buffy in the city #4:
you gave me london

by SoulVamp

Disclaimer: I am not the inventor of Buffy, Spike, Xander, Anya, Faith, Caroline, etc. etc.. This is goofy appropriation for my own fun, and hopefully for the fun of others. Please do not sue me. You probably wouldn't get much out of it anyway.

Notes: Thanks for all the feedback, folks! Keep it coming, good, bad, or indifferent. Inspiration comes in fits and spurts, and this one's taken me quite a bit longer to finish. I hope everyone has been patient. I've gotten sidetracked with other little writing projects and various life stuff.
This episode, I think, moves things a little further along in the romance zone, but certainly doesn't tie things up neatly yet. Gotta torture y'all a little!

***

Buffy was putting the finishing touches on that month's comic book, while Faith sat curled up on the sofa flipping through a catalogue.

"Whew! Another Buffy the Vampire Slayer in the can!" Buffy announced happily. "Now, on to the calendar."

"B, check out the men's underwear section here. I think I've found what I want for Christmas," Faith purred.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Come on, Faith, I don't have time. I've got to get a major dent made in the Buffy calendar designs now! Xander and I are going to be on vacation for two weeks and --" She trailed off when Faith bounded over and shoved the catalogue tantalizingly under her nose. "Boy, talk about a stocking stuffer!" Buffy said, gazing at the picture Faith pointed to.

Spike came into the loft, looking pained. "Hey, Spike," Buffy said. "What's wrong?"

She figured it out when Anya popped in behind him singing Jingle Bells off-key.

"I rode up in the elevator with that," he said as he took his seat at the desk. "Please, make it stop. My ears are bleeding."

Anya ignored him. "Ah, the holiday season!" she said with a cheerful smile. "Here you are, Ms. Summers," she said, handing Buffy a packet of mail. She was turning to go when she spotted something on the counter. "Oo, fruitcake! Nummy!"

"You are what you eat," Spike muttered.

"Take it, Anya, I got about twelve more from well-meaning relatives," Buffy said.

"Merci beaucoup, and a Joyful Noel to you all!" Anya took the cake and went to the doorway and noticed a sprig of green hanging above it. "Hmm, mistletoe. Shall I get a kiss, or no?"

Everyone looked at one another. "You're the boy!" Faith said to Spike. "Or at least the closest thing we got."

Spike looked at Anya threateningly. "I bite," he said.

"I'll file that under 'no,' then. Ciao!" She fled.

"That gal has got to get a boyfriend," Buffy said. "Maybe then we'd get a little less chat with the deliveries."

"What desperate individual could possibly see something in her?" Spike asked.

"Well, Xander apparently used to," Faith said, glancing at Buffy.

Spike opened his mouth to retort, but then thought better of it, silently sitting down to work instead.

"I wonder if Xander would fix her up with one of his friends?" Buffy wondered.

This one, he couldn't stay quiet for. "Ah, look, I'm not exactly one to rush to the defense of Harris the Deficient, but gotta stop you in your tracks there," Spike informed her. "He won't go for it."

"Why not?"

"Baby, you've got a lot to learn about the ways of the male animal," Spike chuckled. "It's one of the jungle laws. Man shalt not set up his woman with other man."

"Um, 'scuse me, O Great Sage boy, but Anya is not his woman anymore. I am!" Buffy said. Even if sometimes I don't want to be, she added to herself.

"Don't matter, that," Spike said with a shrug. "Xander may have set her aside, but that doesn't mean he wants to see her with one of his mates."

"Hate to say this," Faith piped up, "but I'm with the Spikester on this one."

"Alas, Anya will have to wither in her own sexual frustration," Spike said, "forced to seek her other half by her lonesome."

"You guys! Come on, I'm not giving up that easily! Everybody deserves somebody," Buffy cried. "And these three somebodies deserve Anya out of their hair!"

Yeah, everybody deserves somebody, Spike thought with more than a little bitterness. Just not me, apparently. As Buffy returned to her desk, Faith taking off, he couldn't help but glance up from time to time at his boss, feeling a little pang when she announced she had to go meet Xander.

