Jinkies, thought Buffy. Spike was wearing...was he wearing Armani?! A black, single breasted Armani suit, with a crisp white shirt and blood red tie. His more-than-fair hair was slicked back to perfection. His hands were rakishly stuffed into his pockets. He looked like a million bucks. Maybe more, if you counted the black Bruno Magli loafers with tassels.

Buffy's tummy felt very, very funny. She watched as another vampire approached him, yelling with delight. They hugged and slapped each other's backs. Spike, the prodigal son. She fled to the bar, almost but not quite breaking into a run.

Buffy wasn't sure why she was so shaken up, and didn't really care to analyze it further. She forced her hunched shoulders to relax as she waited her turn to get a drink. "A Coors Lite, please," she told the bartender. A handwritten sign propped on the bar read, "Tonite's Special: Bloody Marys". Man, how many sad-ass vampire jokes could there be?

A familiar voice said from behind her, "If it isn't Velma."

"Don't call me that," she told him without turning around. The bartender gave her the beer. She tossed half of it back. That was better. So she started in on the other half.

"Could I get a red wine, half and half with A-negative, mate?" Spike asked the bartender. He was right behind her now, his body pressing against her shoulder and hip as he reached past her for a napkin. He smelled good. Really good. He was wearing cologne. Of course he was. Because she must have died in a car crash on the way over, and this was hell.

"Any sign of him?" He moved beside her as they waited for the drink. His presence was like a wave that threatened to capsize her. She put a hand on the counter. No bottoms-up for Buffy.

"Not yet." She finally looked at him. My God, even better close up. "I'm surprised at the warm welcome for you."

He said, "This lot isn't as judgmental as some. They know what it's like to want to fit in where you don't belong. Plus, most of them don't have the first clue about me and you." Spike waited for the inevitable there is no me and you, but Buffy was silent. He shrugged.

Buffy thought his shoulders looked wider than usual in the suit jacket. She wondered how that jacket would feel coming off those shoulders. Of course, she had never taken an article of clothing off him before without ripping it. Those buttons looked like they would give pretty easily. Okay, maybe two beers in fifteen minutes wasn't such a good idea after all.

The bartender handed Spike his drink, saying, "It's a real honor, man." Spike nodded his thanks, taken aback by the honest admiration. He supposed a steady diet of Scooby "help us/screw you" all these years had made sure of that.

They stepped away from the bar and stood looking at the crowd, pretending to be standing beside each other only by chance.

"What do you think so far?" He nodded at the throng in front of them.

"Of The Gathering? This close to wigging. What is the deal with these guys?" Buffy drifted towards the siren song of the dessert table. Spike followed her at a discreet distance.

They examined the cakes and cookies, pastries and parfaits. "The vamps who come to these things just can't break away from the human part of themselves," Spike told her. "They're hanging on for dear life to all the things they're supposed to leave behind. Like desserts."

"Well, no wonder they're surprised to see you here, then. You had no problem embracing the monster within." Buffy found the perfect brownie and took a big bite. Crumbs scattered and clung to her now rather ample chest.

Spike didn't point it out. Just added to the charm of her disguise, he thought. "I do have a flair, don't I? But there is something to be said for holding tight to creature comforts." He popped a red Jello cube into his mouth.

Buffy stepped away from the table. "I'm going to start looking for our guy." With the added benefit of getting away from yummy-smelling, Jello-slurping you. "What about you?"

"I'm going to take a stroll down memory lane with some of the characters from my checkered past. I haven't seen a couple of these fellows in 50, 60 years."

Buffy finished off the brownie and was about to push her glasses up again, but somehow Spike beat her to it. He reached out and pressed them gently against the bridge of her nose with his thumb.

That brought the conversation to a screaming halt.

Spike finally spoke just as the silence was about to devour them alive. "Now remember, if you see him, come and get me. You can't be a hero in here if he should recognize you."

The spell was broken. "Neither can you, Spike."

"Maybe not, but I can still clock him over the head with something heavy while you distract him."

"Our brilliant plan is coming into shape." She was already walking away from him, hands behind her back. She really did look adorable.

"Spike! I thought that was you!" Some skinny vampire with hair the color of melted caramels pushed past Buffy like she wasn't even there, snagged Spike's arm, and steered him towards her table. Buffy watched them go. Spike was laughing at something the vampire was saying. It had been a long, long time since Buffy had seen him laugh. Her heart twisted painfully.

Shut up, heart. Because you had nothing to do with what I needed from Spike. And now I don't even have that...I mean, need that.

Maybe one more beer.