A/N: Tuck in for a super-long chapter! My apologies in advance, it just turned out this way! -AAxis

The first rays of sunlight woke Giles, and he sheepishly pulled himself off of the book he must've used as a pillow for the night. He was still sitting at his desk, a half-drunk cup of cold tea to his right. 'Advanced Guide to Mental Magick' must've put him to sleep. Mr. 'A. Shereshevsky' has quite a skill, being able to make a boring text out of a subject such as that. Stiff and groaning, he picked up his teacup, stretching lightly as he made his way downstairs to start a fresh pot. Getting old, Rupert.

The kitchen was already filled with a quiet buzz of morning energy. A fresh pot of water was already nearing boil on the stovetop, and a tray of steaming scones sat beside it. The culprit, Angel, sat at the counter, almost through eating. He may not need to eat such things to survive, but sometimes a fresh, hot breakfast could do a world of good after a rough night.

"Feeling better?" Giles asked, nodding at him briskly as he readied a new selection of tea leaves.

Angel shook his head, staring at his plate with tired eyes. "Sun's up." He looked up at Giles, who sighed knowingly. "How is she?"

"She's fine." Giles flicked off the heat, filling his mug with water and setting it down to steep. "Could do with an apology, I'm sure."

Angel winced at his tone. "She'll get one."

"Good." Giles took a large bite of scone, carefully smoothing his mussed shirt. Footsteps started upstairs, and Buffy came into view, smiling brightly at Giles as she followed him into the kitchen. Her smile fell slightly when she saw Angel, but his contrite look must've helped; she waved at him half-heartedly, recovering most of her initial cheeriness.

Angel stood. "Buffy, I'm so-"

"Save it, Angel. It doesn't matter, and we aren't getting into it again. We all have a lot of darkness in our pasts, and if I'm going to forgive his, I'll forgive yours too." She laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, removing it just as quickly. Let's not test fate.

"Spike will be down in a minute, we've had the same talk. So play nice."

Nodding sheepishly, Angel accepted a mug of tea from Giles as Willow and Spike filtered into the kitchen, following the sound of conversation. Even still in her pajamas, Willow looked beautiful, happy, and well-rested, all the more so in contrast to Spike, who looked grumpy and disheveled, glaring at Angel as though he very much resented Buffy's offer of a renewed truce and was already feeling the temptation to break it.

Willow babbled her nervous good-mornings, not knowing the reason for the odd energy in the room, and not wanting to ask. She grabbed a biscuit for herself, then ran quickly out of the room in search of the house phone; she'd promised to call Lindsay the moment she'd woken up.

"So, Giles," said Buffy. "Did you wind up finding anything out last night?"

"I, er, no… not really. I was getting rather drowsy towards the end, but I did find a mention of crystal magic such as what you'd described in a couple of older texts. Apparently it was quite popular in the middle east and eastern Europe in the early 19th century - not for teleportation, but for what's called 'suggestive-control', a form of mind-control and... mind-reading."

Buffy spoke slowly. "So… Like our vamp back in L.A.?" She went over the memories in her head, comparing the two encounters. "Well… they were both… um… blue."

Giles looked at her witheringly. "Not exactly a sure guarantee of their connection… though the nature of the magick was similar, I'll give you that. It would certainly explain Willow's memory loss and headaches, if someone was poking around in her mind. Though I can't imagine what the purpose would be, aside from controlling her completely, and it doesn't seem like that's been attempted."

"Maybe Willow has become too powerful for that?"

"Hang on," said Spike, rubbing his temples. "Crystal magic, eastern Europe, a vampire and a witch? Sounds like this duo that was running around here back when Dru and I were still wreaking havoc on Singapore. It was why we left London, actually, they were too bold, drawing attention. People got all careful."

"The Shereshevskys?" Angel was clearly somewhat apprehensive of the name. "That was over a hundred years ago, you think they're still around?"

Spike shrugged. "We are."