The pang, of which he'd suffered more and more often, really irritated him. That girl is not my type, he thought, I shouldn't even entertain the notion of her...

***

Buffy met up with Xander at his travel agent's office to finalize plans for their vacation. The agent was a chipper young man with a goatee and little round glasses.

"Well!" the agent said happily. "Where are the lovebirds off to?"

"London," Buffy said dreamily, looking at Xander. "I've always wanted to see England at Christmas, kind of like Charles Dickens..."

"Hon, I still say there's nothing romantic about having Ebenezer Scrooge fantasies," Xander said. "Is there something you'd like to tell me? Should I get an old-man nightgown and walk around with a scowl on my face?"

Buffy giggled at him, punching him playfully in the arm. The travel agent typed away at his computer for a moment, then frowned. "You guys don't mean this Christmas, do you?"

"Kind of..." Buffy said, worried.

The agent turned in his chair, folded his hands on his desk, and smiled sadly. "I have only one package left. Now, before I tell you about it, let me assure you that youth hostels are actually loads of fun! And if you pack enough cologne, you don't really need to shower --"

"Aw, come on, you don't have anything left?" Xander asked.

The angent turned back to the computer, typed again. "Actually, we have a great deal opened up..."

Xander and Buffy brightened.

"... for June."

Xander's face fell.

"Oh, that would be so neat, Xander!" Buffy said. "Springtime! We could go out to the country side and see all the little baby sheep!"

"It's still kind of rainy in England in the spring," the agent corrected.

"Well, then, we could see all the... wet baby sheep," Buffy amended. "Honey, wouldn't that be nice?"

"Um, yeah... Buff, June... uh..." Xander struggled. "It's just that, like, June is six months away. I mean, who knows what's gonna happen with us in six months?"

Buffy raised her eyebrows. "What's gonna happen with us?" she repeated, her voice low and serious. "Ex-cuse me?" She blinked at him pointedly.

"Dude, that was so not a good idea," the agent said to Xander with a small I'm-so-glad-I'm-not-you laugh.

Xander retorted by shooting the agent a fierce shut-the-hell-up look. He turned back to Buffy. "Look, all I meant was that... I don't know, we could be busy by then... Or something. I was, ah, thinking about getting a... bunny... ?"

Buffy still looked completely enraged, but added incredulous to her expression. "A bunny? Mmm hmm... all right... that's a plausible defense. Suuuure."

Xander shifted in his chair. "Is it just me, or is it like two hundred degrees in here?!"

She sighed. "If you want to break up, just say so."

"No!" he said immediately. "I don't want to --"

She shook her head. "I smell your fear, Xand. Back to the same old commitment phobia thing."

"Um," the agent interjected, "I smell your fear from here, man. Not to mention you look like you're in front of a firing squad."

"Okay, you travel agent. Not therapist," Xander informed him with a jabbing point in the agent's direction.

Buffy started to walk out, Xander rushing after her. On the sidewalk, she stopped. "Hang on," she said. "Argument on pause mode." She returned to the agent's desk. "Hey, you seem pretty fearless, wanna go on a blind date with a fairly frightening but pretty girl?"

"You make it sound so appealing," the agent replied. "How could I refuse?"

Buffy wrote down Anya's number for him, then went back outside to finish ripping Xander a new one.

***

At Buffy's loft, Spike was flipping through a stack of CDs by the stereo. "The Carpenters Christmas, Mariah Carey Christmas, Christmas at the soddin' White House, what the hell," he muttered, reading off the titles. He sighed, gave up, and pulled a cassette out of his pants pocket. Bing Crosby and David Bowie began warbling Little Drummer Boy in eerie harmonies. Much better.

Faith sprang in, looking around. "Where's Buffy?"

"Taking Harris to obedience school, or else there was some sort of shoe sale extravaganza," he said. "Who listens..."

She slithered over. "You'll have to do," she said, turning around. "Zip me up? Got a date with a rad guy named John later. Or was it Joe? No, Brian, that was it."

Spike reluctantly pulled up the zipper on her skimpy dress. "This is certainly not in my job description."

"No, it's one of the company perks," she smirked.

A flurrying knock. "Got it," Faith said, opening the door to Anya. "Ah, the ghost of Christmas Freaky," she quipped.

