It was raining.
Buffy Summers hoiked her bag up on her shoulder and looked around the airport concourse, her spirits falling. Grey, grey grey. Everywhere was grey. She'd been told England was beautiful - all lush and green - but all she could see here was concrete.
She dug a piece of paper out of her pocket, scrawled with her own writing. Piccadilly Line to Kings Cross St Pancras. She trudged back inside and towards the train station. What on earth did Piccadilly Line mean?
*
Rupert Giles and his protégée, Willow, stood on the Kings Cross platform for what felt like hours. Willow, a slim redhead in a bright striped jumper, was holding a 'Welcome Buffy' sign and getting odd looks for it.
"I guess you Brits aren't big on Welcome banners, huh?" she said to Giles. She was from California, Like Buffy, although the two girls had never met. Willow was very much looking forward to meeting the other girl, who Giles had forged a friendship with when he was working at Buffy's college, teaching Classical Myths. Now he'd returned home to take up curatorship of a prestigious London museum, and Willow had become his favourite student, always in and out of the museum, looking at mummies and Roman vases.
"Maybe she misread the map," she added. "I know I found it confusing. Everything's so boxy. And the names are so funny."
"What's funny about London place names?" Giles wanted to know.
"Well, nothing," Willow stalled, "but you know, Piccadilly's a funny word, and you think everything at white City's gonna be white, but it isn't..."
"Is everything in Los Angeles angelic?" Giles asked drily, and Willow blushed.
"Well, you know what I mean. This Buffy girl's from a place called Sunnydale. Was it always sunny there?"
Giles nodded. "God, yes."
Willow smiled. She'd expected Giles to be very golly gosh, but his vocabulary was much the same as her own. She did get tired of his constant grammatical corrections, though.
"So why's she coming over, again? A vacation, right?"
"Yes. Well. She had a bit of a bad break-up this summer, and I suggested she - oh, there she is! Buffy!"
Giles waved, and Willow jumped up and down to see over the crowds of commuters. She could see a petite girl - oh, good, Willow thought, she won't tower over me - wearing a hat pulled down over her hair, and a red leather jacket. She was slim and very pretty, and Willow sparked with interest.
"Giles!" Buffy reached them and threw her arms around him. "I'm so glad to see you! Mom sends her love."
"How is your mother?" Giles asked as politely as he could. He and Joyce had had a small fling a while ago: Buffy was aware of it and teased them both mercilessly.
"Oh, she's great. These trains are something else! What do they call it, not the subway, the, uh..."
"The Tube," Giles said. "Do you have any - oh, yes, I see you do have some..."
He trailed off, seeing the pile of luggage Buffy was dragging.
"Well, I didn't know what the weather was going to be like. Is it still raining?"
"I think it is," Willow volunteered, and Buffy noticed her for the first time. Giles introduced them, and Buffy gave Willow a bright smile.
"Great! Someone else who knows what HBO is."
*
She saw him out of the corner of her eye. He was standing at the far edge of the platform, leaning against the curved wall and smoking idly. She just had time to make out pale hair and black leather, and his pale eyes on her, before Giles and Willow whisked her up the steps and out of the station.
Outside Giles shook out a large black umbrella and led Buffy down the road. "It's just around the corner," he said, and it was, a pretty little maisonette in what Buffy learned was an area called Bloomsbury. This was more like it. The building was old and there were flowers in window boxes. Buffy's room at Giles's house was small and pretty, and despite her jetlag she wanted to go out and explore immediately.
"We could go to the museum," Willow suggested shyly, and Buffy shrugged.
"Will it be full of mummies who come to life?"
Willow laughed. "You've been watching too many movies!"
The museum was a short Tube ride away, and Buffy was impressed a how huge the building was.
"Do you work here with Giles?"
Willow nodded. "Kind of. I'm actually a student at the University of London, but I'm studying Ancient History and I'm working here part time. Only in the gift shop, though."
They went inside and Willow took Buffy to her favourite area, where all the ancient things were. She pointed out lots of very old crumbly things which Buffy said reminded her of Giles, and although she wasn't interested in the artefacts, she found herself liking Willow a lot.
The redhead was just explaining about a Roman sandal to Buffy, whose eyes had glazed over, when someone came stumbling into the large, empty room. She was a girl about Buffy's own age, much taller, with dark blonde hair and crying eyes.
"Tara!" Willow raced over and Buffy followed uneasily. "Baby, what's wrong?"
"N-nothing," Tara stammered. "Just s-some boys teasing me."
"Hey, don't let them get to you. If they can't accept us then that's their problem."
Tara nodded. "I know, but I feel so wretched..."
Willow looked helplessly up at Buffy. "Uh, this probably isn't the best time, but Buffy, this is my girlfriend, Tara. Tara, this is Mr Giles's friend, Buffy, you remember him telling us...?"
Tara nodded tearfully. "Hi, Buffy."
Buffy wasn't sure what to say, but Hi sounded good so she tried that.
"I think we'd better go for some tea," Willow smiled. "You know, the English love their tea," she joked. "Buffy, you want to come?"
Buffy didn't want to intrude. "No, I'm good. I'll stay here. I'm really interested in this, uh, this bracelet thingy."
"It's a torque," Tara sniffed helpfully.
"Right. Yeah. Shiny," Buffy added, feeling something else was needed.
She watched the two girls walk away in the direction of the tea room, and wandered around for a bit, swinging her arms, wishing Riley was here with her. But he was in South America. Being a guy. Like guys did. Just upped and left you. Stupid guys.
