The day slips by away from them, and as the night draws in Spike and Buffy make a move to patrol down through the graveyard. A thin mist has started to flow across the ground and swirl about their feet.

"Any news from Tara yet?"

"She says she's still researching. It's um- not a bigtime occurence kind of thing so there's not a lot to go on."

"...You thought about talking to the witch in rehab? She was always good at digging up stuff."

"No. I'm not-...No."

"Not what?"

Not ready to come out about a week long barely even a relationship with a former serial killer and extreme thorn in the side of all my friends. She scowls at the harshness of her own thoughts.

"Buffy-"

There's a snap to the left and a vampire dressed in a dishevelled grey suit and tie hobbles out in front of them, drool gleaming on its fangs, soil still caking its hair.

Oh thank God.

Buffy runs full tilt at it and punches it in the mouth, following it with a second uppercut with her left hand. It lashes out at her and she bends back nearly in half as a clawed hand swipes the air above her. As she rights herself it backhands her and throws its own punch, tumbling her over a low gravestone. She swings back onto her feet and lands a kick to its chest. It blocks a second kick to its side but her fist is already hurtling towards its mouth and as he stumbles back she lands a flying kick to the centre of its chest. It stumbles back and immediately crumbles into dust.

Spike stands behind were the vampire just evaporated, twirling a stake in his fingers and smirking.

"SPIKE!"

"What?"

"I HATE it when you do that!"

"What, help?"

"I don't need help, Spike. Do you know how annoying it is doing all the work and then you just stroll up and finish it? It's so-"

"So what?"

"-Unsatisfying!"

Spike leers, edging closer to her.

"Oh well we can't have that then, can we?" he fingers the hem of her top. She slaps his hand away.

"Stop it."

He chuckles, "I knew you got off on it."

"I do not 'get off' on it. I just... wasn't finished."

He cocks an eyebrow, eyes gleaming in the gloom, roaming over her body.

"I can help with that."

"Why don't you actually help instead of waiting until the last second to steal my kill."

"Fine, fine. More teamwork, less last minute heroics, I get it. How about I let you save me next time?" He folds an arm around her shoulders.

"You're an ass."

"I can be a very convincing damsel in distress." He leans in and nibbles her ear.

"You certainly wear enough makeup for it. Your eyeliner's smudged- WHOA."

A dark red demon materialises in front of them, swinging a heavy sword in between them. Spike and Buffy spring apart, letting the sword crash down in the grass. Spike grabs the arm holding the sword anchoring it in place, while Buffy roundhouse kicks it sending it flying it back. It turns to the side and seems to vanish into thin air.

"What the-"

"SPIKE, DROP!" He ducks and she tackles the demon that's reappeared behind him. She punches it hard, and it falls further back against a headstone.

Spike pulls the sword out of the grass and throws to Buffy who catches it and stabs the demon through the heart. It writhes for a moment on the grass before being absorbed by the sword, flowing into it like a gravity defying river.

"Well... that's different." Spike shrugs his coat back into place as Buffy pulls the sword back out of the grass.

"Cool. Free shiny sword."

"Don't get your hopes up, pet. You should take that to the magic shop, get Anya and Giles to take a look at it."

Buffy pouts.

"I never get to keep the fun weapons."

"Don't sulk, I'll get you a bigger shinier sword."

"Is that my birthday present?"

"I'm not telling you that."

"Fine. I'll head over to the magic shop now. You alright to head back? Dawn should be home soon."

"Sure. Meet you back there."

Spike lets himself in the front door. The lights aren't on and the gloom of the evening makes the house shadowy. He flicks the lights on and shrugs out of his duster, throwing it over the banister of the stairs.

From upstairs there's a loud thump. Then another. He freezes.

"Dawn?" He shouts up the stairs. There's a third thump and what's sounds like a muffled groan.

Shit what now?

He pulls the switchblade out of his back pocket, opening it as he makes his way quietly up the stairs. There's another thump from Willow's room. The lights are on and he edges towards the silhouetted door.

He nudges it open with his boot. Willow's standing in the middle of her room surrounded by clothes, when she sees him she screams- he screams.

"God, Bloody HELL woman, you scared me half to- well further death, what on earth are you doing?"

"Oh sure I scared you, what with the- the knife having, and the- lurking about in the dark." Willow catches her breath.

Spike closes the switchblade and slides it back into his pocket.

"Fair point," his eyes the mess, clothes are strewn across the floor and the bed, "bit late in the day for spring cleaning isn't it?"

Willow slumps down on her bed, looking defeated.

"What's with the pouting, Red?"

"Buffy's party tomorrow and... and Tara's coming."

"Yeah?"

"...I don't know what to wear."

"Oh! A normal, non apocalyptic problem. Well, that's a change of pace."

"Don't mock."

"M'not... Well I am, but I'm not putting a lot of effort into it."

He nudges a pile of clothes with his boot.

"What about that um... fuzzy pink thing? Really brought out the green in your eyes."

"Yeah, I got rid of that after you said I looked bite-able in it."

"Mhm.. probably a good idea. Besides mine and Tara's tastes probably differ slightly." He leans against the door frame. "She's not going to care what you're wearing, you know that."

"I know, but it's complicated. I don't.. want to look like I don't care, or that I'm trying too hard, or give off... excessively witchy vibes, y'know? It's impossible."

"Just pick something with a good memory attached. A happy, magic free time. Probably from the beginning."

"Isn't that... kind of obvious? Won't she see right through that?"

"Well, yes. That's the point. She's your ex, not some bint at the Bronze, you don't need to be playing hard to get."

"...You think?"

"Look Red, you want her back, she wants you back, pick something that reminds her of the good times. It doesn't have to be more complicated than that. Tara's not big on mind games."

Willow winces visibly, suddenly vividly recalling the day she lost her. So many mind games.

"Sorry... bad choice of words."

"No it's ok. Thanks."

He gets up off the door frame, heading out of the room.

"And, pick something floaty. She always struck me as a lace over leather kinda girl."

He closes the door behind him, and heads downstairs. Dawn comes in just as he reaches the bottom step, holding a big flat box.

"Evenin' Bit. Successful trip?"

"Uh huh!"

"You gonna show me or what?"

"Are you good at keeping secrets."

"Not generally. Just with life and death situations."

"Well this is me officially threatening you with death then."

She props the box on the edge of the couch and opens it. Spike can't help smiling. He fingers the black leather coat, tucked neatly inside white tissue paper.

"You uh... intentionally trying to dress us as a matching set, Bit?"

"Oh... no I wasn't. Dyu think she'll like it? Or-"

"No, she'll love it. It's beautiful."

Dawn beams, closing the lid of the box, and starts carrying it up the stairs.

She stops a couple of stairs up.

"Oh, um..." she rummages one handed in her bag, "there was a bit of the money left over," she fishes out a paper bag and hands it to him before heading up the stairs.

He opens the bag. A smile spreads across his face. He takes out a piece of clotted cream fudge.