"Did you say Shereshevsky?" Giles darted upstairs, returning with his wrinkled book. "That's the author of this, isn't it?"

Spike leaned over, glancing at the title, and at Angel. "No." He said, with a know-it-all smirk. "That's their mum. Alexei. Matronly sort. Didn't want her 'proper' little daughter playing with magick, I remember. Even to save her poor brother, when he got himself bit. Sired 'round the same time as me, actually." He grinned at Angel. "Your work?"

Angel clenched his jaw. "No, that was countries out of my territory." It's a fair question, I'll give him that. "I can't even remember their names… but I'll admit it fits."

"Wait, slow down." Buffy snapped her fingers. "The one that's after Willow wasn't a vampire, I'd know. How could she be over a hundred years old?"

"Sold her soul." Spike and Angel answered in unison.

Glaring at Angel, Spike continued alone. "Her brother was turned, and she couldn't bear to part with him, so she sold her soul to this demon bloke in exchange for eternal youth, so they could stay together. At least, those were the rumors at the time. That was new, got them quite famous in some circles, especially when word got out that 'little sis' was just as good a witch as dear old mum."

"Oh, God." Buffy groaned. "So you're saying that this century-old crazy witch with no soul is already after Willow, and I may have just killed her brother?"

The group sobered.

"Wouldn't want to be Willow when the witch finds out." Spike quipped, earning dirty looks all around the table.

"What about me?" Willow hung awkwardly at the edge of the kitchen, clutching the receiver to her chest.

"Nothing, hun, really." Buffy opened her arms, and Willow moved towards her friend, stopping to hand the phone to Angel.

"I had to hang up with Lindsay… Wes is on the phone, he needs to talk to you. He wouldn't tell me, but it sounds serious. Must be, with how late it is over there."

Angel nodded, taking the phone back out of the room.

Spike craned his neck, perking up in an attempt to hear the conversation. Noticing, Buffy pinched him, and he drew back into his seat, matching her cross look with one of his own.

Willow ignored Spike. Fit to bursting with her own excitement, she grabbed Buffy's arm. "Guess who has a date?"

"Hmmm, Giles?" Buffy teased.

"As if!" Willow chortled, then blushed, realizing Giles was still in the room. "Sorry, Giles," she mumbled. Addressing them all, she continued. "Lindsay wants to meet me at Park Cinema at 11, she knows a place near there that serves sandwiches and coffees for lunch afterwards. I should be able to meet back up with you guys around 2 or so?"

The boys mumbled their vague agreement, and Buffy beamed at Willow, giving her a quick hug to show her support for the idea.

Re-entering the room, Angel moved like a dead man walking. All eyes quickly locked onto him with bated breath, wondering what could have had such an effect so quickly.

"I shouldn't have left."

"What happened, what did Wesley want?" asked Giles.

Angel gave a resigned sigh. "There was a break-in, after hours, into a high-security W&H storage facility, the night we left… Wes didn't want to bother me with it until they had tried to recover it, which just failed... They think it's the same vamp crew we've been running into. They only took one thing… I didn't even know it existed..." He shot a sideways glance at Spike, nodding in his direction. "There's another amulet apparently. Even more powerful than the one I gave Buffy, and more dangerous. The senior partners think that it's capable of reversing the work of the original… it could re-open the Sunnydale Hellmouth. Might even bring back the town itself. If it did, it would leave an empty town right on top of a Hellmouth… demon paradise."

A hush fell over the group, as they each contemplated the consequences, good and bad, of such a result. Unsurprisingly, Giles was the first to speak.

"Well, that makes a lot of sense, actually…" Seeing several clueless eyes, he cleaned his glasses and continued, audibly exasperated. "If someone is pursuing a reversal of the events of that day, and they need Willow, they're likely wanting to reverse the activation as well. We'll all go back to the library today, see what we can dig up on both of the amulets. I believe I've exhausted my resources here."

