The bell over the door jingled as the Scoobies made their way into the Magic Box, weary from another night of patrolling. Exhausted, they all dropped in the chairs surrounding their favourite research table.

“Ok, was there a memo that we missed? You know, one that said ‘Slayer out of the country, free-for-all on the Hellmouth, BYOB?” Xander grimaced at the pain in his left shoulder, the result of being thrown more than once against a mausoleum. His better judgement told him that he shouldn’t be involved in these patrols--he didn’t have the training Giles had, Willow’s magical resources, or Anya’s ability to confuse demons with her distinctive verbal barrage. He was just some guy. But no, he went along anyway and always came out of it with more bruises than anyone else. That‘s if he came out of it conscious. “And anyway, how the heck does she go out and do that every night?”

Anya moved behind him and began to massage her boyfriend’s shoulder. An achy Xander meant little or no sex. And no sex meant no orgasms. Very logical, very calculated and very scary. Yep--she had to make sure he was in top physical shape. “Well, she’s the Slayer, Xander. She has all these powers that were given her...”

Giles interrupted what could have been a very long and disorienting discourse. “I believe that was a rhetorical question, Anya.” He went back to rubbing his sore leg. Since when did vampires kick people in the shin, anyway? I’m getting too old for this.

“I wonder how Buffy’s doing, anyway?” Willow, the only one who seemed to be unscathed, voiced the question they were all asking themselves (except for Anya, who was still gauging her chances at having many orgasms). Her eyes got a twinkle of mischief in them as a thought occurred to her. “Ooh! Maybe she’s met some hunky English guy. Like if she’s visiting Westminster Abbey and can’t find something, so she has to ask someone and--hey--why not ask the cute guy that’s right beside her? Then he asks her to dinner... That would be so romantic. Well, until the part where she has to leave, and they share a kiss at the airport and then she goes back home and feels sad because she misses him...” The redhead had to stop before she passed out from lack of oxygen.

Nimble fingers still working the knots out of Xander’s shoulder, Anya felt she had the answer to Willow’s babbling. “She already has a hunky English guy--she has Spike.” When she was met with three incredulous stares, she frowned. “Oh, please. He’s got that whole ’bad boy’ thing, with the bleached hair and the leather coat, and he has all those tight, rippling muscles...” Ok, sex could no longer wait. “Come on, Xander. We have to go to your basement. Now.” She grabbed him by his injured shoulder, eliciting a yelp from the young man.

Xander did not budge from his seat. He was still trying to follow the link from ’wonder how Buffy’s doing’ to ’Spike is a sex god’ to ‘Xander let‘s go home‘. “Ok, am I the only one who’s thinking “eww” right now? I don’t even want to know how you associate the idea of Spike with our having sex!”

The ex-vengeance demon, tired of being looked at like she’d said Hitler was a hero, became defensive. “Well I don’t see what’s so strange about that. Spike happens to be the embodiment of the ideal male physique. He also has that accent, which is also very sexy. I don’t find it very strange at all that thinking of him leads me to think of orgasms.” She grabbed her flummoxed boyfriend’s hand and hauled him towards the door. “Come, Xander. We’re wasting time.”

Beet red, the brunette smiled nervously. “Uh, same bat time, same bat channel tomorrow night, kids?”

Relieved at finally seeing an end to hearing Anya discuss sex and Spike, Giles nodded. “Yes, of course. Good night, Xander.” When the door finally closed, he removed his glasses and began wiping at one of the lenses. Shaking his head, he exhaled. “Sometimes I wonder about her...”

“Well, she does have a point...” Willow’s eyes grew and her mouth clamped shut. What had she just said? And to Giles, of all people?! She needed to make a save--quick. “So... have you heard anything else from Buffy?” There. That was on nice, safe, conversation territory. The last thing she needed was for the Watcher to know that albeit deathly afraid of the vampire, she had noticed his finer attributes.

Glad that the young woman had steered the discussion away from the annoying vampire--the pillock manages to get under my skin even when he’s clear across the ocean--Giles answered. “No, not since the first night. I suspect she’ll contact us if anything of importance occurs. Long distance phone calls are too expensive to make just to tell us nothing’s happened.”

