed by a smoky mixture of colours that made their green seem even more bewitching, her pouting lips painted a deep red, her hair falling in golden waves around her face. She was magnificent. Perfect. Effulgent.

Buffy was feeling a little less than composed too. Spike was outfitted in the ‘Big Bad’ outfit he’d made his trademark and he looked good enough to eat. The gorgeous chest she’d come to adore was covered by a skin-tight black t-shirt, underneath a heavy leather duster that she knew would flow with his cocky swagger. His long legs were encased in black denim, his feet supported by clumpy black boots. His hypnotic eyes were ringed with dark eyeliner and he oozed sex appeal.

Her inner vixen purred. Mine, all mine!

Spike wrapped an arm around her waist, roughly pulling her against his side so he could lean down and brush her cheek with his lips, whispering sweet praises and heated promises in her ear so that her cheeks flushed a becoming pink. Xander, clutching an Anya radiant in a silvery grey dress that showed off long, tanned legs, followed them out.

Two limousines, one black, one white, awaited them outside. Spike immediately steered her towards the darker one, grinning at his friend, who scowled before guiding his beaming blonde escort into the sleek white car. Buffy slid into the cool embrace of leather seats, relaxing back into their soft caress. Spike thudded gracelessly down beside her, slamming the door behind him before their chauffeur could.

As the engine purred to life, Buffy shifted uncomfortably. She’d seen a glimpse of what Spike’s life was like before, but now, surrounded by the lush opulence of the car, she was acutely aware of what kind of person he was used to. She remembered Lilah’s easy manner at the ball, surrounded by enough wealth to sustain a small country for years.

She wondered if she’d ever be able to feel comfortable with such luxuries as were displayed before her now; if not, could Spike ever have a successful relationship with someone from such a different world? Doubt gnawed at her, and her fine brows drew down into a sad frown. Spike, who had been studying her face with fascination, slid an arm around her shoulders.

She leaned gratefully against his side, suddenly feeling the tiredness that had accumulated over the last couple of days. Her eyes drifted closed and she let herself fall into that peculiar state between sleeping and waking, where dreams no longer seemed unattainable and the line between reality and fantasy was blurred. A small smile curved her lips as she let herself imagine life with the watchful blonde at her side.

Spike watched her, smiling tenderly. With her head on his shoulder, her face relaxed in half-sleep, she looked so innocent and content that it made his heart skip a beat. His own eyes fell half shut, his mind drifting into fantasies that he’d barely let himself dream of in a deep, hidden corner of his heart. Locked together, they indulged in dreams that were achingly similar, though neither was ready to acknowledge the feeling behind the fantasy.

The jolt as the car slowed to a halt roused him from his trance. He gently shook Buffy to alertness and she tensed when she heard the muffled roar of chatter outside. Seeing her wide-eyed apprehension, he smiled easily.

“Relax, kitten; just remember to smile and look beautiful. Shouldn’t be a problem for you. It’s just business, right?”

She smiled weakly before he glanced at her, took a deep breath and knocked on the window. The door opened and he gracefully slipped out, turning to help her to her feet beside him. There was a sudden silence at the appearance of the petite blonde beside Hollywood’s darling child before an explosion of questions and camera flashes made her jump, though she smiled dazzlingly. They glided up the red carpet towards the building, Spike stopping her with gentle pressure on her arm every so often to turn and pose for a photographer. Just as they reached the doorway, he tugged on her hand. She stopped, looking up at him with a wide, exhilarated smile. He smiled softly back, oblivious to the flashing of the cameras before they swept in through the doors.

They were lead to their seats in the cinema. A grinning Xander and a thoroughly surprised but pleased-looking Anya appeared shortly afterwards. When the blonde couple turned to him in perfect synchronisation and lifted identically questioning eyebrows, he blinked before shaking his head and grinning smugly.

“What did you do?” The suspicious question came from Spike.

“The Xan-man has just ensured that he is the one who will be making the front cover of every newspaper nationwide tomorrow morning.” The dark-haired man grinned smugly.

“So, what did you do?” Buffy asked with a barely-concealed grin at their friendly rivalry.

A starry-eyed Anya looked at Xander with a dangerous gleam in her eyes. “He kissed me! In front of everybody.” She turned to her paramour. “You didn’t tell me you enjoyed exhibitionist acts. Why, we could always...”

They never knew what they could always, as a bright red Xander clapped a hand over her mouth. Spike smirked at him, cocking a brow as if to say exhibitionism huh? just as the lights dim. They settled back into their seats as the big screen bloomed into life and a great swell of sound drowned out Anya’s enthusiastic, if whispered, suggestions.

Spike barely concentrated on the movie. He was totally absorbed in watching Buffy, who had her eyes trained on the screen with rapt fascination, her expressive features displaying her every emotion. She was more interesting to watch than any film, and he found himself unable to look away. She gasped, lips parting on the sound, and he couldn’t help the wave of desire that flooded him.

