The afternoon was beginning to wane when Wesley decided he'd better make good on the promise he'd made to Rose. He ambled down to Spike's office considering how to open the subject.

Spike looked up when Wesley entered and wondered what boring chore the Watcher was going to saddle him with now.

"How are you getting along, Spike?" Wes started in without preamble, and silently cursed himself. If he couldn't be more subtle than that, Spike was sure to figure out something was up. "I mean," Wesley fumbled, trying to recover, "You're doing a creditable job and all, but how's the fit, as it were?"

Spike eyed his boss suspiciously. It was the first time the redoubtable Mr. Wyndam-Pryce had deigned to inquire as to his welfare, and to put things bluntly, he smelled a rat. "So," he drawled, leaning back in his chair. "Is this the point where you go and give me the sack?"

"Oh no, nothing like that," Wesley assured him. Damn, he really had made a pig's breakfast of the whole thing. "I just wanted to know if you enjoy what you're doing."

"It sucks," Spike stated flatly. He shrugged. "But, it's not hard, and it pays the bills." He shook his head and gave a humorless laugh. "If Dru could see me now. The Big Bad gone completely respectable, even payin' bills an' all."

Wesley considered. "If you really dislike it that much, Spike, we could always talk to Angel about transferring you to another department. You were slotted in here mainly as a matter of expediency, to cover..," He broke off, not really wanting to bring up a subject that was painful to them all, but most particularly to Spike.

"Since Rose created a vacancy by going all insubstantial," the vampire finished. "I know the score, Watcher. And as for going to Angel about a transfer, well, if you don't mind, I'm kind of sick to the teeth of having to go to the ponce on bended knee begging for another favor." Another shrug. "'Sides, a desk is a desk. As long as I'm stuck behind one, I don't think it much matters what I'm doing."

Wesley gave Spike a long, thoughtful stare, which Spike returned. Then, some sort of tacit agreement reached, they each turned away and went about their business.

&&&&&&&

Rose shimmered a moment, then re-stabilized. She had on skin-tight satiny black pants, and a loose black knit top that had enough open work that it left very little to the imagination. "Like this?" she asked incredulously.

"It's perfect," Harmony squealed enthusiastically. "Spike will love it. You are going to drive him absolutely crazy."

"And that's a good thing?" Rose inquired dubiously. "Why would I want to make Spike go insane?"

"It's just a figure of speech," Harmony explained patiently. She looked over her current project carefully. "I wish I could do the make-up myself. It's a lot easier than telling you what to do and hoping you get it right." She pouted in thought for a minute. "See how my eyes are done? Try doing the same thing with yours, only in shades of rose pink and light brown. That ought to suit your coloring."

Rose concentrated for a bit. "How's that?"

Harmony shook her head. "The colors are too dark. Just a hint, to accent your complexion." Rose tried again. "That's better," Harm approved. "Have you ever thought about doing something different with your hair?"

"Spike likes it like this," Rose replied. "Does it really make that much difference how I wear it?"

Harmony rolled her eyes and sighed. "Of course it does. You're trying to make a statement here, Rose." She considered a minute. "How about a soft curl? Just let it all tumble around and frame your face." Rose made the adjustments. Harmony gave her one more critical once over. "That should do it. You'll have to get back with me and let me know how it worked. It ought to knock Blondie Bear's socks off."

&&&&&&

"I think Spike needs to get out from behind a desk for a while," Wesley told Angel, while Rose and Harmony were doing their metaphysical makeover. "I don't think the sedentary lifestyle quite suits him."

"He probably would be better on the ops team or in security," Angel agreed, thinking that the sedentary lifestyle didn't suit him, either, but nobody seemed to give a damn. "Did he ask for a transfer?"

"Well, no," the researcher admitted. "But he doesn't like it, I know that much. And besides, well.., ah..," he wasn't sure about going on, not knowing if Rose would care if Angel knew about her concerns or not.

"Rose has been talking to you, too, has she?" Angel guessed. "Look, Wes, I don't want to leave a hole in your department, but if something comes up that calls for someone with Spike's skills, maybe I'll pull him for a job or two. Will that work for you?"

