This fic was written especially for Mandi at Vampires Kiss for making me the most gorgeous banner at ‘Tasting Dark Desires’. Thank you, Mandi!
Disclaimer: I don’t own them, I just like to love them.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: shamelessly Spuffy
Thanks: Serious thank you’s go to Schehrezade, Bloodshedbaby (for the Council of Watcher’s idea!) and Holly, the bestest Beta and morale booster in all the whole wide world.
Only Sometimes Blue
“Giles! Buffy! Giles!”
Xander almost tripped over his feet in his hurry to get through the door of Giles’s house. He stopped dead in his tracks when his scrambled brain caught onto the fact that Buffy, Giles, and even tied-up Spike, were staring at him with a mixture of concerned dread and flippant amusement.
A shaky index finger was raised and his mouth opened as if to speak, but he found his volume control on non-existent, which in itself was an unprecedented event. Once it steadied though, that finger pointed straight at the only seated, restrained, whipped, impotent and flaccid member of the living room.
“You,” he breathed while waggling his finger at Spike.
The vampire in question lifted his eyebrows in a casual question.
“Yeah?” Spike called back. “What’d I do now? Rustlin’ the ropes too hard? Is my chafing skin too flaky? Startin’ to whiff, am I? My blood too expensive? Spit it out, whelp.”
Buffy watched the confrontation in confusion and with a hint of sadistic pleasure.
“What’s the what, Xan?”
Xander turned to Buffy and Giles, spluttering with indignation.
“Him! Its all the Undead Wonder’s fault.”
“Technically, it’s actually Willow’s fault,” chimed in Anya who had remained unobserved by the door. Now that the inhabitants knew she was there, she turned and pulled the door closed.
“Just whose side are you on, Ahn?”
“I’m on your side, of course. But I mean, you want your news to be accurate, and I thought it best to start by putting the blame exactly where it belonged.” She looked at Xander, miffed, before turning away and flopping on the sofa near Spike’s chair. She picked up a book and flipped unseeing through the pages, ignoring the silence that her comments had caused.
“So then, non-college boy, let’s tell the vulnerable demon what the good-witch has mucked up this time.”
“Hey!”
“Hey!”
Buffy and Xander exploded in defense of Willow together.
“Perhaps and I can’t believe I am saying this you should do as Spike suggests and just tell us what happened.” Giles pinched the bridge of his nose, already tired of the stress caused by almost every conversation that took place in his flat.
“We were just walking along, minding our own business…” Xander started.
“When we were suddenly surrounded by about twenty demons…”
“Ahn, I’m telling the story!” Xander insisted, exasperated.
Anya shot him a look of insulted fury, and turned sharply back to her book. Spike looked on in rising humour as he watched the three stand in an informal triangle, doing nothing but look at each other. Patience evaporating, Giles clucked his tongue before pushing the brunette into further explanation.
“Well,” he prompted in irritation. Buffy rolled her eyes at Xander and smiled her encouragement.
“Like I said, its all Captain Peroxide’s fault,” and he turned and glared at Anya before she could force words out of her open, ‘poised-on-the-brink-of-refuting’ mouth.
“What about these demons?” Giles exploded, and Spike lost the control he’d had on his mirth. An explosion of laughter left his mouth.
“Just get on with it, you great git. Or you can drag it out all night. No other bloody entertainment here besides you putting your gargantuan feet in your ever-widening mouth!”
Buffy’s eyes were as wide as saucers, waiting for Xander to pounce and hurl hard objects at Spike’s head.
“Well, Bloodbreath, look who’s tied all comfy to a nice wooden chair?” He looked pointedly around the corners of the room before turning back to the captive and gasping in mock surprise. “Huh! It’s not me!” and he smiled, triumphant.
Before blinking at the unenviable vision of Giles with a puce face grinding his teeth in tortured irritation.
“Xander Harris, I suggest that if you have anything of importance to say that you get to the point right about now. Buffy and I were in the middle of discussing some…”
“Demons,” Xander interjected abruptly. “Lots and lots of them. They’re after Buffy!”
Finally he had their undivided attention, and he let out a breath, readying himself for the telling of his recent tale.
“What exactly do you mean when you say they are after Buffy?” Giles watched the boy intently, ready to pounce into the relevant books if necessary to research this latest threat to his Slayer.
“Yeah, well, they said that Buffy had disgraced Spike by refusing to marry him, and that they were going to fight and kill the Slayer in his honour.”
“Ahn,” Xander exploded. “I was telling…it was my story!” He collapsed defeated into a nearby table-chair, glaring at Anya’s self-satisfied smirk. She blew him a kiss across the room and smiled sweetly, causing Xander to stand and take a spot next to his sort-of girlfriend.
“You were taking too long, and Giles was turning very alarming shades of purple. Besides, you were making Spike laugh at you. I don’t like it when people laugh at you.”
Xander wrapped his arms around his girl and gave her a gentle squeeze and a kiss on the cheek.
