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A/N: My beta commented that the name of the restaurant is a bit confusing, and she's right. But this is an actual restaurant in Maui. I did my research and apparently--I don't know I've never been there--this is one of the best. The food and wine they order are on the real menu of this restaurant. Enjoy the chapter.




CHAPTER 11: Hawaiian magic




The limousine stopped in front of i’o restaurant, the driver walked around the car to open the door for them. The day had been amazing and Buffy was expecting the night to be even better. She could not, even if she tried, remember why she'd thought for so long loving Spike would be a mistake. Granted, they'd only been together for a little more than twenty-four hours. But so far, it had been the happiest, most intense and carefree twenty-four hours of her life. Buffy couldn't remember a time when she'd felt this way. It was like the elusive happiness she'd been chasing for years had been right under her nose the entire time. All she had to do was open her eyes and embrace it. Nothing had ever felt as right as taking the hand Spike was extending to help her get out of the limousine. The coolness of his palm against hers, the spark in his blue eyes, the silly grin on his face. Yes, this was right, and she was glad she'd come to her senses and ended years of fruitless search for "normal".

"The bloke who made the reservation for us at the hotel said i’o was one of the best restaurants in town. He better be right about this, pet. I want this night to be perfect."

Buffy squeezed his hand, a permanent smile plastered on her face. "Don't worry, it will be. The only thing that could ruin this would be a clan of Grulaf demons attacking the place." She frowned, her smile faltering. "I think I might have jinxed us by saying that."

Spike chuckled, obviously not worried. "Nah. The climate is too hot and humid for Grulafs, we should be fine." He let go of her hand and put his arm around her bare shoulders. "I wonder what kind of demons they have here? We should have looked into it before leaving, just to be prepared in case some local nasty decides to try to take a bite out of us."

Buffy laughed and smacked his chest playfully. "Don't kid around with stuff like that. I sooo don't want to have to slay anything while we're here. Beach, cocktails, sun--well, for me at least--and naked fun. Nothing violent, no guts and blood, and definitely nothing slimy or gory."

"Bleedin' hell... I guess that means I'll have to call off the massacre I had planned for you as a surprise then."

"Ha ha, cute." She rolled her eyes but there was no mistaking the good humor in her smile.

They walked in and stopped in front of the hostess. Buffy noticed the girl checking Spike out discretely, but couldn't blame her. He looked absolutely gorgeous. To her request, he'd agree to leave his hair curling wildly, which gave him a disarmingly boyish charm. He was wearing black pants that nicely displayed his firm ass, and a loose white linen shirt. The sleeves were rolled up on his muscular arms and the first few buttons were left casually undone. His usual heavy jewelry, a chain around his neck and silver rings on his fingers added an edge to the look. Definitely drool worthy.

Buffy had opted for a simple, yet sexy black strapless dress, and let her hair tumble over her shoulders in golden waves. She couldn't help the girlish pride sweeping through her and making her cheeks flush slightly knowing they looked like such a hot couple. As soon as they walked into the restaurant, they attracted admiring as well as envious glances from the other patrons.

"Reservation for Summers." Spike told the hostess.

His arm tightened slightly around Buffy's shoulder and he gave a dangerous look to a man who'd been staring a Buffy longer than was considered acceptable.

The hostess told them to follow her and she led them to a table in a quiet corner of the restaurant. Buffy was grateful for the privacy. The server came over to give them the menus and offer them a drink. Buffy ordered a Sea Breeze and Spike a Scotch on the rocks. There was a moment of comfortable silence between them as they look at the menu.

"What are you having?" Buffy finally asked.

"Maui steak. Bloody rare." He added, winking at her.

She chuckled. "Of course. Everything has to be bloody with you, Mr. The Bloody."

"Why ruin perfectly good meat by over cooking it? It kills the taste. What are you having?"

"We're not paying for this, so I think I'll indulge and have the Lobster Tahitian. Sounds yummy."