Willow's face fell. "Does this mean I need to cancel my date?"

"No, no," said Buffy quickly. She looked ferociously at Giles, ready to intercept any argument, but none came. "Spike and I were going to go pick up Dawn around then anyway, you can meet us at the library after your date. I don't think anyone will go after you with Lindsay around, not after last time."

"Right, yes…" said Giles. "I suppose that will be fine."

"Then it's settled." Angel groaned faintly, stretching his back. "We'll give ourselves a little time to recoup, then we'll be on our way."

"I don't know I'll be needing that," Spike whispered huskily, leaning down so only Buffy could hear him. "I slept like a baby last night… after awhile, anyway."

Buffy shot him a look, but she was smiling as she excused herself to claim the first shower of the day.

By the time they were all fed and showered, and Buffy had coached Willow through four or five outfit changes, a heavy snowfall was beginning to settle over London. Xander and Andrew picked up Giles and Angel so that Willow could have Giles's car for her big date, and to give Spike and Buffy space to pick up Dawn in Willow's car. Xander had offered to pick up Dawn instead, but Buffy knew if the news about the amulet came from anyone else (or with the slightest delay), Dawn would be fuming.

Spike was a level of cheerful rarely seen. Buffy could've sworn she heard him humming to himself as he helped Giles collect his notes, Willow find her keys... keeping busy by helping whoever needed him most at the moment. The moment Willow had gone, Buffy sat and watched him happily, wondering why she'd doubted his contentment. The man's all bark, she thought, smiling to herself.

Catching her, Spike broke into an even wider smile. His eyes hardly left her as they waited patiently for Xander's car to pull away. The moment it had, he swept her up in a long kiss. After everything that had passed between them the previous night, it felt like a breath of air. Buffy sighed as they pulled apart, yawning instinctively in her body's attempt to refill her depleted lungs. Grinning evilly, Spike pulled her off of the kitchen stool, carrying her in his arms out to the waiting car and ignoring her halfhearted protests.

The drive from Giles's estate into the city limits was short, but no less beautiful. The snow had settled onto the rolling hills and the trees, seeming to glitter despite the lack of sunlight. What struck Buffy the most was the heavy silence it created. The only sound other than the car was her own breathing. Beside her, Spike had to resist the temptation to close his eyes, and enjoy the peace: listening to nothing but the hum of the car, Buffy's breathing, and her relaxed, even heartbeat.

"So," said Buffy, breaking the long, contented silence. "Where did you live around here?"

"Over the years? Dozens of places. Angelus was adept at finding little hideouts, we were never short on-"

"No." Buffy cut him off. "As a human?"

"Oh." Spike looked around, they were just entering the city's outer residential area, near Xander's home. Most of the homes around were half his age, or even younger. "Honestly Buffy, I couldn't tell you now. So much has changed here in a hundred years, and I spent so much of that time trying to forget about it. I'll clue you in if I see anything I recognize." He paused, thinking. "I do remember the name of the street, it was called 'River Lane'... we could see if it's still standing when we get back to the library I suppose."

Buffy nodded. Her curiosity was unsatisfied, but she could tell that he had no further information to give her on the subject. Instead, her eyes explored the snowy cityscape, a rare and beautiful sight for anyone who had grown up in the warmer parts of California. She rested her hand on Spike's leg as he drove, appreciating the snow all the more for its convenience.

"Spike?"

"Yes, darling?" He responded in sarcastic mock-propriety, teasing her, smiling at the tight squeeze she gave his leg in response.

"Have you ever wanted to come back here?"

He studied her face, trying to discern her meaning. There were many possible implications to the question. Was she still worried that he missed his glory days? Or did she mean to ask where he'd prefer to live now? If that was the question… did she intend to come with him, when he settled down? Buffy squirmed under his gaze, which nearly went on long enough for her to demand he return his eyes to the road ahead, but he finally did so just before she opened her mouth to do just that.