“Just don’t do it again, honey.”
Having made up, they turned to find Buffy and Giles standing totally still.
After a couple of false starts, Buffy found her voice. She flashed Spike ‘The Look of Death’, before turning back to Xander.
“Did you just say I’ve caused a demon uprising because I refuse to marry Spike?” She almost screamed at her best-friend.
He shrugged his shoulders, not helping her control her rising hysteria.
“But he refused to marry me too! Where’s my posse? Where are the defenders of my reputation?”
“They’ve done a bunk light years ago, Slayer.” Spike sat in his chair, rope wrapped around his ribs and hands free for the evening. Thus loose, he allowed them to cross and rest behind his head, his posture relaxed and geared for further entertainment. Nobody even bothered to wonder why he didn’t just undo the ropes and leave. He more than had the strength. He guessed it all just came down to the fact that he had nowhere else to go. He couldn’t defend himself, so he may as well be fed and kept at the Watcher’s.
“Shut up, Spike.”
“Oi, less with the original banter, pet. Might start to think you don’t care enough to think up new insults.”
“I don’t care,” Buffy spat back at him. Suddenly fearful, she pleaded with Giles. “Tell him I don’t care!”
“This is serious, Buffy. Let’s put the childish prattle aside for now, and try and work out exactly what Xander is saying. I mean, Anya,” he corrected quickly at her raised eyebrow.
“What she’s saying, Watcher, is that my demon brethren are going to defend my honour. It’s bloody marvelous, is what it is. Didn’ know they cared so much. Getting’ a bit misty eyed.” Spike swiped away non-existent tears before preparing his face with his cockiest smile and flashing it full strength at a squirming Slayer.
“This is okay though, right? I mean, we can handle this…few demons…couple of swords, wham bam, and it’s goodnight folks. Tell me it’s gonna be good night, Giles!”
Her pulse sky-rocketed in alarm and Giles’s hesitant but irrefutable head shake of denial.
“Like we said, Buffster, we were accosted by quite a crowd, and they promised loads more. I think this might be kinda serious.” Xander ducked his head, suddenly uncomfortable.
“And I’m afraid I received a call from the Council earlier today, warning me that their seer has detected a potential threat brewing in Sunnydale. That is what I wished to discuss with you before we were interrupted,” Giles explained, his voice terse.
“Potential threat? That’s all they could tell you?” Buffy’s voice became shrill.
“Yes, I am afraid that is all the information that they had for me, Buffy. They just wanted me to remain on the alert for now dangers.”
“Wow, why don’t we just vague it up a little more? So, what? Your telling me that I probably have every demon on the Hellmouth gunning for me because I didn’t do the old “I Do” with my mortal enemy. How much does my life suck?”
Spike snorted. Xander grinned. Anya flipped disinterestedly through the book.
“Shut up!” Buffy screamed in maddening frustration. “Fix this, Giles.” Her panic was pure scent heaven for the deprived vampire.
“Only couple of options for you, Slayer.”
Her eyes flew to shining blue in pleading surrender. The thought of being hunted and hounded by every demon in Sunnydale at once was extremely intolerable. And disturbing. Not to mention that she was pretty bummed that it took dumping Spike’s ass for the demons of the area to get motivated enough to move against her. And she so didn’t want to have to put her life on the line for Spike.
“First thing I’d do in your place…” She leaned forward, hanging off his words like a virgin starved of physical completion. He took an unnecessary breath and leaned toward her in his chair, “is find that bloody witch and beat the crap out of her till she promises to never do another spell as long as she lives.”
Buffy stepped forward and kicked his shin, even though privately she thought that plan of action might not be so bad.
“Second,” he continued through gritted teeth at her inspired flash of violence. “I’d consider leavin’ the Hellmouth.”
“She can’t do that,” Giles barged into the conversation. “She is the protector. There is too much at stake if she were to leave.”
Before anyone noticed Spike aimed a look of pure hatred at the overbearing Watcher who was thinking of what was best for the Slayer, without even the smallest care for her wellbeing. Something broke within Spike at the look of surrender and loss in the green, ‘no longer sparkling’ eyes of Buffy. The girl.
“No, there is one other thing we can try,” Giles began, his voice strained as he struggled with the morality of what he was about to suggest. And the room suddenly became balanced on tenterhooks as the expected horrible idea teetered on the edge of knowing.
“I’m not liking that tone of voice, G-man.”
Giles scrunched up his face, progressing rather far beyond irritation with the brunette, he sometimes felt he would like to give a rollicking hard slap. But such hopes were never to be realised and he suffered on in simmering aggravation.
“Do not ever call me that again,” he responded, annoyance with one while shooting glares of hate at the restrained vampire taking up one of his table chairs. “Now that I have your undivided attention,” he directed to the room, intentionally making eye contact with no one. “The best course of action might actually be to go through with it.”
