Buffy looked around her long dinner table and smiled. All her friends were around her, including a few newly activated Slayerette stragglers leftover from their battle with the First. Everyone was talking at once. They were eating, laughing, and having a good time. They had finally settled down after traveling aimlessly from city to city. Everyone was acting like themselves again. They were coping with the loss of Sunnydale.

“Buffy, are you alright?”

“I’m great,” she replied, smiling at her sister. “We’re all together. We’ve got a new home and a fresh demon population to terrorize. Things couldn’t be better.”

Dawn’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t come out and accuse Buffy of lying.

“And speaking of that demon population, I think I’ll do a quick sweep of the neighborhood to work off dinner.” Picking up her empty plate and cup, Buffy scooted her chair back and headed for the kitchen.

“You don’t have to pretend, you know. At least not all the time. That smile of yours is starting to get creepy.”

“What do you mean?” Buffy turned on the faucet long enough to rinse her dishes then she faced her sister again. “I smile because we’re good. Everything is coming together for us here.”

“Can you stop with all that communal ‘we’ stuff? How are you feeling, Buffy? Are you really okay? We all miss Spike, but--.”

“I don’t want to talk about him,” Buffy blurted, cutting Dawn off. She tried to leave the kitchen, but Dawn blocked her path. Her arms were crossed and she looked determined. Not wanting a fight, Buffy took a deep breath and kept her cool. “I know what you’re thinking, but you’re wrong.”

“You never want to talk about him.”

“I didn’t like talking about the guy when he was alive. Now that Spike is gone, what else is there to say? He died a hero. He saved the world. We’re alive because of him.”

When Dawn said nothing, Buffy sighed. “Okay, you’re right. I do miss him, and I hate that he isn’t here with us. I’m mourning him, but…”

“What?” Dawn asked, unfolding her arms. “What is it?”

“It’s hard to explain. I know death and I know what it feels like to lose someone…”

“Mom?”

Buffy nodded. “And Anya. Tara. Kendra. Ms. Calendar. All the girls that died because of the First. When it comes to Spike, it doesn’t feel the same. Something’s off. It isn’t right.”

“No one is forcing you to move on. If you’re missing him, it’s okay. Just talk to us, and please, stop smiling like a serial killer all the time, okay? You aren’t fooling anyone.”

“We’re all here for you, Buffy,” Dawn continued, giving her a hug.

Buffy found herself forcing another close-lipped grin as she returned her sister’s embrace. She hoped to have her friends’ support after they learned of her plans regarding Spike, but she was skeptical. She had no proof, only a gut feeling and an uncomfortable pang in her heart. Although she had witnessed Spike’s final moments in Sunnydale, Buffy knew he wasn’t dead. She wasn’t sure of where he was, if he was even in her same dimension, she just knew he wasn’t completely gone. And she knew she had to see him again.

“You should take a jacket with you; it’s a little cold out there.”

“What?”

“You said you wanted to patrol,” Dawn reminded her with a laugh.

“Oh, yeah,” Buffy said, taking a step back. “Maybe I’ll let it wait.”

“Then you’ll go back to the table with me? Hopefully we haven’t missed dessert. Andrew and I spent a lot of time breaking in the stove today. You won’t believe the recipes we found online. Have you ever heard of kitty litter cupcakes?”

Buffy allowed her sister to pull her back into the dining room and again she smiled at her friends. It was a slight smile, but it was genuine.
***

“I see Giles wasn’t kidding about sending his private library from England to us.”

“The books keep coming and coming,” Buffy answered with a pout. “I don’t know where to begin.”

Buffy and Willow stood side by side in the crowded living room. Towers of brown shipping boxes where everywhere.

“Some of the books have to be more useful than others. Let’s pull out those,” Willow suggested.

Buffy chose a random box and went through its contents. “Uh, okay,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “Looking at the titles isn’t much help. Most of them aren’t in English, and the ones that are…are still completely foreign to me.”

“That Watcher is freaking insane!” Kennedy, Willow’s girlfriend, trudged through the front door with four more boxes in her arms. She dropped them noisily onto the carpet. “Why doesn’t Giles just open his own shitty library here in town? He’s seen Buffy’s new place, where does he expect us to cram all these books, up our asses?”

“That’s my cue,” Willow sang, flashing Buffy a goofy smile. She went to Kennedy and lovingly patted her shoulder. “Sweetie, I think it’s time for a break.”

Once she and Buffy were alone again, Willow whispered, “Sorry, unpacking makes her cranky.”

“I think that’s the universal reaction to moving,” Buffy shrugged. “Besides, she has a point. This is getting out of control. How’s a girl supposed to find anything in this mess?”

“It’s a good thing she doesn’t need to. It’ll take us weeks to sort this out. Each box is like a tiny haystack, full of tiny book-shaped needles.”

“So my living room is filled to the brim with haystacks?” Buffy’s eyes grew wide; realizing that finding a spell for Spike might be harder than expected. “This isn’t good.”

“Don’t worry; we haven’t stumbled across any big bads yet. And with you and the Slayettes, we’ll have enough muscle to take ‘em down when we do.”

“What if we need a spell?”

“Well, that could get tricky,” Willow admitted. “As long as we don’t need a specific spell I think we’ll be good. Not to toot my own horn, but I’m pretty super at magical improv.”

“When do you need specific spells? Can’t you just pick one and make it work for you?”

“It depends.”

“On what?” Keeping her hands busy, Buffy casually flipped through one of Giles’s books. “Do you have any examples?”

“Not off hand,” Willow laughed. “Buffy, why are you interested in magic all of a sudden?”

“I’ve been researching.” She waited a beat then she rolled her eyes. “Okay, I’ve been googling. Unsuccessfully. I thought the books would make everything easier. At least I’d know the information was legit and not composed by some War of Warcraft freak from his basement. I picture a million Andrew-nerds posting the majority of what I found on the Internet.”

“What are you looking for? Can I help?”

“You may not want to,” Buffy warned. “Not when you learn that I’m trying to conjure the dead.”

“You’re kidding,” Willow snickered.

“Uh, no.” She reluctantly met Willow’s eyes. “I’m completely serious.”

“But…why? And who?”

“Want to guess? I’ll give you a hint: he once was a bleached blond, vampire-shaped pain in the ass.”

“Oh. Oh, Buffy.”

She tried not to cringe at Willow’s sympathetic coo. “It can be temporary, I don’t care,” she mumbled. “Even if Spike is really dead, I just need to--.”

“Even if? Sweetie, the Hellmouth collapsed. The amulet he was wearing, you said it made sunlight shine through his body. He would’ve disintegrated. No one could survive that.”

Buffy’s eyes fluttered briefly to a close. “I don’t like the way he and I left things. I told him something. He more or less blew me off. He isn’t going to get away with it.”

“I don’t know what to say… Can I talk you out of this?”

She met Willow’s pleading eyes and felt guilt. It wasn’t enough to sway her.

“This means a lot to you,” Willow continued softly.

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll help.”

“Will, you don’t have to. I can do this on my own. You shouldn’t feel obligated--.”

“Don’t say another word. We’ll need something that belonged to him. And we probably won’t need any of Giles’s crummy old books after all. I have a spell in mind that should do the trick.”

“Oh, God, Will, you don’t know how grateful I am!” A rush of nervous excitement surged through Buffy’s body. “But what if I can’t find anything of his?”

“Giles told everyone to pack an emergency bag before Sunnydale went ka-blewie.”

“I remember, but we’re talking about Spike. He stayed in my basement for weeks and he didn’t exactly personalize the place. He had nothing but his clothing.”

“And he did wear that tight black t-shirt and those jeans an awful lot…”

“What if I can’t find anything?” Buffy asked again. “I don’t think Spike’s stuff ever left his crypt and now it’s under a thousand tons of rubble.”

“Have you finished unpacking? Have you gone through everything you took off the school bus? Since we can’t get to his body, an object he cared about is the next best thing. Our essence kinda rubs off of the things we hold close. Literally and figuratively. It’s pretty neat actually.”

“So, that’s all it will take? I find one of his things and, whosh, he’ll be back?”

“It’ll be a little more complex than that, and the spell will be temporary.”

“Right.” Buffy didn’t quite mask her disappointment. “And if he’s not dead…? It’s crazy, I know, but humor me?”

“We’d replace the conjuring spell with a locating spell. If we performed a locating spell right now--.”

“All signs would probably point to Sunnydale.”

“There’s no doubt about it.”

“Okay,” Buffy replied, although she wasn’t completely convinced. “I guess it’s time I went on a scavenger hunt.”
***

Buffy was thinking about her last day with Spike. They had woken up together after spending the night sleeping in each other’s arms. She remembered him being nearby for the rest of the morning, right up until the moment she’d said goodbye by touching his hand and threading her fingers through his.

At some point on that frantic day, Spike must’ve dropped the small drawstring bag into her suitcase without her knowing. She’d never seen the velvet pouch before. And after opening it, its contents left her very confused.

Sitting cross-legged on her bed, she stared blankly at the line of items. There was a lacy handkerchief, two jeweled hairpins, a locket on a chain and a handful of tiny white buttons. None of it made sense. And none of the items looked as if they had belonged to Spike.

She had opened the locket and was studying the faded photograph inside when Xander walked through her open bedroom door.

“I hear you’re in need of my carpentry skills.”

“I am?”

“You have a heap of books. Therefore you require Harris-made bookshelves. And I know what you’re thinking: one-eyed Xander shouldn’t be playing with power tools, but don’t you underestimate me, missy.”

“I wasn’t estimating you at all,” Buffy replied. Seeing that Xander was about to join her on the bed, she pushed aside Spike’s things. “I’d never doubt your carpentry skills.”

“What about my ability to cope with crazy news? Like, let’s say you’re trying to bring our not-so-dearly departed friend Spike back from the finally dead, for example. How do you think I’d handle a nugget of insanity like that?”

“With kindness and understanding?” Buffy suggested lightheartedly. When Xander didn’t appear to share her humor, she smiled at him anyway. “You’d be Mister Protective Judgmental Guy in the beginning, but you’d eventually come around and you’d be Mister Grudgingly Supportive Guy in the end. Because you’re awesome like that.”

“Now, I think you’re overestimating me.” Avoiding eye contact, Xander focused on the floral pattern of Buffy’s bedspread. “You weren’t the only one to lose someone that day. Anya was killed. It was stupid and unnecessary. She was protecting Andrew of all people. It isn’t fair, but I have to live with it every day.”

“Xander, you are so much stronger than me.” When he snorted, she insisted that he look at her. “I mean it. I’m giving in, Xan. I want Spike back for purely selfish reasons. I tell myself a few more days with him are all I need, but once the spell wears off… Look at me, I’m already dreading the end of a spell that hasn’t been cast. And look at these things. Willow needs an object that belonged to Spike for the spell to work. I think they were his, but—a necklace, hairpins, a freaking hanky? I have no idea about the buttons. Who saves buttons like they are precious anyway?”

Xander rolled one of the pearl shaped buttons between his fingers. He held it up to the light and said, “Well, I think the buttons might be ivory if that helps.”

“He said he didn’t care about her anymore,” Buffy grumbled, talking mostly to herself. “Why did he hang on to her stuff?”

“I’m no jeweler, but the gemstones on the hairpins look real too. The locket’s probably real gold.”

“So maybe he was going to pawn them?” She brightened instantly at the thought. “That makes sense! I bet he kept a stash of Drusilla’s old-fashioned doodads to pawn for extra cash!”

“Including her hanky?” Xander pinched the handkerchief with two fingers before flicking it away. “It could be my mono vision, but this doesn’t look like anything special to me. Doubt he’d get much of a payday for a doily.”

“He must’ve had some bizarro attachment to it,” Buffy shrugged. “Everything here is really old and that big ho is older than dirt. Spike and Dru were a vampire super couple. I guess I can’t blame him for keeping a few mementos.”

“Do you really feel that way?” Xander asked, noticing Buffy’s deep frown. “What if you end up conjuring Drusilla?”

“That can’t happen. That isn’t an option. There is no way--.”

“Okay, okay.” He raised his hands to ward off Buffy’s scowl.

“Spike was an emotional sap, alright? Beneath that nasty vampire shell was a big, dumb, annoyingly loyal…occasionally sweet, poet guy.” She shifted uncomfortably on the bed. “I just didn’t expect this. I was so worried that I wouldn’t find anything of his, and now, of all the things to keep protected, he chose her…”

“He told you he loved you, didn’t he? Isn’t that why Spike bothered us incessantly for all those years?”

“Uh…yes,” Buffy replied.

“Then stop wigging out over some antique store knickknacks. Let Willow look them over. I’m sure she’ll be able to use her witchy powers to scan them for Spike’s juju or whatever.”

“You think so?”

“Honestly, who knows?” Xander got up and he helped Buffy to her feet by offering her a hand. “But it’s worth a shot.”

“Yeah, it is,” Buffy agreed. “Thanks for saying that.”

“Hey, they don’t call me Mister Grudgingly Supportive Guy for nothing. Let’s go track down Willow.”
***

“I like the locket.”

“Is it giving off the most, uh, essence o’ Spike?”

“No,” Willow grinned. “I just think it’s gorgeous. Who’s the man in the picture?”