"I just mean…" she added. "With so much sun… and Angel... where you're living... somewhere like London, or even Cleveland-" she cut herself off, blushing furiously.

"Yes." Spike felt a rush of joy, realizing which question it had been, and he fought to keep his face from betraying just how excited he was by the idea. "Los Angeles was never meant to be permanent, I just didn't have anywhere better to go right then… I'd fantasize often about getting back here, but I damn well couldn't ask Peaches to spot me the cash I'd need… Not if I was to be doing things in the proper good-boy manner."

"I'd imagine going back to living with him now would be… a bad idea."

"Fucking right." Spike laughed, shaking his head, showing off his trademark mischievous look. "I don't suppose I could just follow you home, love?"

Buffy took a deep breath to steady herself. "...What if we just stayed here? I don't have much in Cleveland, and lately I'm not very sure what I was doing there for so long… Here I've got Dawnie, and Giles, and Willow and Xander… and if you came with me…" she trailed off again. God, I've got to get better at all this emotional crap. Why is he such a natural at the big emotional speeches?

"Our own flat, not with Glasses, right?" Spike found her hand, running his fingers over it dreamily. "God, I would love that. But I don't care where we go, love. I'm not leaving you again. No getting rid of me now." She just asked me to move in with her… did that really happen?

Unable to think of a suitable response, Buffy just smiled, folding herself into the passenger seat.

They were still a ways from where Dawn was staying; as Spike had put it, when he was given the address, she was 'deep in the posh part of town.' The homes they passed were beautiful, a mix of modern construction and lovingly restored older buildings, blending together smoothly. Most of the street fixtures and fences were unmistakably dated, and Buffy closed her eyes, still trying to picture him as a human, roaming down these streets…

Her eyes snapped open as Spike turned the car sharply, heading deeper into one of the winding neighborhood blocks. For a moment she wondered if he knew some shortcut that she didn't, but the jerking motion with which they'd veered off course suggested otherwise; Spike was typically a smooth driver, at least with herself or Dawn in the car.

Confirming her suspicion, Spike sped down two more blocks before coming to a jolting stop, parked quite crookedly, in front of a large, old-Victorian townhome. Jumping out, he stood on the walkway, staring up at the building with an unreadable expression. Wishing she was wearing something other than old tennis shoes and jeans, Buffy climbed out of the car to follow him, trying to ignore the cold seeping through to her already-soaked feet.

"S-Spike?" He didn't answer, still staring ahead. Buffy glanced around them. The snow was falling faster now, sticking in small piles, but she could still make out the small black and white street sign on the corner. River Lane. Oh. She hung back for a few more moments, unsure if she should keep her distance.

He didn't keep her waiting long before turning around, pulling her absentmindedly to his side. "Ponces went and changed the colour… Lilac. She'd have hated that… and those bloody awful curtains." He whistled softly to himself. Taking Buffy's hand, he finally noticed how badly she was shivering. Wishing bitterly again he could warm her up properly, he settled for wrapping her tightly in his duster, squeezing her between his arms to shut out some of the wind.

"What would you have been doing in there on a day like this?" She whispered.

Spike scoffed to himself. "Probably writing poetry or some other nancy-hobby." He mumbled. Too loudly to go unheard, though he hadn't meant to say it out loud.

"Poetry?"

"...Yes." He sighed. "I warned you, love. I told you I would've been too soft for you in those days…"

Buffy tried to hold it back, but she broke into a fit of loud giggling. She couldn't stop - after all she'd seen him do, heard him say... it was too much to imagine the Spike she knew sitting down to write poetry on a snowy day. Spike bristled at first, entirely offended, but she just pulled him closer, covering him everywhere she could reach with small kisses until she finally got a smile out of him.

"Spike," she gasped out finally, wiping her eyes. "Trust me, if you'd seen me, before I was a Slayer, you would've hated me. I was so much worse than that… I was a shallow little queen bee, totally useless. Couldn't have slayed a rabbit."