“Huh?” was the first coherent response. Buffy with her mouth hanging open in shocked stupefaction.
“Huh with the who huh? Tell me you did not suggest what I think you just suggested.” Xander’s mouth opened and closed, mere possibilities of words passing through his lips.
“What do you think I suggested? Buffy?” Giles refused to look at anyone, busying himself with the practical cleaning of his glasses.
“No bleeding way. I’m the injured party here, and I say I made a lucky bloody escape. Don’t you go suggesting wedding escapades again, you bastard.” Spike began to struggle within his ropes, the chair starting to wobble from side to side with Spike’s determined rocking.
Buffy fixed him with hurt eyes. The look of wounded rejection was fierce enough to stop his frantic efforts to break free of his constraints.
“Don’t look at me like that, luv. You know Red comin’ to her senses was the best thing to ever happen.” Spike gulped as the chasm of her hurt deepened, and her eyes begin to swim.
“Are you telling me you wouldn’t want to marry me, Spike.” Making her sad eyes liars, her voice was flinty ice, stabbing him deep with sharpened shards.
“I’m not touching that one with a barge pole. You should know better, pet!” And he flung himself back in the hard, unforgiving wooden chair defeated and felt like sulking.
“You’re not trying to say that you the resident evil, murdering bloodsucker is too good for our Buffster?” asked Xander completely incredulous.
Spike watched him dumbstruck.
“Have you gone carrot top? And who are you calling a bloody murderer? She knocked off my Great Great Grandsire!”
Focus turned to a Slayer, boiling within a festering rage.
“It’s not like he didn’t kill me first!” She stomped her foot just like a little girl.
“Well, Slayer, pity it didn’t bloody stick. Undo these ropes and let’s give it another go. Then while I’m rolling around on the floor waiting for my head to explode, you can dust me and put me out of my bleeding misery.” His mouth was a straight line, fury escalating to match Buffy’s own.
“No way are you getting out of this. Ever since you fumbled your way into my life you’ve made me miserable. Just for once, I’m gonna make you pay. We’re doing this marriage thing. And if you don’t like it, too bad. You asked for our protection, we can’t give it if your stupid demon buddies kill me first.” She crossed her arms and smirked at him, being the winner and relishing his filthy look.
“So, that’s a go to a wedding?” Anya asked with her hand in the air.
Buffy looked at her horrified, suddenly realising what she had been goaded into doing. But too proud to back out and let Spike win.
“You betcha. Big wedding. Big white wedding. Big white church wedding,” she continued, evilly warming to her subject. “With lots of crosses,” she threw in as an afterthought. “Do you think we’ll be blessed with Holy water?”
“No bleeding way. I’m not goin’ along with this. You’re all gone barmy with the magic weed.” Spike became fluent with desperate insults and pleas for sanity.
“Giles, call me when it’s all arranged.” And Buffy headed out the door.
“You can’t make me do it,” he yelled at her retreating form.
He was completely ignored. As usual!
Movement recreated a normal flow around the room as the others rose and began to prepare to leave for the night, with Giles escorting Anya and Xander to the door. Before he reached for the handle, the door was thrust open in his face and Buffy rushed back through with a look of dawning horror. Her lip was dripping blood and a bruise was starting to shine on her cheekbone.
“Xander wasn’t kidding. There’s a crowd…no a legion. Demons, demons everywhere.” Buffy’s eyes fell on Spike’s feral and anticipatory glance and her body suddenly turned red hot.
“You,” she delivered with an almost carbon copy reproduction of Harris’s earlier entry to the flat.
“You get your ass out of that chair and tell them the wedding’s back on. Then you can walk me home to make sure they don’t take me out before we get there.”
“I bloody will not!” Spike shouted back at her.
“Yes you bloody well will,” Buffy screeched back before screwing up her face at how utterly stupid British slang sounded when expelled from her mouth. She rolled her eyes. “On your feet, Bleach Boy.”
Spike allowed himself the count of ten, then spat out through frustrated, grinding teeth.
“Small problem with that… luv!”
Buffy lost her focus as her gaze was sucked in by concave cheeks and luscious, full soft pink lips. Damn that spell and all its nasty unneeded revelations!
“What would that be, Spikey? Your chest missing a protruding stick of wood?”
She actually could hear the teeth nashing and see his jaw working furiously. He growled in threat.
“I’m bloody tied to the chair, you stupid bint.”
Buffy’s eyes flashed as she stomped her way to the chair. Sustaining anger to mask the embarrassment at missing the obvious tie-upage to the chair. Almost with nothing but the flick of her wrist, she had removed the ropes and Spike was free as a bird. Except for the chip thing. And for being hauled to his feet with her fist twisted in the fabric of his fading black t-shirt.
“And you’re not wearing this ridiculous outfit for the ceremony.” Buffy’s eyes fell on his hair. “And God, get a haircut for the new millenium. Stop living in the past!”
He jerked away from her, but her fist wasn’t relenting.
