A/N: Not really keen on old fashioned women's clothing so... forgive any misportrayals.


Chapter 18 - Confide in Me

"Spring in the morning. She opens her eyes and yawns, she smiles, and jumps into my arms."

"What a beautiful instrument, what is this called?" She studied his quiet expression. With pursed lips she carefully thought of the right translation in Chinese. As she spoke, his face brightly lit up in a smile.

"Lute," he said, brushing a hand over its wooden surface. It looked like a guitar only more pear shaped. He outstretched his hands and offered it to her.

"Oh non, I couldn't. My older sister would scold me until my backside was red. She says I shouldn't touch things that don't belong to me." He stared at her with a slightly ajar mouth. "Oh." She translated, and the man frowned slightly but was still smiling. To his understanding, she had told him her mother did not approve of fruit baskets.

He returned to plucking strings. "High in the sky, the clouds and the sun love her. She dances in the rain and I love her too."

Dawn smiled inside. She thought the antiquated looking man had the most adorable set of puppy dog eyes.

She felt like she had been in the body of a French girl for hours. Screaming at the top of her lungs didn't register, and calling "Buffy" in her mind repeatedly was equally futile. On the bright side, the girl certainly got around, allowing Dawn to see some of the most exquisite statues and most peculiar customs she had ever seen. Judging by the peaceful state of her surroundings, talk of the war against the boxers seemed exaggerated.

The old man abruptly stopped playing and stood straight up as if she had done something to annoy him. "Oh for goodness sake, stop playing!" He held the lute up to his face in surprise, his serene demeanour had shattered. "FINALLY." He gently set the instrument on the chair and faced the girl with a severe expression. "Where the hell am I?"

The girl was flabbergasted. "Sir! You speak English!"

"Well of course I do!"

Dawn thought it was also strange he had acquired an English accent. Either the man was pulling her leg, or something out of the ordinary was happening.

"He must be suffering from some sort of old age amnesia," the girl told herself.

The man put his fingers to his forehead and thought hard. "I must be in China, but... everything is wrong. The clothes, the buildings," - he scowled - "you." He sighed hopelessly. "Ooh," he moaned. "What has Willow done?"

Willow? Did he just say Willow? Giles! Giles, it's Dawn! Oh darn it all. Hey Frenchy! Comon move over and let me talk!

"Giles!" The girl blurted.

The man looked at her wide-eyed. "What did you say?"

The girl looked sideways in a puzzled way. "I- I don't know. Forgive me, sometimes nonsense finds its way out of my mouth." She forced an elegant laugh.

"Giles. You said, Giles."

"Who in the world is Giles?"

"Me. Now stop acting insufferable and tell me what's going on."

"Giles! It's Dawn!" she blurted again. In shock, the girl covered her mouth with both hands. "I must be ill! I should probably return home." She hastily smiled, curtseyed and then turned away.

"Dawn!" Giles pulled her by the arm, and then shook her gently by the shoulders. "Are you in there?"

"Unhand me!" She raised her small hand and smacked Giles across the cheek. The girl gasped. Her lips curved into a bashful smile. "Ooh, sorrie Giles!"

He straightened, blinking many times before he thinly smiled. "Quite alright."

"Man, I thought I was going to be trapped in her forever."

"Yes, I couldn't stand listening to that binky sounding instrument much longer myself." He went to reposition his glasses but realized he wasn't wearing any. "Do feel free to slap me again if I unwillingly start to sing."

She giggled. "I thought you were very good." She paused and frowned. "Hey, I still have a French accent."

"Yes, well, I believe it's the least of our troubles right now. Shall we?" He motioned his head to the road.

"Oui!" She giggled.

. . .

"God I feel like my rib cage is being crushed. What the heck am I wearing?"

"A corset."

She raised her eyebrows. "And you are doing what now?"

"Buying a smoke."

"Of course."

Spike gave the merchant woman a rifle in exchange for a sleekly curved piece of wood. The woman swerved a finger at Buffy.

