Spike slowly drifted into consciousness and quietly registered his surroundings. In that lazy place between sleep and wakefulness he momentarily forgot where he was. Fluffy pillow, soft feather blanket, comfy bed... he opened his eyes ...surrounded by heavy draperies. Ah yes, the Sheffield Arms. He pulled himself into a sitting position and leaned back against the headboard.

From the direction of the kitchen he heard the clanging of pots and pans, followed by muffled cursing. He pulled the curtain aside and looked at the clock on the nightstand. Quarter to five--pretty good day’s sleep if I might say so myself. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, the blonde vampire caught sight of the Slayer in the kitchen. She was puttering around, seemingly unaware that she was putting on a show. A smile formed on his lips as he saw her cutting something up and drop it into a pot. The Slayer in a kitchen--not something he ever dreamed of witnessing. His stomach grumbled as he caught a whiff of what was cooking. Whatever it was, it smelled good. It may not have been blood, but it would do nicely in the meanwhile.

Spike had always been singled out by Angelus and Darla because of his affection for human food. Demon or not, his stomach grumbled at the smell of pot roast and he still craved a good beef curry every now and then. Oh, and then there were those deep-fried onions he always got at the Bronze. Heck, he’d take up killing his own kind if he could get his hands on one of those every meal.

He hoisted himself off the bed and padded barefoot over to the counter that separated the kitchen from the bedroom/living room. Seating himself on one of the stools, he reached over and stole a slice of the carrot that Buffy was cutting.

Frowning as the bleached vamp helped himself to another slice, the young woman moved her cutting board out of his reach. “I thought you were just going to sleep all evening, too.” She dumped the remaining vegetables into the pot and placed its lid back on.

“Well, I must admit I was tempted, but the smell of cooking always dragged me out of bed.” He tried to stretch over the counter to peek in the pot, but was thwarted by its lid. “What’s in the pot?”

Buffy smiled shyly. “I’m trying to make soup. I’ve never actually cooked anything more complicated than Kraft Dinner on my own, so you’ll be my guinea pig.”

The vampire hopped off his seat an walked around to the stove. He pulled the lid off the bubbling pot and inhaled. “Well, it smells bloody fantastic. What d’you put in it?”

The Slayer seemed to make a mental list before rattling it off. “Uh, carrots--obviously” she gave the vampire a pointed look “celery, onions, some of those mixed herbs you buy in a bottle and... and I’ve got some beef cooking in the oven. I put some of the herbs on it too. Do you really think it smells good?” She looked hopeful.

“Slayer, you know me well enough that I wouldn’t say it smells good if I didn’t think it did.” The bleached blonde began to rummage through the grocery bags. “Where did you go for this? Were you out all day?”

“Pretty much, yeah. I went out around one and took a walk around. I went to some war museum--it was full of cool old weapons. They had this really cool sword--it must have been about 6 feet high--Scottish, I think...”

“That would be a Claymore, pet. Pretty impressive--does some good damage.”

Buffy nodded at the clarification. “Anyway, I could have walked around in there for days... On my way back, I passed a small grocery store and figured I might as well get some food, since I doubt we’ll be lucky enough to live off your friends’ generosity the whole time we’re here. Oh--I also got you some blood from the butcher’s, since there won’t be any biting while we’re here.”

The vampire grumbled. “Bleedin’ pig’s blood. Next thing you know, I’ll be buying some poofy hair gel and become all broody...” He poured himself a mug of the blood and nuked it. He took a drink and made a face. “Ugh! How can Peaches drink this crap?! Yech!”

Buffy tried to hide a smirk. “Listen here, Drama Queen. You’re having some soup in about 10 minutes. Put up with it until then.”

As he rinsed out the mug, an idea came to Spike. “You wouldn’t happen to have bought some canned tomatoes eh, luv?”

The Slayer’s brow creased as she opened a cupboard door. “Yeah--I was going to use them for some pasta.” She pulled it from the shelf and handed it to him. “Why do you want these, anyway?”

Spike rifled through the drawers until he found a can opener. “I figured we could add them to the soup.” Upon seeing her lower lip jut out, he added: “Not that it doesn’t look or smell amazing, but tomatoes in soup are like hot peppers on a plate of nachos--they bring it that much closer to perfection.” He looked up from the can opener and found that Buffy was watching him with a wry smile on her face. “What?”

The sight of Spike, clad only in flannel pj bottoms, hair still tousled from sleep, standing there holding a can of tomatoes was a sight to behold. “This.” She waved at them, in the kitchen. “This whole scene is surreal, Spike. Step back for a sec, and take a good look at us. You in your slouchy pants, helping me make dinner. It’s... it’s, domestic.”