Wesley considered. "As long as it's something that doesn't involve a lot of research as well. There are so many sources, that when we're actively researching something, I need a full complement." He thought some more. "You know, Rose could probably fill in. She's better at manipulating material objects than Spike ever was." He recalled his lost place in a book with a half-grin, half-grimace. "She could quite conceivably even do some work on the computer. The keys only need the lightest touch."

"Less so than the remote for a t.v." Angel remarked. "Before you make any concrete plans, Wes, run it by Rose. I can't imagine she'll have a problem with it." A grin slowly spread across his face. "It might nip the practical jokes in the bud, though."

Wesley returned the grin. "You too? At least Spike just confined himself to less than helpful remarks. I think perhaps Rose does need something to occupy her idle hours. Maybe even when Spike isn't otherwise occupied."

"You'll have to work her into your budget," Angel reminded him. "Corporeal or not, we can't expect her to work for free. And you can always arrange to have her check endorsed to whoever she likes. Probably Spike."

"Almost certainly Spike," Wesley corrected. "Angel, if, in your wildest imaginings you had thought that one of The Powers That Be could fall in love, would you have picked Spike as the object of her affections?"

Angel laughed. "I wouldn't pick Spike as the object of anyone's affections," he admitted. "But then, I really don't have an objective opinion on the subject." He thought a bit. "What do you think it is? The neon hair, or what?"

&&&&&&

Wesley, all unawares, stepped out of Angel's office right in on the end of the beauty consultation. At first, just seeing her from behind, he wondered who Harmony's friend was, and what Harm was doing socializing during working hours. Then, she turned around, and he got the full effect, including the revelation that the pert backside he'd been admiring belonged to Rose. He whistled softly.

"See, I told you," Harmony said smugly. "If you can get a reaction like that out of Wesley, imagine what it will do to Spike."

Rose looked embarrassed beyond words, and even started to fade from view.

"Rose, wait," Wesley said. He paused to let her reverse the process. "I'd like to talk to you, if I may. Could you walk along with me? I really ought to be getting back to my office."

"Certainly," Rose agreed. She turned back to the receptionist. "Thank you for the advice, Harmony."

"Any time," Harmony said. "I love doing make-overs."

As Wesley and Rose moved on down the hall, Rose asked, "Wesley, do you really think I look, well, all right like this?"

"You look wonderful, Rose," he assured her. "In fact, until you turned around and I realized that it was you, I was thinking of asking you out myself."

Rose dropped her eyes. "I still don't understand just what the standards for physical beauty are, they seem to change on the moment."

Wesley laughed. "From your point of view, I suppose they do. But you'd be lovely no matter what period in time you found yourself in." He thought it was time to get down to business. "I was talking to Angel about the possibility of getting Spike out of the office and into something a bit more active from time to time," he explained. "But I may need someone to fill in for him in my department. Do you think you'd like to do it?"

"You don't even have to ask," Rose replied. "I owe you all so much. I'd be more than happy to help out."

"I might even be able to use you on an ongoing basis if you're agreeable," he suggested. "Research doesn't require so much as being able to see and think. And you can certainly do that."

"It's about all I can do," she answered. "But it would help time pass. Do you really think I could?"

"I wouldn't have suggested it otherwise," he replied. "Who would you like your paycheck issued to?"

Rose looked positively shocked. "I couldn't take money for helping you out, Wesley," she protested. "Besides, what would I do with it?"

"I have to pay you for services rendered," Wesley said firmly. "And, if you like, I could have your pay endorsed to Spike. Who knows? Someday maybe you'll be in a position to have a use for the stuff again. Then you'll be glad that it's there."

Rose looked a little pained at that. "I don't think that's going to happen," she muttered softly, fighting back a sudden surge of despair that she would probably never again feel Spike's arms around her. "But if it makes you happy, by all means, give the money to Spike. I'm sure he'll be able to think of something to do with it."

They turned a corner and nearly ran right into Lorne. In fact, Rose did run into him, and right through him. "Oops, I'm sorry, Lorne," she apologized.

"No harm, no foul, Rosebud," the Pylean soothed. He gave her the once over, slowly and thoroughly. "You are looking good, sugarplum. What's the occasion?"