He glanced around to make sure nobody was watching, then leant down and brushed his fingers over her cheek. She jumped, turning to face him and he cut off her protests by gently pressing his lips to hers. She instantly forgot the movie, twisting in her seat to grant him greater access. His hands fumbled for a grip on her contorted shape, until finally he cupped her face in his hands.

They indulged in a fairly heavy make-out session for the rest of the movie, hastily breaking apart when the lights rose. She exited the building in a daze, hardly registering that she was smiling with bewildered happiness as they moved down the red carpet and into the limo. Spike was grinning smugly, seeing her dazed expression and correctly interpreting it as a sign of his prowess.

They rode back to the hotel in silence, parting at the door to suite with a casual goodbye, now that they were back in the client-employee zone, but both fell into bed with besotted smiles on their faces, and both savoured a repeat of their red-carpet fantasies.

A/N: I'm baaack! Hiatus sucked, so I've finally returned. I'm on vacation now, so I can finally get down to some good, solid writing. Hope you enjoy this chapter, it might be a bit odd, as my skills have grown a little rusty. Reviews will serve as oil ^.^

******

Buffy woke with a start, the screeching of her alarm clock making the small figure curled up against her stir restlessly. Buffy hastily slapped the button to silence the shrill scream, then tumbled sleepily out of bed, her goofy smile surviving even the indignity of getting one foot caught in the sheets and falling flat on her face. Clearing her throat, she carefully climbed back up onto her feet, gently placing the offending article over Dawn’s slim shoulders.

It was only while she was in the shower that the realization of what happened today made the smile fade from her lips. Spike and Xander would be leaving tomorrow at midday, so this would be their final full day at the hotel. It was a bittersweet thought: while she loved being in such close quarters with Spike all the time, at least when he’d left their relationship could be made public knowledge. Provided, of course, that he still wanted a relationship.

That thought made her pause while she was drying herself off. What if he didn’t want a relationship outside of the hotel? Despite the way he seemed to be behaving at the moment, she remembered with a sudden sense of foreboding that he’d only come to the hotel to relax after his recent heartbreak. What if this was just a holiday fling for him, a way to forget Lilah? By the time she had finished dressing in her charcoal-grey suit, she was feeling irritable and not a little afraid of confronting Spike.

Those fears weren’t helped when Wesley opened the door for her and Jonathon and Andrew rushed out of the kitchen. For a moment she thought that they’d done something awful like give Spike and Xander a second round of food poisoning, but then they began to talk with breathless excitement and her initial dread turned into a knot of cold, hard foreboding that settled in the pit of her stomach.

“Buffy! What do you want us to make those gorgeous boys for their last supper.” Andrew’s face became dreamy for a moment. Xander Harris could wash my feet – or any other part of me, for that matter – any time he liked. “It’s got to be a fab meal, but could you ask if they’d prefer caviar or asparagus as a starter?”

Buffy forced herself to smile, but it was a weak effort. “Why don’t you ask them?”

Andrew gasped. “After spending the last hour slaving away in the kitchen and with no chance to freshen up? No thank you.”

Buffy couldn’t help but give a proper smile at that and Andrew, sensing weakness, squealed and gave her a hug. “Thank you, ducks! You’re a star.”

The two disappeared back into the kitchen, heads together and hands waving as they argued with good-natured heat. Buffy heard Wesley smothering something that sounded suspiciously like a snort and she turned to him, one eyebrow raised threateningly. He blinked innocently, but his lips quivered.

“Not one word.” Buffy menaced him with a stabbing finger.

“Of course not, ducks.” He bowed, face perfectly straight, and vanished through into the massage parlor, though Buffy couldn’t help but wonder what for. When she heard a familiar giggle, however, she realized that Willow was cleaning in there and that Wesley had probably just related the ‘ducks’ incident. Charming.

Sighing with resignation, Buffy turned towards the hallway and walked straight into a hard but unfamiliar chest. Looking up into Xander’s amused eyes, she blushed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you coming!”

Unable to resist, he smirked cheekily. “That’s okay, Buff, I’m not really a screamer.”

Her cheeks glowed fire-engine red as she ducked her head, taking a step back and freezing as Spike wandered into the room, hair tousled and eyes still deliciously heavy from sleep. He stopped short as he caught sight of the two of them standing so close together, and Buffy was suddenly acutely aware of Xander’s steadying hands on her shoulders. He seemed to have the same thought, because he quickly released her and backed away, grinning nervously.

Spike’s eyes narrowed into a glare and his friend gave a jerky wave. “Spike, my man, how’re you doing? We were just talking about… uh, never mind.”

Slowly, one of Spike’s eyebrows began to climb until he was directing a menacing but somehow curious expression at the pair. His voice was deadly soft. “What was that you were discussin’ in here, sorry?”

Xander coughed, mumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like ‘shit, I’m so screwed’ and sidled quickly out the door, leaving Buffy to face Spike alone. Rolling her eyes at the chivalry of men, she stomped across the room, hooked both hands around the pale Englishman’s neck and pulled his lips down to hers.