“I have no clue,” Buffy answered. “I don’t recognize him.”

“The picture is a little yellow, but it’s in great condition. Somebody’s taken care of this. The locket’s been polished too. Drusilla would never be lucid enough to do that.”

“So, you can use it to bring Spike back?” Buffy asked.

“And please confirm there’s no chance of beaming Drusilla into Buffy’s dining room,” Xander added.

“Guys, I can only tweak the spell so much,” Willow explained. “A lot will be left to chance and the object we choose. Since we don’t have Spike’s remains, this is our best bet.”

“Or we could not do the spell at all…”

Buffy shot Xander a dirty look. It made him sink deeper into his chair.

“Someone cared deeply about these things, and the spell will bring that person to us.” Willow paused to squint at the book in front of her. “I can throw a few words in here and there to set some boundaries. For example, I can clarify that we don’t want to displace a living person or, a, um…living vampire? We want a twice-dead vampire, right? Does that even make sense? Oh my gosh, this vampire stuff makes my head hurt a little.”

“Will, if it’s too complicated, maybe Xander’s right.” It pained Buffy to say the words. “If there’s too much risk…”

“Oh, pish,” Willow replied, waving her hand.

“Huh?”

“I don’t know, it just seemed like something Giles would say. I can do this, Buffy. Like I said, I’ll add some words and we should be fine. I’ll bind Spike to the locket—if you want to use the locket for the spell, that is.”

“That’s fine with me,” Buffy shrugged.

“If something goes funky, you break the locket. He will vanish. No matter what, he shouldn’t be here longer than a few days. Let’s say three or four days tops. Wonky things will happen if you keep him around too long.”

“On a scale from one to ten, how wonky are we talking about?” Xander asked, sitting up straight in his chair.

“Uh…” Willow consulted her book again. “I’ll probably have to research it more in depth, but--.”

“Don’t bother,” Buffy interrupted. “The bottom line is: don’t push my luck. After the weekend, no matter how pretty it is, the locket gets to meet my hammer. If Drusilla shows up, I’ll stomp on the damn thing and we’ll try to conjure him with the hanky next. Does that settle everything?”

Buffy looked from Willow to Xander, but her heart was pounding so hard she could hardly see straight. “Alright, let’s do this. Preferably now, before Dawn and the Slayerettes come home from school please.”

The next few minutes were a blur. Buffy’s mind was racing. What should she say to him? Should she hug him? Kiss him? She and Spike were closer than ever during those last three nights. Would those feelings continue? Would they escalate? How would she be able to cope with loosing him again?

“Hey, Buffy, we’re ready now.” Willow’s soft voice interrupted the haze. “It might be helpful if we all think of Spike. Take Xander’s hand, Buffy.”

She zoned out again once Willow started chanting. She kept her eyes shut and focused on Spike. She thought about his bleached hair, sharp cheekbones and lean muscled body.

“Uh, Buffy?”

Behind closed eyes, she saw a flash of light.

“Buffy? Buff, you need to see this.”

“Just tell me, is it Drusilla?”

“No, it definitely isn’t Drusilla,” Xander answered. “It isn’t Spike either.”

Buffy’s eyes opened and then they grew wide. An elderly woman was standing at the end of her dining room table.

“William?” the woman said, clutching the collar of her dress. “Where’s William? Where’s my son?”
***

“Oh, my God,” Buffy whispered. “It’s his mom.”

“Didn’t Spike say that he killed his mother?”

“He did,” Buffy replied, speaking to Xander while staring at the woman. “She was sick, dying. He turned her then he staked her.”

“She’s standing in sunlight and she isn’t burning up,” Willow whispered through a large fake smile. “What are you going to do, Buffy?”

“I’m going to introduce myself,” Buffy said, standing up from her chair. She inched toward Spike’s mother. “Uh, hello there. My name is Buffy.”

“Where am I? Where is William? Can you tell me where he is?”

“I’m a friend of William’s and you’re in my house. He isn’t here right now, but he will be…soon. He asked me to look after you.”

The woman was small, frail and clearly scared. She continued to touch her neck nervously.

“I know this place is strange to you, but you’re safe here. Please believe me, Mrs…?”

“Pratt. You may call me Mrs. Pratt.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Pratt.” Buffy wasn’t sure if she should shake her hand or curtsey. Instead she smiled. “William has told me a lot about you.”

“How do you know my son?”

“We met at a…a social gathering. I was impressed by his unique way with words. His poetry…it took my breath away.”

“He has a remarkable gift,” Mrs. Pratt replied as her eyes scanned the room. “He speaks from his heart with great abandon.”

“Yeah, it’s a total shame he wasted all that hot air on Cecily.”

“You…he told you about Cecily?”

Buffy nodded. “He could do so much better.”

“I…” Mrs. Pratt trailed off, looking confused. “I am feeling weary. May I rest?”

“Yeah, uh, of course, you may. You can crash in my bedroom.”

“Pardon me?”

“I have a bed. It’s in my room. Follow me, and I will show it to you?”

Mrs. Pratt surprised Buffy by taking her arm. “I would like one of the servants to inform me of my son’s arrival, whatever the time may be. I must speak with him at once.”

“Servants?” Buffy squeaked, surprised again. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Pratt, but I don’t have servants. I’ll let you know when William is here though.”

As soon as they reached Buffy’s room, she escorted Mrs. Pratt to the bed. “I’m sorry about the mess. I wasn’t expecting company.” She paused to move her suitcase and knock her stuffed animal to the floor. “If you need anything, just ask. I don’t want to overwhelm you anymore than I already have, so we’ll take things slow. I guess we should start with the basics. Are you hungry? Thirsty? Do you, uh, need to use the bathroom?”

“Okay,” Buffy continued when Mrs. Pratt didn’t answer. “There will be time for that necessity stuff later. For the record, I think you’ll really enjoy microwavable meals, scented hand soap and a flushing toilet. Until then…” She handed Mrs. Pratt a blanket from the hall closet. “I will stop bothering you and I’ll leave you with my most cuddly blanket.”

“Please wait.” Spike’s mother called to Buffy before she could leave the bedroom. “Excuse my foggy memory, but what was your name again, dear? Perhaps I will recognize your father’s name. In my younger days, I knew the names of all London’s good standing families. I’m not able to get out as much as I used to. William acts as my eyes and ears now, but you know men, they haven’t the taste for socializing and tittle-tattle as us womenfolk.”

“Well, my full name is Buffy Anne Summers.”

“Anne? Why that’s my given name!”

Smiling, Buffy joined her on the edge of the bed. “From the way I talk, surely you’ve figured out that my family isn’t from London. My dad’s name is Hank, but my mom, Joyce; she raised my sister and me. She was a tough lady, a lot like you probably. Sp—um, William said it’s just the two of you at home and that you’re very close. It was like that with my mom too.”

“My son confides in you?” It might have been her imagination, but Buffy thought Mrs. Pratt seemed a tad more pleased than suspicious. “He’s a good boy, my William. He shouldn’t be alone. He needs a woman in his life.”

“Oh. I, um…”

“I don’t know what your intentions are, Miss Summers, but he deserves a honorable wife.”

“Wife?”

“He’s a good boy,” she repeated, but this time her voice wavered. “He’s never left home before. I’m in this peculiar place and he is nowhere to be found. Perhaps you have no dowry or you family does not approve. Perhaps that is why we must hide here until the elopement is concluded.”

“Elopement? Mrs. Pratt--.”

“I’d hate to consider the alternative for even one moment, that I’m being held against my will, kidnapped for a ransom. William read to me about such a case in one of his serial novels.”

“Mrs. Pratt, William’s a great guy, but I don’t--.”

“Oh, I knew it!” Suddenly the older woman burst into tears. “It was too good to be true! You’re using my son’s kind heart against him! You’re playing with his emotions so he’ll fall in love with you and in return you’ll only seize his inheritance!”

“She got this all off a Victorian cereal box?” Buffy whispered the question under the sound of noisy sobs. “Mrs. Pratt—Anne, please--.”

“Although he tries to hide the terrible truth from me, I am aware that he is mocked and ridiculed in our social circle. And you, Miss Summers, are no better! You—you’re a trollop! You’ve clearly earned his trust and now--.”

Her words dissolved into a coughing fit. Moving fast, Buffy supplied her with a cough drop and Kleenex box. “The tissues are disposable. Blow your nose, wipe your eyes, and throw it away. Okay, maybe not in that order, but this box of bad boys beats a cloth hanky any day. And the cough drop, suck on it, it might help. It has vitamin C and it tastes good. It will soothe your throat.”

“I don’t know…”

“Then don’t use them. I won’t force you,” Buffy said. “I just want you calm enough so you’ll listen. This trollop has something to say. She just isn’t so sure what to say yet…or how to say it.”

Taking a deep breath, Buffy considered her options. She could tell the truth, she could make up a fresh lie, or she could make an old lady happy.

“Damn you, Spike,” she whispered. “You’d give me so much crap about this.”

“Mrs. Pratt, William has confided in me. I know all about his awful poetry and his pathetic life as a male spinster. And yes, I’ve mocked and ridiculed him a lot more than those Victorian bullies, but there’s no need to go all mama bear on me, because I’ve learned the errors of my ways.” Buffy crossed her arms over her chest then she said, “I don’t want to hurt you or your precious son. I love him. I’m trying to find him.”

“William is missing?”

“He’s been kinda misplaced.”

“I don’t understand, but then I only seem to understand half of the words you say, Miss Summers. I must know, is he in danger?”

“No, that’s one thing I can swear to you.”

“And you’re in love with him? Once he is found… If you truly love him, will you accept his hand?”

Buffy looked away, unable to take Mrs. Pratt’s hopeful, pleading eyes. “I don’t know,” she replied. “First, no hand has been offered, and second, Spike and I—Mrs. Pratt, you need to rest. You can give me the third degree about my love life later, okay?”

Not waiting for an answer, Buffy left the room and shut the door.

“It’s no wonder he killed her,” she mumbled out loud as she walked through the hallway. The conversation with Anne Pratt left Buffy feeling breathless and unsteady.

She was still trying to shake off the uncomfortable sensations when she entered the dining room again. Xander and Willow were still around the table, but they were eerily quiet.

“Okay, what did you do while I was gone? Did you conjure up somebody else? What did the handkerchief bring us? His uncle, a twice-removed cousin from his father’s side?”

“Oh, hey! Hi, Buffy!” Acting as if she were caught, Willow jumped in her chair. “How’d it go with Spike’s mom?”

“Just peachy.”

“Is she freaked? Do she swoon? People from her day do that, they swoon all other the place.”

“Guys, what’s going on?” Buffy asked. “Willow’s doing that nervous rambling thing.”

“Buff, you should take a seat.”

Stubbornly, Buffy continued to stand with her arms crossed. “Xander, explain.”

“Well, you told Willow that you thought Spike wasn’t dead. After the spell went wrong--.”

“We did a location spell!” Willow interrupted, talking quickly. “We did it and it said he’s in California, Buffy. But not in Sunnydale. He’s in Los Angeles!”

“What…? But why? How?”

“When was the last time you spoke to Angel?” Xander asked.

“When he gave me the amulet, the night before… Are you saying Spike is with Angel?” Buffy gripped the top of one of the chairs for balance.

“I had a crystal and when I held it over a map and said the incantation--.”

“Willow, just tell me.”

“Spike’s at that law firm of Angel’s. I think that’s why the spell brought his mom to us. She’s dead. Spike isn’t. Well, I think he’s still vampire-dead, but he isn’t dead-vampire dead, you know?”

“You should call Angel,” Xander suggested calmly. “Ask him--.”

“No!” The word sprung from Buffy’s lips before she realized it.

“I will not call him,” she continued quietly. “I’m going to Los Angeles.”

“But what about Spike’s mom? Are you going to send her back?” Willow asked. “Are you going to break the locket?”

Willow slid the locket across the table toward Buffy. She picked it up and squeezed it in her fist then she announced, “I’m going to take Mrs. Pratt to her son.”
***

“This is so cool! You have the best timing ever! Can I ask you some questions about your everyday life? I have this huge paper to write for Euro History and you could help me out so much! Can I hug you, just for a minute? Is that okay?”

“Mrs. Pratt, meet Dawn, my enthusiastic little sister.” Buffy kept her back turned as she spoke. “Since you have trouble understanding me, you’ll think she’s a hoot. She speaks in a foreign language we call: American teenager.”

“Oh, that won’t be a problem. I’ll cut back on the slang and stuff, I promise,” Dawn replied to Buffy and to Mrs. Pratt she said, “I’ll teach you the license plate game and I Spy with My Little Eye. Oh, I’ll show you my phone! That’ll expose you to just about everything hip and modern: music, TV, my Smurf Village game. We’ll be great travel buddies!”

“God, I hope so,” Buffy grumbled. “You’re our last resort. Kennedy won’t let Willow out of her sight and the last thing we need is them smooching and groping in the backseat of the car. We can’t let Mrs. Pratt be too scandalized. Of course that automatically rules out Faith. Not like she was an option anyway. I want to be on the road before she’s home from work. I cannot deal with her today.”

“Can Xander come with us? I think you’d like Xander, Mrs. Pratt. He’s goofy and hilarious. He lost an eye not to long ago so he has a ton of pirate jokes lined up. They are so funny. Do you like pirates, Mrs. Pratt?”

