When the car stopped in front of a plain three-story building, Spike and Buffy glanced at each other questioningly. Shrugging her shoulders, the Slayer broke the silence. “Maybe he has to pick someone up. Whoever lives in that building probably can’t afford a car anyway. It doesn‘t exactly look like an upper middle class kind of place.”

They felt the car jostle, and looked out the window to see the driver dumping their bags on the sidewalk. Taking advantage of the shaded sidewalk, Spike jumped out of the vehicle. “Oi there! What’s this about?” He looked up at the building and saw a sign above the door; the red placard, which sported a pair of pikes in the form of an ’x’, read ‘Sheffield Arms’.

“Bloody hell...” The vampire turned to accost the driver, but bumped into Buffy instead. Before he could do anything, their chauffeur had hopped back into his vehicle and had driven off. Coward...

Taking in their surroundings, Buffy was confused. “Uh, Spike? It doesn’t look like there are any five star hotels around here, unless the rating system is way different in England. Maybe...”

A string of curses cut her off. “Bloody fucking piece of shite... Argh!” Spike proceeded to kick the shape out of a steel garbage bin. “Fucking wankers! They were supposed to keep their word--we’re supposed to be in a royal goddamn suite, not” he waved wildly at the hotel in front of them “this!”

Tired from the trip and irked by the vampire’s tirade, Buffy put her hand on his elbow. “Spike? Look, I know this isn’t what we were expecting, but I’m so tired right now, that I think I could probably fall asleep on that bench over there. How about we go inside, have a good rest, and go back to the Council tomorrow--we can always kick Travers‘ ass and get him to make arrangements for something less slummy.” She noticed a few gawkers across the street. “Anyway, I don’t feel like attracting the cops. Jail is one place I do not want to spend the night.”

Shoulders slumped in defeat, Spike sighed. Picking up his bag, which he had thrown into the street Good thing this street isn’t busy, Spike grabbed some of Buffy’s luggage as well. “Sorry ‘bout that, pet. Don’t really like being taken for a chump that’s all. We’ll take a look at this place. Maybe it’s not that bad on the inside.” Offering her a genuine smile, he carefully placed his hand on the small of her back. “Let’s get ourselves cleaned up and rested, shall we?”

***

Whatever hope they held on to disappeared when they walked into the lobby of the Sheffield Arms. Buffy almost burst into tears at the sight of the dirty pale green walls, yellowed linoleum flooring with missing tiles and small dingy staircase which lead to the upper floors. She tugged on the vampire’s duster. “Spike? Maybe we can find a nice alleyway to sleep in... Come to think of it, I’m not tired anymore.” Plastering a big, fake grin on her face, she jumped around. “See? Awake!”

Spike ignored his companion and continued to slam his palm on the bell. Where the bloody hell is the owner of this rathole? “’Ello? Is there anyone here?” Ding! Ding! Ding! “Bloody hell...” As he was about to hit the bell once again, his hand was stayed by the Slayer’s.

He turned to look at her, and followed her eyes to the staircase.

Someone was coming down the stairs, cradling a tower of folded towels. A bright turquoise eyelid peeked out from behind the towels, and a cheerful voice spoke up.

“Sorry about that, dears. Can’t hear the bell from the laundry room.” Spotting Spike, she winked at him. “Here, you look like a strong lad. Do be a love and help me with these; I’m afraid I’m not as strong as I used to be.” Chuckling, she shoved her burden at the vampire.

Dropping the bags he was holding, Spike caught the laundry before it fell to the ground. Embarrassed beyond words, he avoided catching the Slayer’s eye. Last thing he needed was to see Buffy laughing at him.

He followed the older lady to an armoire, where he was asked to place the towels. Now if only he’d found himself in a similar situation say, 5 years ago, the old bint would have been drained for putting him out. Instead, he just gave her a strained smile and placed the towels where he was asked.

Clucking, the woman thanked him. “It’s so nice to have strong arms around, every now and then. Now, let’s see what I can do for you...”

Walking behind her, Spike finally realized who this woman reminded him of: that Mrs. Slocombe on Are You Being Served, the one whose hair colour often matched her clothing. Snickering to himself, he thought: Wonder if she’s ever died her hair magenta?

The yellow-haired lady positioned herself behind the counter and looked at the couple in front of her. They make such a lovely young couple... She opened the logbook and ran her finger down one page. “Now, let me see... Do you have a reservation?”

Before either Spike or Buffy could answer, she let out what could only be described as a girlish squeak. “Oh, wait! Let me guess-- Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair?” She looked up at them with obvious glee.

Groaning at the use of his last name, Spike could only mutter a curt “Yep. That would be us.” Hearing the shortness in his own voice, he followed it with a forced smile. Not her fault we’re stuck in this shithole. Wait, why the heck am I feeling bad for the old bat?! Great, now I’ve gone soft...

The woman winked at them in a conspiratorial way. “The honeymooners. I should have guessed--you both look tired...” She giggled again. “I’ve been preparing your room since yesterday. It’s just perfect for newlyweds.”

Buffy narrowed her eyes and turned to Spike; if this was some sort of trick of his, she was going to dust him, whether or not she needed him on this trip. However, one look in his direction and she could tell he had nothing to do with this. His mouth was slack, and his eyes round-- Nooo, he doesn’t know anything about this either; he’s more surprised than I am. Heck, he almost looks scared.

She turned to face the weird looking lady and smiled. “Uh...” Reading the lady’s nametag, she forced herself to continue. “Hetty.” She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Who mentioned the honeymoon?” Her voice squeaked, betraying the nonchalant image she was trying to convey. She tapped her fingers on the counter. Someone’s going to die a slow, tortuous death...

