Late afternoon found the two lovers lazing in bed, bodies pressed against each other under a silk sheet. They lay there, quiet, listening to the busy sounds of the street outside their window.

Actually, Spike wasn’t paying so much attention to the cars’ horns or the trucks’ diesel engines; eyes closed, he tried to memorize the sounds of Buffy’s body--heart beating, lungs drawing in breath, blood flowing--it was the symphony of life and the sound of it so near to his own silent body gave him peace. Drawing her even closer to him, he placed a soft kiss on the top of her head.

The Slayer’s voice interrupted his quiet musing. “Spike?”

“Yeah, love?”

Buffy pulled out of his embrace, immediately regretting the loss of contact. “That money that you won last night, against the Pelorak--did you... did you give it all to Hilary?” She playfully traced a finger along the lines of his chest, lightly outlining his pectoral muscles.

Spike squirmed at the tickling finger and took it in his hand. Smiling curiously, he shook his head. “No, I kept some of it. Why the sudden interest in the dosh, pet?”

Ok Buffy, here goes... “Well, I thought it might be nice, after the crummy evening we had last night, to go out. You know, maybe go to a restaurant--demon free--and see a movie?” She knew she shouldn’t feel any reticence at suggesting an evening out. They had spent a good amount of time getting to know each other quite intimately. But this? It sounded too much like a...

“A date?” Spike’s brow furrowed as he digested her question. He’d immediately sensed her discomfort, but needed to mull it over before saying anything. Dinner and a movie. Harmless enough...

Ah, hell. Who was he kidding? She could have asked him to bring her to the ice capades and he couldn’t have turned her down. “Where would you want to go? I mean, it’s not like I know too many non-demon eateries. Haven’t dined in a proper restaurant in London for over a century.”

Buffy propped her head on her left arm. “Well, I figure since you’ve been responsible for all of our eating out so far, I get to choose the restaurant. And, as much as this wigs me out, I’ll leave the choice of movie up to you.”

The vampire paused, then nodded. “’S fair enough. Just as long as you don’t lead us to the International House of Garlic, or even worse--a bleedin’ vegetarian restaurant.”

“Fine. That means you can’t drag me to some cheesy horror movie, or a foreign one.”

By now, the bickering ex-enemies were both sitting upright, facing each other. “But I thought you chits loved foreign flicks!”

“Well, not this one. I hate having to read my movie--you miss everything that’s going on because you have to concentrate on what’s written at the bottom of the screen.”

The vampire bit back an insult to the Slayer’s intelligence--after all, Buffy’d left herself wide open with that last comment. No good gettin’ in a huff over something we both agree on. “Ok, it’s agreed then. No garlic-saturated or vegetarian food and no horror or foreign film. Still leaves us with many options.” He looked at the bedside clock and stretched. “Doesn’t leave us with much time, though. What say we have another quick shag, freshen up, then head out?”

The young woman snickered. “Sorry, oh bleached one. No time for hanky-panky if we ever want to get out of here in time. I’ll wash up, then go see if I can find Hetty. I’m sure she’ll know where there’s a good restaurant.” She reached over, gave the blonde vamp a quick kiss and slipped out of bed.

Spike watched her pad around the room in nothing but what nature gave her. He refused to give in to those niggling doubts that told him that Slayer + vampire = bad, bad news. He and Buffy just felt right. She brought out the good in him (whatever was left, he figured) and as much as his demon hated her for it, it was just as much her slave as William was. Neither part of Spike could resist the diminutive blonde that had edged him out of the darkness. He wasn’t on the road to poncedom--he already lived there and had been crowned king...

But he wouldn’t change it for the world.

***

Freshened up and clad in a pair of plaid flannel pants and a t-shirt, Buffy set out in search for Hetty. Peeking into the laundry room, she found only stacks of clean towels and heard only the quiet hum of the dryer. She walked down the staircase, hoping that the older woman wasn’t out. Aside from that McDonald’s on the way to Divine Opulence, she had no idea where she and Spike could go eat. Great. If she didn’t find Hetty, their evening was pretty much over with.

