Buffy focused intently on maintaining even, steady breaths, and stared at herself in the mirror as she gathered her strength. Her hands clenching the edge of the counter, her heart beating unnaturally fast, she whispered one thing to herself before pulling open the door and heading out into Xander and Faith’s bedroom, where the latter was dancing happily to the bass beat heard from downstairs.
“You’re free,” was her mantra, said once out loud and repeated over and over in her mind as she smiled at the giggling brunette, whose face could barely be seen around the pile of white satin in her hands. Faith finally caught sight of her, and dropped the dress on the couch to bounce over.
“B! My girl, are we all set for the ritual burning?”
“Ritual?”
“Oh yeah. You don’t do these things lightly, you know. There’s like, a process. Steps. Want a drink?”
“I’m good, thanks,” Buffy grinned, already perfectly light hearted and headed, and enjoying the spectacle of a drunken Faith dancing around her living room.
“God, I love you, B. I mean, it might be the alcohol, but on me it’s like, truth serum. And you’re just adorable.”
“Well, thanks. I’m falling a little in love with you too!”
“We’ll definitely have to keep chilling, even once Spike’s gone,” Faith chattered as she gathered up the dress again. At the other girl’s wide eyes, she winced at her blunder. “Wait…gone? Did I say that…oh, crap.”
“No, I just…gone…leaving to go where?” Her tone was as casual she could make it, yet still with a twinge of confusion.
“You should really ask him, babe. I didn’t want to be the messenger. But, now that I am…he’s taking off in the morning. Moving out of Sunnydale. You didn’t hear it from me, but yeah. You should know.”
Still awash in a sea of confusion, Buffy didn’t resist when Faith grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the door. The pair headed down the stairs and out to the back parking lot, where Spike stood unmoving, a beer bottle dangling from his fingertips, eyes narrowed at some unseen spot in the distance.
Any tension in his body melted, however, as he turned slightly to see Buffy walking up to him. “All set?” He asked as she instantly curved her body to meet with his, like two puzzle pieces fitted together.
“Ready for the ritual,” she smiled, intent on putting any negative thoughts out of her brain.
“Oh, did Faith explain the rules?”
“Not yet, should I be worried?”
“Of course,” Faith laughed as she sauntered up to them having dumped the dress unceremoniously on the ground, burning cigarette in hand and an unmistakably devilish gleam in her dark eyes. “Xander’s heading out in just a sec, and then I will explain the age old process of pyromania.”
The night had turned cold. Dark, menacing clouds shielded the moon, leaving the back parking lot illuminated only by the nearby street lamp and the faint light from the club’s back door. Xander sauntered up and moved to light the fire, only to be stopped by a barked command from Faith.
“Sorry, sorry!” He repeated, backing away with his hands up.
“You’ll hurt yourself, you idiot,” Faith scolded, then amended, “And damn it, I want to do it.” She hurriedly set up a burning fire in the metal trash can, and suddenly each of their faces was bathed in flickering, golden light.
“Look at that, B,” the brunette crowed. “Isn’t it fucking gorgeous?”
“It is, actually,” Buffy smiled, hypnotized by the dancing flames. She turned to find Spike watching her, seemingly amused, and Faith moved away to steal a sip of Xander’s beer.
Spike searched Buffy’s eyes for any hesitation, any sign of the regret he hoped she wasn’t feeling. “Can I ask a question, pet?” He murmured softly.
“Of course.”
“You’re welcome to plead the fifth if you’d rather not answer,” Spike breathed in deeply, preparing himself for whatever answer might come. “If you hadn’t found out about the ponce cheating on you, and you’d gotten married today, do you think you would have been happy?”
“Happy like…forever?”
“Sure.”
Buffy stared at him thoughtfully, then shifted her gaze to watch Faith and Xander bickering a few feet away. Xander reached to grab her for a hug, earning himself a smack on the head, then a shrug, then an apologetic peck. She sighed. “I don’t think I like that question.”
“It’s alright, I didn’t---“
“I just, should I have known? I mean, you’d think I would have known.”
“That he was cheating?” he said gently.
“No. I mean, yes, but what I mean was I should have known that he wasn’t…the guy for me or whatever…I do love him. I mean, I did. But I don’t know if I was ever really in love, or if it was just because people told me I was, that I should be. I should have known that it was wrong. Because it was, I know it was. And I’m not going back to that. I’m not in love with him, so I can’t. So no, I wouldn’t have been happy. Not for long.” After her rambles, she took a deep breath and said shyly, “That makes the kind of sense that doesn’t, right?”
“I understand perfectly,” Spike grinned at her, unable to suppress the happy heat that spread throughout his chest when she firmly declared that no, she didn’t love Angel. The pair stared at each other for a moment, the dancing firelight illuminating every thought, every emotion on their faces they may have tried to hide.
Buffy searched the eyes of this no longer stranger for some sign of deceit, or manipulation, or selfishness, three things she was intimately familiar with, growing up as she had in a family concerned far more with appearances and money than the welfare of their daughter. People like Spike didn’t exist in her world. Kindness because you needed it, generosity without asking for it.