Hetty smiled warmly. “Don’t worry, love. Miss Bishop said that you wouldn’t want any fussing, but I know better than that. It’s not every day that you get to celebrate having found the person you love-- a little pampering is always a nice touch...” She turned around, and went into the back room, talking to herself. “Now, where did I leave that key?”

The instant Hetty was out of sight, Buffy groaned and banged her head on the counter. “I can’t believe she did this to us... Amelia is soo dead; next time I see her, I’m going to... to... oh, I don’t know, but I’ll think of something.” She turned to the blonde vamp, and wrinkled her nose at him. “And why are you so quiet about this? Don’t tell me you’re happy, ‘cause I swear, I’m gonna...”

Spike cut her rant short. “Don’t worry, Slayer--I’m no giddier than you are about this. I’m just trying to suppress my gag reflex. How do you think an old bint like her, in a place like this, prepares a honeymoon suite? Think heart shaped bed, pink satin sheets, Burt Baccarach on an 8-track...” That last thought made him shudder.

“Who in the world is Bert Bark.. Bacha.. whatever, and what the heck is an 8-track?”

“Never mind that. I’m just saying that we’re about to walk into a situation that I don’t think either of us is prepared for. She’s actin‘ like a mother hen, for Christ’s sake--she’s probably been planning this for weeks! I think I’m going to toss my breakfast...”

“Here we go!” Hetty seemed to appear out of nowhere. “Ready to go up? I’m afraid you’ll have to carry your own bags--I don’t have anyone to help you with that...”

Quietly accepting his fate for the moment, Spike smiled at her. “S’ok mum--you just lead the way and we’ll follow.” He picked up their bags and left Buffy behind, with only her carry-on to carry.

***

Their dread escalated with every step they climbed, every footstep they took down the hall that led to their room. Spike’s visual imagery was getting worse--on top of the heart-shaped bed and the pink... everything, he now saw flowers everywhere, and the Burt Baccarach had changed to Celine Dion.

Caught in his daymares (what else would you call such horrible daytime imagery?), the vampire almost didn’t notice that Hetty had stopped. Feeling the Slayer crash into him from behind, he guessed that she had also been in her own little world. He heard her hold her breath as their host unlocked the key to their room.

Hetty waved them in. “Come on in, dears.” She entered the room, and left the two ’honeymooners’ in the hallway.

An idea popped into Spike’s head. One that would probably result in him getting staked, but who had ever accused Spike of being reasonable? He dropped his bags, cocked his head and looked at Buffy.

Feeling awkward under his stare, Buffy snapped at him. “What?!” She saw a smile form on his lips, and backed up a step. “Spike--what are you...” She screeched as she felt him pick her up in his arms and carry her into the room.

Her insides turned to mush when she felt his cool breath in her ear. “Can’t skirt tradition, can we luv? It‘s bad luck...” He set her down, and walked back out to the hall to grab the bags. She reached out to the wall, to steady herself. Good God, girl. It’s only for show--why do you feel like there was more involved? She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Maybe it’s because of how right it felt being in those strong arms, nuzzled against his chest... She opened her eyes and saw a pair of clear blue eyes staring at her in amusement.

“Shall we, pet? We‘re about to be given the grand tour.” He offered her his arm, and to his surprise, she accepted it.

The room itself was much different than any hotel room Buffy had ever stayed in. To her, it seemed more like an apartment. There was a small kitchenette, with a mini-fridge, a sink and a microwave; the bathroom was small and cramped, mostly because of the oversized clawfoot tub that took up half the space; the last room, which was like a bedroom/living room, contained the biggest bed she had ever seen. She ran towards the canopied bed and jumped on it, losing herself in the feel of the chenille blanket that covered it. “Wow! You’ve even got the curtains around the bed. I’ve only ever seen these in old movies...”

Hetty chuckled. “It’s the honeymoon suite, love. Of course I put extra effort in the bed...” She winked at Buffy, who turned beet red and began to choke.

The Slayer’s reaction got a heartfelt laugh out of Spike. “Don’t worry ‘bout her, mum. She’s just a little coy, is all...” He couldn’t help but add: “I’m sure she’ll be wanting to try it out soon enough.” He gave the older woman a wink, causing her to laugh.

Pouting, Buffy figured turnabout was fair play. “So, Hetty. Which way do the windows face? I just love sunrises. Don’t you, Spikey?” She walked up to the vampire and put her hand around his bicep, squeezing just hard enough for him to yelp.

The older woman furrowed her brow. “Now that’s odd... Ms. Bishop clearly asked me to put up heavy curtains; said that Mr. Sinclair had a... what did she call it? Oh, yes! A sensitivity to sunlight. If you want, I can remove them for you and put the sheer ones back up...”

Spike decided to speak up before Buffy had a chance to. There was no knowing how far she would go--lot of good sheer curtains would be to him in a sunrise. “No, the curtains are good as they are. Ms. Bishop was right about the... sensitivity. This is just the wife’s way of being witty. Wicked sense of humour she has...”

After a short silence, Hetty decided to leave the two lovebirds be. “Well, I’ll be on my way now. If there’s anything you need, just let me know. I come by to pick up towels and bedsheets every two days, so just give me a holler when you’re leavin’, so I don’t disturb you.” There was that wink again. As she was walking out the door, she turned, and added. “Oh, I almost forgot. I’ve left you a few prezzies in the fridge. Ta-ta!” With that, the door closed and Slayer and vampire were alone for the first time.

Author's Note: This is one of my favourite chapters. I don't know why, but it just is. Maybe it's because the Buffy/Spike interaction will be getting much more *interesting* from now on... Anyway, please enjoy and review :)