The server came back with their drinks and took their order. Spike ordered wine after barely looking at the wine list. The server looked impressed.

“Excellent choice, sir.” The man said, nodding discretely before walking away.

“What did you order?” Buffy asked, her curiosity getting the best of her. She just couldn’t picture Spike as being the kind of man to know fine wine.

“Something you’ll like, I promise.” He answered vaguely before taking a sip of his Scotch.

Buffy raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “It took you barely ten seconds to chose, Spike. So either you pointed at the most expensive thing on the list, or we’ll have a surprise.”

“First of all,” he replied, looking slightly offended “the most expensive bottle was a Chateau Petrus and cost $980, so no, I bloody well did not order it. Second, what makes you think I don’t know anything about wine? When you‘ve been around for more than a century, pet, you tend to pick up things as the years go by.”

“Uh… Sure. I guess. I didn’t mean… Oh come on! Can you blame me for being shocked? You’re not exactly the type to frequent fancy restaurants and wine tastings.”

“I did the sophisticated bit for a while. I have layers I’ll have you know.” He was almost pouting now.

The waiter came back and presented Spike with the bottle of wine. “1990 Mouton Rothschild, sir.”

Spike looked at the label and nodded, waiting for the server to open the bottle. He sniffed the cork while the other man poured some of the dark ruby red wine in a glass, then tasted it.

Spike nodded his approval and the server put the bottle in an empty bucket next to the table.

“Expensive,” Spike commented after the other man had left, “and the hotel isn’t paying for this--there was a bottle of house wine included but this is so much better, you’ll see. And since we’re saving on the meal, I think we can afford it. It’s our first official date and we haven’t spent any money during this trip yet. So why the bloody hell not.”

“Wow.” Buffy commented, clearly impressed. “You do enjoy that stuff. I would have never guessed.”

“You don’t know me all that well, luv. Never cared to find out.”

At the wounded look she gave him, Spike quickly amended his statement.

“What I mean by that is that we were enemies for most of the time we’ve known each other. Can’t blame you for not caring too much about my past. A fight to the death isn’t exactly the best time to play twenty bloody questions.”

Spike started worrying that he might have spoiled the evening already. **That would be a bloody record** He thought sourly when she didn’t say anything.

Buffy was looking down, playing distractedly with her napkin. Finally, she managed to smile a little. “I know, but we haven’t been enemies for a long time, Spike.”

“Yeah? And did you forget that you’ve been dead most of this time? Before you died, we weren’t enemies, but we weren’t friends either. And after you came back, things might have changed, but you had a lot on your mind.”

“Still, I could have stopped being selfish for a minute. After all, you know everything there is to know about me,” she said, smiling sadly at the vampire sitting across from her.

“And believe it or not, you know everything there is to know about me as well. You know who I am, that’s what matters, pet. The past is just that; the past.”

“Well, it matters to me.”

Spike sighed when he realized she wouldn‘t let this go. “Buggering hell, woman. Just ask questions and I’ll answer.”

She gave him a winning smile. “OK. What’s your last name?”

“Don’t rightly remember.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, clearly not believing him, but moved on to the next question anyway. “Fine. When’s your birthday?”

“Sorry, don’t remember.”

“Did they do research on the abusive use of bleach? Maybe it affects memory. They really should look into it.” She took a sip of her Sea Breeze and pouted petulantly. “I bet stupid Drusilla knows what your last name is..”

“Actually, no she doesn’t. She never thought of anything besides herself long enough to care.”

“Out of respect for you--since she’s your sire and your ex--I’ll refrain from commenting on this.” Buffy said, her loathing for Drusilla obvious on her face.

The server brought their appetizers and wished them bon appetite.

“Trenton.”

Buffy looked up from her plate, not sure what he was saying. “What?”

“Trenton. My last name. William Henry Trenton.” He said gruffly, not looking at her. “Right poncy name.”

“Sorry to disagree, but it’s a perfectly fine name. Nothing wrong with it.”