The Wicca couldn’t hide her disappointment. “Oh...”

Her downcast eyes and pout spelled it out to the Watcher. Of course she wanted to contact her best friend. Bonding over telephone calls is what young women did, wasn’t it? Smiling knowingly, he stood up and pulled his wallet out of his pants pocket. “She did give me the number to her hotel room, though, if anyone wanted to reach her...” He waved a piece of paper under her nose.

Willow squealed and grabbed the number. “Oh, Giles! Thankyouthankyouthankyou!” She jumped up and threw her arms around him, nearly dragging him down.

“Ow! Please watch the leg. I do believe that Tar’groth demon gave me a charlie horse.” Giles winced, and sat back down.

The witch couldn’t help but smirk. “Yeah, he was a pretty dirty fighter, wasn’t he? I think he even tried some of the Three Stooges’ moves on Xander. Bad move, though--he knows them all.”

“Well, yes. Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

There was a quiet pause before Willow grabbed her bag of magic supplies. “Thanks, Giles. This means a lot to me.”

Slightly abashed, the Watcher smiled. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to hear from you, Willow. Just make sure you don’t call her tonight--there’s a 6 hour difference to London.” He got up off his chair, and groaned. “I suppose we should be off, then. I’ll give you a lift home.”

***

The pale yellow glow of diffused sunlight peeked between the heavy curtains. As she slowly came to, Buffy felt well rested. No tossing and turning, no Slayer dreams; just a deep, peaceful rest. She blinked the sleep out of her eyes, trying to focus on the alarm clock that had been moved to her side of the bed. 10:30am. Wow. Think that‘s the longest I‘ve ever slept. She tried to move, but found herself pinned down.

What the? Buffy looked down, and saw an arm. A very pale, muscular arm. And it was wrapped around her waist, holding her gently but firmly. Spike. Spike, the evil undead who had given her the best almost-sex of her life, who hadn’t turned all Angelus afterwards, and who was now spooned against her back. She smiled as her thoughts ventured to the night before and what had happened between them. Her whole world was about to be turned over, and she was looking forward to it.

The young woman managed to turn around under the vampire’s grip. Finally facing him, she was again amazed at how peaceful he looked when he was sleeping. His hair was ruffled from sleep, his lashes rested against his cheeks, and his soft lips were slightly parted as if he were breathing. How could someone who was so irritating when awake seem so angelic in sleep? Angelic and Spike. Not two words she would have ever imagined using in the same sentence, without the presence of ‘not’.

She lifted the blanket a little, careful not to wake him up. Looking under the sheets, she let her glance slide down the vampire’s well-defined chest, onto his abs, and then to... Damn! He owns another pair of those flannel pants... Pouting, she dropped the cover back onto them. Guess that’ll have to wait ’till another day.

Deciding that she’d lolled in bed long enough, she wrested herself from the sleeping vampire’s grip. As she slid out from under his arm, Spike rolled over onto his other side, away from her. She took a quick moment to memorize the play of the muscles in his back as he fidgeted to find a comfortable position. She closed the bed’s drapes before being tempted back into bed.

***

His head was ringing, but he didn’t remember drinking the night before. Squeezing his eyes shut, Spike turned over and tried to ignore it.

It didn’t stop, though--the ringing kept... well, it just kept ringing. Cursing, the vampire sat up and tried to shake the cobwebs from his sleep-addled brain. Concentrating, he finally figured out that it must be the phone. But who would be calling them? He pulled the curtain aside, and, reaching for the phone, fell off the bed. “Bugger!”

Grabbing the phone that Buffy had left on his night table, he pressed the ’on’ button and issued a curt “What?!”

There was a sharp intake of breath at the other end. “Spike?” A woman’s voice, that he could almost recognize.

“Who’s this?” Bloody gits, calling at any hour of the day.

“It’s... it’s Willow.”

Huh? He narrowed his eyes. “Who?”

A sigh. “Willow, you know--bottle in the face...” That should jog his memory.