“I am the bloody past. You’re shackling yourself to a walking antique.”
“You get those demon’s off my back, Spike. Now.” Her eyes flashed and he suddenly felt lost in the deep, dark recesses of eyes the colour of precious jade, a shade of green so far unknown to him. She was unique from the tips of her frizzed hair to her kinked little toe. And he was supposedly going along with being the Slayer’s husband.
“Bloody hell,” expelled from almost frightened lips. “This is a right stupid idea, Watcher. Make the chit see some sense.”
Giles looked at the nervous vampire, considering.
“I actually think it could be a good solution,” he told his guests and hostage to a chorus of disbelief.
“Of course it sounds utterly horrible, but think of the benefits, Buffy.”
“I am so sure you didn’t just say ‘benefits’ in relation to marrying Spike,” Buffy stated in relative calm.
“I can think of some benefits I wouldn’t be too averse to. Might just consider it with a bit of encouragement,” Spike revealed in almost a whisper in her ear, making Buffy notice just how close he suddenly seemed to be. Her body jerked, but opposite to her expectations, she suddenly found herself closer.
“I only meant, Buffy, that being married to a notorious demon offers you a great deal of protection.”
“And that’s it, right? You’re not expecting any other benefit out of this unholy matrimony?” Xander spluttered.
“Of course there will be other benefits. That is the best part of marriage; unlimited orgasms. I think they will do very well together.” Anya smiled at them in happy support.
Buffy was shocked back into awareness of her audience and tried to pull herself away from Spike. His body had somehow become a hard presence against her back. The vamp was like a live magnet. It wasn’t fair…why didn’t Riley pull her in like this?
“And how exactly am I supposed to tell Riley about this after only just telling him that I was joking about marrying someone called Spike? I’m meant to go for a drive with him.”
Now it was Spike’s turn to be insulted.
“You tell him we had a little tiff. You thought the whole thing was off. An’ now you’ve got family pressure to go through with it! And if you go driving with the enormous hall-monitor you can forget this wedding rubbish and I’ll gleefully rub my hands together when I see your dead carcass.”
Buffy shuddered at the repressed defensiveness that Spike held within, but the irritation in his voice let her know that the mention of her current flame put him on edge. She felt suddenly guilty. And a little repentant. Still, Spike was a vampire. God! Why did she keep forgetting that?
If she were honest, the romantic notions of a wedding got her all excited. All the trappings, and why couldn’t she get ‘Wind Beneath my Wings’ out of her head?
“Well, if I have to do this, I want a proper wedding.” She chose to ignore Spike. She could do this just fine, as long as she ignored the white-haired, fangy, bloodbreathing monster.
“Oh, I’ll help,” volunteered Anya, the romantic.
“Not much time, Slayer. What with all the demons out for your blood.”
Buffy turned and gave Spike her best withering look.
“When exactly did it become unusual to have demons out for my blood?”
Several guilty sets of eyes clashed around the room before settling in great interest on the carpet swirl.
“Oi, time for little Slayer’s to be in beddy-byes. Let’s hoof it before the natives get restless and torch your Watcher’s place.” Spike changed the subject, aware that what she had voiced was something that all her friends had worried over for years, though by this stage they weren’t above taking it for granted.
Buffy marched in determination to the door, about to pull on the handle when Anya shouted out, “Wait!”
Buffy turned slowly, her patience having died a natural death several minutes before.
“What now?” the tiny blond asked while rolling her eyes and leaning back against the door.
“Well, if you want to convince those demons that you are getting married you need to be a little more lovey dovey.”
Buffy shot a panicked look at Spike. He answered her with his own disgusted screwed up face.
“Ooh, and a ring. Every betrothed couple needs a ring.”
“Argh, I am not wearing that disgusting skull ring. I’d rather let the demon hordes pull my body into small bloody pieces before I’ll wear that piece of crap again.”
Her eyes happened to slowly cross to Spike and she felt that little tug of guilt again when she saw the wounded expression around his eyes.
“Not that I could give it back to you. Strangely enough, that particular piece of my trash jewellery collection disappeared a few days ago!” Spike looked at her pointedly and she dropped her eyes from him, embarrassed.
But then he looked thoughtful.
“Might have something,” he mumbled before heading to the sofa where his duster was resting in loneliness. He delved into the inner pockets, then came out with a small black ring box. He tossed it to Buffy before shoving his hands into his pockets. Spike’s eyes sought the comfort of the carpet as he nervously rocked back and forth on his heels.
Shock was etched deeply in Buffy’s reaction as she opened the box. Taking the ring out she inspected it with the thoroughness displayed specifically by women. Her eyes shot to Spike, and her lips stretched into a grin.
“It’s a diamond,” she told him stupidly.
“I bloody well know what it is, Slayer. No need to point out the obvious.”
“Why do you have a diamond ring, Spike?” Anya asked the question with only a hint of interest as she started nuzzling Xander’s neck.