“No one has celebrated or even mentioned my birthday in more than a hundred years. After a while, you stop thinking about it because it doesn’t mean anything anymore. So I did forget the exact date. But it was sometime in August.”

She nodded thoughtfully, not sure what to say. “Why didn’t you want to tell me this?”

“I’d rather not remind you that I was human once upon a time.”

“You think being human is a bad thing?”

“No, pet. Being a vampire is a bad thing in your eyes and talking about my human days would only remind you of what I am and that I wasn’t always like this. It’s hard to explain.”

“Why don’t you try? Because right now, you’re not making much sense.”

“Not exactly the kind of light hearted conversation I was hoping for, but I’ll try.” He paused, looking for the right words to explain himself. “I might be wrong; you’re not exactly a transparent woman, no matter how I say that I know you. I just think that me being what I am is something you had to overcome in order to give me a chance, and it makes me nervous to remind you…”

“And there I was thinking that I made it clear this morning that I know damn well what you are and it doesn’t bother me.”

“Was that what that was?” His eyes widened in realization, remembering the kiss she‘d given him that morning when he was wearing the face of his demon.

“Men,” Buffy rolled her eyes. “We always have to spell everything out for them. Yes Spike, that’s what that was. I didn’t think it could get any more clear. You don’t have to tip toe around me when it comes to what you are and who you are. I’m fine with it. I won’t lie, I am confused about a lot of things, including my feelings for you, but I’m working on it.”

“What kind of things are you confused about, Slayer?” He couldn’t help but ask, his insecurity bubbling to the surface.

“Being with you raises questions that never occurred to me while dating Angel because he was always pretending to be human. He was doing everything to shield me from his true nature and because of that, things were different.”

“Bloody poofter…”

Buffy chuckled. “You can’t help yourself, can you?”

“Sorry pet, don’t mind me.”

“I feel things for you that I need to understand. Understand my reactions to you. But it’s not a bad thing. It’s not the bad kind of confusion. Sometimes, things need to be a little complicated to be interesting.”

“Maybe, but I’d still worry a little less if things were simple for you. I don’t want you to decide that things are too complicated and it’s not worth the trouble just to be with me.”

“Spike, things have been confusing between us since the day we met. Nothing ever makes sense when it comes to you and me, nothing ever goes according to plans, and yet, it always makes complete sense. My life would be incredibly plain and boring without you in it. And yes, it is totally worth the trouble to be with you. It’s only been a day and I’m happy.”

He grinned. “Good. That was my evil master plan: to make you happy.”

“Congratulation, honey. It’s your first plan that didn’t blow up in your face. I’m proud of you,” Buffy mocked, eyes sparkling with mischief.

He glared at her and she giggled happily, obviously proud of herself.

“Let’s get back to the ‘get to know Spike better’ game, shall we?” Buffy asked, a humorous gleam in her hazel eyes. “How old were you when you lost your virginity?”

Spike groaned, and Buffy burst out laughing at the expression on his face.

He’d do anything to keep hearing this laugh though, even answer bloody embarrassing questions. Spike was whipped and he knew it. But he didn’t give a toss as long as his Buffy was smiling.

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Tourists were milling around her, strolling leisurely hand in hand, lovers were kissing, and children were enjoying one last ice cream with their parents before returning to their hotel for the night. The evening was particularly hot and humid, which was not helping Carlita's already impatient mood. She walked quickly, sidestepping one distracted tourist after another. With every step, she regretted not taking a cab just a little more. She hadn't wanted to attract attention to herself by having a local driving her to the shop. A local cab driver would have known what this address was, despite the fact it was disguised as a souvenir shop. So she'd taken the shuttle bus into town and walked the rest of the way.

She was sweating, her feet were hurting, and she missed Rome terribly. But tomorrow night, everything would be over and she could finally go home and forget about this place. Why in the world people would spend thousands of American dollars to vacation here was beyond her. She preferred the cool indifference of Europeans to the wide eyed wonder of sun travelers.