The instant she kissed him, he forgot all about the hot surge of jealousy that had stabbed at his chest when he saw her joking so intimately with Xander, forgot even the bitter parting of the following day; he just groaned, pulling her closer and opening her mouth with his own, plundering the warm, wet cavern with his tongue. She cooed in answer, tangling her fingers in his hair. They stayed like that for a long few minutes, absorbed in the passion crackling between them, until finally she pulled away, panting for breath.

Looking up into his dazed eyes, she grinned. “Now, Mr. Giles, would you like caviar or asparagus as a starter at your final meal this evening?”

Spike stared down at her, eyes dark with lust, voice gravelly from a mixture of need and sleepiness. “If I choose one, can I have you for dessert, kitten?”

Buffy’s breath hissed between her teeth as the erotic imagery flashed through her mind. “If you ask nicely.”

Without dropping her gaze, he slid to his knees in front of her. “Please.” The word was whisper-soft, and she had to strain to catch it, so much so that she didn’t feel him move until his hand began to slide up over her leg. “Please.” Slightly louder, and she caught her breath as he lightly stroked the sensitive skin behind her knee. “Please.” Almost swallowed by a groan this time as his fingers found the top of her suspender belt, that she’d donned subconsciously that morning. “Please.”

Spike watched her eyes flutter closed as her breath became heavy panting, a low moan sounding in her arched throat. His fingers skimmed her hip bone, sliding down and in, encountering… nothing? He gave a low growl, eyes flashing. “No knickers? Bad girl, Buffy.”

That made her whine, followed by a whimper as his finger tapped her clit then slipped further down. “What’s this? Somebody’s gettin’ a bit wet here, kitten.” His husky voice made her spread her legs as much as she could under the skirt, his caresses making her so hot she could hardly stand it.

“And so bloody hot.” The next moment he had suddenly impaled her on two of his long fingers, making her squeal. He grinned. “Shhh, baby, don’ want anyone hearin’ now, do you?” He began to thrust his fingers into her, humming his pleasure. “You’re so tight, Buffy, feel so good around my fingers.” His pace increased as she began to tremble. “Go on, kitten, come for me. Know you want it. Wanna feel you squeeze me. Do it, let go, yeah, tha’s it!”

His voice was like dark chocolate: velvety smooth, sinful and addictive. She could feel it coming, heat rising in her limbs, her body tightening almost unbearably until suddenly she burst, shuddering in wave upon wave of sweet rapture. She dimly heard him groan his own pleasure, and was amazed that the sight and sound and feel of her own ecstasy could bring on his own release. She came down slowly as he stood, rearranging her mussed clothing and smiling tenderly.

She looked up into his eyes and her doubts melted away. Then reality set in, and she blushed a bright red, mortified. “Spike!” She hissed, “Anyone could have walked in!”

He smirked, curling his tongue behind his teeth in the wicked gesture that never failed to get her hot, and she was suddenly aware of a trickle of warm moisture oozing down her thigh. She shifted uncomfortably and his face became serious. He lifted her chin with his clean hand, looking pleadingly into her eyes.

“I jus’ wanted you to have this, before I go, so you won’ forget me. I won’ be able to forget you if I try, kitten. You’re in m’ blood now, an’ I’m addicted to you. The way you look.” His eyes raked over her slightly disheveled clothes. “The way you smell.” He leaned close, inhaling her vanilla scent. “The way you sound.” She giggled when he nuzzled the side of her neck. “The way you feel.” His hands mapped the curves of her body. “The way you taste.” He raised his sticky fingers to his mouth, suckling at her essence.

She looked down, overwhelmed for a moment, before clutching him to her in a fierce hug. Blinking back tears, she gave him a wobbly smile. “So, caviar’s alright then?”

He chuckled. “Caviar’s fine.” His face grew grave again. “I know we’ve only known each other a few days, Buffy, an’ I know it feels crazy. Bloody Hell, it probably is crazy, but I can’ go unless I know. You wan’ somethin’ outta this, somethin’ more than just a quick fling, right? I couldn’ stand it if that was all you wanted, don’ tell me that, please!”

Looking into his suddenly bright eyes, she smiled gently and reached up to stroke his face. “Of course I want more than that, you great butthead! I thought that maybe you didn’t, that this was just a way to forget Lilah.”

His face tightened for a minute, but then he relaxed and smiled. “Silly bint, doesn’ know I’m half crazy for her even after all that.” She poked her tongue out at him and he smiled. Content, she began to turn away when his voice stopped her. “An’ Buffy? Butthead?”

She crossed her arms defensively. “Yeah.”

“Butthead?”

“Yeah, butthead. You got a problem with that?”

“Nope.” Then, under his breath, “Barmy cow.”

“Dork.”

“Bitch.”

“Vampire.”

“Angel.”

“Whipped.”

“You know it, baby.”