"And the ghost of Christmas Sleazy," Anya retorted. "Nice outfit. Did you get it painted on? Must've been expensive. How swanky of you." She waved an envelope, dropped it on a nearby table. "See that Buffy gets that, would you?" she asked Spike.

"Anything for you, dearest," he said said sarcastically. "Why in such a hurry? Meeting your amphetamine dealer, bouncy one?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but I have a luncheon appointment," Anya replied, "set up very kindly by Ms. Summers herself."

Faith choked back a laugh. "She actually found a guy willing to go out with you?"

"Cut the bird some slack, sweets," Spike said. "I'm sure Buffy had to beat them off with a stick once they heard her describe the glory that is Anya." He broke out into a loud guffaw. "Okay, sorry, I really tried to pull that one off straight, but I just couldn't."

"Ha ha," Anya deadpanned. "It is to laugh! You'll all be singing quite another ditty when you get the wedding invitations." She started to leave, then turned back. "Oh, no, wait, that's right. I hate you all, so you won't be invited. Enjoy much suffering!" she chirped. Faith swung the door shut firmly behind her.

***

The fight had been put on hold even longer, as Xander begged off claiming a meeting. "I swear you can scream at me at the Bronze tonight, okay? Just now there's people in suits in my office who don't care if I've hurt my girlfriend's feelings."

So she sat, knees nervously bouncing, hands trying to occupy themselves by clutching her coffee mug. Xander, it's - it's over, she said to herself in her head. She tried it in several different phrasings, but the thrust of the message remained the same.

And then there he was, all broad-shouldered and affable, and for a second... but no, no, Buffy knew what she had to do.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, sitting down.

"No, it's okay," she said, a little coldly. "I know how you were probably off picking out a bunny."

Xander sighed. "Look, Buff, with the whole European vacation thing... I don't like to argue."

"You think I'm crazy about it?"

He didn't answer, just took her in a moment. "You look really... god, Buff, you look beautiful tonight," he said.

"Not gonna work this time, mister," she said, sitting up straighter. "We can't just get on with make-up sex just so you can be let off the hook here."

"I know. And that's why we need to stop seeing each other."

She hadn't heard him. "This is hard for me to say, but..." Then she realized. "Wait, what?!"

"We should break up," he repeated.

"Hold on there, cowboy, no, no, no, not how the plan was laid out!" Buffy's eyes darted around in disbelief. "I was supposed to do the dumping here tonight!"

"Aw, that's... c'mon, you don't need to try to save face with --"

"Seriously! I was! I had this whole speech and--"

"Fine!" Xander threw up his hands. "Go ahead, I'm here. Dump me."

She frowned. "You took all the fun out of it."

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever..."

"Whatever!" Buffy emitted a huffy "harumph" of frustration and stalked out.

Xander sat there alone, looked down at Buffy's unfinished coffee. A faint trace of pink lipstick ringed one side of the mug. "Don't think it was easy to do, hon," he whispered. "I just don't deserve you."

***

An hour and a half later, Faith went into Buffy's apartment to find its resident lying on the floor of the living room. "B! I rushed over and..." She regarded Buffy carefully. "Um, why precisely are you on the ground?"

Buffy held up a tumblerful of thick white liquid. "Eggnog?" she offered Faith.

Faith studied the cup suspiciously, bent over and sniffed it. "Phew, girl, that's like straight rum!"

Buffy pulled the cup back, took a little sip. "I knew there was something funny about Mom's recipe."

Silently, Faith moved to the kitchenette and began making coffee. Buffy slowly peeled herself off the hardwoods.

"Faith, did you ever get dumped?" she asked with a whimper.

"Nope!" Faith answered automatically, then turned and saw Buffy's crumpled face. "I mean, um, sure loads of times! A girl's just gotta bounce back!"

"Bounce back, blah! I don't need to bounce back!" She took a longer swig from the "eggnog" cup.

"Okay, somebody's had enough," Faith said, lifting the cup out of Buffy's hands and pouring the contents down the sink.

Buffy hiccupped. "Yes, enough. Enough of that stupid boy!"