“I doubt she knows what they are,” Buffy remarked as she repacked her suitcase. “Not unless they were featured on one of her cereal boxes.”

“Cereal boxes?” Dawn laughed. “I’m not following.”

“I believe my future daughter-in-law is speaking of serial novels, as in Dickens’ Pickwick Papers for example. I am aware of piracy, and I did enjoy the pirates in Robinson Crusoe when William and I read it together.”

“Buffy is your future, what now?”

“Well, it is too bad that Xander has to stay behind,” Buffy said. “But he’s a single man and we don’t have a suitable chaperone to accompany us. Right, Mrs. Pratt?”

“It’s only proper,” Mrs. Pratt agreed from her seat on Buffy’s bed.

“And keeping up with propriety is so number one on my list.”

“What the heck is going on?” Dawn whispered. Suddenly she was standing next to Buffy as she tore through her closet. “Did you hear what she called you? And why are you so cranky? Spike is alive. You were right. Shouldn’t you be happier?”

“I can only handle so much right now. My head is spinning with questions. Like why is Spike in Los Angeles? Why is he anywhere near Angel? Why wasn’t I told anything?” With each pause, she yanked another garment from its hanger.

“I’m sure Spike can explain--.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure Angel can too. Just like I’m sure one of them could’ve called, emailed or sent me a freaking text. It could’ve said: “Hey, you know how you’ve been obsessing over Spike’s death for weeks? Stop it, because he’s in Los Angeles with your ex. See ya around!” I thought I had everything figured out. All I have now are questions.”

“Okay, so your crankiness is justified. But do you really think it’s best to bring his mom to Los Angeles with us?”

“If our mom came back, for any reason or for any amount of time, wouldn’t you want to see her?”

“Totally, but Mrs. Pratt thinks you’re marrying Spike. She called you her future daughter-in-law.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“Buffy—God, will you stop it with the clothes already? You’re up to your seventh outfit! Chill out! Isn’t this just a weekend trip?”

Buffy looked down at the mound of clothes in her arms and then she noticed her very full suitcase on her bed. “I’m losing it, Dawnie, and she isn’t helping. Here she’s in the future and it barely fazes her. All she cares about is getting her son married off. She’s a crazy person.”

“She’s old,” Dawn shrugged. “In her day, marriage and having babies--.”

“Don’t! Don’t say a word about babies! She’ll hear you!”

As her sister cackled, Buffy forced more clothes into her suitcase. “With bathroom breaks, it’ll take four hours to get to LA--.”

“Wait, you’re driving?”

“You heard what she said, it isn’t proper for Xander to come with us.”

“What about Andrew? Or—or Robin? I know you and Faith have a rocky relationship, but she’s a girl and a good driver--.”

“I’m driving.”

“And if we make it there in one piece, you’re marrying Spike?”

“Possibly,” Buffy said through clenched teeth. “Keep it up, I’ll leave you here, and you won’t be invited to the wedding.”

“God, I wouldn’t miss that for anything.”

“Then get your bag,” Buffy said, lifting her suitcase. “We’re leaving in five minutes.”
***

Buffy had to admit that bringing her sister with them to Los Angeles was a good idea. Dawn’s endless chatter seemed to keep Mrs. Pratt occupied and at ease. Although she spoke of William often, the topics of love, marriage, and childbearing never came up. And Buffy was thankful for that. It was three and a half hours into their car ride when Dawn stopped talking. Tightening her grip on the steering wheel, Buffy looked through the rearview mirror at Mrs. Pratt.

“She’s asleep. The poor dear went out like a light.”

“We’ll be stopping soon, but you can take a quick nap. You’re probably suffering from an information overload. Dawn got a little carried away this afternoon. She talked your ear off.”

“Oh, she’s an absolute delight. Once my son and I are reunited, I trust I’ll be able to make more sense out of this entire situation.”

“We’ll see about that,” Buffy said, rolling her shoulders.

“Does working this contraption pain you, my dear?”

“I’ve never driven this far on my own. The dark and the LA traffic… It stresses me out. I tense up. I’m also pretty sure we’ll get lost before we even reach downtown. I hate downtowns, with their one-ways, overpriced parking, and hobos. Instead of relying on my super Slayer sense of direction, we’ll have to trust the GPS. I hope Angel’s law firm keeps late hours.”

“May I ask, how long have you been acquainted with my son?”

“About six years.” Buffy waited for another question or comment, but there was only silence. She looked through the mirror again and sighed. “He hasn’t said a word to you about me, I know. And I’m sure he isn’t the type to keep secrets from his mom. You’ll just have to trust me. I’ve known William for a long time.”

“You and your sister call him Spike on occasion. Why is that?”

“It’s a term of endearment, a nickname.”

“I find it hard to believe that anyone would want to be called something so unusual.”

“It’s strong,” Buffy shrugged. “It’s powerful. He was called William the Bloody. It was short for William the Bloody Awful Poet. The name Spike distances him from that. Spike suits him. He’s changed, Mrs. Pratt.”

“Yes, I imagine he that he has. He has love in his life, and I have you to thank for that, Miss Summers. Knowing he’s found love…it’s all I’ve wished for.”

Buffy shifted in her seat again. At the same time, the lights of Wolfram and Hart’s high-rise building came into view. “I can’t take credit for the man he’s become, Mrs. Pratt. Sure, his actions have been dictated by love, but he’s accomplished so much more than just landing a girlfriend. I won’t give you the hairy details, but you should be proud of him. He’s amazing. He’s done incredible things. Heroic things that have stopped a lot of people from getting hurt.”

“Heroics?”

“He saves damsels in distress and on a regular basis.”

“My William?”

“Yeah,” Buffy answered with a laugh. “When you see your William again, his hair and clothing will look really different. His skin will be kinda pasty. He’s a lot like Robin Hood. That was an old book or something before it became a movie, right? He’s like a Robin Hood that protects powerless people from evildoers. He just doesn’t work with money…or in tights. Spike wears all black; Robin Hood wears all green…in the Disney movie. Okay, maybe Robin Hood isn’t a great example, but it’ll have to do. I can’t come up with anything better under duress.”

Buffy stuck her arm out the car’s window. She hit the button to get a metered ticket for Wolfram and Hart’s underground parking.

“You’re still you feeling anxious, dear? Aren’t you looking forward to seeing him again?”

“Yes, so much I can’t stand it,” she mumbled, answering both questions at once. “Mrs. Pratt, I need go in here alone. I’m sorry, but I won’t be long. I’ll bring William to you. Can you keep an eye on Dawn while she sleeps? It’s really busy in this parking lot for a Friday night, but you’ll be safe. I’ll lock you in with a window down. If you need me, have Dawn call me, okay?”

“Okay,” she said again, getting out of the car. “I’ll be right back.”

“Miss Summers?”

“Yeah?” Buffy answered, turning her head.

“I would like to you know, I don’t understand much about this place, but I can see why William chooses to be in your company. I’m wishing you and my son only the best.”

“Mrs. Pratt, I--.”

“There will be more opportunities for us to talk later, dear. Go on, please. Go find my boy.”
***

The lobby of Wolfram and Hart took Buffy’s breath away. It had wood floors, a lot of windows, and a sleek contemporary design. It was also full of people, some of them were human and the others were clearly not. Each person was dressed in fancy clothing: evening gowns, suits and ties.

“Great. A ball gown was the one thing I didn’t pack in my suitcase…”

“Excuse me, may I see your invitation? This is a black-tie, invitation-only event.”

“Look…” Buffy trailed off, deciding the man that towered above her looked more like a member of the secret service than your typical building security guard. “I’m not here for any event. I’d like to see Angel.”

“If you have no invitation, I’m sorry, but I must ask you to leave. Call Mr. Angel’s secretary and make an appointment during business hours.”

“He has a secretary?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “Follow me to the front desk. I can give you Miss Kendall’s card.”

“Kendall? As in Harmony?”

“That’s correct. Miss Kendall is the CEO’s secretary.”

“What kind of place is this? Angel’s Island of Sunnydale’s Misfit Toys?”

“Wolfram and Hart is the oldest and largest law firm in existence,” the man answered. “It is both international and interdimensional, with departments in every facet of the law. You’re welcome to take an informational brochure for our Los Angeles branch.”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Buffy said with a short laugh. “Harmony the secretary? Informational brochures?”

She quickly skimmed over the shiny paper. Then she saw the photograph on the back. Pictured were the people she knew from Angel Investigations. And Spike. He looked exactly as she remembered him, down to his black leather duster.

“I need to see Angel or Spike,” she continued, folding the brochure up so it’d fit in the back pocket of her jeans. “Hell, I’ll even settle for Wesley. If you need a name for the guest book, put down: Buffy Summers, Vampire Slayer aka the ex girlfriend of Wolfram and Hart’s CEO.”

“Buffy Summers? You’re Buffy Summers?”

“You’ve heard of me?”

“I must apologize. I’m sorry, Miss Summers, I should’ve asked for your name earlier. I don’t know what I was thinking. Please except my apologies.”

“Does this mean you’ll help me?” she asked with her brows raised.

“We have strict orders to inform Mr. Angel immediately if you ever call or arrive. I could lose my job over this. He’ll kill me.”

“Hey, if you take me wherever he is and answer a few questions, I’ll vouch for you. I won’t let him fire you and I’ll definitely stop him from killing you.”

The man didn’t take long to consider Buffy’s offer. “We’ll try his office first. Mr. Angel hosts these events but he rarely makes more than a quick appearance. If he isn’t in his office, he’ll be in his penthouse. Please follow me, Miss Summers.”

“He has a penthouse?”

“All Wolfram and Hart’s upper management have penthouse apartments onsite,” he explained, guiding Buffy into the elevator. He hit one of the buttons to one of the highest floors in the building.

“Does Spike have a place here too?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Does that mean he’s upper management?”

“Uh, no,” the man laughed. “No one seems to know what his position is, or if he even has one. He works with the CEO mostly.”

“How long has he been here?”

“It’s hard to know for sure. In the first few weeks he kept, you know, flickering in and out.”

“No, I don’t know. He flickered? What does that mean?”

“When he was a ghost, he’d fade away and then pop back up somewhere else. Winifred Burkle had him in the labs a lot until he became corporal. Nowadays, I usually see him with Mr. Angel, but they don’t seem to like each other very much. If you’re interested in gossip, I heard Spike hooked up with his secretary--.”

“What?”

“I’ve said too much. I shouldn’t have said that. Please don’t tell Angel.”

“He slept with Harmony.” The elevator stopped but Buffy didn’t move. “He was a ghost and he slept with Harmony.”

“Only after he got his body back from what I understand. Harm—uh, Miss Kendall said it was a one time thing.”

“What else did Harmony tell you?”

“He was, uh, just making sure all his parts were still in working order?”

“Well, clearly his brain is not working. It’s stupid. He’s stupid.”

“Miss Summers, please, we’re tying up the elevator.”

“I can go the rest of the way on my own. Thank you. You’ve been very helpful.” She stepped off the elevator and sighed when the man followed her. “Let me guess, you’re following me because of another rule from your employee handbook?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Angel will probably need your protection once I get my hands on him anyway. And Spike, you won’t be able to help him. I’m going to kill him again.”

“You can’t be serious--.”

“Try me.”

“Do you have weapons?”

“Of course, I’m the Slayer. I have a stake hidden in my slouchy boot.”

The man mumbled a curse under his breath. “Please try to restrain yourself. I beg you. I should’ve checked you for weapons in the lobby. I should’ve confiscated them.”

“So I’m not the exception to every rule around here?”

“Miss Summers, if you hurt anyone under my watch…” Buffy had to fight back a laugh although the man looked sick to his stomach. “I’m usually much better at my job.”

“Don’t worry about Mr. Angel and his reign of terror. I think you’re a great guy. Heck, if I knew your name, I’d demand that he give you a raise.”

“Thank you.”

“Wait, you really don’t want me to know your name, do you?”

“If I live past this evening, come to the front desk and I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

“Won’t Angel know who you are without me telling him? Isn’t he your boss?”

“Wolfram and Hart has hundreds of employees at this branch alone.”

“You’re at the front desk. Doesn’t he walk by you daily?”

“He’s a busy man.”

“He sounds like a jerk. The least he could do is give you guys some nametags. From the look of this place, he could totally fit them into the budget. I’ll talk to him about it.”

“Thank you,” he said again. “But that isn’t necessary. Mr. Angel’s office is right here, Miss Summers.”

Buffy saw a light shinning from underneath the door. She heard two voices, and one was distinctly British. Before the man could knock and announce her arrival, Buffy pushed the door open.

Angel saw her first. He stood up from behind his desk. Spike had his back to her. He turned toward her slowly.

“So, it’s true,” she whispered. “You’ve been here all along.”

“Buffy.” It was Angel who said her name. “Let’s get this straight, I didn’t want him here, and I still don’t, but I can’t shake the guy. The amulet was mailed to me. It resurrected him somehow. He haunted me for weeks. Then another package came in the mail and it made him solid again. Now, he continues to annoy me by choice.”

“If I would’ve known, if someone would’ve told me…” Her eyes locked with Spike’s. She felt that uncomfortable, but familiar pang in her chest again. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“Slayer, I wanted to.”

