Chapter Eight
It felt beyond strange to have Spike at her side—sitting right next to her—at the reception. After a frantic ten minutes trying to get the unintentional frizz out of her hair and stop the shocks from running through her body, they’d settled down for food. The event had been thoughtfully catered to suit every demon and human present, as Buffy soon discovered when Spike was served up an extra large rare steak with a side order of blood in a glittering gold-edged goblet. It was nice that Anya had considered the dietary needs of all her demonic guests. What wasn’t so nice was Buffy being stuck between a blood-slurping freak vamp and some other demon that seemed to be squealing orgasmically every time something resembling entrails and eyeballs passed her lips.
With a violent shudder, Buffy picked up her own knife and fork and eyed her beautifully presented chicken dish. The shrimp entrée had been delicious and this promised to melt on her tongue—particularly by virtue of the fact that the majority of food to turn to gastronomic brilliance in her house lately was the Doublemeat Medley. Still, she was very close to being turned off her food, so with a determined shake and a stiffening of her spine, Buffy closed her eyes to the revulsions taking place on either side of her and consumed her dish.
“Mmmmm.” She moaned in unexpected pleasure as the first bite exploded on her tongue. “Oh God,” she exclaimed while quickly cutting and preparing the next forkful. “This is divine.” She couldn’t help but declare it amongst the satisfaction she felt to be sitting with friends—and vampire boyfriend—not to mention probable mortal enemies, and celebrating the new life her Xander-shaped husband friend had embarked on.
Buffy felt suddenly wistful. Long ago she’d dealt with the likelihood that she’d never experience a day such as this of her own—deluded daydreams about Angel nuptials notwithstanding. And she really had dealt, almost welcoming the crippling pain that spelled out impending loneliness. It had dimmed more recently though, and not because she now had a boyfriend that wasn’t so breakable. Death had made her very much invulnerable to the threat of loneliness. Her year had so far been consumed with the passive desire to be free again from this world, free from the tangles of humanity and friendships that kept her amidst situations and celebrations that meant so little in the grand scheme of things.
Today she felt differently.
No, that wasn’t quite right. It had been happening gradually since she’d allowed that little ‘yes’ to pass her lips and give Spike the genuine crumb he’d been hankering so long for. But while she’d been drifting forward into something of a relationship with what she would allow herself to admit was excitement, it was today that filled her life again with an enthusiasm for the future. Today that showed her what a future could mean to someone like her—if she gave it a chance.
It was too early to consider that Spike would feature in her long-term future, though she had no doubt he’d be the pinup of something—if not as her life partner than as a resurrected pain-in-her-ass. The possibility that things might end up very differently to what she had here right now was suddenly nauseating. Spike had been her brick since she’d came back—even before if she was honest—and it hurt to think that in some unforseen future, he was somewhere other than at her side. Buffy believed with all her heart that if he was ever banished from her life it would be because of her own hand. Spike didn’t leave but she was seriously good at pushing away. It was what she was trying to stop herself from doing now, but the future was always so fluid with possibilities that who knew what would be the face of her tomorrow?
He sat beside her now, making merry with her friends because of her—for her—and she appreciated it and convinced herself he was having at least a small amount of fun. Even if it was just the free alcohol that Xander’s family had already located and almost annihilated with the fierceness of a hoard of shulack demons.
“Wanna dance?”
The husky request made her gulp and Buffy looked up to find Spike watching her, his gaze burning intently as he held out his hand in expectation. He stood before she’d placed her cool palm into his secure grasp and he almost tugged her free of the table, clasping her tight in his embrace and kissing her a quick peck on the lips before pulling her out onto the dance floor. She’d apparently daydreamed through the bridal waltz and Buffy blinked as Xander and Anya spun madly by with a wave and a chuckle, wedding dress brushing her own electrifyingly tragic dress against her ankles.
Spike hugged her close as other couples swirled merrily around them, burying his nose in her neck and nibbling softly on her skin. “You look beautiful, Buffy. You’ve got a glow—”
The Slayer snorted indelicately, covering her mouth swiftly with her hand. “You think I need to be scanned by one of those things to measure how radioactive I am?”
There was no holding back the grin as Spike grasped how happy Buffy was in this moment to be alive. “Nah, this shade of puke just looks smashing on you is all.”
She gave him a half-hearted jab to the bicep then snuggled back into his arms, marvelling how apparently easy a thing it was now that she’d taken that step out of the dark closet and switched on the light to her friends and resident cuddly monster.
Spike hummed to her coiffed hair for a bit and then he squeezed her a little tighter than was comfortable and Buffy knew—without specialised mind reading talents or psycho-Dru déjà vu—exactly what Spike was thinking about.
“Those wankers got bloody close this time, Buffy. We have to do something about them before someone gets hurt.” His voice was gruff with a need to not just deal with them but wipe them off the face of the planet, and while Buffy could understand his fear at losing her again, she couldn’t let this bloodthirstiness get too strong. If it did they’d be back to the demon that had stalked her through the first years of their ‘dance.’
