Willow woke to another day in Sunnydale refreshed and happy.
Oz shifted on the bed beside her as she got up and began dressing. She watched his sleeping form, unabashedly nude, as she got dressed in a dark green v-neck and tan pants. She kissed his cheek and left, leaving a note for him as to where she was going.
Oz's apartment was comfy, but she couldn't stay there forever, especially not under the cover of a sleepover with Buffy. Another way in which Willow depended on her friend. She shook her head as she walked, clearing the thoughts and setting red hair flashing in the morning sun. A perfect Californian day. She would enjoy it.
She determinedly walked towards 1630 Revello Drive, enjoying the feel of the heat on her shoulders, somewhat bared by the shirt she was wearing. As she reached Buffy's home, she took her key out of her pocket and unlocked the door. A heavenly scent greeted her.
"Hey Buffy! Whatcha got cooking?" Willow grinned as she walked into the kitchen. Upon seeing who was really cooking, she did a double take and asked tentatively "Spike?" to the vampire, who was wearing headphones. She could hear Ramones blaring through. Willow's feet propelled her to his back. She tapped him lightly on the shoulder.
" Bloody hell, witch! You should know better than to sneak up on the big bad!"
Willow giggled at his somewhat frightened, somewhat relieved face. "Aren't you supposed to have super-senses?"
He growled. "Food is an overwhelming smell when you're wearing it."
She then noticed the batter spilled on his apron. Wait, apron? Yep. A big, white apron that featured a small pink bikini in the appropriate (or inappropriate…) places- and Spike was wearing it. Blackmail photosl, thought the darker side of Willow, as she asked him "What on the goddess's earth possessed you to wear that?"
Offended, Spike blustered "I, er, had to protect my leather. 'S a good enough reason. And if you say anything different, I'll rip out your innards and feed them to Faragesh demons."
Willow giggled. "So, what're you cooking?"
"These, pet, are called pancakes. I'm sure you've had some before."
She grunted in response. "Where's Buffy?"
"She's in the shower now, luv. Take a seat." He served her some pancakes on a pretty blue plate. She spread butter and syrup on the insides of the pancakes and began eating them like a sandwich. Spike, boggled, looked at her oddly, then muttered "And they think I'm weird."
Buffy chose then to step lightly down the stairs. Catching sight of her friend, she squealed "Willow! Hi!"
"Hi Buff. You should try these. Apparently Spike can cook!"
Buffy laughed, noticing the pancakes and chef, watching Spike blush. She hadn't known that vampires blushed. He turned around, mumbling. "'S not funny, pet."
Unfortunately for him, turning around had revealed Joyce's old apron, a sight which sent both girls into fits of giggles. He huffed and turned back to the stovetop.
As her giggles subsided, Buffy slid into a chair, pouting at Spike "Where's mine?"
The vampire passed her a plate and filled it with pancakes. Careful to avoid the sunny spots, he buttered the pancakes and poured a generous amount of syrup on them. She smiled at him, glad to see his returning grin.
Buffy dug in gratefully, eyes widening with the first bite. "Spike- these are- perfect! This makes me wish I had vampire senses, just so I can enjoy these more!"
Spike blushed again, and sniffed the air. He walked back to the stovetop and flipped the pancakes by lifting the pan up and flipping them out and on to Willow's now empty plate. "There you go, pet."
Willow smiled warmly. "Thank you. I think that you should cook more often. Especially if it gives you such a happy."
Spike grinned. "Two beautiful women in the room are complimenting me on my cooking. 'S not often something like this happens to the big bad."
A ring of the doorbell brought the three out of their happy morning. Until they saw who it was, anyways.
"Xander, Oz! I'm so glad you could come. It's been so long since our last breakfast." Buffy gushed happily, directing the two teenagers to the kitchen.
"What is that smell?" Asked Xander, hungry look firmly in place upon his face.
"That would be… Les Pancakes a la Spike." Said Buffy in a poor imitation of French. Oh well. She'd never done well in French class anyways.
A shocked look flitted over Xander's face as he fought to keep from laughing at the somewhat disheveled, apron-clad, flour-whitened Spike. Oz snorted and sat down, shoulders shaking, whilst Xander, giggling, allowed Spike to lead him to his chair. A plate laden with pancakes sat in front of each of the boys, earning appreciative glances in Spike's direction and an "I worship ye pancakes" act from Xander.
Next in was Tara, sniffing appreciatively and thinking about the night she'd had with Xander.
Giles was the next, and last, to arrive. "Sorry I am late, but I had a… situation."
"Aw, who cares if you're late! Dig in Giles!" Buffy over-enthusiastically yelled.
Spike watched proudly as everyone dug into the pancakes he had made. He even ate one. Of course, the syrup wasn't exactly maple… it was more like O negative. He didn't let anyone else see that, in an effort not to spoil the cheery morning.