“Don’t any of you bints go gettin’ ideas. Bought it for Dru, but she dumped me before I could give it to her. Used to like jewels, she did. Till Daddy ponce Angel came strolling in with his still warm heart. Wanker!”
Spike watched as Buffy’s eyes enlarged and took over her face.
“Oh God! What will Angel say?”
“Nothing, if he knows what’s good for ‘im!” Spike rather hoped the good news wouldn’t spread for a while just yet. Still a small matter of torture he thought his GrandSire might be holding a grudge about.
“Right then, lets get this show on the road.” This time it was Spike leading the path to the door.
“Wait,” Buffy called. “You’re the fiancé…put my ring on for me.” She considered him a moment. “And don’t expect to get it back. Might be the only engagement ring I ever get, and I’m keeping it.”
“Sure, pet. You do what you think is best,” he near growled at her. He refrained from mentioning his missing Skull ring, which in truth was her first engagement ring. One that she had never returned either! Seemed the dozy bint was making the collection of engagement rings a bit of a habit.
He took the ring, a finely cut bezel set circular diamond, and slipped it with an awful sense of finality over her finger. He had kept his eyes on the stone and then on her hand, but as the quickened thudding of her heart began to sink into his awareness he lifted his eyes and drank in her expression. It could only be described as awe. Great gulping piles of awe swam in the mossy depths of her eyes, and he could almost believe he saw heaven. At least the heaven promised by the witch’s idiot spell.
Breaking the wary contact between them, he led the group back to the door, and he finally found himself outside the confines of Giles’s four walls. Walking side by side, the vampire and slayer made good time through the streets of Sunnydale almost unimpeded, until they reached a cemetery closer to Revello.
Then the snarking began.
“You know this is a joke, don’t you? There is no way I’m gonna marry you, and Giles and everyone back there were obviously under another spell to go along with this ridiculous idea,” Buffy exclaimed, frustration rising. In some weird sense of déjà vu, though, the sight of his ring on her finger calmed and excited her, despite her claims that the wedding was completely not happening.
“Preachin’ to the bloody choir, luv. Give me the ring back, and we’ll take our chances. I’ll have a chat to some of the blokes and see what I can do to get the crew off your back.”
Buffy took a slow step back from him and let her eyes drop to his shoes. They then trawled over his body, as burning a touch as her hand might have been. She felt she made contact with his denim-clad leg, his hard, taut belly and chest. She could even taste the skin of his neck, feel the texture of his earlobe sucked into her mouth. All from a single glance. Memory in these moments was a real kicker. She held up her hand, fingers splayed and ring facing the bestower.
“This ring,” she started slowly, making sure that he got every syllable of what she wanted to say. “Is. Never. Leaving. My. Finger. Live with it!” She walked off swaying her shapely hips, leaving him with his mouth hanging open in the middle of the ‘Jamison’ plot.
“You’re off your bleedin’ nut, Slayer!” he refuted as he loped ahead to catch up to her. “If you think you’re keepin’ a ring that valuable without bein’ my wife then…”
His tirade was cut short as the pair was surrounded by a group of demons much larger in number than the mere twenty Anya had reported earlier in the night.
The night was suddenly loud and vibrating with feral growls, and Buffy felt herself backing up against Spike, the pressure of his hard body against her back reassuring if not powerfully butterfly stirable.
“Spike, now would be a good time to do your fancy wedding announcement.”
Adrenaline had blood gushing through her veins and as her eyes found ever more vamps and demons that she had no clue were even residing on the Hellmouth, she felt the first real stirrings of fear she hadn’t felt since Angelus was loose.
“Spike?” Her voice was suddenly low and he felt almost giddy at the fear she allowed to press through the air.
She was sliding up against him, and he wasn’t so dead well, alright, he was that he didn’t get some little frisson of desire as he felt her rub her cute little arse against him. She bobbed up and down in preparation for a fight while he stood tall, demon proud.
He took out a pack of cigarettes from his duster and lit one of the little cancer sticks up. He took a few leisurely puffs before attempting to address some of the crowd. Casual, keeping his cool.
“So, what’s up then, mates?”
Buffy marveled at his voice, low, smooth, unhurried. He had no concern whatsoever that these evil creeps wanted to eradicate her from the world. After all she’d done for him. Letting him live despite being the biggest pain in her ass ever! She almost stamped her foot in the middle of battle, just because she was frustrated with the idiot vamp.
“Just step aside, Spike. We have no problem with you. It’s the Slayer we’re here for. Time for her to stop making a mockery of the demon population.” Some very funky looking loose skinned demon had taken on the role of mediator for the members of the ambush, and Buffy couldn’t help but be impressed about their organisation. To tell the truth, she’d wondered why they hadn’t had the brains to do this ages ago.
She turned just in time to catch Spike’s grin as he stepped away from her.
