“So what’s the name of this store we’re going to?” The cool air was a welcome refreshment to the Slayer, who felt a bit sluggish after having eaten the biggest portion of fish and chips she‘d ever laid eyes on. She took in many of the sights and sounds they passed, trying to get a feel for this city that had been ancient even before Spike’s time. She regretted not having time to stop and read the plaques that spoke of the history of the old buildings and landmarks--maybe, she hoped, she could come out sometime during the day and see London in the sunlight.

“It’s called Divine Opulence.” Spike had appreciated the comfortable silence that had accompanied their walk. He found it refreshing to be able to be in someone’s company without having to fill every moment with senseless banter.

“Divine Opulence? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s not supposed to mean anything. That’s just what it’s called. It’s not very far from here, if I remember correctly. I know it’s around here somewhere...” He stopped in his tracks and closed his eyes. He’d been here numerous times, but that was before the McDonald’s and the Gap that now occupied this intersection were even a notion in their creators’ minds. He opened his senses, reaching out to feel the pull of the other demons.

He opened his eyes and looked at Buffy. Nodding his head to his right, he confirmed his suspicions. “It‘s right over here.”

Buffy looked at the building they were facing. She cocked her head and stared at the golden arches for a second before glaring at the vampire. “Ok. Am I missing something, or are you implying that you’re getting me dressed at McDonald’s? ‘Cause uniforms so aren’t my look right now.”

Spike groaned. “Have you learned nothing yet?” He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her down a pathway that lay next to the restaurant. The rank smell of grease and garbage hung in the still air of the alley, which was unlit save for the moonlight that trickled in between the two brick buildings. Buffy felt as if she was being coated in a layer of stench and quietly wished that for just once, her life would lead to somewhere normal like the Gap.

The path opened up onto a small cobblestone courtyard over which about half a dozen storefronts faced. Two small Japanese Maples were growing in the center of the court, and miniature white Christmas lights decorated many of the storefronts. Buffy’s eyes scanned the stores, curious as to what kind of stores upper class demons might frequent. There was Dvelia’s Chocolates and Confections, Savannah Beauty Salon, Silk and Lace Garments and, of course, Divine Opulence.

Scanning the selection at the chocolate shoppe, Buffy was impressed. “You guys are really set up, aren’t you?”

Spike tore his eyes from the lingerie display and shrugged. “Well, if you’ve been around long enough, you’re going to develop an infrastructure. It’s bound to happen.”

“Ah—the joys of demon capitalism. Anya would be proud.” She walked through the door as Spike held it open for her, and found that the store looked like any other fashionable boutique she’d ever been to. Although she hadn’t really known what to expect, she never really thought it would be so... normal. She made her way to one of the racks and looked at a pair of jeans. “Ooh--these are nice!“ She turned the price tag over and felt faint. “Uh, Spike? We can’t afford to shop here! Look at the price of this stuff—what, does it come from another dimension or something?”

“’S possible, pet. Lots of work to be had making clothes for the filthy rich, even in the demon world. We just haven’t got the same resources you humans do—not like we can enslave 8-year old Chinese kids to make our shirts.” He peered around, as if he was looking for someone in particular. “Look, I’ll go find some help for you. And don’t worry about the money—I’m cashing in on a favour so you just choose whatever you like.”

As Spike walked away, heading towards the closest salesperson, Buffy busied herself by looking at the clothing on the racks. She’d forgotten that the store catered to the non-human variety until she found a beautiful green dress that had four armholes. Wow—this is worse than not finding my size...

A piercing shriek brought her attention to the back of the store, to where Spike was being attacked by a squat demon in a bright yellow dress. Well, it looked like he was being attacked but the vampire wasn’t fighting back so Buffy could only assume that it had been a happy kind of shriek. Making her way to where the commotion was taking place, she nearly doubled over in laughter.

Right next to the cash register, a short, rotund demon had Spike in a bear hug. Although he seemed royally embarrassed, he was returned the embrace; that was until he spied the Slayer.

“Right, then.” Pulling away from the hug, he straightened his duster and tried to regain some of his Big Bad. “Zairah, this is Buffy. She’s a... friend. From California. Buffy, this is Zairah; she owns Divine Opulence.”

The demon turned to Buffy and gave her a warm, matronly smile. She didn’t seem to have any body hair, and the Slayer found it a bit disconcerting to be speaking to someone who didn’t have any eyebrows or eyelashes. She was reminded of the time that the football team had gotten their clutches on Xander--they’d duct taped him to a bench in the change rooms and had shaved his eyebrows. Not a fun time for Xander, no siree...

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Zairah. You’ve got a really nice store here.” Buffy was genuine in her feelings towards the demon. She gave off a feeling of warmth and kindness that the Slayer didn’t encounter often--either in demons or humans.