The day passed in a blur, sometimes moving too quickly, the moments she spent apart from him agonizingly slowly. When at last the whole staff gathered in the living room and toasted their guests for the last time, Buffy couldn’t help but let slip a few tears. Smiling through them, she stepped forward and beckoned Anya and Willow to her side. She cleared her throat and silence fell.

For a moment she thought about abandoning her job and her new friends, flinging herself into Spike’s arms right then and there, declaring her claim official and running off into the sunset. Then she thought about Wesley’s dry humour, Willow’s friendly openness, Anya’s endearing bluntness and Tara’s sweet smile. These people would make her pain easier to endure, even if they couldn’t admit to it until Spike had left.

Drawn from her thoughts by the feel of inquisitive, and in some cases derisive, eyes on her, she turned to the two men, one blonde, blue-eyed and pale like a Greek statue, the picture of agile masculinity, the other stockier, darker and more open; she had come to like both in their short stay, and wished passionately that it could be extended a little longer. With that in mind, she smiled her brilliant smile and began to speak, her soft voice vibrant with emotion.

“Spike, Xander, it has been an honour to meet and get to know both of you. We hope that in the future you’ll remember to call the Hotel Elise should you need accommodation; we’d be happy to have you back. These are small reminders of our gratitude.” Willow and Anya handed the two men the elegant, expensive customized watches that bore the hotel insignia and their names. “Come back to us soon.”

Her eyes caught and held Spike’s, and the unspoken message hung in the air between them. Come back to me.

The night passed slowly. In her bed, Buffy lay staring blankly at the ceiling, one hand mindlessly stroking Dawn’s silky hair. She thought her niece was asleep until finally the little girl stirred, moving her head to look into her aunt’s eyes with bright curiosity.

“Aunt Buffy?” Her voice was a loud whisper that briefly reminded Buffy of being a little girl at a sleepover, sharing secrets with her friends.

“What is it, Dawnie?”

“Why does Mr. Spike have to go tomorrow?”

“Because he has to go back to being a vampire, sweetie.”

Dawn’s brow furrowed. “But he’s a nice vampire, isn’t he? I don’t want him to be bad.”

Buffy chuckled. “He’s a nice vampire, Dawnie. He saves the world, I think.”

“But doesn’t he get lonely, being the only nice vampire?”

“Yeah. I guess he does.”

Dawn sighed and snuggled down into Buffy’s side again. Her voice dropped to a sleepy mumble. “Then you’d better be a nice vampire, too, Aunt Buffy. You could save the world and you could be together forever, like Barbie and Ken.”

As her eyes closed Buffy smiled wickedly, remembering the crotch on some of her Ken dolls when she was younger and comparing them to Spike’s more-than-adequate… spike. As she drifted into sleep, she cuddled the little girl close and murmured a reply. “I’d like that.”

Spike lay awake in his vast, comfortable bed, staring at the elegant drapes above him. He wondered if Buffy was still awake, whether she was thinking about him. He thought about getting out of bed and going to see her, but decided against it. Don’ wanna wake the Nibblet.

Thinking about Dawn made him smile. It’d be nice for the Bit to have bittier ones to play with. Can see Buffy as a mum. Lilah had never wanted kids. They’d never discussed it, but he knew. She wasn’t exactly the maternal type. Maybe that’s why they had been so totally incompatible. Lilah was everything that Buffy wasn’t: She was cold where Buffy was warm, sly where Buffy was honest, dangerous where Buffy was safe and, most of all, difficult to love where Buffy was so adorable.

That made him smile, and he drifted into a sleep filled with dreams of delicate, blue-eyed, blonde-haired children playing with Dawn in a sun-warmed garden and, for some strange reason, a large, shaggy mongrel dog with a crooked tail that never stopped wagging as it watched the children through odd-colored eyes. Spike just tried to ignore that part.

Buffy woke before her alarm clock, and rolling across the bed, she carefully turned off the alarm. Leaving Dawn sleeping, she showered and changed for her last day of work for a week – the hotel management tried to schedule a week-long break between clients for each floor – and prepared to face the pain of saying goodbye to Spike.

Wesley opened the door for her, as usual, but she didn’t bother to make any wry remarks, just flapping a grateful hand before padding quietly along the corridor. Pausing until she was sure the butler was out of sight, she breathed a sigh of relief. Only Andrew, Wesley and herself were coming in today, the others having already said their goodbyes the night before (though Buffy had a sneaking suspicion that Anya might turn up later.).

She didn’t bother to knock on Spike’s door, assuming that he was still asleep. She slipped into the bedroom and shut the door gently before turning to face the bed. Her jaw dropped. Spike, it seemed, liked to sleep comfortable. Naked and comfortable.

He was splayed out over the mattress as though he had been dropped from a great height, the lightweight summer covers twisted around one leg. He was almost spread-eagled, his head tilted back slightly, his lips gently parted on a soft smile. She studied the graceful curve of his neck, the mouth-watering lines of muscle on his chest, her gaze lingering on his abs until she let it wander greedily south.