And the top of her head nearly went into orbit as she realised he was deserting her to this mob. She didn’t stand a chance! He’d surrendered her to the evil element of nighttime Sunnydale and there was nothing she could do, but try and tamp down her escalating fear pheromones.
A quick glance around had her estimating close to forty demons, some human-like that she had guessed were vampires, as well as a hodge-podge mixture of very scary looking demons. All of a sudden she couldn’t help but think of the movie Monsters Inc., but somehow suspected that this lot weren’t monsters of the cuddly kind.
“Okay,” she aimed at demon LS, appropriately abbreviated from Loose Skin. Just seemed way simpler for her that way. “What exactly do you have against me all of a sudden?” She was smart enough to realise that brawn wasn’t gonna get her out of this fix, and without Spike’s adding muscle, she’d go down in seconds. No, reason would have to save the day.
Her posture was prepared for leaping into battle, though for now she seemed to be suspended waiting for one of them to strike. Hoping they would instead choose to talk. Denial was the prettiest place this time of year. She should know, she’d visited a lot! No point in launching the violence without the final indicator that it was going to happen.
“You have committed a grave insult to the Order of Aurelius, and the clan Master. You have made a mockery of his offer of marriage and so you must die.”
Buffy’s eyes had watched as Spike preened for his fans at being called the Master of the Aurelius clan. Thus, she missed the closing in of the first wave of demons. When she again focused on LS she was worried to see the closest group of feral demons ready to pounce and just apparently waiting for the word.
“He is so not the Master. I took out the Master! Nope, no Master left.”
“Ah, pet…you’re kinda wrong ‘bout that.”
Buffy’s laser-like gaze pinned him immobile as he was about to puff on his ciggie.
“How exactly am I wrong?” she exploded, her haughty voice only serving to increase the growling backdrop.
“Well, you just killed the existing Master, you didn’t wipe out the line. Angel killed Darla, sure. That got that bird outta the picture. Then Angelus got all souled up, so…not evil enough to run the Order. Then there’s Dru, an’ we know she’s a few fruit loops short of the bowl…so that leaves me. The only surviving, non-insane, non-soul infested vamp in the whole Aurelius line.”
Buffy could do nothing but blink. Rapidly. As she thought. Fast.
“Huh!” She was convinced she had found his loop-hole. “But you guys make vamps all the time. There must be others to inherit the title. Heaps of others…heaps of hundreds of others.” She nodded and smiled, convinced she had beaten him down about his claim of being more than what he was.
Spike smirked, catching on to what she had thought she had achieved.
“Minions, pet. Made lots and lots of minions. No Childer. At least none groomed for the top job or to assume head of the clan. Or none that I’ve heard of. I’ve never sired a Childe. An’ I was Dru’s only one. Go check your history books, Slayer. Darla only had one little play-mate, and so forth down the line. We’re a possessive bunch. Strictly monogamous.” His face suddenly clouded with pain. “Well, ‘cept for Dru with the fungus and chaos demons. And way back when Dru and Darla made off with The bloody Immortal.”
“Wait,” Buffy interjected stupefied, completely forgetting that she was surrounded by an unusually quiet bunch of demons. “You mean there is actually a demon out there called The Immortal? Jeez, ego much?”
Spike chuckled. But quickly got rid of the amused face as he contemplated her dilemma.
“So, there’s your lesson for the night, pet. You’ve offended the Master of the Aurelian line by chucking my proposal back in my face. And I’m right pissed off ‘bout it, too!” he teased.
“But it was a spell!” she told LS in exasperation while shooting glares of death at Spike.
“Not our problem,” the saggy baggy demon told her in a voice that was bordering on gentle and sympathetic. “You can either agree to continue the betrothal to the Master and live, or we will have to kill you.” The proclamation invited a thunderous roar of agreement and Buffy suddenly felt a lot shaky in her ridiculously uncomfortable heels.
“Bit of a problem with that, mates. Chit doesn’t want to go through with it. Want’s to keep my bloody ring and not carry through on the promise.”
“Two days,” she was informed in a timid voice. “We will give you two days. If the joining hasn’t taken place, then we will attack.”
“This is so beyond ridiculous it isn’t even funny.” She turned and pointed her finger at the aggravating vampire. “He doesn’t even want to get married.”
Numerous demon eyes were suddenly trained on Spike.
He paused for a moment, wondering why he was even going along with it, even if just as a lark. But wandering commandos came to mind and he knew he was vulnerable. He needed the Slayer now he had been deprived of any way to defend himself. It would be suicide to let this bunch know he couldn’t fight them. They would be on him like sharks scenting blood, which was a pretty apt bloody metaphor if he did say so himself.
So, he was stuck. He either tossed her to the wolvesor at least the misguided yet loyal demon pack set on destroying the protector of the Hellmouth or he went along with this fool idea and tried to make the best of it. His assessing eyes drank in the throbbing pulse vibrating against the skin of her neck, the straining pull of her breasts against her flimsy top, before lastly wrestling with her shampoo commercial hair. He definitely wouldn’t be a loser from the arrangement.