“Thank you, dear. I’ve worked very hard to get it to what it has become, and I have William to thank for that.” As the large demon spoke in a thick Eastern European accent she beamed at the vampire, who tried his best not to look abashed. “It is always in difficult times that you know who your true friends are.”

Before Buffy had a chance to ask the demon what she was referring to, Spike spoke up. He didn’t feel like taking another trip down memory lane. If Buffy really wanted to know what the older demon was talking about, he’d tell her when they got back to the hotel. “Reason we’re here, Zairah, is Buffy needs a bit of a makeover in the clothing department. We have to pay a visit to Pulchra Nex, so she needs to have something less bubble-gum.”

The demon’s eyes grew round. “The Pulchra Nex? William--you’re not still associating with those people are you? After all these years I would have believed you’d grow out of getting into trouble.” She seemed truly disappointed and clucked her tongue. “And bringing a nice young girl like Buffy in such circles--you should be ashamed of yourself!” She smacked him upside the head and continued her castigation. “I should have known when I saw you with your hair all white and the long black coat...”

Buffy stifled a giggle. It must have been horribly embarrassing for William the Bloody to be chastised like a ten year-old in front of the Slayer, especially when he was not at fault--for once. Man, where was Zairah when he kept coming up with those plans to kill us? The thing that surprised her most, though, was that he just sat there pouting instead of defending himself.

She decided to save him from further torment. “As funny as it is to see you tear a strip out of Spike, Zairah, this isn’t quite what it seems. We’re going to the Nex for business purposes, and I’m more than able to take care of myself around vampires and demons. Now, if you want to continue blasting him for his hair, well--be my guest.”

Zairah sighed. “There’s no stopping you young ones once you’ve set your sights on something. I will help you--I owe William as much.” She snapped her fingers and turned with a flourish, yellow dress flowing after her. “Come! Let the transformation begin.”

Buffy looked at Spike questioningly, not sure what kind of ‘transformation’ she’d be undergoing. As if he’d read her mind, he reassured her. “Don’t worry, pet. She won’t make you do anything you don’t want to. She might try real hard, but she won’t force you. Go on, now, before she smacks you upside the head too.” He rubbed his head where he’d been hit earlier. “She doesn’t hold back--that’s quite a backhand she’s got there.”

Buffy nodded in understanding and turned to follow Zairah to the back of the store. “Um, I don’t know what deal you and Spike have--he mentioned some sort of favour or something--but I’d feel much better telling you that we don’t have much money and can’t really afford any of this. You know, just in case he was pulling my leg...”

“Tut, tut! There will be no speaking of money. William is correct. He helped me many years ago and I promised him that he could come and claim any favour he wanted, as long as I was alive. You must be a very important young woman in his eyes, for him to use his favour for you.” She winked a lash-less eyelid at the Slayer and turned to a wall of clothing. “Now, let’s have a little fun, shall we?”

The young woman looked up, and gulped. The wall displayed what could only be described as a fetishist’s wet dream. “Oh, no... I can’t wear any of that! Not in public--and not in private either! Does that skirt even have a rear end?” There was no way on earth that this demon, and Spike to boot, could get her to wear clothing that had holes in all the wrong places. She backed up until she hit a rack of pants. “I’m sure Spike might be able to cash that favour in sometime in the next century...”

“Don’t worry, love. We won’t be too risqué, especially if you’re shy. There’s still lots of clothes to choose from. Now, let’s see if we can find you a few delicious outfits...”

***

While the women busied themselves with clothing, Spike browsed the footwear section of the store. He’d had his boots for a long, long time: they’d been with him in New York when he’d killed his second Slayer, they were there when he and Dru first set foot in Sunnydale and now they were with him on his first visit to London in over 50 years. He felt a pang of sadness at the thought of parting with them, but he knew that all good things must come to an end.

A pair of 10 hole Doc Martens caught his eye. Black and shiny, they reflected the overhead lights like a mirror. He rifled through them until he found his size, and picked them up. Yup, definitely time for a change. He looked down at the boots he was now wearing. “Sorry, boys. Looks like you’ll be retiring tonight.”

New boots in hand, he made his way over to the back of the store. There he found Zairah in by a row of dressing rooms, an armload of clothing in hand. He pressed his index finger to his lips, quietly asking her not to acknowledge his presence. Eyeing the clothing on the wall, he pulled down a Chinese-style dress. It was made of red silk, and had fabric-covered buttons up the front. He handed it to the demon and watched her pass it over the top of the door.

The vampire leaned towards the other demon. “Has she decided on anything yet?” He tried to make rhyme or reason of the piles of clothing that were scattered across the chairs lined up against the wall, but gave up.