At the sound of Spike’s voice, her body swayed a little. A strong arm propped her up. It didn’t belong to Spike or Angel.

“Buffy, who’s your friend?” Angel asked curtly.

“He’s my new boyfriend. We’re running away together.”

Angel frowned. It caused Spike to shake his head and roll his eyes. “Oh, piss off. She’s messing with you,” he said. “That’s Carl, you nit.”

“Who’s Carl?”

“The bloke from the front desk? Of your fucking lobby? He probably escorted her up here because of one your bloody rules and security measures.”

“Oh,” Angel said, crossing his arms. “That’ll be all, Carl. We’ll take care things from here. Thanks.”

Feeling him hesitate, Buffy patted Carl’s arm. “It’s okay. I need you to do me a favor, if you don’t mind. I have some very important things in my car. Two people-shaped things, can you check on them please? Tell them to stay where they are for a little longer.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a nod.

“Thank you so much, Carl.”

Once Carl left the room, Angel closed the door behind him. “Take seat, Buffy. I know you have a lot of questions. I’ll do my best to answer them.”

“Please. Cut the CEO bullshit,” Spike grumbled, walking pass Angel. “You have no one to impress here.”

“How are you?” The tone of his voice changed as he spoke to Buffy. “Are you alright? Come here, sit.”

He led her to one of Angel’s leather chairs. Then he crouched in front of her. “We’ve got some catching up to do, don’t we, love? We’ll do that in private, once we get things settled with the big buffoon. We’ll talk. You and me. Until then, know how hard it’s been for me to be away from you.”

“Why did you stay away? Why was it decided between you two that I shouldn’t know you were alive? Were you hiding from me?”

“No, not at all. That isn’t it in the slightest.”

“Can you really say that?” Angel leaned against the corner of his desk with his arms still crossed. “Tell her the whole truth, lover boy. He came back initially as a ghost, but Casper was fixed two weeks ago. Once he was all fleshy again, he could’ve left this place. He could’ve called you, but instead he banged my secretary on her lunch break.”

Suddenly, Spike vamped and lunged at Angel. Buffy watched them punch and toss each other around for a minute before standing with her hands balled into fists.

“You both are idiots!” she yelled. “Stop it! Get away from each other right now!”

With her own snarl, Buffy grabbed onto each vampire. She forced them to separate with a shove. “Angel, you have no right to be smug! I’m mad at you more than anyone for not calling me!”

“Take that,” Spike laughed, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. “Let him have it, Slayer.”

“And you,” Buffy said to Spike. “I don’t even know what to say to you right now.”

Spike’s smile vanished. “Buffy—pet, please don’t--.”

The door to Angel’s office swinging open interrupted him. “I can’t believe you wanted us to wait in the car!” Dawn shrieked. “That is so not cool, Buffy!”

“And I’m a bigger idiot than both of you,” Buffy mumbled, watching her sister and Mrs. Pratt enter the room with her new friend Carl on their heels.

“Who’s this, your boyfriend’s mother?”

Ignoring Angel’s question, Buffy looked at Spike. “I had to bring her here. It was the right thing to do.”

“William? Is that you?” Mrs. Pratt asked, her voice cracking as she spoke. “It feels as if it’s been ages since I last saw you!”

Spike glanced down at his mother as she hugged him, and then he stared at Buffy in shock. “What is this? How is this possible?”

“She was conjured up,” Dawn answered before Buffy could reply. “We brought her here from Vegas.”

“Vegas? As in Nevada?”

“We live there now. Buffy and me, and Willow, Xander, Faith, Robin, Andrew. The gang’s all there, but not Giles. He’s the one in Europe right now, he’ll be back soon.”

“No, that can’t be right. Angel told me…”

From the look on his face, Buffy knew Spike was going to attack Angel again. He was already trying to squirm out of Mrs. Pratt’s grasp.

“Don’t even think about fighting him. Not in front of your mom,” she warned. “I mean it, Spike.”

“He’s a lying bastard! You know he didn’t even tell the lot here about me? He didn’t want them knowing about my soul, about us, or how I fought by your side! He told me you were in Europe, not four sodding hours from here!”

“I’ll deal with Angel,” Buffy said. “You need to calm down. You’re scaring Anne.”

“It can’t be. My mother is--.”

“Standing right there. She’s human and she loves you very much.”

Spike looked at Anne, completely stunned. “Who…who conjured her?”

“A demon,” Buffy lied. “It was a big ugly demon. I had to kill him before I could find out why he did it. But now she’s here, and she will be for a few days.”

“Until what?”

“Until the weekend is over.”

“A demon from Nevada brought my mother back to life…for a quick two-day holiday?”

“It makes sense,” Angel spoke up. “You make enemies wherever you go, Spike. Why would Vegas be any different? You royally pissed someone off. I bet they were going to use her against you. Like as bait or--.”

“I don’t see why we’re talking about this,” Buffy interrupted. “The demon failed so who cares what his master plan was? Mrs. Pratt is here. She’s a sweet lady who wants to see her son. Where’s the harm in that? After the weekend, she’ll go back from where she came from. End of story.”

“Buffy, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she snapped. She wasn’t sure who had asked the question. “I’m just excessively annoyed right now…and a little lightheaded. God, I feel like I might--.”

Before Buffy could finish her sentence, she fainted.
***

Buffy woke up on a comfortable bed in room that resembled an expensive hotel suite. It was dimly lit and completely quiet. Buffy thought it was heavenly. Taking a deep breath, she rolled over and was pleasantly surprised again. Her pillow smelled like Spike. For a second, she forced herself to forget all the drama, madness and confusion of the day. For that second, only one thing mattered: Spike was alive. He was solid, permanent and within reach. For that second, Buffy couldn’t be happier.

“Will you look at that? Can’t say I expected a smile so soon after that tumble. How are you feeling?”

“Spike?” Buffy’s heart skipped a beat.

“Breathe, babe. I didn’t mean to startle you. Fred’ll be here any minute to check you over. I had to see you. Is that alright?”

“It’s fine.” She moved into a sitting position and smoothed down her hair. “Where are the others? How’s your mother? Does she know you’re in here? I doubt she’d approve.”

“Of me having a pretty girl in my room? Probably not, but she might surprise you. She thinks highly of you, I can tell that already. She’s something, isn’t she? Never thought I’d see her like this. My final memories of her were so…”

“Unpleasant?” she offered.

He nodded. “It makes me sick, knowing some random hack was trying to use my mum against me. Talk about a low blow. The First’s trigger was bad enough.”

“Don’t think about it. She’s safe; you’re safe. You have a second chance with her now.”

“Guess so,” Spike said. He pushed his hands deep into the pockets of his leather duster. He looked down at the carpet before asking, “Do I have a second chance with you as well?”

Buffy was thankful for the dim lighting. It toned down the intensity of his patient stare.

“I know I’ve messed up. About me and Harm--.”

“I don’t want to hear about you and Harmony. Not now and not ever.”

“My feelings for you haven’t changed.”

Buffy opened her mouth, but she was unable to speak. There was a knock at the door.

“Hi, Buffy. And…Spike? I hope I’m not interrupting. Spike, Angel seems to think you’re in another part of the building and not in here with Buffy.”

“Let’s keep it that way, Fred.”

“Um, okay,” Winifred Burkle shrugged. “But I have some things to go over with Buffy. Medical questions. She’s entitled to her privacy.”

“Don’t worry,” Buffy said, rearranging herself on the bed once more. She straightened out her legs and crossed them at the ankles. “Privacy was something I gave up a long time ago. He can stay.”

“Okay,” Fred repeated. She adjusted the lights so she could read from the clipboard she was holding. “Angel ordered a standard check up for you. I’ll have to bring you to my lab to record your vitals, but since you’re awake and you look good, we’ll let that wait. According to your sister, you aren’t eating much. You’ve been stressed and irritable. You have trouble sleeping at night.”

“Dawn told you all that?”

Fred nodded. “You’ve been introverted, moody--.”

“Wait, did you like supply her a checklist of only shitty adjectives to choose from?”

“Uh, yes. I gave her a list, but I wouldn’t say the words were…shitty…”

“Did she check off anything that doesn’t make me sound completely miserable and pathetic?”

“Slayer, how have you actually been?” Spike intervened. “How about you tell us using your own words?” He sat next to Buffy on the bed, but he was careful to keep his distance. “Fred can help. She’s a brilliant scientist. She helped me when no one else would.”

“Or could. I could’ve helped you too, but I thought you were dead.”

“You might want to add bottled up hostility to that list, pet.”

Buffy heard Fred’s pencil move against the clipboard. “Stop writing! I am not hostile!”

“I’m fine,” she insisted after taking a breath. “I eat, I sleep and occasionally I pass out.”

“You’ve fainted before?” Fred asked.

“No.”

“Come on, lamb. There’s no reason to fib.”

“I passed out one other time,” she admitted through clenched teeth. “With him.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was with him,” Buffy told Fred. She could feel Spike’s eyes on her and it hard not to squirm. “And I passed out.”

“You gonna make her paint you a picture, doc? Or can you figure out what we were doing by connecting the dots on your own?”

“Oh, I’ve got it,” Fred said as her face became red. “Buffy, emotional distress can trigger a black out and the symptoms your sister described.”

“You think I’m emotionally distressed? Is that a formal diagnosis?”

“Well, something is bothering you, isn’t it? You said you were excessively annoyed before you lost consciousness.”

“Is that according to Dawn?”

“And me,” Spike added. “And everyone else who watched you drop. It’s what you said. Don’t you remember?”

“So I was annoyed,” Buffy shrugged. “I’ve suffered from annoyance for nearly a decade, for as long as I’ve known you.”

“Buffy, I know I’ve upset you. Am I at the heart of all this?”

“No. Not everything is about you. My life doesn’t revolve around you, because if it did…” She let out a laugh. “God, I do not want to talk about this right now.”

“Go on,” Spike urged. “Out with it.”

“I would’ve just been more miserable, alright? And these past few weeks have been hard. Vegas is great. Everyone has a clean slate there. The gang seems so eager to move on, but I can’t. I thought I was losing it, because I couldn’t let go. My hometown blew up. I lost everything. My mom’s house, her grave… And you died. As much as I mourned, I never could get over this feeling: I knew, deep down, you weren’t gone. Of course I had no idea you were here, shacking up with my ex while you avoided me.”

“So I tried to get you back,” she continued. “I found a velvet bag of your things. At first, I thought you had kept mementos of Drusilla. I conjured Anne on accident, but she’s coping with time travel amazingly well, like a real pro. She’s even provided her own logical explanation for the whole thing. If you’ve spoken to her at all I’m sure you’re aware of our pending elopement.”

“Come again?”

Buffy flinched, realizing she’d said too much. “Forget that last part. It was a joke. A very, very bad joke. After bringing your mother two hundred and seventy miles, the crazy just doesn’t let up. You’ve been a ghost. You slept with Harmony. I don’t know what’s going on with Angel. He has his own Trump Tower here and he’s acting like a spoiled two-year old. He’s lying and picking fights. I’ve been here for one hour and I’ve already had to break up one fistfight and prevent another.”

“Is this emotional distress?” she asked, turning her attention to Fred. “If so, I think I’m drowning in it. What can you do to help me?”

“Uh, I can give you a mild sedative. I can leave you and Spike alone again so you guys can talk.”

“Can’t I just have the drugs? Can’t you tell everyone to leave me alone, including him? Won’t they have to follow doctor’s orders?”

“First off, I’m not really a doctor. I’m just a scientist with a kickass laboratory,” Fred admitted, hugging the clipboard to her chest. “It sounds like you went to a lot of trouble to reunite with Spike. Now that he’s sitting right next to you, you don’t want to talk to him?”

“I don’t have anything else to say.”

“Why am I not believing that? Buffy, it’s no wonder you fainted. You need to tell him how you feel.”

“I did. I told him and he blew me off. He dismissed what I said and he thanked me for saying it.”

“Spike? Is this true?”

“Hey now, cut a bloke some slack,” he answered defensively. “The bloody world was about to end. There was sunlight barreling out of my chest, a bloody army of Turok-Han ubervamps was coming straight for us and—and there were flames! We were caught up in the moment, I thought--.”

“You thought wrong,” Buffy said simply.

Spike looked at her in awe. “You meant it?”

“That’s enough. I can’t do this.” Buffy jumped to her feet although she still felt a little lightheaded and her stomach was doing somersaults. “I need to check on Mrs. Pratt. I need to talk to Angel. Fred, can you tell me where they are?”

“Everyone was in Angel’s boardroom when I saw them last. Lorne was heading downstairs to get you guys food from the caterers.”

“Can you take me to the boardroom?”

“You would. You always run off to Angel,” Spike grumbled just before Buffy could leave the room. He was still sitting on the bed. His duster was wrapped tightly around him. “He’s the big strapping hero, the white sodding knight at the end of the fairy tale. Well, have your talk with your sweetie bear. Snog the daylights of out of him. Try for a rebound roll in sheets; just tell him you love me before you give it go. That’ll keep him from going soulless. And once you’re finished--.”

“Please tell me you’re joking. I tried to resurrect you. I didn’t travel this far to jump into bed with Angel.”