Faith put a hand comfortingly on Buffy's shoulder. "Xander split? For good this time?"

Buffy nodded sadly, but then looked back up at her friend with a strange gleam in her eyes. "I want revenge," she said.

Faith frowned. The coffee was ready, and she poured Buffy a cup. "Calm down and think about this a little before you do anything rash."

Buffy took the cup, but didn't drink from it. She moved to her drawing table and sat down at it. "Not slash-your-tires kind of revenge," she assured Faith. "Just something that'll make him squirm uncomfortably for a while." She tapped a pencil against the desk.

"You could mock him in your comic book," Faith said with a shrug.

An evil grin spread out across Buffy's face. She began to draw furiously.

When she was finished, Xander's distinctive likeness had been immortalized as a cross-dressing vampire named "Freak Boy" with a secret love of disco and four-inch stiletto heels. Comic book Buffy staked him in the last panel with a pithy "Pink is really not your color."

"Welcome to the dark side, B," Faith said approvingly.

***

Spike climbed the three flights up to his barren studio apartment. He carried a bag of groceries, although "groceries" tonight consisted entirely of a six-pack of beer, carton of smokes, and Altoids. When one was low on cash, one had to stick to the staple necessities.

When he reached his door, though, there was a little figure huddled in front of it, head bent down, crying, strawberry curls shining in the dim light of the hallway.

"What the..." he started. "Anya?"

She raised her head, tears on her cheeks. "I-I'm sorry," she stammered.

"What're you doing here? How'd you even know where I live?"

She sniffled. He held out a hand for her to pull herself to her feet. "Saw you coming home one night. Usually I'd then avoid the place like the plague but..." She started crying again.

I can't believe I'm doing this, Spike thought. He unlocked the door and held it open wide for her. "Come in, pull yourself together, dizz." He pointed to a chair, which she flopped into, and he sat opposite her, looking and waiting for her to have out with it.

"I need advice from a guy..." she finally said. "And I don't know any that I haven't already dated, so..."

Spike ran a hand through his hair, trying to decide what tactic to apply to this odd development. She was trying hard to calm down, but little sobs still came out.

Bloody hell.

He sighed, then regarded her sternly. "If you tell anybody I was nice to you, I'll spread a rumor that you have a bizarre Muppet fetish," he said.

Her eyes became slightly twinkly, and she looked up. "Muppets?" she said somewhat brightly.

"But in a nasty deviant way," he added. "Now, come on, what's the matter? Tell old Spike."

Anya swallowed. "That guy Buffy set me up with," she said. "He was super dreamy and quite the affable fellow, but at the end of our date..."

"He blew you off."

"Politely, but yes." She rubbed at the tears that were starting to form again. Spike handed her a tissue, with which she blew her nose loudly before continuing. "That's not even the worst of it!" she declared.

Spike cocked his head. "What would that be, then?"

"I'm still in love with --"

"Harris."

Anya gasped in surprise. "How'd you know?"

"You two blockheads have that whole snipey-little-kids exchange thing down too well for you not to still be in love with him," he replied. "Classic repressed flirtation."

"So what do I do?"

Help me break them up, Spike thought, but knew... ah, sod it, he had to be Responsible Uncle Spike right now.

"Try to get over him," he said quietly. "Xander's with Buffy now."

When Anya left at last, somewhat more pulled together and vowing never to speak of her uncharacteristic crying on his shoulder, Spike walked over to the painting propped up on his easel. He carefully took it down, wrapped it in silver foil, and added a poofy red bow to the present. From his desk, he took an index card, trimmed it down to a tiny white square.

"Buffy," he scrawled on it with a flourish of his pen.

He held the card to his lips for the briefest of moments before tucking it under the bow.

***

"So in the archives of all the great office Christmas parties, this one..."

"Sucks pretty damn hard, I'd say," Spike said with a smirk. Buffy nodded sadly, the bells on her Santa hat jingling.

"Before I go though," Spike said, getting down from the stool at the counter of the kitchenette. "I have something for you..."

"You got me a present?" Buffy said with surprise.

Spike shyly handed her the silver-wrapped package. "Happy Christmas," he said, handing it to her.

