They drove in silence for most of the way to Anne's house, until Spike spoke.
"What should I do with these once we get back to the house?" he asked, gesturing to the box and the photo. "I…I mean should I put them out of sight or on the mantle? I don't have sodding clue! Jesus, I'd kill for smoke about now!"
Buffy reached over and squeezed his hand. "I think the mantle is a fine place. Don't worry. Things are going to be fine. I won't leave you stranded with people you don't know, and I'll have brilliant excuses to get you away from those you don't like," she said, smiling, hoping to make him less anxious.
When they arrived at the house she took the photo and the ashes and gave him a quick kiss. "You go have your smoke, and I'll go inside to set these up. People will be arriving soon."
He stroked her cheek and kissed the tip of her nose. "All right, love, will do. See you inside."
Buffy opened the door and at first thought she was in the wrong place. Then again, she did remember saying something to the effect of "I'll leave it up to you" to her mother, but this was insane. The living room furniture had disappeared to God knows where. Tables were set up with china and crystal, and there were floral arrangements on every surface, waiters, and a full bar set up in the corner.
Still holding the ashes and the photo, she went in search of the caterer, repeating to herself, "This is not his fault."
She found him in the kitchen, ordering the staff around. "Hi, I'm Buffy Summers. You spoke with my mother about the arrangements…?"
"Yes, of course. I'm sorry for your loss, Miss Summers. I hope everything's to your satisfaction. Your mother said Mrs. Jameson was a very special woman and no expense was to be spared."
Inside Buffy was fuming. She gripped held the frame and the mahogany box until her knuckles were whiteher hands behind her back as she clenched and unclenched her fists, putting on her cheeriest smile and praying he wouldn't notice how insincere it was.
"Thank you for your condolences, and yes, that sounds exactly like my mother. You've done exactly as she asked, thank you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to check on someone."
Buffy opened the back door only to run into Spike's chest.
"Hey, there was no need to come searching for me. Did you think I might do a runner?" He smiled down at her, noticing she still had the things with her. "What's going on? Why haven't you put those on the mantle?"
His brow furrowed as he caressed her arms.
"I know. I was coming to warn you of certain changes in the house since we left this morning." She looked at him, biting her lip and playing with the pendant around her neck.
His cocked an eyebrow and tilted his head. "Just what sort of changes are we talking about?"
Buffy looked away and crossed her arms. "Remember when I told you Mom said she would take care of everything? Well, she did all right, and it looks like a fucking wedding reception! The caterer said she told him to spare no expense!"
She was crying now, and her voice was so high he was barely able to understand her.
He went to her and put his arms around her. "Hush, now, you didn't do this. This was all Joyce. You're right, Mum wouldn't have wanted such extravagance, but it's what we've got, so let's go inside and put these on the mantle, yeah?" he said, wiping her tear-stained cheeks with the pads of his thumbs.
"Okay." She tucked one arm through his. "But don't say you weren't warned."
As they walked through the house, Spike remained silent until they reached the living room.
"Bleeding hell! This takes the bloody cake! Where's the furniture? Did furniture fairies take it away?" He put his hand over his open mouth, bringing it down to rest on his chin. His eyes were the size of saucers as he continued on his tirade. "Mum would have another heart attack if she saw all this shite! A bar — a full sodding bar! You were right. Doing a runner doesn't sound like such a bad idea. People are going to think I planned this for a simple woman like Mum."
He was pacing now, running his hands through his hair and gesturing wildly.
Buffy placed the photo and box of ashes on the mantle and went to him. She put her arms around him, forcing him to stop his frantic motion. She ran her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and gave him the hint of a smile. "I know this is horrible, but we have to stick it out. We can give full credit to Mom for the lovely arrangements. That totally lets you off the hook."
He pulled her close, inhaling her scent of orange blossoms, calmer now, but still tense with anger. "You're right, but you'd better not leave me alone with your mother. I'd like to strangle her about now."
Buffy didn't have time to respond before the door bell chimed and they went to answer it, welcoming each guest as they arrived. Everyone told him how happy were to have known his Mum, and if he didn't know them they told him how they knew her. They needn't have worried about letting people know who made the arrangements. Joyce was more than happy tell anyone who would listen how she had meticulously planned every last detail.
Spike saw faces old and new and heard amusing anecdotes about Anne. He was glad to meet these people and hear their stories, to be given a small part of her he hadn't known.
Later in the afternoon, he stood and excused himself from the table where he and Buffy were sitting with four of the nurses Anne had worked with. They had known Spike and Buffy since they were children and were regaling them with tales of mischief they used to get up to at the retirement home. Some things they remembered and some they didn't.
Spike stood. "Ladies, if you'll excuse me, I think I could do with a bit of fresh air."
Buffy followed shortly after, not missing the way the four women looked at one another and smiled knowingly.
She found Spike on the back steps with a beer and a cigarette, and she sat down next to him as he exhaled a billow of smoke. "How are you holding up? You seem to be enjoying yourself."
He stubbed out the cigarette. "Yeah, it's been nice having all these people share stories about her—things I didn't know."
She leaned her head against his shoulder. "I enjoyed it too. Being out here reminds me of when we were little, and she would throw tea parties on the patio for us. How she would read Shakespeare for children to us. I remember The Twelfth Night was my favorite and yours was The Tempest. She always made me feel so smart."
He put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. "I think The Tempest was my favorite because it was the shortest, truth be told. However it did have that rotten Caliban, and he was good for a laugh." He took a sip of beer and swallowed. "You are smart. I'm glad she made you feel that way. She never patronized us. She knew what we were capable of and expected it. God, I'm going to miss her!" His voice broke as he said the last words.