Spike furrowed his brow and paused to observe the strange scene. Slowly, a grin appeared on his face. “Yeah, kinda looks like a scene from the Hellmouth’s version of the Odd Couple, doesn’t it?”

Buffy grabbed one of the bar stools and propped herself on it, watching as the vampire cut the tomatoes and dropped them in the simmering soup. “So--did you stay up late last night?”

“Yeah--went to bed just around sunrise.”

Jumping off her seat, the Slayer walked up to the pot and peeked under the lid. “Wow--that does look great. Ten points for the Undead Galloping Gourmet.” She replaced the lid and watched her temporary flatmate rinse a knife off. “Why were you up so late, anyway? Did channel 5 have a Passions marathon?”

I tossed off half a dozen times so I wouldn’t impale myself when I crawled into bed beside you. Didn’t work very well, though. “Just thinkin’ ‘bout how we’re going to get you into the Nex. I haven’t been able to come up with anything workable that you’ll like.” Truth was, he had come up with the perfect plan, the only viable plan, but its mere suggestion would get him damn near staked.

“Pass me those oven mitts, will you?” Buffy removed the beef from the oven. Yup--it was cooked. She knew she came off as the dumb blonde type and, well, she often made it rather easy for folks to get that idea, but she was actually more than capable in the kitchen.

After her parents divorced, she and her mom had lived at her grandmother’s until Joyce was back on her two feet. Buffy would help her grandmother cook dinner and bake all kinds of sweets. She took to cooking quickly, but after the great muffin fiasco baking on her own was a big no-no.

As she began to cut up the meat, she returned her attention to the interrupted conversation. “Well, give me your ‘best’ idea. Worst thing, I shoot it down and we keep brainstorming. Just like we do at the Scooby meetings. You know, soup is good brainstorming food--it’s a scientific fact.” She gave him a smile as she turned the heat off on the burner and let the soup simmer. “So--shoot.”

Spike threw a glance around the Slayer, taking a quick inventory of potential weapons. Damned kitchens, he thought to himself, just chock full of sharp things. “I’ll tell you, but first I want you to hand over that wooden spoon. I’m not taking any chances.”

As she handed him the cooking utensil, the Slayer’s senses were humming. Spike wasn’t usually cautious around her. If anything, he did anything to egg her into a fight. She couldn’t even count the times that he pissed her off to the boiling point. Now, he was making sure she didn’t have any stakey implements of death within reach, and he seemed to be pussyfooting around telling her this master plan of his.

Wooden sticks out of the way, Spike took a deep breath. “Remember when I told you that the only humans at the Nex were either on the menu or part of the entertainment?” He waited for her to nod before continuing. “Well, I may have neglected an other... category... of humans present.” She raised an eyebrow, and he wondered what he was nervous about. This plan of his had been a secret fantasy for some time (well, aside from the whole ‘and she lived happily ever after’ part of it), and now that there was a possibility that it might actually take place... Why was he hesitating? More so than that, why the hell did he care?

An impatient clearing of the throat brought him back to the issue at hand. “Sorry ‘bout that, luv. Where was I?”

Hand on hip, the Slayer was getting more impatient by the second. “The part where you were saying that you lied to me.”

Damned selective hearing. “Ah, right. There’s one other way to get you in there, but I really don’t...”

“Oh for God’s sake, just say it!”

“I’ll have to bite you.” The blonde vampire braced himself for impact, but nothing came.

Buffy laughed. Hard. “Spike--of all the lamest plans you’ve ever come up with, I think this one takes the cake.” Wiping away a few tears, she shook her head. “Thanks for the laugh, though. I really needed that. Come on, let’s get this soup on the table.” She turned around, shaking her head, and reached into a cupboard for some bowl.

She jumped when a strong hand gripped her arm and swung her around. She found herself staring into cold blue eyes specked with gold. That was when she realized that he hadn’t been joking. She repressed a shiver at having the demon so close to her.

Spike didn’t like to be mocked. As a vampire with an ok sense of humour, he could take a jab as good as he could dish one out, but he never put up with being laughed at. Buffy’s reaction to his idea, after the effort he put in it to cushion the supposedly touchy subject, caused something in him to snap. He’d barely held back the demon, that was more than happy to sink his fangs in her right then and there.

“Really simple plan, Slayer. You let me drink from you. We go to the Nex and we both get in because I’ve claimed you. No bite, no entry--it’s as simple as that. Don’t think I’m lying when I tell you I was up until sunrise trying to think of something, of anything else. There. Is. No. Other. Way. Unless your sharp wit can come up with a more brilliant plan...”