"Does there have to be?" she asked. Somehow, compliments from Lorne didn't unsettle her as much as they did coming from Wesley. Perhaps because of the demon's constant use of endearments and hyperbole. "Besides," she admitted. "Harmony wanted to..," she groped for the term. "Make me over?"

"Well, three cheers for Harmony," Lorne said. "You're a knockout." He suddenly pulled a mournful face. "And I still can't talk you into going pro in the music biz, can I?"

Rose giggled, then disappeared. Spike would be getting off work soon.

&&&&&&&

Spike flicked off the computer with a contemptuous flourish. He really hated this crap. But he had to be responsible now, he couldn't do otherwise, it would disappoint Rose. Since living by hook and by crook was out, it was either this, or being a charity case, and that certainly did not sit well. And, in a tiny corner in the back of his mind, he had to admit to a certain amount of satisfaction at being self-sufficient. The last of the computer's lights blinked out, and he grabbed his duster and slipped into it, feeling much more himself with his trademark in place. He switched off the lights and stepped out into the hall. There, just across from his office, seemingly contemplating one of the horrors of modern art adorning the walls was a woman. She had her back to him, so all he could see was a tumble of chestnut curls falling around her shoulders, satiny white skin peeking through the top, and one of the cutest asses he'd ever seen. It then occurred to him that he'd seen that particular posterior before. "Rose?"

She turned around and favored him with a smile. "I thought you'd be done soon," she said. "And see? I was being good this time."

"You may have been being good, pet." Spike leered at her. "But you look like you're ready to be very bad indeed." Her face started to fall, and he realized that he had been misunderstood. Rose had learned a lot, but sometimes she still tended to take things too literally. "That means I like it, luv," he elaborated. He thought about things a bit. "Can't have you all dressed up and no place to go, though, What say the two of us go out and paint the town red tonight?"

Rose's forehead wrinkled. "I know that can't quite mean what it sounds like," she remarked. She worked on it a while. "You want to go out tonight?"

"Been cooped up too long," Spike said. "Didn't even realize it till I saw you looking like you ought to be taken out and shown off, babe. Do you want to wait for me or come along with while I arrange for some transportation?"

"You mean while you help yourself to a set of Angel's car keys?" Rose clarified. "Why don't you just ask him, Spike? Angel's got plenty of cars, I'm sure he wouldn't mind loaning you one from time to time."

Spike shrugged. "But where's the entertainment value in that?" he asked. "Half the fun of pinching the pouf's keys is seeing the look on his face when I bring 'em back."

Rose shook her head. "You just never get tired of, what was it you said, winding him up?"

"Like I've said before," Spike remarked. "Everyone needs a hobby."

&&&&&&

The Viper zipped in and out of traffic recklessly. Rose privately reflected that she was, at the moment, glad she didn't have a body the well-being of which she had to worry about. Spike was driving like a maniac. She found herself clutching at the armrest of the door, and having her hand go right through it. But Spike had perked up so much at the thought of a night out that she couldn't bring herself to be critical. She closed her eyes. Maybe if she couldn't see it, it wouldn't be so frightening.

Spike was whistling softly and tunelessly. He had to admit that he couldn't fault his grandsire's taste in cars. And of course, that was the main reason that he'd chosen the Viper. Because it was Angel's favorite. He suddenly spotted a likely place. A bar with a live band. That sounded something like. Listen to some tunes, have a few beers, and watch all the losers gawking at his bird. Definitely what the doctor ordered. He slewed the Viper around in a u-turn and came to a stop right in front of the place. He looked over at Rose. She sat there, eyes closed tightly and hands clenched together in her lap.

"'S'matter, pet? Was I going too fast for you?" he asked, impish lights in his eyes. "You can open your eyes now, babe. We've stopped."

Rose slowly opened one eye. When the evidence of that one seemed to corroborate his statement, she opened the other as well. She decided to avoid answering his question, and was about to ghost through the car door.

Spike noticed the action and halted her. "You wait right there, luv," he ordered. He got out and slipped around the other side of the car and opened her door for her. "Aside from the fact that the general public wouldn't take well to the sight of you passing through that door, sweetheart," he explained, "You'd also be robbing me of a chance to show what a charming and gentlemanly bloke I can be."