Spike straightened up and a smile quickly came to his lips. “Red! Why didn’t you tell me it was you?”

“Well, I sorta did, but you were kinda sleepy and not really with the understanding.” She paused. What did one say to a half-awake vampire that you didn’t really know well? “So... how’s everything? Are you having a good time back home?”

The blonde vamp was genuinely happy to hear from the redheaded witch. She was the only one of Buffy’s friends he could actually stand. She was so much fun to tease and she didn’t treat him like a second class citizen. “Everything’s peachy, ducks. Met up with some old friends, visited an old haunt or two, had me some real fish and chips. (Had a wicked snogging session with the Slayer.) All in all, it’s been a couple of good days.”

Why was he so talkative? Willow felt like saying ‘who are you and what have you done with Spike?’. He almost sounded happy to hear from her. Weird. “Well, that’s nice. I’m happy you’re having a good time.”

After a long pause, Spike’s good humour at hearing a familiar voice ebbed. He frowned, got a little impatient and shifted. He was missing some good sleep for this. “Look, you want to speak to the Slayer?”

“Yeah, actually, that’s why I was calling. She’s not in bed, is she?” She wasn’t sure if she’d calculated the whole time difference thing right and she didn’t want to have to speak to a sleepy Buffy. It could be much, much worse than a sleepy Spike.

Looking back at the bed, which still called to him, Spike sneered. “Not unless I squished her rollin’ out of bed to get the bloody phone...” Still groggy, he hadn’t realized how much he’d revealed to the witch. “I think I hear her in the loo. Hold on a sec.”

The door to the bathroom was ajar, which to the vampire meant ‘hey, open me!’. He did so, and both Slayer and vampire simultaneously screamed. Spike dropped the phone onto the carpet, and neither heard the faint “Hello? What’s wrong?!” coming from the receiver.

Pulse racing, Buffy cringed. Great. Figures he’d walk in right now... She was embarrassed beyond words... almost. “Spike! Don’t you know how to knock? What were you doing, spying on me?”

The vampire clutched his chest, breathing hard. “Bloody fuck... let a bloke gather his wits, will ‘ya? And what’s with that stuff on your face?” He reached out a tentative finger but pulled away before touching... whatever it was.

Fuming, the Slayer put her hands on her hips. “This ‘stuff’ is clay. It clears my pores. Some of us risk the chance of zits, Mr. Undead, so we have to take care of our skin.” She looked down at the phone on the ground and raised her brows. “Were you on the phone?”

“Shit!” Spike had forgotten about Willow. “Red--you still there?”

The redhead was relieved to hear that at least one of the two was still alive. She’d heard some screaming, a bang as the phone hit the floor, and then some more yelling. She hoped that they weren’t being attacked or anything. “Spike? What’s going on--are you guys ok?”

Still trying to catch his unnecessary breath, Spike took another look at Buffy before answering. “Yeah. Just got a fright, is all. Slayer’s doing her best impression of a Horgoth demon.”

Horgoth demon... “Oh, the blue clay?” That was actually really funny. Never thought of that...

Spike swallowed a snicker at the witch’s quick answer. He guessed he wasn’t the only one who’d made that connection before. “Yeah, that’s the stuff. Talk to you later, pet. Ta.”

“Bye Spike.“ Ok, so this Spike seemed happy to hear from her, he’d sounded like a 10 year old when he was talking about what he’d done, and now he was being all nice, calling her pet and ducks. Willow’s brow furrowed. She’d get to the bottom of it. Buffy Summers always caved in against Inspector Rosenburg...

***

Buffy grabbed the phone from Spike before giving him a final glare. She wasn’t really that angry at him--she just felt compelled to go through the motions. Fighting with the peroxide wonder was too much fun to stop. She brought her concentration back to the phone. “Will--is everything ok? Are you alright?” She realized she was a little worried--they wouldn’t call unless it was an emergency, would they?

Sensing her friend’s worry, the witch used a calming tone. “Buffy, everyone’s just fine. I missed you, that’s all. Giles gave me your phone number so I could call you.”