“Shut up, Spike.” Buffy was mad. Not because the vampire had the gall to suggest what he was suggesting, but because she knew he was right. The thought had come to her mind but she had pushed it aside, hoping for a less intense proposal. She pulled the bowls out of the cupboard and walked to the stove.

Spike followed her, still irritated. “Look, pet, you can’t just ignore this. I can’t believe I’m the one saying this, but we’re on a bit of a mission here and we have to make some decisions. That baby...”

“Don’t you think I know that?” How dare he imply that she’d lost sight of their mission! “A decision’s already been made. We’re going ahead with your plan.” Still unable to look him in the eye, she shoved a bowlful of soup at him and sat at the counter.

***

Their dinner had been spent in silence. It had probably been the longest they’d ever been in each other’s company without saying a word. Even when they were angry at each other, there was the verbal sparring, the insults. But right now, they sat at each end of the counter, sullenly eating their soup.

Buffy was reminded of those dinners when her parents were fighting, before the divorce. Neither would say anything--her mom would slam the dishes onto the table while her dad would hide behind his newspaper, pretending to be anywhere but there.

If her parents’ doomed relationship taught her anything, it was that silence never fixed anything. It didn’t heal wounds, it didn’t take the hurt away. Not that she considered Spike to be anything near a spouse, but she’d reluctantly begun to see him as a friend. And friends, of course, did not share meals in uncomfortable silence, avoiding each other’s gaze.

“I’m upset because I’m scared.” There. She broke the silence. Now it was up to him to do his part.

Spike’s attention was diverted from his dish. Good--he was getting tired of staring at an empty bowl of soup, anyway. He lifted his head and turned his attention to the young woman at the other end of the counter. “Come again?”

Sigh. “I’m scared--about the plan. That’s why I snapped.” When the only response she got was an inquisitive stare, she felt compelled to continue. “My parents did this, this not speaking thing, for years. Instead of talking things out, or yelling, or fighting, they just sat there ignoring each other. It was horrible. I felt guilty for years because I was actually relieved when they split up. No more strained meal times.”

The vampire reached out and awkwardly patted her arm. “Your mum’s proud of you, you know that? She told me about your pillock of a father and how you came out of the whole thing as a stronger person. I’m starting to see what she was talking about.”

Buffy blushed at the compliment. “Thanks. Hey, are we still on for tonight?” Quick, change the subject before this gets too mushy for comfort.

Spike hopped off the stool and took his dishes. “Don’t see why not. Why don’t we take advantage of that car the Council provided us? We could drive down to the Tower Bridge and take a gander at the sights around there. Then maybe we can take a walk by the Thames--’s pretty at night, with the lights reflecting off the water. So, what do you say--sound good to you?”

She piled her dishes into the sink, on top of Spike’s, have to wash those later--ugh, why couldn’t we have a dishwasher? “As long as I don’t get a running commentary of where you and your crazy ex killed people, I think it sounds great.” She smiled at him to show that she was just teasing him.

***

To any passers-by, the young couple looked like they were admiring someone else’s parked car. The man whistled as he inspected it, while his companion seemed to be more interested at the vehicle’s inside. Hands cupped against the window, eyes squinted to make out the interior, she squealed. “Try the key! This can’t be it...”

As if in a trance, Spike walked to the driver’s side of the car, pushing Buffy aside. “Get in on your own side, pet. This is the driver’s side, and you’re not getting within ten feet of the keys. I’ve heard the stories about your driving.” He pushed the button on the key, and the doors unlocked. He let a ‘bloody hell’ escape, before opening his door.

They had expected... well, they hadn’t really known what to expect. Sure, the key had BMW on it, but with the Council and their tight purse strings it could have been one of those 15 year-old rust heaps that only University professors drove. But no--they seemed to have been entrusted with a current-year model. A shiny, black BMW with chrome accents and, to Spike’s joy, a stick-shift transmission. He leaned in a placed a kiss on the steering wheel.

Buffy rolled her eyes. Give any man, or vampire for that matter, a hot car and he turned into ’Neanderthal man’. “Would you prefer I leave you two alone for a while?”

The vampire growled. “Look, jus’ give me a minute here. ’S not every day I get to drive something as powerful as this baby.”

“Look, just start the engine, ok? Everything’s gonna be closed if we just sit here all night.”

“Yes ma’am.” Spike saluted the Slayer, revved the engine and peeled out of the parking lot.