A little boy plowed into her. Carlita grabbed his arm and stopped him from running away. "Do you know what happens to rude little boys like you?" she asked him, her voice terrifyingly cold. The boy stared, shaking his head in answer. "The boogie man eats them in their sleep."

She let go of the boy and he ran into his father's arms, a few feet away. The man opened his mouth to defend his son, but he shrank back at the leveling glare Carlita sent his way.

The Italian woman walked away quickly. She turned left to walk down a much smaller and quieter street. There, on her right, was a little shop. Nothing special about it. It looked just like the hundreds of other shops that sold junk to tourists eager to spend their money. Post cards, key chains, gift bags full of macadamia nuts or Hawaiian coffee; not the kind of place a woman like Carlita would shop at. But she went in anyway and walked up determinedly to the woman behind the counter.

The young woman barely looked up and greeted her in a bored tone. “Aloha. May I help you?”

“I would like to see Samara.”

The woman’s attitude changed in a matter of seconds. She stood up, her demeanor suddenly stiffer. She was obviously nervous. “Follow me.”

Carlita followed the much smaller woman to the back of the store. A door was opened for her and she walked in without a moment of hesitation. There, she found exactly what she’d been looking for. The only underground magic shop on the island. Only serious magic users knew of this place and the knowledge was well guarded from amateurs. The name of the owner was enough to get you in, but very few people knew it.

The young woman disappeared, leaving Carlita to do business with Samara herself.

The owner of the magic shop was standing a few feet away; she was lost in a book, her back turned to her, but Carlita knew better than to assume the renowned witch wasn’t aware of her presence.

Samara had black hair that fell to her waist; she was wearing a red cotton dress and was barefoot. Carlita’s preconceived idea was shot to hell. Having quite a fair amount of powers herself, she wasn’t one to assume a witch had to be old and ugly, but with a reputation as impressive and international as the one Samara had earned, she thought this one must be very old. Wrong.

“How do you know of me?” The clear voice that asked the question was the voice of a very young woman. She didn’t bother turning around to address the visitor.

“We gravitate to the same circles. Your store was recommended to me by a friend in Rome. Paolo…”

“Guzzo. Yes, I remember Paolo. Interesting character. Such darkness.” Samara said dreamily. She turned to face the visitor.

Carlita couldn’t help looking down. She chastised herself for doing so. Nobody made her look down. But the black eyes of the girl were disturbing.

She was only a girl. Samara couldn’t be much older than eighteen. Or maybe she only looked very young. Looks can be deceiving.

The Italian woman took a step forward. “My name is Carlita. It’s an honor to meet you.”

Samara nodded thoughtfully. There was a dreamy quality about her. Almost as if she wasn’t really in the room with Carlita. It was unsettling to say the least.

Carlita hesitated only for a moment, then spoke again. “I came because I…”

“Because you want to do very bad things.” The soft spoken girl interrupted. “I know. I see it in your eyes.”

Carlita got flustered despite herself. “Well… It’s… justified.”

The girl smiled. “The human mind is a beautiful thing. It can find ways to justify just about anything to get out of feeling guilty. I’m sure Hitler would agree. Don‘t you think?”

Carlita stared open mouthed. For once in her life she was speechless.

The girl laughed, and light crystalline noise in the empty room.

Without another word, Samara started walking through the store, gathering supplies as she went. She put everything in a box and returned to the still stunned Carlita.

“Here.” She said without preamble. “Everything you need to raise the starving monster you’ve been thinking about.”

Carlita nodded gratefully, taking the box from the girl after giving her money for the supplies. “Thank you for your help. I can see why people recommended you.”

Samara looked at her retreating back.

“He’ll eat them, but will still be hungry. He’s always hungry. It’s his curse. Poor monster.”

Carlita shuddered and shut the door after saying goodbye.

That was one strange girl.

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