[Reviews - 39]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story | ePub eBook Chapter or Story | Printer Chapter or Story

Has been viewed 2277 times

- Text Size +




CHAPTER 2 –

“Are you daft? Buffy, I am not going to your sister’s wedding with you. I don’t even know your sister.”

“Neither will half the random relatives there,” she defended.

Her nonchalance flabbergasted him, “Summers, it’s on the other side of the bloody country!” He whipped his arm out for effect, drawing the attention of the tourists who weren’t accustomed to the crazy locals. “Chances are you’ll whip out a pen in the middle of the ceremony and start taking notes on all the wrong reasons to be getting married in this day and age. Turn it into a book,” he grumbled, beginning to walk away.

He was crumbling and she knew it. He always averted those expressive blue eyes of his when he was weakening. “Which is all the more reason for you to be there with me,” she argued. “We will have been working on the book all they way up to the ceremony itself, therefore I will feel no need to be working on it during.” She gave him her winningest smile, satisfied she had stated her case.

“You’re off your bird,” he threw out, shaking his head.


ONE WEEK LATER . . .


“Buffy! You didn’t tell me you were bringing your boyfriend!” Joyce Summers exclaimed after the front door of the house on Revello Drive swung open.

“He’s not my . . .” Joyce’s eldest tried to explain but was unceremoniously pushed to the side by her relative. Buffy was left to stand idle in the doorway as her mother fawned over her new houseguest, ushering him into the kitchen with promises of hot chocolate with little marshmallows. Buffy jumped as a pair of long arms banded themselves around her waist.

“You came!” Dawn squealed.

“Of course I came,” Buffy replied, as if there had never been a question of her attendance.

Her sister didn’t seem so convinced.

“Come on, I wanna show you something,” Dawn started up the stairs with Buffy at her heels.

Dawn made a ceremony of opening up the door of Buffy’s childhood bedroom. Whereas the eldest Summers daughter expected to be greeted by her dated New Kids On the Block poster, she was instead met by a big conglomerate of white silk and lace taking up the majority of the bed.

“Isn’t it beautiful!” Dawn exclaimed, picking up the wedding dress and twirling about the room with it.

“It’s something alright,” Buffy replied noncommittally.

Dawn plopped herself and the dress down of the bed dejectedly and Buffy instantly regretted her lack of enthusiasm.

“Buffy, I know weddings are your thing and stuff, but can’t MY wedding be an exception? I really want you to be okay with this.”

“I’m happy for you, Dawnie, really,” Buffy said with true sincerity, wrapping her sister in a hug.

“Good,” she nodded breaking the embrace, satisfied for the time being, “Now, who’s the sex on legs downstairs?”

“Dawn!” Buffy said appalled.

She received a well-practiced eye roll from her sister, “Oh, come on, Buffy, I’m getting married in mere days. You don’t think me and Connor have never . . .”

Buffy’s eyes widened comically, “I am so not hearing this.” She placed her hands over her ears in emphasis.

Dawn laughed at her sister’s discomfort. “Come on, who is he? And don’t tell me he’s just your editor. I know you just told mom that.”

“Really, that’s all there is,” Buffy insisted, running her fingers over Dawn’s dress. She got a doubtful look from the bride-to-be. “Believe me, he’s only showing interest because I’m uncharted territory.”

“I don’t think so,” Dawn sang, prancing out of the room.

Buffy sighed, moving to clear the bed of wedding paraphernalia so she would have somewhere to sleep. The clocked glared a quarter past midnight, and Buffy yawned, exhausted from their numerous connecting flights.

A light knock on the doorframe brought her attention to Spike leaning in the doorway, the top few buttons of his sky blue dress shirt undone, showing off his collarbone.

“You’re family’s great,” he noted, entering the bedroom, not bothering to hide his blatant examination of her belongings, “Though your mother won’t stop trying to feed me.”

He reached around behind her, extracting some long ago forgotten item. With a quirked eyebrow he brought to her face a stuffed pig that had seen better days.

“Mr. Gordo,” she answered his unvoiced question.

“Of course,” he replied. He tossed the pig into the air, “I bet this little pig has witness all sorts of goings on in this room, curled up in bed with you at night . . .” he let the suggestive remark hang there.

“No, Spike, only your girlfriends would take part in bestiality,” she shot back.

Spike tilted his head, as if considering her for the first time and entertaining an epiphany simultaneously, “You say I’m a whoring bastard like all the other men in the world. What have I ever shown you that would lead you to crown me with that dubious title? Have I ever paraded girls in and out of my office? Received numerous phone calls in one night?”

No, he hadn’t done any of those things. In all reality, she couldn’t even name one of his girlfriends. Had he even had any since she’s known him? Well, she had caught him flirting with another author, Faith, but Buffy knew Faith flirted with everyone and it hadn’t gone beyond that. Besides, the dark fiction writer had moved out to L.A. since then and nobody had heard from her.

Buffy shook her head, unable to come up with a response, “You’re a pig, Spike.”

Spike smiled, “No, I believe that honor goes to Mr. Gordo.” He handed the stuffed swine to her. “Just something to think about, Summers. Goodnight.”

He turned his back on her and shut the door, leaving her confused.

TBC





You must login (register) to review.