He was semi-hard even in sleep, and the fleeting thought that he might have been dreaming of her earlier made her smile. Almost without realizing it, she stepped quickly towards him, pausing at the edge of the bed. She teasingly traced the thick length of him with one finger, eyes glazing over as he hardened under her touch.

Spike was having the most fantastic dream. Buffy was in his room, wearing nothing but those sinful stockings and suspender belt, straddling his chest and masturbating frantically while he watched, her head flung back in glorious abandon, the whisper of her hair caressing his abs as she arched further back making him groan.

He could feel the dream slipping away as he swam towards consciousness, and he whimpered in protest, clinging to it fiercely. As it faded and he became aware of his surroundings, however, the heat in his limbs didn’t disappear into the ether; if anything, it intensified. Opening sleep- and desire-filled eyes, he drew in a sharp breath when he saw Buffy standing above him, one hot little hand wrapped around his cock.

“God, Buffy! What you do to me.” A guttural groan was ripped from his chest as she flexed her fingers around him.

“Good morning, Mr. Giles.” Her voice was a silky caress, her smile wicked. “Are you ready to get up yet?” She gave another firm squeeze and, with a final hard stroke, Spike rocketed over the edge.

“Bloody buggering fuck!” He yelped as he bathed her palms in hot, sticky ejaculate. As the pleasure shuddered through him he thrust his hips towards her for the last time, panting for breath. Looking at her with glazed eyes, he moaned. “That was one heck of a wake-up call, pet.”

Buffy smiled, licking her lips as she raked her eyes over him. With a wink, she vanished into the bathroom to clean her hands. When she emerged again, he was wearing his notoriously tight jeans, but nothing else. She bit her lip, feeling heat uncurl in her belly. Seeing the desire flashing in her eyes, he smiled and reached for her.

Stepping back, she eluded his grip, and when he pouted she rolled her eyes and leaned down to whisper in his ear. “No, William. This morning was all about you. Don’t forget me. Don’t forget us.” And she slipped from his room as silently as she had come, leaving him with the memory of her soft voice warming his heart.

Buffy spent the morning avoiding Spike. She was grateful that she would be having a break from her work, which she had to admit was taxing, but she worried about how he would feel when he got back to work. She had to be honest with herself: she was pretty, and she knew that men found her attractive, but when he went back to filming, Spike would be surrounded by celebrities, especially female ones trying to catch The Next Big Thing. How could she compete with their looks and wealth? She was just a normal person, after all.

That thought made her think about Anya. While she was blunt and sometimes a little scary, the girl was in the same boat as her. Xander, too, was a catch for those slightly less famous celebrity women looking for something to boost their careers. Did that worry Anya they way it worried Buffy? Resolving to talk to the girl, she slipped out into the corridor and headed towards her flat; Dawnie had asked to say goodbye to Spike and Xander in person.

When she opened to door, Dawn was lying on the coffee table, her head over the edge and her long hair touching the floor. Buffy had to stifle a giggle. “Sweetie, what are you doing that for?”

Dawn smiled. “I wanted to see what the world looked like upside-down.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because Mommy said that Australia was on the other side of the world. That must mean people there are upside-down. I wanted to see like they see.”

Buffy nodded solemnly. “Ah. Do you want to come and say goodbye to Mr. Spike and Mr. Xander?”

Dawn rolled onto the floor and jumped up with a smile. She gripped Buffy’s outstretched hand and followed her back out the door.

Spike was frustrated. Every time he went to talk to Buffy, she found something else to do. And now, when he had to leave in only quarter of an hour, the silly bint was nowhere to be found. Scowling, he went to ask Wesley where she’d gone, but the butler was in the kitchen and couldn’t answer. He finally arrived in the front room just in time to see her walk in, Dawn clutching her hand.

His anger melted away at the sight of the little girl. Little Bit has me wrapped around her finger, good ‘n’ proper. Dawn saw him and smiled shyly, tugging her hand free of her aunt’s. He crouched and held out his arms and she leaned into them for a hug, her little arms going around his neck.

He stood, lifting her with him, and she giggled, burying her face in his shoulder. He spun her round twice, then gently lowered her to the floor. She looked at him from wide, innocent eyes and he smiled mysteriously, tapping the side of his nose. “Got somethin’ for you, Nibblet.”

She gasped and clapped her hands happily, then frowned. “I’m not a Nibblet. I’m a Dawn.” She informed him.

He grinned. “Sure you’re a Nibblet. Wouldn’ be more than a mouthful to a vamp.”

She scowled fiercely. “Would too.”

“Would not.” He retorted.

“Would.”

“Not.”

“Would!”

“Alright,” he relented, “You would. Can I call you Nibblet anyway. Suits you.”

She frowned at him for a moment longer, then smiled. “Okay.”

Watching as they talked, Buffy felt her face soften tenderly. He was so good with Dawn, so gentle and so careful. When he drew a wrapped box from behind his back, the little girl squealed and held out her hands. He wagged a finger at her and Dawn pouted, then said, “Please?”