The Slayer felt the tension ease off. “Ok, I guess I can breathe now. So, how are the patrols going? No one got seriously hurt, did they? I mean, apart from Xander.”

The two girls giggled at their friend’s usual luck with patrolling.

“Well, I think that every demon within a 50 mile radius knows you’re out of the country, so it’s been pretty hectic. But we’re holding our own. How about you? You’re the one in London. How is it there? Have you made any progress finding your baddie?” She smiled and added, in a teasing voice “Meet any cute guys?”

The young blonde bit her lip at the last question. She hadn’t actually met her cute guy here, but they had certainly joined together while in London. Joined together--how appropriate. “London is great, Wills. You’d love it, with all the old buildings and the neat history. Spike took me to the Tower of London yesterday and told me about all the murder and torture and backstabbing. But it’s so beautiful, we’ll have to come back some day.” Yeah, like I’ll ever get the chance. “As for our mission, it’s not as much a hot trail as a grape freezie kind of trail. Spike and I are going to some creepy demon nightclub tonight--we’re hoping to get a lead. Seems that the guy’s henchdemons hang out there.”

“Well, I hope you find some good information. It’s best if you find that baby sooner rather than later.” Something nagged at Willow, some previous comment. Yes! Spike’s slip-up about the bed! She decided it was time for Inspector Rosenburg to make an appearance. “So, how’s the whole ’staying with Spike’ thing coming?”

Buffy felt the blush creep up her neck. “Coming?” Yeah, we were coming, all right. “Uh, it’s ok. We haven’t killed each other yet, so that’s always good, right?” Please, don’t ask any more questions.

The squeak in her friend’s voice let the young witch know that her best friend was hiding something. “Mmm hmmm. Spike said something about you two sharing a bed?” If that didn’t work, nothing would.

“Oh, of course he would! Figures he’d be gloating--betcha he also told you about us...” Oh, crap. Inspector Rosenburg 1, Buffy 0. “Oh, God.”

Ha! I knew it! Willow did an internal Snoopy dance, but kept her voice sober. “Buffy, is there something going on between you and Spike? Because, you know, best friend here...” Guilt her into talking--that always worked.

Great--first the Spanish Inquisition, and now the guilt. Where had meek Willow gone? Buffy was quiet for a moment--should she tell all, or keep it a secret? Ah, hell. She’d never kept secrets from Willow. No use in starting a bad habit now. She coughed, clearing her voice. “Will--if I tell you something, promise not to tell Giles or anyone else?”

“Of course! I can do that--I’ll be secret girl. That’s in the ‘best friend’ job description, you know. Anyway, I’m sure you want to let some of it off your chest.” She sat back on her bed, clutching a teddy bear, and waited for the story to begin.

The Slayer took a deep breath. “Oh, Will. I don’t even know where to begin. I mean, Spike’s been completely different on this trip--right from the start. He even bought me a stuffed animal at the airport!”

Willow couldn’t help but interject. “Oh, how sweet!”

“Yeah, I know--I mean, this is the guy who’d been trying to kill me--kill us--for two years and now it’s, like” she faked a horrible English accent “’Did you want to get something to eat?’ and he actually said that we had to work at getting along, since we were on the same mission. I mean, when did he get all mature?”

The redhead was impressed. Who’d have thought that if you stuck the childish vampire into a situation, he’d be the one to come out with smart ideas? “Well, it sounds like good advice to me. I guess it’s better than having him try to kill you, or ditch you.”

Buffy’s voice rose an octave. “That’s what I mean!” She lowered it again, afraid that Spike might hear what she was about to say. “It’s like being with a Spike look alike. He’s been such a gentleman. They have us booked as honeymooners at the hotel--don‘t even start on that, by the way--and he insisted on carrying me over the threshold, and then he made me some chocolate covered strawberries--very yummy, by the way. But it’s just so... unexpected. I figured we’d be at each other’s throats, but now I’m finding that we’re getting along, and I don’t know how I feel about it.” She sniffled. “Pathetic much?”