“Maybe, um—maybe I should go? I can wait out in the hallway…”

“Don’t, this will only take a second,” Buffy said, stopping Fred in her tracks. “Spike, I need to check on your mother and my sister. I need answers from Angel. I need to do these things before I can relax and exchange mooneyes with you. You’re welcome to join me, but if you insist on acting like a complete bonehead… Spike, maybe it’ll be best if you just stay out of my way.”

“Now we can go.” Buffy looked back at Spike, but she didn’t wait for him to speak. She followed Fred out of his penthouse.

“You’re in the middle of one hunky love triangle,” Fred remarked once they were in the hallway. “I’ve been there myself. It was fun for only so long. Then I felt like knocking their heads together and sending them both into timeout.”

“My triangle isn’t as sturdy as those two dopes would like to think. I’m not conflicted or torn between them. I know who I want.”

“And that’s Spike? So you do love him?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Buffy laughed. “I must feel that way; that’s what I’m telling everyone. It hasn’t been a picnic so far. My feelings made me faint. They’re making me queasy.”

“You have butterflies in your stomach? I read that love can feel like an anxiety attack.”

“And he wonders why I resisted him for so long.”

In the elevator, Fred pressed the button for the floor they wanted. Buffy stopped the doors before they could close.

“Spike,” she called out into the empty hallway. “Get in here.”

“Where’d he come from?” Fred asked, once Spike seemed to appear out of nowhere.

“Fred. Slayer.” He nodded at each of them and then he took his place next to Buffy.

“Was he behind us the entire time? Did you know he was there?”

“It’s a thing with him.” Buffy let the elevator doors close. “He lurks, he stalks, he hides in bushes. Why don’t you tell Fred just how many packs of cigarettes you went through while watching me from the tree in my front yard?”

“Can’t. Lost track,” Spike replied.

“Just like I lost count after the first half dozen of my nicest underwear disappeared and ended up in his pockets.”

“Uh, alright,” Fred began with a weak laugh. “I’m not sure what y’all are talking about, and I think it’d be best if it stayed that way. I’m just going to stand here until the elevator stops, okay?”

“Does this mean our therapy session is over?” Buffy asked brightly.

“There’s no hope for you anyway,” Spike whispered directly into her ear. “I heard every word you said, baby.”

Buffy froze. She didn’t have to feel Spike’s breath against her skin to know that his face was very close to hers. “That was the point.”

“I want you back in my room before the night’s through. I owe you that private conversation and a string of apologies.”

As the elevator doors opened, Buffy nodded. “I think I can do that.”

They followed a few steps behind Fred and walked side by side.

“Angel may try to turn you against me. I can’t promise that everything he’ll say is untrue.”

Buffy flinched without meaning to, and then she asked, “Have there been other girls?”

“None. I swear it. Absolutely zero. Harm barely counts half a point as it is.”

“She counts for more than that, Spike. What you did…it counts.”

“Buffy, will you look at me? It was mindless, emotionless. Hell, it was dreadful. She bit me, her eyes started bleeding, and I had to knock her out in the end! How’s that for romantics?”

“It shouldn’t have happened,” she said glancing at him for only a second. “Have you hurt anyone?”

“No,” he sighed. “I’m still fighting the good fight. Not interested in changing sides. You should know that.”

“Then you have nothing to worry about. I told you I can handle Angel. If you insist on getting out of line, I can handle you too. And trust me, that isn’t what either of us want.”

Leaving Spike behind, Buffy followed Fred into the boardroom.
***

Around the table stood Wesley, Gunn, Lorne, and Angel. When Spike joined the group, Buffy blinked.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Fred whispered. “It’s a room full of eye candy. They are pretty to look at, but raging testosterone has them at each other’s throats most of the time. Of course, your two vampires are the worst out of the group. Ever since they nearly killed each other over the Shanshu prophecy, things have become really tense between them.”

“What prophecy? Who’s sans their shoes?”

“Buffy, how are you feeling?”

At the sound of Angel’s voice, Fred inched away. Buffy was left standing alone at the head of the conference table.

“I’m okay. I’m a little tired of being asked that question, but I’ll live.”

“If you’re looking for Mrs. Pratt and Dawn, they’ve been fed and they’re getting settled for the night. You just missed them. They were heading back to Spike’s apartment. I offered them any room on the penthouse floors, including my own. They insisted on staying with him. He only has two beds and a couch, but I trust you and Spike will figure out the sleeping arrangements.”

“Is that your passive aggressive way of asking if I’ll be sleeping with Spike tonight?”

“Will you look at the time? We must be going. Nice to see you again, Buffy.”

“Thanks, Wesley.”

Her eyes stayed locked on Angel as the room cleared.

Instead of leaving with the others, Spike picked at the leftover appetizer trays on the table. “You fed my mum fried cheese, potato skins and mini pigs in a sodding blanket? You trying to kill her again by clogging up her arteries, peaches?”

“You came hundreds of miles for this moron? Does this mean you’re taking him with you when you leave?”

Buffy wasn’t phased by Angel’s blunt question. “If he wants to come with me, yes, I’ll take him home.”

“And you’ll live with him? You’ll actually play house with William the Bloody?”

“Why not?” she shrugged. “He lived with me in Sunnydale. He was in the basement, but we got along just fine. He was my partner. We trained together. We fought together.”

“Do you love him?”

“I don’t believe that’s any of your business, mate.”

“And will you finally go away? Will you give up on the prophecy?” Angel asked, turning to Spike.

As the men exchanged dirty looks, Buffy rolled her eyes. “What is with you guys and this stupid prophecy?”

“It’s what has kept him here,” Angel explained. “I don’t even know why he thinks he stands a chance--.”

“I’m a vampire with a soul, you ponce! I’m just as worthy as you, and probably more so. It wasn’t a bloody curse for me; I wanted my soul! I fought for it! I battled the fucking apocalypse--.”

“To get into a girl’s pants and I see it paid off.”

“Sorry, pet, but I’m gonna rip his head straight off.”

“You always resort to violence when you hear something you don’t like, like the truth,” Angel laughed. “Maturity never was your strong suit, William.”

“You’re doing your fair share of name calling,” Buffy pointed out. “From where I’m standing, this is a total pot and kettle situation.”

“You think so? He doesn’t even care about the Shanshu, he’s just wants to take it from me. His vendetta against me is more important to him than his demented puppy love for you.”

Buffy frowned. Although she tried not to take Angel’s words to heart, they stung.

“Harm said the big hero thought he couldn’t top his grand exit from Sunnydale,” he continued. “So he didn’t bother coming to you. He gave up.”

“Well, it’s a good thing that I did, ‘cause you would’ve had me on a ship to bloody Europe!”

“If Buffy hadn’t made the first move, how long would you have stayed here, cowering in my shadow with your tail between your legs?”

“Spike, don’t attack him,” Buffy said. From Spike’s body language, she knew he desperately wanted to lunge at Angel. “He isn’t worth it. He’s just lashing out--.”

“Your boyfriend is butting in on my destiny!” Angel roared. “I’m the right vampire with a soul, I’ll fight off the next apocalypse and I’ll become human! I’ve earned it! He can’t show up halfway through the game and steal all the damn glory!”

“Okay, wow. This is about both of you wanting to become human?”

“If I were human, the curse would be broken. You wouldn’t have to be with Spike by default.”

There was a long pause until Spike said, “Now’s your turn to tell him to go to hell, Slayer. You aren’t settling for me just because I’m a vampire with a soul and without a curse. Tell him.”

“Angel’s been off limits for so long…”

“Right,” he said. His jaw was set and his nose flared a little. “Say no more. I get what you’re not saying.”

“I doubt it. Asking me who I’d choose if you were both human…? It isn’t fair. It’s an impossible question. You’re vampires, the likelihood of that changing so freaking tiny--.”

“Isn’t Spike’s mother human now? She was turned and staked, but now she’s walking around in sunlight.”

“Leave Anne out of this.” When Angel tried to speak again, Buffy cut him off. “No. She will not be your lab rat. You can call Willow to get the details about her spell, alright?”

“I thought it was a demon--.”

“I lied. I did it. I wanted Spike and I brought back Anne by mistake.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because she loves me, you knob.”

“Even after he slept with Harmony?” Angel asked, ignoring Spike.

“I can’t turn off my feelings because he did something incredibly dumb.” She took a deep breath. “Technically we weren’t together when it happened. Before he died, we were close, but we weren’t a couple. We aren’t one now. I’m disappointed, but…what can I do about it? Punish him? Give him the silent treatment? I’ve done that in the past. It made everybody feel shitty.”

“You’re letting him off the hook?”

“I have to do the same for you, don’t I? You lied to him about where I was. You didn’t tell me that he was alive.”

“It wasn’t my place,” Angel grumbled. He avoided her eyes. “It’s not like I was trying to keep him away from you. He was avoiding you on his own.”

“Maybe, but you didn’t give him a real chance to find me. You told him I was out of the country.”

“It was a honest mix up.”

“Bullshit,” Spike said, coughing into his balled up fist.

Buffy gave Spike a pointed look. “He is one of my people, my team. He’s family. I should’ve been informed the second he entered your fancy law firm. Whether he was a ghost or not. I understand that you’re jealous--.”

“I am not jealous of Spike,” Angel scoffed.

“Okay,” Buffy replied. “Then it’s probably best if we forget about that tantrum. You know, the one where you threw a fit about Spike taking your destiny and your glory and all your manly dignity?”

“Ouch, pet!”

“Spike, you are not helping.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What was that?” Spike asked Angel from across the table. “Speak up. I couldn’t quite hear you.”

“I was apologizing to Buffy.” Angel spoke through clenched teeth. “Not you.”

“Thank you,” she answered. “I know how hard that was for you, especially with Spike in the room.”

“Well, somebody has to be the bigger man.”

“Right, now that we’ve established that Angel’s a big hunk of nobody cares, yet again, the Slayer and I are leaving. We have sleeping arrangements to pound out.”

Spike headed for the door, but Buffy moved closer to Angel.

“Thank you for letting us stay here.”

“You’re welcome here, Buffy. Always. Regardless of who you have clutching onto your apron strings when you arrive next time,” Angel added as he side-eyed Spike.

“Ha, bloody, ha. Let’s get out of here, Slayer.”

“We’ll be here until Monday or maybe Tuesday. I’m serious about taking him off your hands. It’ll be his choice though. If you’re right, he might choose that prophecy over me.”

“For him not to choose you…then he’d be really as stupid as he looks.”

“Thanks,” she replied. “I know he’s a pain, but it’s your own fault you had to put up with him. Keeping secrets just kept him here longer.”

“I’m beginning to see that. I am sorry, Buffy.”

“Goodnight, Angel,” she said. She gave him a close-lipped smile and then she walked with Spike out of the room.
***

Spike surprised Buffy by not saying a word until they reached his penthouse apartment.

“After you,” he said finally, opening the door. Then after seeing Dawn in the living room, he added, “I’m glad to see you’ve made yourself comfortable, bit.”

“You’ve got a super nice place here,” Dawn answered from the couch. She was watching the flat screen TV with her feet propped up on the coffee table. “Are you rich like Angel now?”

“Hardly,” Spike snorted. “Besides, I’m not sure if Angel got more than keys to the castle when he made his deal with the devil.”

“He actually did that?” Buffy asked. “He made a deal with the devil to get this place?”

“It isn’t too hard to believe, now is it?” He replied with a smirk. “The devil? Wolfram and Hart shareholders? There doesn’t seem to be much of a difference between the two as far as I’m concerned.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Buffy peeked into Spike’s bedroom. “Dawn, where’s Spike’s mom?”

“Don’t worry, I haven’t been slacking on my babysitting duties. She’s in the extra bedroom. I figured you guys could take Spike’s room and I’d stay on the couch since we have an odd number of beds. Spike’s bed is huge and his room is pretty swanky, Buffy.”

“I noticed.”

“Carl will be up here with our bags in a second. He’s so nice and helpful. He’s also pretty cute.”

“I noticed that too.”

“Oh, did you?” Spike asked with a raised brow.

“I wonder how old he is,” Dawn continued.

“Well, you can stop wondering right now. Carl’s an old geezer, and he’s off limits. He wouldn’t be interested in the likes of you. Or you, for that matter,” he said, gesturing toward Buffy. “He’s taken. He’s seeing Harmony--.”

“Really? Who isn’t seeing her? Do you just pass her around like some kinda complimentary Wolfram and Hart-issued sex toy?”

“Woah,” Dawn giggled. “My ears!”

“Carl is seeing Harmony’s hairstylist,” Spike added. He looked Buffy up and down. A smirk was back on his face. Instantly, Buffy’s body felt uncomfortably warm within her sweater and jeans. “You’ll have to excuse her, Dawnie. Big sis had herself a catnap. Apparently, she’s all feisty now.”

“You are feeling better? I freaked out when you nearly collapsed to the floor, Buffy. Thank God Spike caught you in time. It spooked Mrs. Pratt too. She really wants to see you guys. Like asap.”

Buffy and Spike exchanged glances, then he asked her, “You want to tag team or go in there together?”

“Personally, my vote is for togetherness,” Dawn answered. “She probably just wants to know the date and time of the wedding.”

“Dawn!”