***

Spike had been right. Night time London was beautiful. All the old buildings were lit, and it all seemed to reflect into the wide expanse of the Thames--which led her to think, not for the first time, why they pronounced it Tems, and not Thaymes. Huh--she didn’t think she’d ever figure out the English.

She brought her attention back to Spike who, after a few close calls, had heeded her warnings to slow down. No more weaving in and out of traffic, shifting gears like some sort of race car driver. She wanted to be able to walk out of the car in one piece. When he pulled into the Tower Bridge‘s parking lot, there didn‘t seem to be many cars there.

“Spike--do you think it’s even open?” Buffy looked around. The place wasn’t exactly bustling with tourists.

“Of course it is. It’s only what, ‘bout six thirty?”

The Slayer looked at her watch and nodded. “Yeah, it’s six twenty five. Let’s go see what’s going on.”

When they reached the ticket wickets, they saw that they were closed. The bleached blonde kicked a lamppost and cursed. “Six?! It closes at six? Do they even know how much business they’re losing--there’s a whole other world out here at night! Bugger this--we’re goin’ in anyway.”

“No we’re not.” Buffy put a hand on his shoulder. “How about we make our way over to the Tower. I doubt everything closes this early. Anyway, it seems like a bit of a walk. You can just play tour guide for me.”

As they walked along the bridge, Spike found himself at ease reminiscing about his past, and the city in which he had lived. “Actually, pet, the bridge wasn’t even built until after I was turned. I didn’t pay much attention to it--being a relative fledgeling, I didn’t care much for the sort of thing, you know--but Dru and I did attend the grand unveiling or whatever it was called. Angelus and Darla laughed at us, but Dru was always a sucker for fanfare...” He noticed that his companion had stiffened, and paused until he clued in. “Ah. Sorry ‘bout that--no more Dru stories.”

As they approached the other side of the bridge and approached the Tower, Spike stopped. “Now the Tower, on the other hand... My Da used to bring me here all the time. He was a bookish sort of gent, and would tell me all kinds of stories about all the history behind it.”

Whether he had temporarily forgotten who he was with, or whether it was in childish glee, he took the Slayer’s hand and pulled her the rest of the way, running towards the Tower’s main entrance.

“Buggery hell! Are the bleedin’ hours dictated by housewives? Argh!” Spike couldn’t believe it. Over 50 years after he’d left the mother country, here he stood, his latest chance at seeing the ol’ Tower again quashed by early closing times. The powers that be had some wicked sense of humour.

Although she didn’t show it with as much flair as Spike did, Buffy was also upset. She saw this as her only chance at taking in some of the sights--sure, she could come during the day, but what fun was there in sight seeing on your own? “Look, I know this sucks and I’d actually be tempted to take you up on breaking in, but it looks like it’s still guarded--how weird is that, by the way? Anyway, why don’t we find ourselves a bench to sit on--like that one over there--and you can be like your dad and tell me all about the Tower, since you know so much.”

Resigned to having to obey the law, once again, Spike acquiesced. Wanker. “Alright then. Guess it’ll have to do. Let’s find ourselves a bench that’s not so close to a light. The one you were pointin’ to looked bright enough to torch me.” As he began to walk away, he looked down and realized that they were still holding hands. Untangling his fingers from hers, he wondered: since when does holding hands with the Slayer feel so natural that I don’t even notice it?

When they’d found a bench that suited both their tastes, Spike began to regale Buffy with tales of the Tower. He talked about its ancient beginnings, Henry the VIII and Thomas More, about the young princes who were murdered in one of the towers. “...An’ back in 1830, they’d drained the moat that surrounded it--it’s all covered in grass now and looks like a culvert--they found loads of human bones. Guess it was all the folk that never made it across to the Tower.” He noticed that Buffy’s eyes were closed. Speaking to himself, he muttered. “Good going, you git, you put her to sleep.”

“No you didn’t, git--whatever that means. I’m just resting my eyes. You know, you’re very good at telling stories--I could sit here all night and just listen to you talk about all this history.” Buffy opened her eyes and looked up at the blonde vampire. “You ever consider being a History professor? ‘Cause you’d be good at it, you know.”

“Sorry, but I don’t believe it ever crossed my mind. I was more into... other things.”

Spike had a past. She’d never really stopped to think about that. What had he been like? Buffy figured that it was about time she found out. “Spike? Tell me about what you were like--before you were turned.”

Author's Note: Mwahahaha---left you with a bit of a cliffhanger, did I? Next chapter's got a bit of everything in it, and I'm sure you'll like it lots. And... Spuffy coming real soon... Thanks to all who reviewed. Please keep feeding the author :-)