Willow didn’t know what to say. This was Spike they were talking about. For all she knew, this whole seduction could have been part of a plan of his. However, she didn’t think so--maybe for some crazy cosmic reason, Buffy and Spike were meant to be together. “No, Buffy. Not pathetic. You’re right to be confused. Your reality just got twisted, and you’re trying to figure things out. It’s normal. Has... has he tried to kiss you yet?”

The young blonde let out a sharp laugh. “Oh, Willow. You don’t know the half of it. We practically had sex last night. The only thing between us was our pants.” The following confession was made in a whisper. “And I let him bite me.”

“Oh Goddess!” Ok, this was getting curiouser and curiouser. “Did it hurt?”

“No, actually it was pretty good.” The Slayer banged the back of her head against the wall. “Hell, who am I kidding? It was amazing. The only way I can get into that bar tonight is if Spike pretends to ‘own’ me--humans aren’t allowed in on their own. He had to bite me so we could get in. It seemed like a good plan, until we got to the biting part. It started out with kissing, then it moved on to some touching, then it moved on to some grinding. It, uh, it got really serious.”

“Did he make you do anything you didn’t want to?” She had to remain logical and keep her friend on track. “Buffy, please think of it. Do you regret anything?”

There was a pause, and the Slayer found herself seriously considering the redhead’s questions. “No, I don’t regret any of it, and I didn’t do anything I didn’t want to. He’s really good that way. Gentle, takes it slow--he made sure I was ok with everything. He was really considerate.”

“Ok, I must really be lacking in the romance department, because I’m soo jealous right now, Buffy.” The Wicca cleared her thoat, not really believing she was going to ask her next question. This was Spike, after all. “So... is he good?”

“Willow! What happened to the shy girl who blushed every time someone mentioned sex?” Buffy couldn’t believe her best friend. She was proud.

“She grew up, Buffy. And got a sex drive, which is doing absolutely nothing these days. So ‘fess up, so I know that at least one of us is having a grand old time.” There. Not so hard, was it? Oh, I can’t believe I just said that out loud.

“Ok, Wills--we‘re going to delve into the TMI land that only best friends dare travel.” She took a deep breath. “Imagine someone spending 120 years perfecting sex. That‘s what he‘s like. Just one kiss and you‘re reduced to a puddle of water. All the energy he has, all the passion, he puts it into kissing. His lips are soft, and his tongue‘s like velvet. It‘s like being kissed by silk, Will. And while he’s kissing you, his hands are drawing little circles on your back, not groping you like some big college stud. He just uses the tips of his fingers, tracing down your spine, and it feels like electricity--you know, like when you stick your tongue on one of those weird batteries, and your tongue gets all tingly? It’s just like that, but everywhere he touches you.” Pausing to catch her breath, she realized that there was absolutely no sound coming from the other end of the phone. Just my luck--watch the line be disconnected and I’ve just been sitting here talking to myself. “Willow? Are you still there?”

The young witch opened her eyes and inhaled deeply. She felt faint, but convinced herself it was because she hadn’t slept much the night before--not because of what Buffy was saying. Her voice squeaked. “Yes! I mean yeah, I’m still listening.”

The Slayer was curious. Her best friend was acting a little weird. But, then, Willow was always a little odd, so she brushed it off. “Ok, just thought I’d lost you for a sec. Didn’t want to be sitting here talking to myself, or even worse--to some operator or something.” She fidgeted--the bathroom floor wasn’t the most comfortable of seating areas. “Look, Will. I need you to tell me if I’m insane. I mean, I’m talking to you about macking with the undead--again. And this one doesn’t even have a soul! Maybe it‘s a Slayer thing--I‘m on a course for self-destruction, or something.”