"Oh. Uh, you want anything?" he asked Buffy.

She couldn't believe how nonchalant Spike was acting. "No," she said bizarrely.

He looked her up and down. "Sure?"

Buffy stared at him.

"Alright then."

They walked through the brazier lit roads as Buffy's eyes shifted from building to building. The pain in her chest was starting to bother her again, not to mention the humidity. She grabbed Spike by the hand and pulled him into a shaded area between walls. Spike was frowning at her.

"What's wrong?"

"Help me-" She pulled the frilly straps down over her shoulders. "Take this off."

"Uh..." Spike raised his hands near her chest, but looked too uncomfortable to proceed.

Buffy turned around so the lacing of the corset faced him. She held her hair up. "Okay." After a still moment, she felt his fingers nip at the threading. His touch was soft along her back. She looked back at him. His eyes remained low and focused.

The corset popped open and the pressure on Buffy's chest was finally gone. Spike spun around and faced the other wall.

"I won't-"

"I know," she said softly.

She let the corset fall to the ground and slowly pulled the dress back over her shoulders.

"I see the happy couple is back to normal." Angel was looking on with a humoured and curious expression.

"Well?" Darla looked slyly at Spike. "Did you kill yourself a Slayer?"

Spike and Buffy exchanged glances. "Yeah," he said unenthusiastically. "She twirled her swords here and there. But like every Slayer, she's too confident to know when she's made the wrong move."

Buffy's eyes shifted to Spike. His words almost stung.

"What do you mean 'like every Slayer'?" Darla scowled. "I thought she was your first."

"Oh. Right. I was speaking, you know, figuratively."

Darla raised an eyebrow and smirked at Buffy. "We're going to a pub filled with a wide range of cultural flavours. I'm sure there'll be ... many boys there with large guns. Care to join us?"

Buffy made a face of disgust. She realized she was getting thirsty, but just the way Darla said those words made her stomach turn. "Oh, gross."

Angel and Darla looked at each other with puzzled expressions. Spike kicked Buffy's foot and her eyes widened. Spike is definitely going to enjoy this. She quickly leaned against Spike's body, rubbing his chest with one hand while the other fiddled with his hair.

"I think my Spikey wikey is full from drinking the blood of that Slayer. We'd rather just ... go on a romantic stroll through town." Buffy moved her mouth about seductively.

"Spikey, wikey?" Angel repeated in disbelief.

"Well," Darla said. "Suit yourself." They both gave Spike and Drusilla peculiar looks before continuing on their way.

Spike sighed slowly. He leaned a shoulder against the wall and looked thoughtfully at Buffy.

"Harmony used to call me that."

She slowly grinned. "Really?" Shaking her head, she tried to hold back a laugh. "What did you see in that girl?"

"I don't know. She was well formed up here." He cupped his chest. "With the most succulent lips you'll ever put your mouth on." His smile was shameless, and she rolled her eyes.

Leaning back against the opposite wall she snugly crossed her arms.

"Yeah," he sighed. "Once she opened that yapper of hers, the only thing that would shut her up was a good toss in the sheets."

Buffy tried to hide her amusement in a sideways glance. She looked back with a straighter face.

"And Drusilla?"

Spike raised an eyebrow. "Kinky, kinky, Buffy."

Buffy grinned and backhanded him on the chest. "Seriously."

His grin faded, and he gazed at Buffy. His eyes shifted side to side as if she was something sublime that was so close, yet unattainable.

"She could do no wrong."

Droplets of water fell on their skin. Buffy's gaze fell to his lips and slowly came back to his eyes. As Spike leaned in closer, she felt her entire chest rise into her throat.

"And me. You think I'm ... overconfident. That I make ... the wrong choices ..."

Their lips met and a force surged through her body. She wanted him to kiss deeper, but their lips simply remained touching. He slowly drew back and gazed into her. His hand wiped water from her cheek.

"You are everything you need to be."