Images of her fighting, of her smiling and even laughing started to bombard him, though, and he suddenly knew why he wasn’t putting up to much of a fight. The ‘Will be done’ spell had pulled a number on him, and no matter how much he snarked, insulted and tried to forget about her, those little things that made her Buffy clung to his mind. He liked her. He’d even stretch out on a limb and say he liked her a lot. Maybe more, but he wasn’t going there just yet.
“It’s true. The bint is annoying. But I’ll give her a go anyway.”
“Oh!” Buffy raged before hauling off and punching him sharply in the nose. Even she flinched back at the sound of crunching bone. And the look in his eye made the pit of her stomach icy cold.
“You bloody bitch! Can’t you solve anything without using your fists?” Spike cupped his hand around his nose, catching the pooling blood before tipping his nose back to try and stem the flow.
“You have offended the Order again with your unprovoked attack. Slayer, it’s time for you to die.” And the hordes began to descend.
In a flurry of kicks, punches and ducking right the hell out of the way, Buffy suddenly realised that some appeasing had to be going on or she wouldn’t make it through this fight. The fists and hard-booted feet that constantly found parts of her body however continually stole her breath.
Waves of demons flowed over her and she found it difficult to differentiate between who was hitting her and where. She dropped suddenly as a large, grey skinned demon launched its heavy body into the air hoping to slam-dunk her to the hard ground. She rolled swiftly to the side as two more stepped up and were about to deliver a kick to either end of her body.
She miscalculated however and felt one sharp kick make contact with her upper thigh. She screamed out in agony but jumped to her feet, preparing to take on the next when some flash of hot pink tackled her round the ankles and Buffy was again prone and vulnerable on the ground. The body attached to the 80’s revival Wham t-shirt matched her move with an anticipatory grin.
Spike stood still, watching helplessly as the Slayer took round after round, her skin becoming cut with wounds and turning black and blue. Something lurched in his gut and he felt off, bouncing on his feet with an itch to get involved in the action. Though that could probably whip up the fight even more, once he was outed as a demon undeserving of the title of Master. That could hardly do the Slayer any good. Instead, he appealed to those demons standing back, asking them to give her a second chance to think about his proposal. So far all it had gotten him were a few dirty looks.
“Wait!” Buffy called out desperately, blood flowing freely from a wound along her forehead, pooling before sliding in captivating rivulets around her eye. “I’ll marry him. In two days. You’re welcome to come and watch if you like!” Her voice was high, whiny and desperate. Tears of futility seeped from her eyes. “But you’re not getting any cake!” she spat back defiantly.
The fight stopped abruptly, demon eyes watching Spike for his reaction to the proposal, and he sighed. Exhilarated from watching the Slayer move. He checked out her heaving chest as she tried to regain enough air for comfort, and felt areas of his body begin to tighten again.
Her moves always got him, watching her fight was a massive turn on and always had been for him. Suddenly, he didn’t like the idea of her being taken out for good. Or at least by anyone but him. After all he’d been through both with and because of the bint, he’d earned the privilege to tear out her throat.
“Bollocks!”
Buffy watched him expectantly, almost beseeching his agreement with her eyes. Then his sight caught hold of her death grip on the stake in her hand and he gulped.
“Uh, sure, two days. Wedded bliss. Count me in.” He felt like kicking himself severely up the arse. He had a horrible feeling that he had no bleeding clue what he had just let himself in for. But one covert glance at the blond power-pocket-rocket was enough to convince him there just might be something in the arrangement to keep him satisfied. He was still ignoring the liking thing, though it was getting harder the more this wedding idea progressed.
He let his gaze rest on her neck and in his preoccupation he didn’t notice the demons disperse. He felt his mouth water, his fangs tease at his gums, his face itch and his cock jump uncomfortably to life. He felt really, bloody horny.
Just the sight, the memory, the scent of her hot blood thrumming under her smooth milky skin made his body tense in anticipation. It had been awhile since he’d enjoyed his shagging rights to Harm, and call it a premonition he suspected that the Slayer would take him on a real wild ride. He licked his lips before hiding his tongue curled behind his teeth. He raised his eyes, let them sweep over her once before swiftly resting back at her throat.
Buffy watched him watch her neck, and felt a shiver attack her whole body. And instead of gaining a momentum to throw pointy wood at his chest, she felt her entire body flush and break out in heat prickles. She felt her muscles relax in a lustful lethargy and her eyelids grow heavy in need.
Images of what it felt like to have fangs buried and tapped into her vein, sucking softly of her blood so that the body she touched warmed by a gradient consisting of her lifeforce. Her mind had already constructed that sting as the sharp teeth pierced her skin, and memories of Angel and the pleasure such an intimate act such a penetration had wrung from her body.