Buffy smiled up at him, then opened the gift. She gave a tiny gasp. "It's beautiful..." she murmured. "It's..."

"London," Spike told her.

"You... you gave me London?"

"Figured you could see a preview of it before your trip," he said.

Buffy smiled sadly. "We're not going," she said, "so, actually, this is... this is my trip." She gazed with wonder at the watercolor skyline.

Spike saw something in her expression that told him... no, he couldn't hope that... and yet it broke his heart just a little to see her so sad. He knelt beside her and tried to project calm nonchalance as he pointed out the various landmarks to her.

By the time he finished, there were little glinty tears in her eyes. "It's beautiful," she said. "So, uh, what are you doing for the holidays?"

Spike shrugged. "Same thing I do every damn day, pet. Try to hermit as much as possible, never setting foot in daylight. And you?"

"Mom bought me a plane ticket home at the last minute," Buffy said with a choked little laugh. "She seems to think I'm needing vast amounts of comfort foods." She followed Spike as he headed for the door, and the two stood there a moment.

Spike looked at her little heart-shaped face, trying not to notice how wide and deeply green her eyes were, desperately trying to come up with a brash little quip that would break the spell of the moment, but nothing came to him as he spiralled further, deeper, into her eyes.

"So," he whispered.

A hint of a smile played across her lips. "So... oh!" Buffy glanced up. "We're under the..."

"Mistletoe," Spike finished. "Ah..." He steeled himself for bravery, slowly leaned down, and her lips met his in a small, soft kiss. Perfectly innocent, he tried to tell himself despite the little rush it gave him.

"Merry Christmas, Spike," Buffy said. Spike noted a hint of dreaminess in her voice, then jumped in irritation as he sensed someone behind him.

"Buffy," Xander said in greeting.

"Xander." Buffy was surprised, and looked slightly fearful.

"Spike," Xander said, turning.

"Harris." Spike tensed, unconsciously balling his hands into fists.

Faith's door swung open, and her dark haired head popped out. "Xander?" she asked, confused.

"Faith," Xander nodded at her.

Faith scowled and rolled her eyes. "Ugh, Xander." She disappeared back behind her door.

"Well, now that the gang's all here, um, Buff, can I come in?" Xander asked.

Spike shut his eyes a moment, cocked his head and tried to shrug off the distaste he felt at leaving Buffy and Xander alone. "Right, I was just... got somewhere to..." His words trailed off as he slunk toward the lift.

As the elevator doors closed, Buffy felt a distinct sense of disappointment. She sighed and opened the door wider for Xander, who stepped inside. "What do you want?" she asked him curtly.

"Buffy, I just wanted to --"

"I don't want to hear anything from you," she interrupted. "Everything's done."

"Come on, can't we do the friend thing?" Xander pleaded.

Buffy folded her arms in front of her, shooting him a hard, cold glare. "You've proven you're incapable of that."

Xander looked down sadly, then pulled an envelope out of the pocket of his jacket. "I'm sorry you feel that way," he said. "Maybe this will help, though." He handed the envelope to Buffy.

She opened it with trepidation, then gasped. "Two tickets to London?"

"You can use 'em anytime," Xander explained. "You know, take somebody... special with you."

"Xand, this is... this is really sweet and --" A thought suddenly occurred to her, and her eyes widened in horror. "Oh, god, seriously, y-you really shouldn't have done this!"

Xander looked at her with a confused frown. "Why? What should I have done, something mean and petty?"

"Well, hey, that's one way to go..." Buffy said guiltily.

***

A week later, Xander was still answering worried phone calls from friends and family. "Mom, Mom, c'mon, chill!" he was begging, the infamous "Freak Boy" Buffy comic ripped to little shreds on his desk. "It's just a comic book! I did not take your plaid skirt!"

***

Spike sat by himself at a table at the Bronze, half-finished Guinness in front of him, cigarette burning to the filter untouched in the ashtray. He was grinning as he scanned the last page for the eight hundredth time. Never get tired of that Freak Boy, he thought happily.

He looked up, grin still in place as Buffy breezed through the door. She smiled and waved as she caught sight of him and started for his table.

New year might be all right after all, he decided.