But no, there was nothing in the blue depths of his eyes but caring, and warmth, and a third thing she couldn’t identify. Was afraid to identify. Not that it really mattered, because here on this summer evening that should have been her wedding night, with this new friend who was almost a stranger, she felt perfectly comfortable. As crazy as it was, she felt right standing here with this man.
She reached out to grab his hand.
Spike felt the frissons of joy in his chest start to fade as he observed the wide open, trusting face of the small girl next to him. Trust, that was something he had rarely instilled in people in the last few years. With Drusilla at the helm of his ship, rarely was he ever trusted. He’d taken what he wanted, what Drusilla insisted he’d deserved, he’d partied and cared little for the disasters he left in his wake.
After the breakup that had shattered his perception of himself and his world, he’d drifted even more. He’d drank and he’d smoked and he’d dabbled in drugs, he’d moved as far away from the shy, quiet man he’d been in his youth as one could possibly get.
Faith was the one who had snapped him out of that with a few well chosen words, and for the last month or so, he’d come to some clear understandings about himself. Who he was, what he needed, where he wanted to be and how he wanted to get there. He needed to leave, start fresh, find out who he was outside of this town and that woman.
But the clarity of his life that he’d held that very morning was gone after spending a few hours with this runaway bride, and he couldn’t understand how quickly everything had changed.
“Are we going to burn something, or what?” Faith asked impatiently.
“Baby, shush. They were having a moment,” her boyfriend whispered loudly.
“Whatever. I want fire.”
Buffy tore her eyes away from Spike’s and clapped her hands together excitedly. “Let’s do this.”
She bent down and picked the dress up off the ground, eyes roaming over the bejeweled fabric and layers of satin. For a moment, Spike thought she might change her mind.
He needn’t have worried.
“Okay, so the rules?” She asked, moving over to stand with Faith.
“Well, they aren’t really rules, since I kind of hate rules, they’re more like, guidelines. A ritual burning needs three things. Good reason and good friends, which you definitely have.” The mention of friends made Buffy’s smile widen. “And then, you have to say something.”
The smile dropped. “I have to talk?”
“Yeah. Like, when wanna-be Hemingway or whatever over here burned his novel, he recited a lovely little poem. I would have laughed, but that wouldn’t have been nice.”
“Bitch,” Spike muttered.
“I won’t laugh at you though, B. Just say what’s on your mind, rip up that dress, and toss it on the flames.”
Xander supplied, “I’m always a big fan of just saying ‘fuck you’. If you want to go simple.”
“Please,” Faith scoffed. “She has a little more creativity than that. Not everyone speaks in monosyllables.”
“Wait, what’s that mean?”
“Shut up.”
Buffy was staring into the flames, biting her lip, pondering what she could say at such a pivotal moment in her life. As dorky as she knew it was, she almost felt like this burning was about more than ridding herself of the reminders of Angel and the horrendous mistake she’d almost made. It was almost like this little bonfire was representative of her split from her old, weak-willed, doormat self to a better Buffy, an adult, someone she could be proud of.
The quote she used under her senior photo in her yearbook popped into her head, but she rejected it as too cheesy. She thought about songs, literature, jokes, and couldn’t seem to wrap her head around the appropriate thing to say.
Buffy took a deep breath. “There’s this greeting card they sold at this store right next to my therapist's office when I was in high school, and I bought four copies. One of them’s on my wall, and I’m saving two to give to my best friends when they get married, and one…one of them I meant to give to my future husband. And for whatever reason, I never gave it to Angel. Guess that was my first clue,” she giggled, then her face turned serious again. “Anyways. It’s this gorgeous artsy photography and it has this quote from a poem by Rumi. It says, ‘The minute I heard my first love story, I started looking for you. Not knowing how blind that was. Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere, they're in each other all along.’ I always thought it was just so beautiful. And I think I’ve finally realized, Angel wasn’t in me, and it wasn’t meant to be. And I’m okay with that.”
A quick glance over at Spike almost made her lose her train of thought. He was staring at her so intently, so focused, that she could hardly look away. Simultaneously, they smiled at each other.
She then fisted the top of the dress and pulled violently, the satin giving way easily, tearing straight down the middle with a satisfying rip. All four present smiled happily, as the bride that wasn’t continued to rip apart one example of the thousands of dollars her parents had poured into the society wedding of the summer.
Once the dress was satisfyingly shredded, Buffy stepped forward and tossed it into the fire, the flames reaching up for it greedily. It burned brightly, quickly, consumed by the angry wrath of the fire, and the quartet of people observed it silently.
“Still, though. Even if it wasn’t meant to be. Fuck you,” Buffy finished, throwing a wink at Xander, before turning around and striding back into the bar.
The remaining three shared proud glances, before Faith doused the fire, and they followed the new and improved Buffy.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
I'm an awful, terrible person for being away so long! Crazy busy with my study abroad classes, and then the university I was studying at had the nerve to block the Spuffy Realm for "Adult Themes"!!! But, I am back now in the States, and work work working away! I'll never be away so very long again. ;)
Chapter End Notes:
Hopefully I didn't disappoint you all after that long wait! Would love to know what you think.