Walking around the sign-in counter, she stuck her head in the back room, where the older woman had gone to get their keys when they’d arrived. “Hetty? Hey, are you here?”

“Mrs Sinclair! How are you, dear?” Hetty had dyed her hair a ridiculous shade of bright orange that reminded the Slayer of those little orange pansies her mom had planted out by the front porch earlier that Spring.

Stifling a giggle--it would have been impolite, not to mention oh-so contrary to getting help from the hotel clerk--Buffy smiled at her. “You can call me Buffy, please. And I’m fine. I just need your help with something.”

Hetty clucked and put her hand on Buffy’s arm. “Of course, love. What is it I can do for you?” She winked at the younger woman. “Is it something romantic?”

“Actually, yes it is.” Buffy closed the gap between her and the other woman, pretending to share a conspiratorial secret. “Spike... William and I want to go out for a nice dinner, but we don’t really know any places around here. He hasn’t been in London for decades, so he’s kind of lost touch. Do you have any ideas?”

Whispering loudly, the orange-haired woman leaned in even closer. “Well, it all depends on what you’re looking for. Do you want casual, or really classy?”

“Uh, mid-classy, I guess. Something nicer than a pub, but nothing that requires a tux or anything.”

“Alright, and any preferences? French, Italian, English?”

So many choices--the young woman didn’t even know what the vampire liked to eat. “You know, that’s a really good question. William and I don’t eat out often, so I’m not sure what he’d prefer. Just throw a couple of ideas my way and I can decide.”

“That sounds like a good idea. Such a smart girl...” The older woman dragged Buffy to the counter, where she brought out a pad and paper. “Now, there’s L’oiseau d’or--a good French restaurant, although it’s more suit and tie than cotton pants, if you get my meaning. There’s also Armando’s, a nice casual Italian restaurant--or, should I say, ristorante--it can be a bit busy sometimes, but the food’s really good and the portions are big.” She looked Buffy over, chewing on the tip of her pen. “Although I don’t see where either you or your husband would be puttin’ large portions, dear. Anyway, what else is there...”

Buffy watched her roll the pen around in her mouth, covering it in lipstick. Mental note *not* to use the desk pen... She jumped back when Hetty squealed a high-pitched “of course!!”

“There’s Moonlight Serenade. Now that’s the one I’d recommend most... You don’t need to dress up too fancy, just a nice pair of slacks or a dress will do. There’s pretty much everything on the menu, so you don’t have to worry about what Mr. Sinclair will want--I’m sure he’ll find something he’ll like on the menu. And they’ve got a live Jazz band there, too.”

Buffy felt like she was Goldilocks--the French restaurant was a bit too stuffy, the Italian restaurant was a bit too busy, but the Jazz place was just right. Chuckling, she spoke up. “Well, I think I’ll go with your most glowing recommendation, Hetty. Do you have the number for Moonlight Serenade?”

Shaking her head, the older woman tutted. “Don’t you worry about that, dear. You’re on your honeymoon--you just go back upstairs and get ready for a nice night out. Leave the dealings with me. What time do you want your reservation for?”

The Slayer looked at the clock on the wall. Assuming that it worked, it was presently just after five thirty. “Uh, seven o’clock?”

Hetty frowned as if in deep thought. “Better make it seven thirty--we’ve got to give both of you enough time to get ready and to be there on time.” She jotted down the restaurant’s address and handed it over to the young woman. “Now go on up! Shoo, now!”

As soon as Buffy started up the stairs, she heard Hetty pick up the phone.

“Everything’s in place. Yes, they’ll be away...”

Frowning, the Slayer made her way back to the room, Spidey senses tingling overtime.

Author's Note: First off, I'd like to thank--once again--those who nominated me at the VK awards (you know who you are ;-) ; then, I'd like to thank the judges who deemed Dark Prophecy worthy of two awards, namely 'Sexiest Bite' and a 'Judge's Choice' award. There are few words that describe the elation one feels at being honoured like this, so I'll leave it at a great big thank you! And again, I appreciate the feedback this story has been receiving. Please, keep feeding the muse!