“We will do something about them. Let me talk to Willow and Tara about it tomorrow, ‘k?” Buffy was so tired of dealing with the supernatural phenomena that was her destiny—even if it should have shrivelled up and cancelled out the second she’d passed. Whoever heard of sacred destinies being resurrected along with reluctant slayers, anyway? That was something she should be really sore about. Not only was it unfair that she’d had to surrender her final resting place due to her friend’s desire to not let her go, but she had to take up exactly where she’d left off but with a change in her nemeses: three apparent college-dropout brats were so not worthy of her slayage efforts.
“Buffy, those bastards just tried to kill you! That mush was meant to explode all over you.”
Buffy hissed in irritation. “Yeah, but the confetti was wet. They may appear dangerous, Spike, but they always screw it up.”
He drew away from her, an unrecognisable ferocity lending a dangerous light to the glaring blue of his eyes. “Sounds bloody identical to Red. You gonna wait until she really hurts someone too? Was Dawn not enough?”
Buffy recoiled as if struck by a snake. Without even trying she could imagine the fangs descending and Spike darting in for the bite, so eager to do damage to someone—something—that he was refusing to see reason.
“Willow is better now. You know she’s been working really hard to get better.”
The leer that was her answer held every single one of those malicious intentions that was Spike from the early days. “You’re off your tree if you think the witch is reformed. She’s a pressure-cooker ready to explode and it might do you and your little mates good to realise that before you’re all caught in her path of destruction.”
Some niggling sense of dread told Buffy that Spike was right, but now wasn’t the time to force her into admitting it. She wanted to dance—she wanted to rejoice for her friend’s nuptials and she wanted to bury her head as far in the proverbial sand as she was able before she could no longer breathe.
“Spike, insulting me or my friends isn’t the way to stay on my good side.” It had been spoken reasonably without threat and yet Spike’s every touch recoiled from her and Buffy immediately felt the rush of chill progress through her limbs until her fingertips were numb and icy.
In an uncharacteristic move, Spike clamped his lips together and refused to utter a word that would likely catapult them into a sparring match of old. Buffy wasn’t dressed for it and he was in no hurry for the gang to find out the little pearl of information that he could hurt Buffy if he so chose. He wasn’t so stupid to realise the bunch of them would decide he’d manipulated her into being with him through some violent means.
The hurt reflected in his eyes and the rigidity of his body was enough to get his message across, though, and Buffy wasn’t surprised when he turned his back and stalked from her back to their table. Not surprised, but disappointed.
Before she had the chance to leave the floor of swirling enthusiastic dancers, Xander had captured her up into the haven of his arms and set to twirling her around and around until they were both laughing giddily.
“Oh Buffster, you’ve caught yourself one hell of a mystery with that vampire,” Xander said without a trace of sarcasm and not a small dose of admiration.
Not that Buffy disagreed, she just didn’t know which part of Spike wasn’t a mystery and was just realising the depths of the difficulty in getting to know him in a similar way she’d thought she’d known Angel.
“No kidding.”
Xander was beaming, so happy on his special day that there remained no sign of the storm he’d weathered just to get here. “You don’t know it—and for God’s sake, don’t ever tell Anya—but we owe this wedding totally to Spike. If he hadn’t kicked my ass I’d be running down Main Street in the rain howling like a girly man.” As if that image didn’t conjure the most surprising thoughts, Xander’s nod and friendly wave to a watching Spike nearly undid her.
“You’re telling me that you were going to leave Anya at the altar and Spike stopped you? How did we not know this?” Buffy didn’t know if she should be proud of Spike despite the very big slap she wanted to give him for dragging the Willow issue into a happy day, or crabby that he picked up on the groom’s turmoil when his closest friends had completely missed it.
The brief look of worry than ran across Xander’s face encouraged her to just drop it and so Buffy dismissed it as a thing not worthy of dragging up. It held the potential to hurt too many of those she cared about to expose Xander for the almost-coward he’d been when they should be dancing and celebrating the union of two good friends.
So, she smiled. A firm hug and a kiss on the cheek was offered and all was forgiven, leaving Buffy to wonder how she could do that so consistently with her friends but never with Spike. Surprise kicked her in the gut as she realised the truth of that and she frantically sought him out at their table, finding him still watching her with a softening in his expression.
He was right. Willow wasn’t cured or healed or whatever recovering magic-a-holics became when they gave up craving the juice. The redhead had been shamed into giving up a power she’d loved to exploit, adored having a talent for. It was no surprise that she valued her supernatural gift more than her academic ones as it was the nature of the world that geeks—whether dealing with a much improved wardrobe and lesbian girlfriends or not—were not the ones that ruled the world. Geeks were meek, leaving the drive to take control of the spinning earth to the ones with the real power. With magic, Willow had that power and to assume she could give it up at the snap of Buffy’s fingers—or Dawn’s arm—was foolish.
Yeah, Spike was right. The Trio was dangerous—in intent if not in deed. And Willow was no fluffy kitten either.
One day, someone was going to get seriously hurt, and acknowledging she’d taken great leaps in the last few weeks, Buffy realised she didn’t want it to be her.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
I know this will shock you, but hey, NEW CHAPTER! I can't believe how productive I'm being. Something must be motivating me big time!!! Thank you all who read and reviewed updates over Easter. You guys showed incredible dedication!! Special hugs to Holly for betaing this for me.