Spike relented; how could he not, when she was looking at him with those big puppy eyes, so like Buffy’s. She took a moment to admire the pink wrapping paper, with little white angels on it, before she carefully began to unwrap the gift, her tongue poking out the side of her mouth with concentration.

While she was occupied, he happened to glance up at Buffy. The wistful, adoring expression on her face made his breath catch, and he hastily looked away as he felt tears prickle behind his eyes. Her gasp as Dawn flung herself into his arms brought him back to the present, no pun intended.

“Thank you thank you thank you!”

He grinned. “Welcome, Bit.”

Dawn squeezed him one last time, then bounded over to Buffy and thrust a signed box-set of the first two series of ‘Slayers and Souls’ at her. “Look, Aunt Buffy!”

Buffy smiled, but looked puzzled. “I didn’t know you liked the show, Dawnie.”

“I didn’t before, but now I’ve met Mr. Spike, and he said he thought I’d like it.”

Buffy raised an eyebrow. “Did you now, Mr. Spike? Will you go and get Mr. Xander, please, Dawn. I think he’s with Anya in the living room.”

As the little girl bounced off, Buffy eyed Spike with amusement. “Leaving something to remember you by?”

He leaned closer, nibbling at her neck until he reached her ear. He sucked the lobe into his mouth for a moment before he growled. “Have to wait for your present, kitten. I’s not exactly rated PG.” To emphasize his point, he thrust his hips roughly against her.

Whimpering, Buffy backed away just in time for Dawn to come back into the room in front of a sheepish-looking Anya and Xander. Her nose wrinkled, the little girl said, “They were kissing. Yuck!”

Giggling, Buffy went across and embraced Xander, kissing him lightly on the cheek. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Xander. I hope you’ll keep in touch.”

Grinning, he returned her hug. “Of course, Buffster.”

She turned to Spike, who’d just said his goodbyes to Anya. She gave a weak smile, her eyes stinging. He swore, clasping her to him tightly. “I’ll call as soon as I can, pet, I swear. Gonna miss you so much, my Buffy.” She held him for a moment longer, then stepped back. She watched as he walked slowly behind the porter towards the elevator. He turned as the crowded into the small room, his eyes meeting and holding hers as a single tear traced down her cheek. She continued to stare at the spot he’d been in even after the doors had closed.

After a quick lunch (chicken soup for Buffy and peanut butter and banana sandwiches for Dawn), Buffy rang Willow.

“Hey Wills, it’s me.”

“Hey Buffy!” The redhead chirped. Then her voice softened. “How are you?”

“I’m okay, I guess.” She couldn’t quite keep the tremble from her voice.

“Sure. You’re as okay as a… not-okay thing.”

Buffy reluctantly smiled. “Anyway, me and Dawnie are going shopping; she hasn’t been into the city before. You wanna come with?”

Willow squealed and agreed with an enthusiastic spiel about ‘retail therapy’ and ‘the coolness of having a relatively rich boyfriend’. That surprised Buffy; the taciturn Oz didn’t exactly strike her as the rich kind. When she asked, Willow grinned. “I know. But you know I told you about the Dingoes? Well, I kinda left out that they’re about to release their second album. The first was pretty darn successful.”

Buffy sighed. “How am I so out of touch with everything? Retail therapy is definitely required.”

When Dawn learned that they were going shopping, instead of getting excited as Buffy had imagined she would, she frowned and looked down, her voice so soft that her aunt had to crouch down to hear her. “I don’t have any money.”

Buffy snorted and, with not a little effort, lifted the girl into her arms. “Dawnie, I’ve got enough money for both of us, even in L.A. I get my first paycheck tomorrow, so it’s alright to go a little wild today.”

Dawn looked at her with the beginning of a smile. “Really?”

“Really really.”

They both laughed at that, and Buffy ushered the girl into the bedroom ahead of her so that they could change. When they were done, Buffy was just putting the finishing touches on her make-up when she felt a tiny hand tugging at her sleeve. Quickly jerking the mascara brush away from her eye to prevent mishaps, she looked down at her niece.

“What is it, sweetie?”

“Can I wear make-up too?”

“I’m not sure, Dawnie, you’re a little young for that.”

The little girl looked down. “Okay.”

Seeing the pout on her lips and the disappointment in her eyes, Buffy swiped on another layer of mascara before digging through her make-up box. Finding what she wanted, she bent down and lifted Dawn’s chin, before carefully smoothing the strawberry-flavored, clear lip-gloss over Dawn’s lips. Standing up, she turned to face the mirror and examined them critically.

“We look hot!”

Dawn had her hair in long, loose ringlets after an impromptu session with the curling tongs Buffy had dug out. Her skin was healthily clear and her cheeks were rosy, her shimmering lips matching her bright eyes. She wore a soft, light blue skirt that reached in pretty ruffles to the floor and a plain white strappy top. Her nails were painted a similar blue, and she wore white flip-flops on her delicate feet, as well as a dainty, beaded blue bag on her arm.