She leaned against a glass case and nearly had a heart attack when a voice said, very close, "You're not supposed to do that, love."
Buffy leapt upright, her hand on her heart. "I - I'm sorry," she stammered, "I didn't know..."
But then she saw the person who'd spoken, and he was the man from the station. Tall and menacing in a long black coat, his white-blond hair slicked back, his eyes piercing above cheekbones so high Buffy could have skied down them. If Buffy could ski.
For quite a long while she stared at him, feeding on the sight of him. He was gorgeous. And he was smiling at her, in an amused way.
"Had your eyeful, pet?"
Buffy felt herself blush. "I'm sorry," she said. "I saw you, before. In the station. You were watching me."
He nodded seriously. "That's right. You're not safe."
"I am perfectly safe! London's supposed to be a safe place, right? I'm in a frigging museum. How safe is that?" Buffy babbled as the man looked on in silent disbelief.
"Do you always talk this much?"
"No," Buffy said defensively. She didn't like this man. Even if he was unbelievably hot.
"Good. I just thought I'd tell you."
"Tell me what-" Buffy began, but he was already striding away, biker boots thudding on the marble floor, sending echoes around the room. "Hey! At least - tell me your name. Aren't you Brits supposed to be all stiff-upper-lippy and formal?" she challenged.
He stopped, turned, and he was shaking his head at her. "You're just off the plane, right?"
Buffy scowled.
"Yeah." He reached out a hand and tousled her hair. Buffy ducked.
"Stop that."
"Make me."
She glared at him, and he laughed.
"What's coming after you won't be put off by a glare, pet."
"Who is coming after me?"
"Ask Giles."
"You know Giles?"
He started to walk away again.
"At least tell me your name," Buffy called desperately.
He walked a few steps further, before turning and executing a mocking bow.
"Spike," he said. "At your service."
And then, in a swirl of black leather, he was gone.
Buffy stamped her foot and swore. She glared at the mummy in the case nearest to her. "What are you looking at?"
*
She found her way back to Giles's house, wrinkling her nose with annoyance. Who was that guy? And why was he following her? Stalking would be a better word. He was trying to freak her out. What kind of a name was Spike, anyway?
"Hi, I'm Spike," she said, and tried to imitate his Cockney accent. "Hoi, Oi'm Spoike. No, that's dumb. Spike isn't a word. Spike is a metal thingy - Giles!"
He opened the door as she raised her hand to knock.
"Buffy! Where's Willow?"
"She's at the museum. With her girlfriend," Buffy said with relish as she took off her hat and shoes. "I didn't know you Brits were so liberal."
"Willow's American and - look, stop that. This is the twenty-first century."
"Not that you'd know it in that museum. My God, Giles, it just goes on. Miles and miles of dead things. Mummy after mummy after mummy... Hey, are there any daddies?"
Giles rolled his eyes and took off his glasses to polish them. "You were bored?"
"No! No, I was just, uh, well," Buffy tried to look appealing, in the hope that Giles wouldn't be too hurt. "Yeah," she conceded, when he didn't seem to be impressed. "I was bored. I'm sorry. It's just not my thing."
"Yes, well, I didn't think it would be," Giles said. "But I do have something that might be slightly more up your street."
As he talked, he was drawing her out of the little hallway and into the living room, where a gorgeously familiar voice said, "Hey Buff."
Buffy stood and stared for a few seconds, then she launched herself at the young man standing by the fireplace.
"Xander! What are you doing here? I thought you were working..."
"Well, I was. And then I wasn't." He grinned at her. Xander had been Buffy's best friend ever since she started at Sunnydale High. He knew her mother, he knew her little sister, Dawn, and he'd even made a passing attempt at friendship with Giles. "Anya and I thought we might take a vacation. See how the Buffster is bearing up in grey old England."
"How long have you been here?" Buffy asked, stepping back when she realised Xander's wife was standing possessively close.
"Since yesterday," Anya said, glaring at Buffy. "Xander, she was standing awfully close to you. You're not thinking of having sex with her, are you? Because that means you wouldn't be having sex with me-"
Xander put his hand over her mouth and smiled at Buffy.
"Hi, Anya," Buffy said, grinning. Anya was one of those people who rarely kept a single thought to herself. Everything she had was projected right out there. Buffy found her hilarious.
"Hello, Buffy. You're looking thin."
Buffy chose to take this as a compliment. "Thank you," she said brightly. "You're looking very, erm, brunette."
The front door opened and Willow came in, followed by Tara, who made a shy wave to the room. Xander and Willow stared at each other.
"Will?"
"Xander!" They rushed at each other, but Xander's efforts to hug Willow were considerably hampered by the fact that Anya was hanging grimly onto his arm.
"You two know each other?" Giles asked, rather unnecessarily, Buffy thought.
"We were at kindergarten together," Willow began excitedly.
"We lived next door to each other."
"I haven't seen you in-"
"Years and years, since you moved to LA. Will, how you been?"
They sat down together and reminisced, and Buffy tried not to feel bitter. Xander was her best friend. He'd come to England to see her - or at least, he'd come to Giles's house to see her.
Anya was glaring at Willow too. "I'm Xander's wife," she said earnestly, looking confused at this unexpected entry into her relationship. "You can't have sex with him."
Willow blushed and glanced up at Tara. "I don't think that's an issue."
"Yes, well, anyway," Giles cleared his throat, looking around the crowded room. "Perhaps this calls for a celebration. Dinner?"