“What? Shouldn’t Spike know her expectations before he goes in there? And, um, she might have some other more difficult questions that’ll take both of you to answer.”

“Like what?” Buffy demanded. “What happened?”

“Well… I’m like ninety-nine percent positive that she saw Lorne before Angel could take the food from him. I think she saw the flashy suit, the green face, the horns…his red demony eyeballs. Because since then she’s been very quiet. Like really really quiet. How do you know if someone has PTSD?”

“Dawn!” Buffy exclaimed again.

“Hush, pet, it’ll be alright,” Spike assured, ushering her aside. “What have you told her so far? How much does she know?”

“Not much. I rehashed everything you’ve told me about yourself. I’ve avoided all the hot button issues like time travel and vampires. I said you had funny looking hair and that you were more pasty than she would remember.”

Spike nodded. “Is there anything else I should know before we face her?”

“I have everything from your velvet bag. She’s literally bound to the locket that was in there. I feel like I should return it to her, but if anything happens to it, we’ll lose her.”

“And that would be a bad thing?” Spike asked, clearly intrigued. “Why do you want to keep my mother around, Slayer?”

“Because she’s your mom.” Buffy’s eyes went to the couch where Dawn was eavesdropping. “She’s a nice lady and she’s handy. She’s helping Dawn with her Euro homework.”

“Is that so? May I speak to you in private?” He steered her into his bedroom and closed the door behind them. “Euro homework, really? You expect me to believe we’re keeping my mum, who’s presently scared out of her wits, in the future, because your sister needs a tutor in history?”

“Well, when you put it that way it does sound a little…off.”

“Buffy, I’d like to hear the truth.”

“The truth isn’t that exciting,” she began with a shrug. “I like Anne. I don’t mind having her around. Her family always comes first and nothing shocks her—or at least nothing did until she saw Lorne. And you can’t blame her for being terrified. He looks like a demonic leprechaun.”

“There’s more to this, I know it. You’re holding something back.”

“You don’t know anything,” Buffy said, forcing a laugh.

“I know you.” Spike took a step forward. “Conjuring my mum might’ve been a mistake, but she’s still here for a reason.”

“And do you really think you’re going to keep me in here until I fill you in on whatever that reason is?”

“Yeah.” He moved toward her again until she was corned. “Unless Dawn was right about you and me and our upcoming nuptials? What’s that all about?”

“I doubt we’d take it that far,” she mumbled.

“Pet, I’m still not following.”

“I just want you to have this time with your mom. And Anne needs it. She loves you so much. She died thinking you would never find a girl that could fall for homely William Pratt. So I had to prove her wrong. That’s why she thinks we’re betrothed and I’m sure she’s expecting a wedding before the weekend is over. Apparently, when two people love each other, they--.”

“Now you can stop talking.” He spoke as if it pained him to form the words. He lifted his hands up. Buffy thought he was going to cup her face. He was staring at her mouth. Then he hesitated.

“We should get out of here,” he continued, defeated. “We shouldn’t keep her waiting.”

“For a second I thought you were going to kiss me.”

“I should. It’s what you bloody-well deserve. You should be kissed breathless, until you can’t see straight or think properly.”

“What’s stopping you?” she asked softly.

“Wasn’t sure how you’d react,” he admitted. “It’s been awhile.”

“I hear it should be like jumping back on a horse. Or is it something about riding a bicycle?”

He studied her with his head slightly cocked to one side. “Death, you know it can make the heart grow fonder. Warm fuzzy feelings can cool off once you realize your dearly departed is back and for good. Kitten, I’d fully understand it if--.”

“You’re going to say it again, aren’t you? I own up—again—I choose honesty, I pour my heart out just to get another: “No you don’t, but thanks for saying it?”” She closed eyes and shook her head. “God Spike, what does a girl have to say or do to be taken seriously around here?”

“Buffy, you know that I love you,” he began, speaking gruffly. “You’re being so stunningly sweet, so fucking adorable… I don’t know what to do with you. My head’s screaming one thing, but my soul’s saying something else.”

“That does sounds like a problem,” she replied, licking her lips. “Do you want me to wait until you sort things out? What can I do to help you through this difficult decision?”

“You…wait, are you mocking me?”

“Maybe, a little. Boy, to see William the Bloody so morally conflicted…” She had to smile. “Spike, you don’t have to do anything with me. Now that all my mushy feelings have been aired out, you can go your way and I can go mine.”

“No offense, pet, but that would be fucking absurd.”

“If your soul is stopping you from kissing me--.”

“Oh, sod that.”

Buffy expected a demanding consuming lip lock, but his kiss was tender. He seemed more interested in gathering her up and holding her close. Moaning into his mouth, Buffy hugged him back tightly.

“Slayer. God, I’ve missed you.”

“I really thought I’d never see you again.”

“I hate that you had to feel that way. Being away from you was tearing me up inside.”

Her eyes closed as he kissed a line down her neck. She wanted to ignore the question that was nagging her, but she couldn’t do it. “Then why didn’t you find me? I know Angel lied about where I was, but you could’ve reached out somehow.”

“Oh, I wanted to.”

“But you didn’t. Everything Angel said this afternoon, it’s true, isn’t?”

“Mostly,” he said, meeting her eyes. “To have a hero’s sendoff with my lady at my side, then to come back and be demoted to Angel’s wisecracking ghostly sidekick? Being around Angel, pet, everyday is a pissing match. He’s constantly holier-than-thou and I’ll admit I’ve been obsessed with taking him down a few pegs. I didn’t want you to see that.”

“You both have inflated egos.”

“Absolutely,” he replied. He flashed her a wicked smile before kissing her again. Buffy kissed him back, but she broke away too soon.

“Are you trying to fulfill that prophecy just to spite him?” she asked.

“Last I checked it wasn’t called: Shanshu, A Love Song for Angel, the Tall, Dark and Boring.”

“But you don’t need it convince anyone of your worthiness. Spike, you’re already a champion.”

“Baby…”

“No,” she said, squirming out of his reach once he tried to kiss her again. “You can’t distract me with your lips and soft touches. Not yet. I still need answers. And we still need to see your mother before it gets too late.”

“What would you like to know?”

“To start with, is the prophecy really important to you? Just because you have a soul… Believe it or not, I don’t require my vampire boyfriends to be on a constant road to redemption. You don’t have to chase prophecies, unless—Spike, do you want to be human again?”

“Can’t say I’d refuse it, if it were offered. Being human would open some doors that have been sealed up tight for a long time. I could grow old, get some distinguished grey hairs, start a family…all with you, I hope.”

Buffy blinked, instantly speechless.

“If your next question is about me leaving with you, you should know the answer to that. To finish what you started earlier, when two people love each other, it’s only right that they give it a proper go. They live together, they pay bills jointly, they—I don’t know, they buy insurance and have sex occasionally. I’d add babies to the list, but--.”

“Please don’t mention babies,” she whispered.

“So when it comes your vampire fiancés, do you require more or less from them?”

Buffy gasped. Before she could recover, Spike reached for her hand. He lowered himself down on bended knee. Her eyes grew wide.

“Mum’s expecting a wedding, yes? I say, let’s give her one. A walk down the aisle, promises of love, devotion: it doesn’t sound so bad. We’ll even let Angel be the ring bearer.”

“Spike, you can’t be serious.”

“Love, I’ll remind you, this wasn’t my idea.”

“It wasn’t mine!”

“No,” he said, bringing her hand to his lips. “It was Mother’s. And you’ve been running with it over how many state lines? Don’t you love me, Buffy?”

“Yes, but--.”

“I love you. I’d like to spend the rest of my days with you. I don’t care what I am: vampire or human. I just want you.”

When she didn’t respond, he stood up. He no longer looked as confident. “It doesn’t have to be a full-blown wedding. A vampire and the Slayer tying the knot would probably be against every rule out there. Our union would probably throw off the natural balance of the bloody universe.”

“But since when have we played by the rules?” Buffy asked quietly. “We’ve done everything that a vampire and Slayer shouldn’t do.”

“That’s right,” he agreed. “And it’s not like I’d waltz into a church. That’ll bypass at least one bolt of lightning. You know, even a bloody commitment ceremony would do the trick.” He rolled his eyes at his own suggestion. “Hell, no matter what it’ll just be for show anyway.”

“Oh. So that wasn’t a real proposal?”

“It seemed pretty real to me while I was proposing it,” he responded with a sheepish laugh. He ran a hand through his slicked back hair. “But I wouldn’t ask that of you, not for keeps…not this soon. I know we aren’t perfect—we’re nowhere near that. We still have plenty of bumps to iron out in our relationship, but it’s alright. We can put on a performance for Mother’s sake, but we can also turn this mock-ceremony into something brilliant. It could be good for us. Maybe the promises and vows, and going through the motions will give us the foundation we need to start over on the right foot, and then—oh, bloody hell, why are you letting me rattle on like this? Say something. Put me out of my misery.”

“Well, I don’t think a church wedding matters that much,” Buffy began with a shrug. She didn’t know what else to say. “Destination weddings are trendy. We’d just need a judge, I think.”

“Gunn’s brain has been practically pickled in legalese. He’d be our go-to guy if we wanted to make it look legitimate.” He moved toward her cautiously. “Buffy, are we going to do this?”

“Why’s it up to me?”

“Because I’m fairly certain that that’s how it works: I ask, you reply.”

“That might be the case in a normal everyday life. Nothing about this is normal, but how can I turn down a bogus proposal and a fake wedding?”

“Does that mean a fake honeymoon isn’t completely out of the question?”

“I don’t know about that,” she answered. “You’re pushing it.”

“A bloke can try, can’t he?”

“I guess.” After a brief pause she asked, “Do you really think all this fakery will be good for us?”

“It couldn’t hurt. It won’t be a throwaway ceremony. I want you to feel as any girl would on her special day.”

His words struck a chord, but she didn’t want him to know that. “It’s too bad we aren’t in Vegas, planning a wedding in twenty-four hours would be so much easier there. We could have a drive-through wedding, or an Elvis wedding or a drive-through wedding with an Elvis theme. I think Anne might like the King.”

“Least we won’t have to worry about guests or a reception. And I’ll go along with anything as long as it isn’t a daytime ceremony in the bloody park. You can have ‘Wing Beneath My Wings’ as the song for our first dance, if you must. But I don’t recommend smearing red paint on the cake topper to vamp-up the groom this time around.”

Without skipping a beat, she said, “Cute, because now’s the perfect time to remind me of our first sham of an engagement.”

“It was a sham that became a bloody revelation. Do you have any idea how many wet dreams that night brought about?”

“Jesus, Spike… If we go through with this: tomorrow we’ll plan, on Sunday we’ll have the festivities and Monday will be for goodbyes.”

“Sounds like you’re prepping for a battle. You weren’t kidding about this being a quick holiday.”

“Willow said we shouldn’t have Anne here longer than a few days or things will go bad. I don’t know how; I didn’t ask. I don’t want to take any chances.”

“We’re keeping her around just long enough to make her dreams of come true? Slayer, you’re a softie.”

“I think it’s the right thing to do. I think…Spike, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity for everyone involved. Before today, I had never met any of my boyfriends’ parents. Since I seem to date only crusty old vampires, this might be my chance to have something semi-normal that every girl wants, even if it’s make believe--.”

“Alright, that’s enough.”

“It is?”

With his little finger he scratched his brow before hiding his hands in the pockets of his duster. “I’ll go mad if I hear another word, however since I’m a jerk and a glutton for punishment…can I hear you say it? This one time? Leave out fake, sham, bogus and all the words like them. Tell me you’ll accept my proposal.”

“Spike,” she began, wetting her lips. “It’s just so sudden. I don’t know what to say.”

Recognizing the words from their first engagement, he shook his head and cursed under his breath. “Just say yes, and make me the happiest man on earth,” he recited. “Then you say: Oh, Spike, of course, it’s yes.”

“You remember every word?”

“Give or take a few. Now that that’s out of the way, can we deviate from the prior transcript?”

“Spike, yes. I’ll marry you.”

The look he gave her was a mixture of adoration, relief and amazement. “I’d give you my ring, but I stopped wearing that god-awful jewelry awhile back.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m a low maintenance bride-to-be, no ring required.”

“Forget that nonsense. I’ll come up with something,” he promised. “Until then…”

Holding her face between his palms, he kissed her. It made Buffy’s heart ache. Unable to resist, she deepened the kiss, causing them to moan in unison. Spike pushed her back against the closed door.

“Will a kiss alone be enough to seal the deal?” he asked, breaking away suddenly.

Panting, she answered, “Oh, I’d consider it sealed.”

“You alright?” He searched her face. “No second thoughts? No cold feet?”

Shaking her head, Buffy filled her lungs with air and then she slowly released the breath.

“Alright,” Spike said, giving her one last kiss. “Let’s go spread the happy news.”
***

“Mother, are you awake?”

 

Mrs. Pratt was sitting in bed with pillows propped behind her.  She looked pale, but alert.  Her hands were clutched together, as if she’d been wringing them for a long time.

 

“William, I’ve been waiting for you.  I am so very confused.  I’m frightened.  I daresay I’ve seen…”  She struggled to find the right words until she noticed Buffy standing behind Spike.  “Oh, Miss Summers!  Have you recovered from your swoon, my dear?”