"We'd have been a pair." He finally joined her, laughing a little at the image of Buffy, the socialite princess. Of course, in his mind, he pictured her instinctively as a socialite of his time, dressed as Cecelia would have been. The thought made him shudder. Had enough of that type to last an unlifetime… "I was an awful poet too... that's why they called me 'William the Bloody,' you know... they said it to mock my 'bloody awful' poetry… Even the girl I was sweet on used to use it."

"Really? The book of vampires Giles had found when you first came to Sunnydale said that was because of your 'unmatched bloodlust.'" She wiggled her fingers to show the air-quotes.

"That stuck? Thank GOD, I went to wild lengths to spread that rumour!"

Buffy laughed, but her shivering had worsened as the cold sunk deeper into her extremities. Noticing her plight, Spike tore himself away from his former home, giving it one last, long look. It was time to look to the future, and she was all that mattered in his.

"Next! Hello, can I help you ma'am?"

"I certainly hope so." Her voice was sickly sweet, but something about her set the other woman's hair standing on end. "Package for Shereshevsky? S-h-e-r-e-s-h-e-v-s-k-y."

The clerk typed for a moment, frowning at her screen, and retreating into a back room. She returned with a small package and a large, forced smile.

"Must be excited, just processed this one not twenty minutes ago. Overnight air."

"Very."

Renata took the package, a small rectangular box, moving to the exit as quickly as she could without drawing undue attention to herself.

Ducking into an alleyway, she picked up speed. The city was a bustling hive of activity at this time of the day; an extra rush of the population had ventured out for Christmas shopping. Even from between huge stone buildings, the din was remarkable. Even louder, she could sense the speed of the Underground below.

Gripping the package tightly, she kicked aside the rusty latch and dropped down into a well-hidden manhole. Giving her eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness, she followed a glimmer of dim light deeper underground. As she walked, the faint smell of blood and dated perfume strengthened, and she wrinkled her nose. A century on of living with demons and vampires, and the stench still bothered her. Her newest ally in particular had a distinct aroma; old rosewater, dried blood, and a certain sense of insanity that was unrivaled by anyone the witch had previously aligned herself with, human and demonkind alike.

When they'd first been approached by the other vampire, she had wanted to turn her away flat. The idea of teaming up with a demon crazier than her own dear brother was… unattractive, to say the least. However, the idea she'd brought forth had been too tempting to resist. Their beloved London, which had been their home for over a century, was now overrun by young, brash Slayers. There had already been several close calls between the young brats and her beloved Daniel, too close for comfort. The deal had been simple; London would belong to them, Slayer-free, and in exchange, they would make the spell a two-parter: bringing back Sunnydale, a ghost-town on a Hellmouth, for the other vampire to rule over.

"Is that you out there, bringing presents?" A sweet voice called from around the corner, sending goosebumps up and down Renata's arms.

Ducking through the low doorway and into their makeshift town-hideout, Renata faced a scene that disgusted her completely. A young girl, dressed in a pretty, skin-tight red dress, dangled from the wall by her neck. Her exposed throat was slashed in several places, and the lines of coppery-red dripping down from the wounds had dried in vulgar streaks.

The dark room smelled of blood, vodka, and rosewater. The girl must've been out clubbing for the night; the scent of alcohol was still wafting from her more strongly than it did from the bottle on the makeshift nightstand, next to the bed that her partner-in-crime was lounging back on, running her fingers through her own hair. A male vampire was massaging her feet dutifully, shirtless, and covered in long, deep scratch marks. Blood was still dripping from some of the deepest on his back, and the female vampire absently licked drying blood from her own fingernails as she watched him scramble to comply with her requests.

"Drusilla." Renata's voice was cold. "I told you I was coming right back, couldn't you have waited to play with your toys? You know I can't stand this smell…"

"So sorry, Rennie," said Drusilla dreamily. "I get so excited when I remember what we're going to do, and we're getting so very close. Sweet Daniel would've celebrated with me… I thought of him with this one… he loved the color red."