Zairah sighed. “No--she hasn’t even come out of the room yet.” She smiled at the vampire. “Maybe you could convince her to come out. You know, try a few well-chosen words...” She assumed that there was a potential ‘something’ brewing between William and the nice young woman. No harm in trying to help a bit, was there? She watched as Spike winked at her and walked up to the cubicle door.

“Buffy?” He called in a patient, calm voice.

“What?!” Exasperated and embarrassed, Buffy couldn’t believe that they expected her to leave the dressing room wearing some of this clothing; there was no chance in hell she was showing up in some demon version of a biker bar wearing a few straps of leather.

Flexing his hands into fists, Spike tried to keep his voice even. He didn’t know how she did it, but the Slayer could deflate a good mood quicker than Harris could down a jelly doughnut. “Why don’t you come out so we can see what you look like? Zairah’s working hard out here tryin’ to find some clothes for you--the least you can do is come out here and show her how you look.” Ugh. He was reduced to coaxing Buffy Summers out of a dressing room; his life was going down the shitter.

She might have considered acquiescing if she’d believed even a word of what he was saying. Why on earth would Spike want to see what she looked like, unless it was to laugh at her? “Don’t try to butter me up, Spike. I am *not* leaving the confines of this cubicle. I can see for myself if what I’m wearing looks good. I don’t need you to try to coax me out of here just so you can ogle me.”

That’s it. “Ok then, we’ll play by my rules. If you don’t come out here in thirty seconds, I’m coming in. I am going to find you something to wear--I don’t care what you think of it--and that’s what we’re leaving with. Choice is up to you, pet.” Enough molly coddling--threats always worked much, much better with the Slayer.

Buffy didn’t doubt for a moment that he would have the audacity to rip the door off her dressing room--even with Zairah and a few other customers present. She grabbed the red dress that had been passed to her last and slipped it on. She took a quick peek in the mirror that lined the inside of the door, and smiled. Okay--maybe I’ll keep this one...

The door to the room finally opened, and the young blonde stepped out. She cast a threatening look towards Spike and turned to Zairah. “Well? What do you think? I guess it’s nice--it’s sexy” she admitted shyly “but it’s classy.” She walked around a little and looked herself over in the mirrors that were on the wall. The demon agreed that it was very flattering, and encouraged her to hang on to it. “Yeah, I think we can put it in the ‘keep’ pile.” She turned to go back into the cubicle when her eyes met Spike’s. He hadn’t said a word as she and the shop’s owner had fussed over the dress; he’d just stood there and stared. His gaze unnerved her--she wasn’t sure if he was regretting the whole plan. Maybe she wasn‘t choosing the right kind of clothes. He didn‘t really expect her to wear a leather bustier, did he? “Spike? What do you think--is it a Pulchra Nex keeper?”

She was speaking to him, but he didn’t hear a word she said. Spike stared at the fabric as it slid over her curves and caressed them. How he wished he was the silk at that moment--wrapped around her warm body, hugging it tightly in all the right places. Why did she waste her time with blues and pinks when she looked absolutely smashing in red? The dress stopped at mid-thigh--just the right length to tease--and showed off her lean legs. So much power in such a delicate-looking package... She approached him, and spoke again.

“Spike? Earth to Spike!” She snapped her fingers in his face, and watched as he took a deep breath. Why does he do that? He doesn’t need to breathe, but it’s so damn erotic when he does... Whoa! Stop right there--Spike and erotic in the same sentence? She cursed her libido as it caused her to look up into his face and see the lust that burned in his eyes. She licked her lips and watched as his own lips parted. She smiled coyly and whispered. “So, what‘s the verdict?”

Fuck fuck fuck fuck. I have to share a bed with her after *this*, and I can’t touch her. Her hips and breasts call out to be traced by my fingers, her lips are begging to be kissed... “You look beautiful, pet.” He tentatively drew a finger down her side, sliding it along the soft fabric, and found himself burned by her heat. He had to snap out of it before he took her right there in front of the whole store. Clearing his throat, he stepped back and tried to regain a semblance of control. “Now, why don’t you actually try some of these clothes on instead of just staring at them?”

There was no malice in his voice, and she didn’t take offence to his words. The silent moment they’d shared bolstered her self-esteem. If the dress had this kind of effect on him, what would that short leather skirt do? The Slayer smiled as something within her awoke; all of a sudden, displaying her sexuality was no longer daunting or dirty but freeing, in some sense. Buffy Summers, you’re one good looking woman--why not show it off? If you’ve got it, flaunt it... And to think that it took Spike for her to realize this...