 

“I feel great, Mrs. Pratt.” 

 

“I’m relieved.  You must rest, my love.  Rest is the best cure for a touch of the vapors.  Come, sit beside me.”

 

Buffy exchanged a glance with Spike then she walked past him to sit on the edge of the bed.

 

“And how are you holding up, Mother?”  Kneeling between Mrs. Pratt and Buffy, Spike reached for one of his mother’s hands.  “How is the air treating you here?  You look breathtaking.  Is the sickness more tolerable now?”

 

“I confess my health hasn’t been on my mind as of late.  I believe we are in grave danger.  I saw a man…a demon,” she said, leaning forward.  She spoke just above a whisper.  “His skin, his eyes—oh, William, he had terrifying eyes!  I watched him speak to that other man, the one that calls himself an angel?  I don’t trust him.  He is no angel.”

 

“See, pet?  My mum always was a good judge of character.”

 

Ignoring Spike’s amused chuckle, Buffy said, “No one will hurt you, Mrs. Pratt.  You have nothing to be afraid of.”

 

“But what is this place?” she asked, looking from Buffy to Spike.  There was a note of desperation in her voice.  “Please, you must tell me.  The worry is eating away at me.  Miss Dawn said I’ve traveled through time?  How can that be?”

 

“Well, Mother, you were brought here by extraordinary means,” Spike began carefully.  “And you are here, many years in the future, for a very special reason.”

 

“Traveling to—to the future?  That man…?  These things that you speak of…  William, I must know, why didn’t you come home from that party at the Underwoods?  I waited all night and throughout the day, sick with worry.  I must’ve fallen asleep because I woke up with Miss Summers in her home.  She’s been a blessing among this confusion.  I truly believe she’s answer to our prayers.”

 

Spike’s eyes met Buffy’s.  “I couldn’t agree with you more,” he said softly.

 

“Hey, let’s not change the subject,” Buffy mumbled.  “Something happened to William on that night, Mrs. Pratt.  He was badly hurt.”

 

Anne gasped and Spike squeezed her hand.  “It’s alright.  Hear her out,” he urged.

 

“He’s immortal now.  Do you know what that means?  He doesn’t age.  He can be hurt, but it’s much harder to kill him.  He’s still your son, but like I said before, he’s changed.  He’s stronger, faster, and…well, he’s able to be with me because of what happened to him.  I was born in 1981.  If it weren’t for…that night, he would’ve died a lonely man in the year eighteen-hundred-whatever.  We never would’ve met, and that, well, that would’ve been…”

 

“A bloody terrible loss.  It took me a few lifetimes to sort things out, but this girl right here?  Mother, remember when I used to go on and on like a fool about Cecily being my soul mate?  I truly believe I was put on this Earth to find and love Buffy Summers.  I’ve asked for her hand, Mother, and she has accepted my proposal.”

 

“Oh my, this is wonderful news,” Mrs. Pratt whispered.  Tears were shining in her eyes.  “I’m overjoyed for you both.”

 

“We’d like for you to be at the wedding ceremony this Sunday, but we don’t want you feeling uncomfortable or scared,” Spike continued.  “If this is too much for you, we can send you home this instant.  The choice is yours.”

 

“I couldn’t possibly miss my only child’s wedding day.  It will mark the start of our new family.”

 

“Mum…when you return to London, I am very sorry, but we won’t be with you.  It can’t be done.  Time travel…it’s a complicated business.  There’s too much risk involved.”

 

“I see.”  A tear slipped down her cheek, but Mrs. Pratt remained calm.  “Then we must cherish this time when we can be together, mustn’t we?”

 

“Are there questions we can answer to give you peace of mind?”

 

“There is much that I will never fully understand, but I do understand love.  As long as you’re happy and loved, I am happy as well.”

 

“I’m glad to hear it,” he said, kissing her hand.  “But what about Lorne, the green bloke with the horns and terrible fashion sense?”  Spike laughed quietly and Buffy knew he was trying to lighten the mood.  “You know, appearances aside, he’s a dandy through and through.  You’d like him, Mother.  Can you stomach being around him?  Shall we introduce you both tomorrow?”

 

“Spike, don’t push your luck,” Buffy warned through a smile.

 

“Think about it.”  Spike rose to kiss his mother’s cheek and the top of her head.  “Rest up, you’ve been through a lot today.  Let us know if you need anything at all.  We’ll be only a shout away.”

 

Buffy got up and wiped her hands on the back of her jeans.  “Sleep tight, Mrs. Pratt.”

 

“Please wait.  Miss Summers, where will you be sleeping tonight?”

 

Buffy froze.  The question stopped her from leaving the room.  “On the other side of the penthouse…?  In Spike’s bed, but not, um, with your son in it, of course.  That would be so…not good?”

 

“William, and where will you be?  Not on the floor, I hope.  This bed is heavenly compared to our thin mattresses.  It’s like resting on a cloud.  You mustn’t sleep on the floor, I insist.  Miss Summers, perhaps you’d like to share this bed with me?  It is awfully large and I would appreciate the company.  I’d like to spend as much time as possible with my new daughter.  Perhaps we could talk or read together?  It’s shame I don’t have my embroidery…”

 

“When you put it that way…”  Buffy looked down, purposely avoiding Spike’s gaze.  “I guess we can have an impromptu slumber party.  I’ll try to find you some pjs; we’ll do each other’s hair and gossip about boys.  I don’t know anything about sewing, but we can pick up something when we’re shopping for bridal clothes tomorrow.”

 

“That would be delightful.  Can William join us for this party?”

 

“That isn’t exactly how a slumber party works, but we can make some adjustments.”

 

“How exciting!” Mrs. Pratt exclaimed with a smile.  “William, you should recite to us.  Have you any poems that you’ve composed for your beloved Buffy?  We’d love to hear them.”

 

“Oh, I’d much rather spare my beloved’s delicate ears.  I could read to you both, if you’d like.  Why don’t Buffy and I look for a novel and something for you to sleep in?  It’ll just take a moment.  We’ll be back shortly.” 

 

Cupping Buffy’s elbow, he steered her out of the bedroom.  Once away from his mother’s view, he pressed his cheek to hers and whispered, “You are bloody amazing.  She loves you already.”

 

“You think so?”  Taking a deep breath, she allowed herself to lean back against his chest.  “I don’t know if it’s because I miss my mom, and I never thought I’d be cuddling under the sheets with yours, but…  I guess I’ll do whatever it takes to make her happy.  I brought her here; it’s the least I can do.”

 

“Slayer, are you actually disappointed that we won’t be sleeping together tonight?”

 

“I did think we’d have some privacy…”

 

Pleased by her admission, Spike wrapped his arms around her waist from behind.  “Maybe, when she nods off, you and I can tiptoe back into my room?  You know, for privacy’s sake.”

 

“You mean sneaking around behind your mother’s back?  That doesn’t sound like something a gentleman would do.”

 

“It’s exactly what a newly engaged man would do, gentleman or not.  When we were engaged that first time, I couldn’t keep my hands off you.”

 

“I remember,” she snorted.  “You were grabby.  Impatient, horny and very annoying.”

 

“And you enjoyed every minute of it.”

 

“I was under a spell.  I had no say in what I said, did or what I enjoyed.”

 

“Oh, hang on, let’s not give Red’s spell more credit than it’s due.  You’ve had the hots for me since day-one.”

 

“As if,” Buffy laughed.

 

“Yeah, as if anyone really cares.  Why are you two rehashing stuff that happened a million years ago?”

 

At the sound of her sister’s voice, Buffy groaned.  “Butt out, Dawn.”

 

“Hey, it’s not like I want to witness your flirtatious banter.  I can see you here from the couch and I don’t have to strain to hear you either.”

 

“Oh, we’d hate for you to have to strain, bit.”

 

“I hate that she’s eavesdropping period,” Buffy replied, rolling her eyes.  She walked into the living room with Spike at her heels.  “It’s getting old, real fast.”

 

Dawn shrugged off Buffy’s glare.  “So are you and Spike together?  For real this time?  Or are you just resuming your secret raunchy love fest?”

 

“Secret raunchy love fest?” Spike repeated with a raised brow.  “Guess that’s one way to look at it.”

 

“How about we not?” Buffy suggested.  “Whatever happened in the past is done.  It’s over.  We’re moving on.  We’re going forward and--.”

 

“I’ll say, if Spike’s putting a ring on it.  Wait, are you even getting a ring?”

 

“Can you believe at one point today I thought bringing her with us was actually a good decision?”

 

“Girls.  Play nice.”  Ignoring Buffy’s dirty look, he sat next to Dawn on the couch, separating the sisters.  “Dawn, do you have something my mother might want to read?  A book, short story, or even a magazine article will do the trick.”

 

“But keep it G-rated and human-based,” Buffy added.  “No vampires, werewolves, aliens or whatever else you find in the young adult section of the bookstore, alright?”

 

“Let me check,” Dawn said, reaching for the cell phone on the coffee table.  “I have a bunch of stuff loaded on this thing.”

 

“Mum’ll get a kick out of that nonsense.  Who needs pages you can turn and bindings when you can stare at a bloody screen while you read?”

 

“God, you sound like Giles.”

 

“I do not,” Spike replied with a huff, instantly offended.  He looked to Buffy for support.  “Slayer, tell her I am nothing like your moldy old Watcher.”

 

“Sorry, but you are singing Giles’s favorite tune: Technology bad, musty old books good.”

 

“He rants about it at least twice a week,” Dawn agreed.  “Besides, I showed my phone to Mrs. Pratt during the ride here and I think she was impressed and cool with it.”

 

“And since she was down with your fancy phone, you decided it was best to tell her about time travel?”

 

“Was I not supposed to?” Dawn asked wide-eyed.  “I had to tell her something, Buffy, and I don’t think she believed me anyway.”

 

“You should’ve asked me--.”

 

“It’s too late to squabble over it now,” Spike interrupted.  “I suggest we change the subject.”

 

After a pause, Buffy continued, “Anne doesn’t know that Spike’s a vampire or that I’m the Slayer or that you’re whatever you claim to be this week.”

 

“What does that mean?”  Spike looked from Buffy to Dawn.  “Just what have you been up to?”

 

“On some days she’s training with me and the Slayerettes.  Then she has her nose in the middle of all Willow’s witchy-ness.  Before Giles went to London, she was following him around as his mini-me Watcher apprentice.”

 

“Is that right, bit?”

 

“Well, yeah,” Dawn replied.  “I want to help.  I’m just not sure where I fit in yet.  But don’t worry, I don’t want to be a blood-sucking vampire, that’s for sure.”

 

“I’m glad to hear it,” Spike replied with a little smirk.

 

“Speaking of vampires, you guys, how are we going to get Spike’s mom through Angel’s lobby if she’s afraid of demons and if she doesn’t know that other big bads exist?  Carl brought us through a different part of the building to avoid the charity event, but I don’t know what we’ll do during business hours.”

 

“Let’s save that dilemma for tomorrow,” Spike answered.  “We can’t tackle everything head-on tonight.  Besides, Mr. CEO should be able to wrangle his own people, right, Slayer?”

 

“I’ll see what he can do.  Tomorrow,” she added quickly when Spike’s eyes met hers.  “I’ll mention it when I fill Angel in on the big plans for this weekend.”

 

Avoiding his stare, Buffy looked away.  “We still need a book and a nightgown for Mrs. Pratt.  She wants to stay up longer so we’re having a slumber party.  Dawn--.”

 

“For real?” her sister asked brightly.

 

“Maybe you can help her choose a bedtime story while Spike and I look for something she can wear until we go shopping tomorrow?”

 

“Yeah, I can do that.”  Dawn gathered up her phone and suitcase.  “Carl put your bags in Spike’s room, Buffy.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“Just so you know,” Dawn began, speaking to Spike.  “She brought six bags for a weekend trip.  She had a total meltdown while packing.”

 

“That’s enough, brat.”  Buffy watched her sister leave the room before reluctantly turning her attention to Spike.  “I know you’re dying to say something.  Out with it.”

 

“Six bags, pet?”

 

“I didn’t know what I wanted to wear,” she replied, crossing her arms over her chest.  “I wanted options.”

 

“So we should start there on our mission for night clothes?”

 

“Probably.”

 

“About this meltdown…?”

 

“I was nervous to see you again.”

 

His head tilted to one side.  “Nervous?  Over me?”

 

“That’s right, I admit it.  So can we not dwell on it?”

 

“Alright,” he said, getting up from the couch.  “Would you rather talk about Angel then?  Are you really going to tell him about our wedding?”

 

“Well, it is probably going to take place in his law firm.  If I don’t tell him, I’m sure he’ll put two and two together.”

 

“Will you tell him it’s for show?”

 

“I don’t know,” she mumbled.  Spike was moving closer and closer to where she was standing.  “It’s really none of his business.”

 

“Good answer,” he chuckled.  “How about your friends back home?  What will they know?”

 

Her heart sped up at the touchy subject.  She readjusted her crossed arms.  “They will know we’re together.”

 

“So...” he began, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.  “Our raunchy love fest won’t be so secretive for this second turn?  What about the level of raunch, as your sister worded it so elegantly?  Are we cutting back on that too?”

 

“Spike--.”

 

“It’s alright, kitten.  I’m only teasing you.”