"I couldn't be doing that, could I?" Rose murmured. It was nice seeing him so animated. She hadn't realized just how withdrawn he'd become of late. Carefully synchronizing her movements to his, she slid her arm through his, keeping pace with his cocky swagger. Maybe this would be fun, after all. And it would be worth it if Spike had a good time.

Spike managed to find them a table near the stage, despite the fact that the place was crowded. The people that had been sitting there had simply gotten up and left. Rose hadn't seen what they had, that Spike's eyes had suddenly gone yellow in a disconcerting way. It was enough to spook them, though, and Spike seated his lady, and cheerfully ordered beers for both of them.

"But, Spike, I can't drink it," Rose protested.

"You and I know that, luv," Spike replied. "But it would look a bit strange if you didn't have something to drink. I'll switch the bottles from time to time, so that they both get emptied, and nobody will be the wiser but you and me." The drinks arrived, and Spike immediately picked his up and took a long drink. "Damn, it's been too long," he remarked. He leaned back with a contented look on his face, but his hands fidgeted, as if missing something. There were so many places that you couldn't smoke now, that he hadn't resumed the habit when he'd gotten his body back, but he still missed it sometimes.

Rose just sat gazing at him dotingly. If she'd known what a difference it would make, she would have suggested an outing a long time ago. And at least this time, he wouldn't be all tied up in knots at the end of the evening because she'd needed rescuing and he couldn't do it.

The band started playing, and Spike tapped his hands on the edge of the table in time to the beat, occasionally taking a swig out of one bottle or the other, and giving Rose a smile. He could feel the tension draining out of him.

And suddenly, they weren't alone. They both recognized the two ex Wolfram and Hart employees that Angel had given the sack on a previous occasion for getting rather more friendly with Rose than the lady liked. And they looked like they were ready to stir up some more trouble.

"So, still dating the spook, are you cutie?" the one asked. Some things didn't change. The pair of them were obviously feeling no pain.

Rose started to open her mouth, intending to correct their mistaken impression that Spike was still incorporeal, but he lifted a finger to his lips with a smile. This was all that he needed to make his evening complete. It looked like there just might be a fight in the offing.

"The two of you really want to be moving on now," Spike warned them. The menace was marred by the fact that he couldn't keep the grin off his face, so much was he enjoying himself. "Even gits like you ought to be able to catch on to the fact that the lady can't stand the sight of you." He went to game face.

"Nice parlor trick, Casper," the second one said. "But we know better, and your ugly mug isn't going to scare us."

Rose looked down at the table top, hiding a grin. Part of her said that she ought to put a stop to the nonsense, but she just couldn't bring herself to put the damper on the light of her existence.

"Whassa matter, baby?" the first one asked. "Ashamed of being seen with this freak? Can't say as I blame you. Why don't you show a little smarts this time and come with us?"

"I don't think so," Rose answered softly. "As a matter of fact, I think you'd better be leaving before you get Spike really upset." She put her hands over her mouth, trying to stifle a giggle. It wasn't funny, it really wasn't, and these two were probably going to get themselves hurt. But, it was funny.

"I think they've had enough warning, pet," Spike remarked. He stood up. "Now, are you poncey bastards going to push off, or am I going to have to give you a little lesson in manners?" He made a fist and looked at it thoughtfully, then back to the clueless jerks.

"Shove off yourself, spook," the second one said. He tried to put his arm around Rose, and his jaw dropped nearly to the floor when it went right through her. Both of them looked at Spike with equally alarmed expressions.

"That's right, boys," Spike said quietly. "The Big Bad's back and ready to kick some ass. Do you want to go one at a time, or shall I just have at the both of you?" He grinned evilly, as only a vampire in game face could do. "Come on, fellas. I ain't got all night."

The sodden pair got up so abruptly that they knocked over their chairs, and started making fast tracks to the nearest exit. But not fast enough to evade a vampire. They were rudely halted by Spike grabbing their collars, one in each hand.

"You know, I think maybe the two of you haven't been getting enough sleep," he remarked conversationally. He knocked their heads together smartly and let them drop to the floor, out cold. It wasn't bad, but it had been over a little too quickly. Oh well. He smoothed out his features and re-joined Rose.

"I think I could fancy another beer, luv," he said. "Enjoying yourself?"

"Immensely," Rose said.