Buffy was wearing a slightly-shorter-than-knee-length, tan suede skirt and a white strappy top underneath a very lightweight overshirt made of a floaty, gauzy material similar to organza. She wore white flip-flops too, though her nails were unpainted, and carried a tan bag. Her hair was loose and neatly straightened, her make-up light and summery, with just a touch of pink lip-gloss and some pale eyeshadow enhancing her dark mascara and hint of eyeliner.

They looked, as Buffy had put it, hot.

When they passed through the entrance hall, a low whistle made Buffy pause, and she turned just in time to watch Gunn sauntering up to them with an appreciative grin on his face. “Damn, Blondie, you look fine!”

Buffy raised her eyebrows and waved a finger teasingly. “Charles, no swearing in front of the kids!”

Gunn, who had heard about Buffy’s charge from Cordelia and Angel, crouched beside the wide-eyed girl. “Hey there, ankle-biter.”

Dawn tugged on Buffy’s wrist. “Aunt Buffy, he’s like Robin!” Without waiting for confirmation, she loftily informed him, “I’m not an ankle-biter. I’m a Nibblet.”

Gunn laughed. “That right, huh kiddo?” Buffy grinned as he rose and opened the door for them with a polite ‘ladies’ and a wink.

Rolling her eyes at his antics, she waved goodbye as they joined the throng of people on the sidewalk, heading into the more shopping-orientated part of the city where they were going to meet Willow. She was already standing outside the fountain they’d decided to use as a meeting place when they arrived.

She saw them and swooped in for hugs and a kiss from Dawn, who looked her over and solemnly proclaimed. “You look hot too, Willow.”

The redhead blinked, and then giggled. She was wearing a rich green, halter-neck top that left her pale shoulder-blades bare and a plain white skirt that ended just above her knees. Her bag was white, and she wore green strappy sandals. Her hair had been coaxed into choppy layers, framing a make-up free face that glowed with happiness.

Dawn walked between the two women, holding one each of her caretakers’ hands, and tugged gently when she wanted to look in a shop. They visited as many of the designers as they could, but mostly stayed in the more affordable but still stylish high-street stores.

By the time the evening was drawing in, Dawn was happy but exhausted and Buffy and even Willow had to admit to being all shopped-out. Oz picked Willow up in his newly-painted black van, nodding at Buffy and giving Dawn a rare, warm smile. They waved until the van was out of sight before catching a cab back to the hotel.

While their dinner, pasta with bacon pieces, mushroom and onion in a cheese sauce - Dawn’s favorite meal – cooked, the girls unpacked their purchases, smiling over the horde and lovingly brushing away imaginary folds or flecks of dirt.

Dawn had bought two necklaces, one with a small silver heart as a charm and one with a jewel-studded fairy; a pair of tiny diamond earrings for her newly-pierced ears (something Willow had half-bullied, half-coaxed Buffy into agreeing to); a pair of fun, orange and white beach sandals; a blue tankini with palm trees on; a short, pale yellow skirt; a marshmallow-pink top with the sequined slogan of ‘Top Girl’ emblazoned on the front; and a stunning, sea-green evening dress that they had no use for yet, but that Buffy swore she would find an occasion for.

Buffy herself had purchased a peacock-feather blue, V-necked, blouse-style top; a black skirt with shimmering, silver beads swirling in ripple patterns over one thigh and half of her butt, the hem reaching to mid-thigh; a simple, silver chain with a delicate cross on it; large, silver hoop earrings, a dark-plum-colored skirt the same length as the black one, though this one was a much lighter material which swayed as she walked; killer black knee-length boots; and a stunning, bright red halter-neck top that was backless but for a fine gold chain that ran down her spine and held the loose waves of material together.

All in all, the two were pleased with their efforts.

They ate their pasta quietly, and then Buffy dug out the chocolate fudge brownie ice cream they’d decided on earlier and started up the first disc of the box-set Spike had given Dawn. Halfway through the first episode, both girls were hooked.

Buffy was in awe. Spike was good. Really, really good. She’d known, in the back of her mind, that he was rumored to be The Next Big Thing, but she’d dismissed that as the raving of a fickle world. She’d known he had to be above average, but he was, as he would say, bloody brilliant.

They devoured two discs before Buffy realized that Dawn’s eyes were heavy and that she was almost asleep on the couch. Turning off the DVD, despite the little girl’s sleepy protests, she carried her niece through to the bedroom. While a totally exhausted Dawn dozed, Buffy changed her into her pajamas and tucked her into her side of the bed. With a kiss goodnight and a murmured declaration of love, she turned out the light and crept back out of the room, leaving the door ajar behind her.

She had just settled in to watch the next episode when the phone rang. Scowling she hit the ‘pause’ button and stomped across the room to answer it, unable to keep the sulkiness out of her tone when she said, “Hello?”

The deep, smooth chuckle that greeted her made her knees feel weak. “Hello, cutie.”

“Spike.” Her voice was suddenly way too breathy and she cringed. “Um, hey Spike.”

“Is that all I get? ‘Hey Spike’?”