Buffy leaned up and kissed his cheek, tasting the salt of his tears. "I know, Will. I'm going to miss her too, her teaching me how to cook, our Saturday afternoon get-togethers…everything about her. But I can't begin to imagine what it must be like for you," she said, reaching out to take his hand in hers and gently kissing his knuckles.
He brought her hand to his lips and did the same. He had never loved her more than in that moment, but he knew better than to say it.
"You know, I rather envy you for all the time you had with her these last eleven years. I don't mean that the way it sounds. It's just you were able to be a part of her everyday life, while I was away pursuing my studies then my career. Sure, I spoke with her at least once a week and we visited regularly, but it wasn't enough," he said, lowering his head.
Buffy touched his cheek. "Look at me. You have nothing to regret. Your mother loved and adored you. She wanted you to be happy. You need to focus on the positive things." She rubbed soothing circles on back and caressed his knuckles with her thumb. "That's what she would want you to do, and you know it. I think it's time we went back inside. Don't you?"
They entered the kitchen as the caterers were cleaning up. Spike saw all the hors d'oeuvres and other food left. It was such a waste, and it made him sick.
"Buffy, what about all this food? There's enough here to feed a small country, and it's a shame for it all to go to waste."
A smile crossed her face and she said, "I have an idea. Nancy — she worked with Anne at the soup kitchen — works with some other organizations as well. I'll bet she can take it, and I know she's still here. I'll be right back."
"That's a brilliant idea, kitten. It's exactly what Mum would want." He hugged her and tapped her on the tip of her nose.
Nancy was getting ready to leave with a group of others when Buffy introduced herself and told her the situation. Nancy told her she knew of several shelters that would be happy to have the food. Buffy hugged her and thanked her.
"I'll let you know when we have it all packed up. Someone will help you carry it to your car."
Joyce stopped Buffy on her way into the kitchen.
"Well, sweetheart, what did you think of everything? Wasn't it lovely?" Joyce asked, clearly expecting praise.
Buffy's voice was calm, and her gaze didn't quite meet her mother's. "It was beyond anything I could have imagined." Buffy continued on into the kitchen leaving Joyce standing there smiling.
When she entered the kitchen Spike knew something wasn't right, but he couldn't put his finger on it. "How did it go with Nancy?"
"Oh, great! She's happy to take it. We just need to have them box it up and take it to her car."
"Okay, so why have you folded and refolded the same napkin four times since you came back? Spill." He stilled her hands with his own.
"It's nothing, just Mom. I've managed to avoid her all day then she finally cornered me wanting praise. It took all I had not to go off on her." Her cheeks were scarlet and her lips were set in a thin line.
He leaned down and whispered conspiratorially in her ear. "Listen to me. This is almost over. Then we have the whole house to ourselves. I might even nick something from the sodding bar, who knows! We could get right pissed. Maybe there could be some heavy petting involved?"
This made her chuckle. "Come on, you, deviant! Let go say good bye to the rest of the guests and get someone to help Nancy with the food."
After all the guests left and the 'furniture fairies' set the living room to rights again, Joyce was still there.
"Buffy, dear are you ready? I'm sure William is very tired. We should let him rest."
Spike came over and put his arm around Buffy. "Actually, Joyce, I've asked Buffy to stay on for a while. I'm perfectly fine," he said, walking her closer to the door. "Thank you for coming and seeing to the arrangements. Have a nice night."
Joyce tried to protest, but Spike shut the door firmly in her face.
"You have no idea what kind of lecture I'm going to get for that, William Jameson."
"Am I worth a lecture?"
She tilted her head to the side and pretended to think for a minute. "Maybe. It depends."
Laughing, he swung her around to face him. "On what?"
She stood on tiptoe and giggled as she whispered in his ear, "That's for me to know and you to figure out."
"Now who's the deviant?" Spike swore he could see the devil dancing in her hazel eyes. "I think you should be careful. You might find yourself in dangerous territory."
Buffy gazed up into the depths of his intense blue eyes. "What if I'm ready to live a little dangerously?" Smiling, she ran her finger down the length of his tie.
Spike stilled her hand. "Buffy, we don't have to this. But if we do, I'll still be here for you. There's really no danger."
Spike could see the hurt flash in her eyes before she looked away. He knew he'd said the wrong thing.
Buffy stepped away from him and put her hands on her hips. "Why do you do that? It's not fair you know? You can't make me any promises about being here. Hell, you don't even live here! I can't be anything more to you than a little fling." She started pacing, gesturing wildly with her arms. "I want to be with you, but knowing nothing can come of this and you telling me otherwise is more than I can take."
He went to her and grasped her hands in his. "Look at me. You don't know a bloody thing about what I can and can't do or exactly how I feel about you. You need to take a seat and hear me out."
He led her to the sofa and she sat looking up at him, until he knelt in front of her, placing his hand on her thigh.
"You could never be just a fling for me. It's true, I have an apartment and a job in New York, but you're where I want to be. You're my home Buffy. Where ever you are is where I want to be. I'm not saying this to scare you or pressure you, and you don't have to say it back, but I love you, and I always have."
Spike bowed his head, terrified he'd said too much, when he felt Buffy tip his chin. He looked up to see her smiling through her tears.
"I never thought I'd hear you say those words to me again. What you said just now, all of it, do you mean it?"
"Every syllable," he said, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face.
She bit her lip then a beautiful smile lit her face. "Will, I love you too. Now, do you think we could maybe go upstairs?"
Spike scooped her up from the couch and into his arms as if she were lighter than air. "Whatever my lady wants, she shall have."
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Author's Chapter Notes:
As always, thanks to my wonderful betas, Abby, Dawnofme, and Diebirchen. The beautiful banner is by Tanit. Thank you to the lovely readers who comment each week and those that lurk as well. Many years ago, I was a lurker myself.