A scorching burn viciously arrowed toward her groin and she gasped in surprised desire. Her mind might be conjuring thoughts of her reaction to Angel’s bite, but the face superimposed over her memories were suddenly of Spike, and the thought of his incisors cutting into her skin made her flush even hotter.
And that’s when she began to back off.
“Oh no, you don’t. No bities. None.” Her hands flew up protectively around her neck, while her body quivered the question of why? Denial was of the good, but why did it always have to feel so bad? And this time, kinda painful. Not that bitey’s were really a problem now that her enemy was all chips ahoy.
His body shifted as he walked toward her with panther-like grace and sexual finesse.
“Might find you’ll like it, Slayer.” He curled his tongue and sniffed the air, his face all sexy knowing as he easily picked up the scent of arousal.
“Two days, luv, and you’ll be mine. Gotta love demon solidarity!” He watched her squirm smug and appraising.
“And mind you wear white. I won’t mind about the two who’ve already had a poke,” and felt like kicking himself again when the tears of her hurt from his insult made her eyes glisten. Well, she just had to take the good with the bad. He was evil, after all! Even if it did cause a twinge of remorse to sit heavy like lead in his gut.
“You’re a pig, Spike,” and before he could come back she had spun on her heel and left him behind. Guilt kept his feet slow and it took him awhile to gain the Summers house.
Still being restrained at Giles’s flat, he supposed that he wasn’t meant to go out wandering the night alone, so while the Slayer thumped her way up the stairs, Spike prepared for a few hours of intelligent adult conversation.
As the mother of the bride, he was sure that Joyce would want to be involved in the wedding preparations. And as the groom, he supposed it was his responsibility to ask her permission to have her daughter’s hand in marriage. He was a traditional guy, after all. How could he not be when his origins lay in the Nineteenth Century. And despite his partiality for red, to him, traditional brides wore white.
Besides, he’d heard enough Buffy wedding plans when they had been under the witch’s badly thought out spell, and he knew Buffy was a traditional girl at heart. So, whether he made the request so he could get under her skin and make evil jabs at her poor taste in blokes, or because he was eager to see the Slayer as a bride, he had no clue. Just as long as she was there as he’d requested.
As he was thinking of the best way to tell Joyce of the new circumstances with Buffy, the girl in question came flouncing down the stairs. A change of clothes, a touch of make-up and Spike felt like he might just swallow his tongue.
She breezed into the room with a show of confidence that her thumping heartbeat belied. Joyce looked up and smiled, and startled at the presence of Spike. He might have been standing in the living room for close on ten minutes but his preternatural stillness had hidden his presence from the other occupant in the room.
“Spike,” she smiled. “What a lovely surprise.”
He tipped his head her way in greeting, a soft genuine smile tilting his lips.
“Good to see you, too, Joyce. How’s the gallery?”
“Prospering. Those artists you recommended were a really inspired suggestion. I owe you so much, thank you.”
“I was glad to help. But, ah, the Slayer and I have something we need to tell you.”
Buffy looked on Spike increasingly wary, wondering what his plan to humiliate her this time was. And what was up with the evil art suggestyness? He looked back at her with an expression that she found it difficult to decipher, something soft and warm, making her feel all gushy and mushy and even a little bit romantic. His melting hot blue gaze torched right through her defenses and she found herself hypnotized and unable to look away. Against her will her body moved closer and she jumped as she felt the cool touch of his hand as he took hers in his hold.
“Buffy and I have decided to get married,” he passed into the air daintily, looking nowhere but at his betrothed so the impression of duress was non-existent. To Joyce as the casual onlooker the couple seemed swept up in a swirl of realisation, belonging, and tears wet her cheeks as she gave a gasp of joy.
“I am so pleased for the both of you,” she said as she wrapped them within her trembling embrace. A day that she never thought Buffy would live to see. Suddenly she felt hope for more than what Giles as Watcher had given Buffy’s future. Buffy may be the Slayer, but with Spike by her side, she might not experience the early death of her fore-sisters. Spike may mean death to many, but at that moment Joyce saw hope. And life.
The rush of love and approval from her mother jerked Buffy back to reality.
“Mom. It’s not what you think.”
Joyce watched the pair in confusion, seeing Buffy cast wistful glances at Spike while he took his own opportunities to stare longingly at her daughter.
“What do I think, Buffy?”
Buffy stomped her foot in exasperation. “That this is some big love fest. He is a vampire,” she emphasised with a pointed, accusing finger though it trembled with uncertainty. “This is a wedding simply for survival.”
Buffy told her story, finding herself relaying some of the information warmly, fondly, even wistfully when recounting Willow’s spell that caused the whole mess to begin with.
By the time she had finished she felt a building sense of anticipation for the day she would stand as someone’s wife. And then she looked sideways at Spike, saw the yearning way he looked at her and shivered. Once again she fell into the depths of his eyes and sighed.
And Joyce stuck to her earliest beliefs and wished them well.
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