"Don't you dare mention my brother, not when you're cavorting around with this… scab." With a sharp flick of her wrist, a blue cloud formed around the male vampire's neck, separating his head from his body with a sickening sound, and covering the bedspread with a thin film of ash. Renata faltered, panting, utterly drained by the spell. Self-control, I'll need all the power I have for what's coming, she chided herself.

Drusilla pouted, sticking out her bottom lip and kicking the dust from the bed and onto the floor.

"So very rude Rennie, I quite liked that one. He reminded me of my Spikey… so obedient..."

In answer, she threw the package onto the bed at Drusilla's side, dropping herself onto the arm of the filthy chair beside the bed. Drusilla excitedly tore apart the box, laughing happily as she pulled the ornate amulet from it's packaging. Instead of gold and milky-gray, the metal was charcoal-black, and the center stone was a large ruby, with a small spot of what looked like smoke deep in the center of the gem. She clutched it to her chest with a satisfied sigh.

"Lovely Daniel, you always come through for me… even from beyond this world." She peeked at Renata from beneath long eyelashes. The witch was still leaning, breathlessly, against the chair.

"We won't need to associate with each other much longer," said the witch. "I saw the Slayer yesterday, she's finally arrived in London. If we can get our hands on that bloody Scythe, we won't even need the useless redhead."

Drusilla examined her companion doubtfully before closing her eyes, searching her own memory.

"My visions said that it's only possible with the little witch… Your power alone is not enough. We need hers… the weapon has power, but needs a soul..." She stared at Renata, sending shivers down her spine. "This isn't ordinary jewelry, remember? It will kill you quite easily if you're not very, very careful."

Renata tried not to let the other woman see how unsettled she was, watching Drusilla whisper sweet nothings to the amulet. Why her Daniel had been so attached to this freak, she would never understand, but she was determined that his death wouldn't be for nothing. She would see this through for him, like she always had.

"Goddamn this utterly useless contraption… Willow should be here, not cavorting around town going to cinemas and coffee shops…"

"Just because you can't figure out anything invented this century doesn't mean Willow can't have a life. She's been working herself sick all month, let her have this." Xander quickly jumped to his friend's defense. He'd been thrilled when Willow had excitedly told him that she and Lindsay were going on their first real date - things just hadn't been the same with Willow, not since Tara. More than anyone else, he'd missed seeing her so happy.

Giles frowned, but didn't retort, knowing he'd crossed a line. The tension was forgotten quickly, as Angel called out for them to join him at his computer.

He pointed to a blurry picture on the screen. The photograph was black and white, but it was clear that the set of amulets were not quite the same; one was much darker, the cut of the stone was sharper and cleaner.

"This says they're called the 'Drych Enaid,' the 'Soul Mirrors'- they date back to right around when I was born." He pulled back a little so the others could read over his shoulder. "Looks like the one I gave Buffy is known as the 'Champion's' amulet."

"Oh God…" Giles read and reread the information over carefully, making sure he understood every word. "They can bend reality as we know it… drawing their power from the wearer's soul. They accomplish the task they are given but kill the wearer doing so."

"Ouch." Xander leaned forward, squinting. "So if Spike's necklace saves the day, the big-bad one does what, exactly?"

Angel scrolled down slowly, all of them huddling around the screen. "Looks like there is only one recorded use of it, and it hasn't been heard of since 1845. I wonder how Wolfram and Hart even got ahold of it… The time it was used before was apparently the cause of the great famine in Ireland… the person who did it was an Englishman trying to revenge himself on a pair of Irish brothers that kidnapped his daughter for her beauty and let her starve when she refused to cooperate with their demands… he took it out on all of Ireland, screaming that they 'all deserved to starve' as he died…"

Giles furrowed his brow, leaning back. "So the other one is a tool of vengeance?"
"This says that it 'bends reality to mirror the blackest desire of the wearer's soul'... the light one does the opposite… It's strange, it looks the other amulet has been used many times, and Spike's the only one who's lived."