She could almost see the pout forming on his delectable lips and she giggled. “What did you want me to say? Oooh, ravish me you hunk of burning love!”

His voice dropped to a husky purr. “You givin’ an invitation?”

She licked her suddenly dry lips, trying to ignore the sensual rasp of her own voice. “Maybe. If you say please.”

“Please.”

She groaned and, somewhere above West Virginia, Spike grinned. One of the advantages to him and Xander each having a private jet was the things they could do when they were alone in the air. An’ I did not jus’ think about what Xander does when he’s alone in that flying tin can of his.

“You like hearin’ me beg, don’ you? Like bein’ in charge?”

Buffy blushed. “Um, maybe…”

He laughed again, a deep, rumbling sound that made her whimper. “Yeah, I know you do. Well I got news for you, kitten.” She faintly heard the sound of his zipper being roughly jerked down and his sigh of relief as his erection sprang free. “I like bein’ in charge too, sweet Buffy.”

She heard a soft, rhythmic sound in the background and she blushed crimson, her voice a high squeak. “Are you…?!”

“Tossin’ off? Hell yeah. ‘ve been hard as a rock ever since you answered the phone, soundin’ all cross ‘n’ sulky.”

Suddenly an image of him sprawled in a comfortable chair, lazily stroking himself as he watched her with those hypnotic blue eyes popped into her head and she crossed the room, sinking onto the couch as her breath began to come in short pants.

Hearing her breath hitch, he smirked. Gotcha. Half-closing his eyes, he pressed a button and the seat silently tilted back until he was slouched comfortably, almost laying down but not quite.

“Does that thought make you hot, Buffy? Knowin’ that ‘m sittin’ here, touchin’ myself ‘n’ thinkin’ ‘bout you. Bet it does. Bet it makes you squirm.”

Through the haze of desire rapidly swamping her, Buffy gave an evil grin. Two can play at that game. “It makes me so hot, Spike, that I think I might have to do something about it.” She gave a purred moan. “Tell me what to do to make it better, Spike.”

Surprised for a moment, he was silent, but he quickly gathered himself and gave a cocky smirk. “Only if you say please, baby.”

She scowled, but at the continuation of the sound of his masturbating, she gave a whimper of defeat and whispered, “Please.”

His response was immediate. “I wan’ you to slide your hand over your pretty little nipples. Rub ‘em, gently, so you can feel how much you wan’ it. Are they hard for me, Buffy?”

“So hard.” She whimpered as hot pleasure raced through her body.

“Pinch ‘em a little, get yourself good ‘n’ hot. D’you want me, baby?”

Hearing her answering groaned, Spike breathed in sharply and began to stroke himself faster, imagining Buffy at home on her comfortable couch, touching herself just for him. Hearing the needy little kitten noises she made when she was aroused, he moaned and squeezed himself a little before continuing, his voice ragged.

“Now push your little hand down, so you’ve got room to play. I wan’ you to brushed over your clit with one finger, tease yourself, make you all nice ‘n’ wet for me. Are you wet for me, Buffy?”

“God, I want you so much. Spike!” His name was a gasp of air that made him narrow his eyes.

“I hope you din’t push that little finger up into your cunny before I told you to.”

From the guilty silence, he guessed that that was exactly what she’d done. Although the thought almost made him come on the spot, he held on by sheer force of will. “‘m gonna punish you for that, Buffy. But not now. Need you too much now.”

Hearing her harsh breathing, he picked up where he’d left off. “Now start pushin’ that finger in an’ out, imagine it’s my cock inside you. D’you want it, Buffy? Want my cock? Mmm, I know you do.” As he heard her moans increase in volume, he realized she was close to orgasm and the knowledge undid him. “Fuck, Buffy, come for me. Come all over my hard cock, yeah, tha’s right.” As they came together, he gave a guttural groan.

After a few minutes of harsh gasping for breath in which they both came down from their dizzying highs, she finally spoke. “Well, that was therapeutic.”

“You okay, kitten?”

“I think you broke me.”

He laughed. “Now you get to bed like a good girl, ‘n’ I’ll call you again whenever I can.”

“Don’ wanna move. Comfy.”

“Go on. Sweet dreams, baby.”

He hung up, leaving Buffy staring at an innocently buzzing phone. Huffing, she stretched and reluctantly rose, looking at the Buffy-shaped dent in the couch that was already beginning to fade. Blushing, she crossed the room and put the phone back on its cradle, washed her hands and slipped into her bedroom to change into her pajamas.

Once in bed, she turned off the alarm clock and hit the light switch, grumbling sleepily. “Stupid Spike and his stupid sexy voice. Won’t be having sweet dreams now. Stupid man.”

And, descending towards Washington at a steady rate, Spike smiled to himself. “Sweet dreams, my Buffy.”

************

A/N: Wow, I'm feeling mused-up at the moment! I've just been savaged by a particularly savage, short-story plot bunny, so be on the look out for a one-off, Christmas fic within the next few days.

Reviews are my Christmas presents. ^.^