***

By the time they were ready to leave the store, Zairah had convinced Buffy into getting the red dress, a black leather mini-skirt, a pair of very low-waist red leather pants, a couple of stringy tank tops that didn’t leave much to the imagination, and a pair of high Victorian-style granny boots. It might not have been as daring as Zairah would have liked, but it was more adventurous than Buffy would have seen herself agreeing to.

As the Slayer juggled with her shopping bags, Zairah pulled Spike aside. “William, my dear, we’re now even. You’ve made good use of my offer; Buffy’s a lovely young woman.” She threw a glance at the diminutive blonde, who was still struggling with all the bags. She smiled warmly. “I want you to make me a promise, William.”

Spike raised an eyebrow, following her gaze. “What’s that, luv?”

The older demon took a hold of Spike’s sleeve and held it tight. “Don’t let this one go.” She put her finger over his lips to stop whatever he was going to say. “Tut! I see how you are around her, how you look at each other. She may not be from our world, but she has a spark inside her and she can bring out the best in you.” She turned him towards the Slayer and gave him a push. “Now go, and remember--next time you decide you need clothing, bring your wallet. I can’t afford to clothe all your lady friends.”

Buffy handed her bags to Spike and bade Zairah goodbye. “Thanks for everything. The clothes are beautiful, and... are you sure we don’t owe you anything?”

Nudging the young woman towards the door, Spike grumbled. “Hurry up, Slayer, before she changes her mind.” Throwing one last glance at the other demon, he smiled. “See you ‘round, luv.” He waved with the hand that wasn’t laden with bags and left the store.

Zairah was left there with a puzzled look on her face. “Slayer? My, how times have changed.”

***

Back at the hotel, Buffy busied herself with putting her new clothing away. Humming, she put her dress on a hanger and hung it in the closet. She turned her eyes to Spike, who had been quietly sitting on the couch watching her putter around. He hadn’t said a single word on the way home, and she was getting a little worried. Not that the moment of blissful silence wasn’t appreciated, but she needed to know what thoughts were turning around in that demonic mind of his.

“Ok, spill.”

The vampire snapped out of his daze. “Huh? What are you talking about?”

The young woman took a seat next to him on the couch, and crossed her arms. “Spike, you haven’t said a word (since you told me I was beautiful) since we were at the store. Something’s bothering you, so out with it.” She leaned back a little and tried to mimic Willow’s resolve face.

The Brit’s mouth opened, then closed. I’m attracted to you--you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on and I want to make you mine. And I hate myself for it. “Sorry pet, just thinking, ‘s all. Got caught up in old memories while we were out tonight.”

Buffy’s heart sank a little. “Oh. Thinking about Drusilla and lost love?”

“Something like that.” You don’t know how close you are.

They sat there on the couch, listening to the tick-tock of the clock. Spike stared straight ahead, not really focusing on anything, while Buffy kept stealing glances at the bleached vampire.

“Spike?”

“Hmm?” The vampire turned his gaze to the young woman sitting beside him.

Buffy bit her lip. How could she remain lucid around someone who spoke volumes with barely a glance? His clear blue eyes seemed to bore into her soul--she should have felt violated, but strangely enough she felt comforted. Gone were the cold, calculating eyes of a killer; what she saw were the eyes of a man who had loved someone for over a century, who had fought a Slayer to find a cure for the woman he loved. She had to find her voice before she did something very un-Slayer like...

She cleared her throat. “Do you think we’ll have time to look around while we’re here?”

Spike chose to ignore her pause--for the moment. “What, do you mean patrol? ‘Cause I’m not helping you kill any demons...”

“No, no. I mean like touristy stuff. I don’t think I’ll ever get the chance to travel overseas again--you know, because of the slayage--and I’ll kind of feel like I missed out if I don’t take a bit of personal time.”

The vampire didn’t look too certain. He lay back on the couch, remote in hand, in a slouch that would have made Al Bundy proud. “You mean go on a tour group?” The last two words dripped off his tongue like they were poisoned.

Here goes--get the charm out. Buffy gave him a 100 Watt smile. “Well, I was thinking of asking this certain blonde vampire if he wanted to play tour guide for me. Betcha he’d be much more fun than your average tour guide.”

The Brit barked out a laugh and sat up straight. “You know, Slayer, kissing ass always gets you what you want. So, did you have anything in mind? Big Ben, Tower of London, Piccadilly Circus? I don’t think I need to mention that all places of worship are off our list...”

Buffy leaned back and pulled her feet up onto the couch. “Why don’t we just go out and see where we end up?”

Author's Note: Halloo again, readers! Before anyone says anything--I know that in the show, Buffy wore very slinky clothing, but since this fic isn't 100% canon, I figured I could take a bit of creative liberty. Let me know if you still like the story--Spuffy coming up in a few chapters, so keep reading. And thanks to those who review!!