Xander's eyes widened. "So wait, Spike really did want to die for us?"

"Not exactly," Angel grumbled. "He didn't know he was going to die…"

Giles sat back up, scanning the screen. "That's not quite fair, Angel. 'The Champion's amulet brings to life the truest wish of the wearer's soul'- it's right there."

"So, he just wanted Buffy to get what she wanted. It's got nothing to do with anyone else, he just did it-"

"Enough, Angel," Giles snapped.

"Speaking of Buffy…" Xander added. "Shouldn't they be here by now?"

Trying to snap himself out of his own wistful mood, Spike had turned up the radio as loud as it would go, singing along loudly and badly to a rock song Buffy had never heard before. Struggling to keep her annoyance to herself, Buffy was grateful when they finally reached the large building Dawn was waiting in front of, arms crossed huffily.

Behind Dawn, four or five girls her age were huddled, eyeing Spike with interest. With a casual wave, Spike shot them a wink, sending them scattering backwards into the building, the braver ones waving back while the shyer girls giggled and hid. Rolling her eyes, Dawn dragged her bag into the car, flinging it roughly onto the seat beside her.

"Hey Bit, how's it going?"

Dawn scowled at him. "You just had to embarrass me, didn't you?" She turned to her sister. "Doesn't help that you were nearly twenty minutes late, where've you been?"

"Sorry Dawnie. Got distracted." She smiled at Spike, before quickly trying to backpedal, realizing how Dawn was taking the look that passed between them.

"This is still kinda weird, you know." Dawn eyed them, not wanting to think about the possibilities of that glance. "Don't push it."

"Sorry nugget, I swear, it wasn't like that," Spike said soothingly. "We took a detour to see the house I grew up in… I was your age once too y'know, over a century ago…"

Dawn perked up, interested. "Really? Why didn't you take me?"

"You would've wanted to go?" Buffy was surprised.

"Was kinda spur-of-the-moment, sweet… Besides, it's not much to look at… We got by fine, but I wasn't a prince or nothing."

Dawn sunk into her seat, clearly sulking. "Well, I would've liked to see it anyway. I always get left out of stuff... " She watched Spike, as he let fly a stream of curse words at the little red car flying by, trying to re-enter traffic. "What were you like in those days... like what did you look like?"

Seems to be a popular question… "I looked like a bleeding idiot. Always wore bland tweed suits, and had these stupid little glasses… dressed a bit like Giles, actually. Better looking though, of course."

"I have a hard time picturing you in a suit like that. Especially with that hair."

"Didn't take up this style until the 70s, love. It was Dru's idea, I kinda took to it though. Ladies seem to like it, don't they?" He smirked at Buffy, who blushed.

"Don't flatter yourself, Spike," she snapped. Her voice was cross, but she slid her hand up his inner thigh, being careful to make sure Dawn couldn't see the movement. Spike raised his eyebrows, trying not to look at her, or let her see how affected he was by the touch. After Dawn's speech when he returned, he had a bit of lingering fear where the slayer's sister was concerned.

Luckily, Dawn didn't notice. She clapped her hands together excitedly, getting an idea. "You need to show me what you looked like before you got all vampy!"

"I don't know that I can, love. I think there was a picture of us once, but I wouldn't even know where to start if I were to go looking for it…"

"No!" Dawn clicked her tongue impatiently. "Pull over! There's a costume shop a block away, we spent half the day there yesterday. They have everything, I'm sure we can recreate it!"

Buffy burst into laughter at the vexed look on Spike's face, joining in on Dawn's begging until Spike reluctantly pulled off the road. By then, they had to backtrack several blocks, but neither of the girls wanted to risk asking Spike to drive them closer, not wanting to push their luck.