“Buffy, I don’t think it’s a Slayer thing. Well, not entirely. I think it’s a Buffy thing.” The redhead was choosing her words carefully--sometimes it was difficult broaching certain topics over the phone, as you couldn’t rely on your facial expressions to get your point across. “You’re the Slayer, Buffy. That’s something that’s unique--unique in the way that you’re special, but also unique in the way that there’s only one of you. Well, except for Faith, but that’s beside the point, ‘cause she‘s pretty much out of commission right now. Anyway, you lead a lifestyle very different than anyone else’s. Where most girls your age are dreaming about boy bands, trying for the cheerleading squad or working part-time jobs at the local mall, you’ve got this whole other world thrown at you, where you have to deal with things that people can’t even come up with in their nightmares. You’ve got this enormous responsibility, with the weight of the world on your shoulders.” She sighed. “This is coming out all wrong. What I’m trying to say is that your life involves things that go bump in the night. Maybe it’s not normal that you fall for two vampires, but taken into the context of your lifestyle, it‘s not that surprising. Whether you’re aware of it or not, you’re probably looking for someone who understands and accepts what it is that you do, and who it is that you really are. Is any of this making any sense, or am I just babbling?”

Now she knew why she had opened up with Willow. Always the voice of reason, always the one with soothing words. Buffy thanked the powers that be that she had such a caring, intelligent person to turn to when she felt like she was at her wits‘ end. “Yeah, I think I do. What you’re saying is that because I’m the Slayer, I’m drawn to people who are close to what I do. Hence, Angel and Spike. But Angel had a soul, and Spike is evil, or was evil...”

“But Angel without his soul was much, much worse than Spike, wasn’t he? Spike is... well, he’s Spike. What you see is what you get. He is who he is because he chooses to be that way, not because it’s forced onto him. Buffy, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but maybe Spike really is trying to be a better person, or vampire, because of you. Maybe he really does have feelings for you. Just don’t do anything rash--let things go slowly and don’t second guess yourself. If it feels right, go with it.”

Buffy felt a tear roll down her cheek. Sniffling, she smiled. “How did I get such a good best friend, Willow?”

The Wiccan smiled back, although it couldn’t be seen through the phone. “Oh, I don’t know. It might have to do with how good a friend you are too. That and how many times you saved me...”

The two girls shared a comfortable silence, each absorbing what had been said. Willow was confident that Buffy could work out this situation she was in, and come out of it stronger. Buffy took the redhead’s words to heart, and vowed silently to try and listen to her heart a little more. She knew that as a Slayer she didn’t have that long to live--what good would it be to push away a chance at happiness?

“Look, Wills, I have to let you go now. My butt cheeks are falling asleep from sitting on this cold floor. That and I have to pry this ‘mask of Horgoth’ off before it permanently sticks to my face.”

As they said their goodbyes, neither heard the click that closely preceded their hanging up.

***

Spike hung up the kitchen phone and sat on one of the stools. He cupped his hand over his chin and tried to absorb everything the two girls had discussed. He had expected the bit about their little snogging session--after all, that’s what girls talked about on the phone, wasn’t it?

But he’d never expected the Slayer to reveal that he’d bitten her, or that she’d enjoyed it--he assumed that she would have kept mum, keeping it as a dirty little secret. What had really surprised him, though, was the talk that revealed Buffy’s low self-esteem.

Spike rejoiced in being a vampire. He revelled in the violence, the blood, the darkness. He’d also assumed that Buffy enjoyed her role as the Slayer. She certainly hadn’t let on otherwise. But from what he’d sussed out in that conversation, Buffy was confused and constantly second-guessing herself. Not hard to imagine, since she belonged to two worlds at once: as the Slayer she existed in the dark of night, rubbing shoulders with baddies like him; as Buffy Summers she tried to function as a normal young woman, balancing school, friends, and a rotten romance record. He couldn’t imagine trying to be Spike by night and William by day.

He silently thanked Red for her sound advice--knew he liked her for a good reason--and vowed to make sure that whatever it was that was building between him and the Slayer didn’t end up in some sort of catastrophe. Maybe, he thought, he should also heed the witch’s advise and just go where fate pointed him to. It had worked so far, hadn’t it?

Author's Note: Wow--three in a row. You guys must be special, eh? ;-) Actually, I'm leaving for camping early tomorrow morning and I don't trust myself to remember to post this. Next update will be on its regularly scheduled Monday post date. A great big thanks to all who have reviewed. I've actually clinched the 100 mark, and it makes me feel all special-like. Have a nice weekend!