"Anything for me, you promised," Buffy grinned impishly.

"NOT what I meant love, you well enough know that-" the girls didn't let him finish, dragging him through a pair of red double-doors.

The store was deserted, and the clerk waiting at the desk seemed grateful to be rescued from her boredom. She was pretty, a voluptuous thing with fire-engine-red hair and long black fingernails. She happily showed the three to the 'vintage' section of the store - her eyes lingering a moment as Spike grumpily started to strip before he was all the way through the fitting room curtain.

Buffy and Dawn bounced excitedly as he emerged, wearing a plain brown three-piece suit. Slowing, both girls hid a small measure of disappointment; the difference was there, but not as dramatically as they'd hoped. He looked, well, like Spike in Giles's clothes.

"No. Not good enough, I still can't picture it." Dawn was shaking her head, tapping her foot dramatically. "What did your hair look like before?"

"Brown, curly… probably kind of fluffy." Buffy surprised them by answering first, getting a quizzical look from Spike in particular. "What? I notice things! When you came back from… wherever you got your soul… your hair was growing out. It was light brown, and you had fluffy curls without your gel." She no longer had a reason to hide her attentions to Spike, but speaking about a time where hiding her feelings was given so much effort, she was flushing quite a bit.

Dawn nodded, disappearing to talk to the shopkeeper. She returned with an evil smile and the redhead in tow, holding a fluffy brown wig and a thin pair of gold half-rim glasses.

"Is this about right?" she asked.

Spike sighed, looking the items over. "Scarily so." He stared at Dawn as he tried to put on the wig, giving up quickly with an angry exhale. "One of you has to help me, I don't have a reflection to work with, and I don't care enough to be here this whole bloody day."

Jumping at the chance, the shopkeeper stepped up with a bright smile, helping him adjust the wig. Buffy noticed with a bolt of jealousy that the other woman's fingers lingered as she adjusted the curls away from his eyes. She hadn't even balked at the 'lack of reflection' comment… she glanced around. There wasn't a mirror in the room that she could see, but it still seemed off. Looking the woman over closely, she noticed several Wiccan talismans. Witch, or fashion choice?

Dawn caught her stare, and hurried to introduce the two, if only to get the redhead to remove her hands from Spike before her sister started to physically steam.

"Sorry Buffy, I should have mentioned, this is Opal. She's actually in Willow's coven, this is her day job. She knows about Slayers and demons and such, she actually has a stock of training clothes and gear in the other room she ordered for us Academy girls."

"Buffy," The witch turned, shaking her hand warmly while Buffy tried to force herself into a friendly expression. "Would that be Buffy Summers? Thrilled to meet the famous Slayer. I used to hear stories… I grew up on the Cleveland Hellmouth, is it true that you're living there now?"

The Slayer just smiled, returning the handshake with an excess of force, pleased to see faint red marks when she released the woman's hand. She could see in the corner of her eye Spike raising his eyebrows, which finally distracted her. Dawn turned to him too, giggling at the effect of his full ensemble.

'Bleeding idiot' wasn't quite the right phrase, but his earlier description of 'nancy-boy' was fairly accurate. For the first time, Buffy could actually see what he would've looked like, and found it almost as funny as Dawn did, who was now lost in fits of laughter. Even the witch was grinning. He looked so... docile! Completely and absolutely harmless.

"William the Bloody, indeed." Buffy teased, as Spike swore. Ignoring Dawn's pleading to leave it on while she looked for a camera, he tore off the glasses and wig, disappearing back behind the dressing curtain.

When he emerged, he looked like his old self, albeit with slightly messier hair from the multiple changes of clothing.

"Mmm," Opal looked him over. "Much better."

Spike grinned back at her, and Buffy tensed beside Dawn, who panicked, pulling Opal back away from the two with a hurried explanation of 'needing to talk to her about something one of her friends forgot to ask her to order.'