 

“I’m being serious.”

 

“I know, that pout is a dead give away.”  Biting back a smile, he traced a line along Buffy’s lower lip with the pad of this thumb.  “Never could resist this lip of yours.  May I?”

 

She nodded, holding her breath in anticipation.

 

“Thought it was a fluke before, but this confirms it.”

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“You,” he answered, brushing his lips against hers.  “I’d say you’re downright smitten with yours truly.”

 

Before she could speak again, he was kissing her.  Buffy held on and responded eagerly.  And once he broke away, she let out a quite whimper without meaning to.

 

“There now,” he panted.  “Slayer, you can’t deny it.”

 

“I didn’t think I was.  Or at least I wasn’t going to.”  Spike’s eyes narrowed in disbelief and she laughed.  “I’ve agreed to marry you, and now you’re shocked over what?  That I like you?  That I like it when you kiss me?”

 

“Well…”  He took a slight step back and moved his hands so they were at her waist.  “An acceptance of a fake proposal might only take a bloke so far, you know?”

 

“And now you want to know if I’ll let you go all the way?”

 

“Eh…no, the thought hasn’t crossed my mind.”

 

“Oh, of course not.  Getting a soul turned you into some kinda monk, that’s good to know.”

 

“I suppose, if you are offering up an answer to the question…  But don’t feel pressed in any way.  Taking our past into account, Buffy, I’m not asking for you to--.”

 

“Spike, wait a minute--.”

 

“Pet, you’re dealing with a changed man.  Some of what we did before, what I put you through--.”

 

“Spike, okay, now it’s my turn to tell you to stop talking.”

 

“I won’t stand for it, Buffy.  Know that.”

 

“Good, because I won’t either.”  Seeing the concern in his eyes, Buffy needed to put him at ease.  “We’re okay.  You aren’t the only one who’s changed.  A girl can only handle so much death before something just clicks.  I lost you.  It was horrible and heartbreaking.  Now that you’re back…”

 

She pressed her body to his.  Resting her chin on his shoulder, she hugged him tight.  She kissed the soft skin under his earlobe and whispered, “I wanted you before.  I want you now.”

 

“Now?  As in, now?”

 

“Down, boy.  Cool it,” she snickered.  “When the time is right, yes, I won’t be opposed to…spending some private time together.”

 

“So when the kiddies are put down for bed, mummy and daddy will play?”

 

“Okay,” she laughed while dotting kisses into his neck.  “That sounds just wrong when we’re talking about your mom and my sister.”

 

“May I suggest we find mum that nightgown, sooner rather than later?”

 

“Yes, you may.”  Her soft kisses traveled from his neck, to his jaw, and finally to his mouth.  “Want to split up?” she asked sweetly.  “I’ll stay with my suitcases while you search Fred’s lab?  A lab coat or hospital gown might be our last resort if Anne doesn’t care for my wardrobe.”

 

“You’re bloody right, I do.  It’s a brilliant plan.  The faster we get this blasted slumber party over with, the better.”

 

Buffy squeezed Spike again before letting him go.  “We’ll meet up in fifteen minutes?”

 

“Bloody hell, let’s make it five.”

***

Less than an hour later, Mrs. Pratt was suitably dressed in a pair of Buffy’s sweatpants and one of Spike’s t-shirts.  Over that, she wore a hospital gown and over that, she wore a lab coat buttoned up to her neck.  She was perched on the couch while Buffy sat cross-legged at her feet.  Her fingers were working deep in Buffy’s hair, braiding and pinning it up and off her shoulders.

 

“It’s starting to look really pretty, Buffy,” Dawn assured her.  “A little old-fashioned maybe, but vintage is always in.  It’ll be a great hairstyle for the wedding.  Can you do mine next, Mrs. Pratt?”

 

“Of course,” Anne replied.  “Although I had no daughters, I was blessed with plenty of sisters.  Being the eldest, I became quite versed in hair.  You’ll see, Miss Summers.  Once I’m finished, you’ll knock my son to his feet with your beauty.”

 

“Spike had better be careful then,” Dawn snickered.  “Buffy’s always been really good at knocking him down, but now if she can do it without lifting a finger…?”

 

In the recliner, Spike looked up from reading Dawn’s cell phone.  “I’m feeling off-kilter already.  But then, I always feel that way when the Slayer’s around.”

 

“Slayer?” Mrs. Pratt laughed.  “My, that’s another peculiar nickname!”

 

“She slays me,” Spike explained with a smirk.  “There isn’t much more to it.”

 

“Oh, gag,” Dawn said, rolling her eyes.  “When is the reading going to start?  Mrs. Pratt has great taste, you guys.  She picked out one of my personal faves.  It’s about this girl and this guy, and--.”

 

“I’ve been skimming through your personal fave, and, I’m sorry, bit, but it’s filth.  A bloody teen-angst driven soap opera.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“And a poorly written one to bat.  Maybe, instead of exposing my mum to this, I should just pop my tape of Passions into the deal over there?”

 

“But—God, I think you and Giles are the last ones on the planet to actually use freaking VHS players!  Buffy, tell him--.”

 

“Oh, no.  I’m being pampered here.  You and Spike can battle this out on your own.”

 

As Dawn and Spike continued to bicker, Buffy shook her head as much as she could.  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Pratt.  I hope the arguing doesn’t bother you.  They aren’t really fighting.  Think of them as feisty puppies or, um--.”

 

“It’s alright, Miss Summers.  It doesn’t bother me in the slightest.  I wanted William to have siblings.  His father passed before we could expand our family.  It’s rather nice to get a taste of how things might’ve been if fate had treated us differently.”

 

Buffy paused for a moment before speaking again.  “I like how you look at things, Mrs. Pratt.  You’re always so positive.  Anyone else would’ve crumbled hours ago, but here you are, after a completely crazy day, staying up late to party--.”

 

“No offense, but some party this is,” Dawn grumbled.  She sulked on the couch next to Mrs. Pratt.  “Since Spike won’t read from my book, and since I refuse to sit through his dumb soap opera, what are we going to do, play board games?”

 

“Board games?” Mrs. Pratt repeated.

 

“They’re like the parlor games we played back home,” Spike explained.  “Only much more tame.”

 

“Tame?  Just what kinda rowdy games did you guys play in Victorian times?” Buffy wondered out loud.  “It’s not like Spin the Bottle was around yet…or was it?  Hey, when were bottles invented anyway?”

 

“William, do behave yourself.  These are good girls.  Don’t sully them with your wicked tales.”

 

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Mother, but they should know we weren’t all lace, corsets, and button shoes.”

 

Out of the corner of her eye, Buffy saw Spike’s mischievous wink as he scooted to the edge of his chair.  “Okay, now I’m almost afraid of what you’re going to say,” she laughed.

 

“I want to know!” Dawn exclaimed.  “Are we talking Victorian orgies?  This is great!  I can totally put this in my paper!”

 

“I wasn’t aware of any specific orgies, but at parties, a group would regularly tiptoe off.  They’d duck into other rooms to play games like, “Squeak, Piggy, Squeak.”  It was innocent fun, but you still had a blindfolded girl spinning around on some bloke’s lap.  He’d make farm animal noises until the chit could correctly guess who she was squirming on.  Another game was “Hot Cockles,” where the bloke would press his face into the lady’s--.”

 

Before Buffy could interrupt him, Mrs. Pratt beat her to it.  “That’s enough, William,” she said.

 

“But it was just getting interesting,” Dawn protested.

 

“Use your imagination to fill in the blanks, bit.”

 

“Okay, so I guess when you say cockles, you aren’t talking about those shells you find at the beach?”

 

“Miss Summers, your hair is now complete.”

 

“Oh, thank goodness,” Buffy said, jumping to her feet.

 

“William, do you have a mirror so Buffy may see herself?”

 

“Eh, yeah.  We’ll have to go a bathroom on one of the legal floors though.”

 

“Oh sure,” Dawn said, filling Buffy’s empty place so Mrs. Pratt could do her hair next.  “They just want to be alone.  Again.  I bet he’ll even show her how to play “Hot Cockles.”

 

Mrs. Pratt’s eyes met Buffy’s and a wave of embarrassment flooded her body.  It made her flinch.  “I know you did a wonderful job, Anne.  I just want to see it for myself.”

 

“Of course you do, dear.  Now, William.” 

 

She looked at her son and he nodded.  “Got it.  No funny business. We’ll hurry back.”

 

“I’ll get my shoes,” Buffy announced.  She kept her head down as she hurried into Spike’s bedroom.

 

“Pet, you alright?” Spike asked, following one step behind.

 

“I’m great.  I just need shoes.”  She went to the open suitcase on his bed and started to search for her flip-flops.

 

“You’re sure?  Baby, it’s okay if--.”

 

“I know it’s okay, but did you see how she looked at me?  And did you see how I reacted to it?”  After slipping on her shoes, she grabbed his hand and pressed his palm to her warm cheek.  “I’m still recovering.  One look did this to me.”

 

“You did light up real nice,” he said.  Buffy knew he was trying not to laugh.  “Like a cherry tomato, ripe for picking.”

 

Her eyes narrowed and she swatted his hand away.  “That’s just what I needed, to be compared to a fruit.”

 

“What is it that you need, Slayer?”

 

“Nothing.  I’m ready to go now.”

 

“Alright,” he said, although he looked at her suspiciously.  “Just so you’re aware, you being bashful?  Especially when it comes to my mother?  It’s becoming on you.  Entirely not needed, but it’s still bloody flattering.”

 

“Gee, thanks,” she mumbled, leaving the room.  After saying a quick goodbye to Mrs. Pratt and Dawn, she waited until she and Spike were alone in the elevator to ask, “Do you think she knows about us?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Does Anne know we’ve had sex?”

 

Spike blinked.  He waited a minute to think over the question.  “I doubt it.  Is that why you’re flaring up?  It is paranoia?  Guilt?”

 

“Possibly,” she admitted, staring ahead at the elevator doors.  “She’s already called me a trollop once today.”

 

“What?”

 

“It was when she thought I was your kidnapper.  You know, toying with your heart and out to get your money?”  When the doors opened, she walked onto the floor of law offices.  Without looking behind her, she continued, “She’s protective of you.  But at the same time, she thinks I’m some kinda saint.  It’s bizarre.”

 

“I don’t think you can change her mind about it though.  Whatever we’ve done, it doesn’t matter--.”

 

“I wouldn’t say that.”

 

“Why not?  She won’t judge you.  She isn’t the type.  We were from the end of the Victorian age; we weren’t bloody Puritans.  She stopped me from telling you about “Hot Cockles,” because she knows the game.  Hell, she’s probably played it before.”

 

“No way,” Buffy said, spinning around.  “Not Anne, she’s too…good.”

 

“Now who’s calling who a saint?” Spike snorted.  “Just because I lived a dismal life with the wallflowers and spinsters, that doesn’t mean she did the same.  As you can tell, she’s a regular night owl.  Before she got sick, you couldn’t drag her away from her high society parties.”

 

“She did mention something about that…but “Hot Cockles?””

 

“Slayer, it wasn’t so bad.  A guy kneeled over with his hands behind his back and his face in a lady’s lap.  That was supposed to confuse him into not knowing who was slapping at his bound hands.”

 

“Your people sure were crazy about guessing games.  It still sounds pretty vulgar--.”

 

“’Cause you’re looking at it with your modern-day dirty mind.”

 

“Trust me, when I have your head anywhere near my lap, you aren’t the only one with hot cockles.”

 

“Is that right?” he laughed.  “Pet, have you considered just how many layers of clothing that women wore back then?”

 

“After seeing Anne bundle herself up like an Eskimo?  Something tells me it was a lot.  So they weren’t, like, nose to nose with…?”

 

“No, not even close, but I appreciate the imagery.  I like your version of the game much better.”

 

“You would.”  She turned on her heels so Spike wouldn’t see her blush again.  “Is this the floor we were on before?”

 

“All looks the same, doesn’t it?  Every floor in this bloody high rise has the same layout, the same furniture, the same miserable cooperate wannabes.”

 

“It looks nice though.  I couldn’t have a steady diet of it, but it’s clean, modern, contemporary…nice.”

 

“All words you wouldn’t typically use to describe my grand sire.”

 

“Well, to be fair, I wouldn’t use three out of the four,” Buffy admitted with a grin.  She continued ahead until she saw an office with its light on.  “Is that Angel’s office?  Is he in there?”

 

“It’s Wesley’s, but I can’t tell if anyone’s with him.  The door’s closed.”

 

“And?” Buffy whispered.  “Can’t you tap into the office with your vampire hearing?  Can’t Angel hear us?”

 

“It’s the walls.  With so many shady-types under one roof, they had to find a supernatural way to block out the sounds behind closed doors.  Privacy, legal matters, confidentially, office gossip.  Hold on.  Pet, I think we should hide.”

 

“What?” she asked with a laugh.  She couldn’t get another word out before Spike had her back against the wall.  Then they were nose-to-nose.  His knee was nudged between her legs and his hands were at her sides.

 

“Wouldn’t want them to see your jammies, right?  Though I must admit, I was disappointed to see you chose such a conservative set.”

 

“Seriously?”  With a wrinkled nose, she looked down at her t-shirt and lounge pants.  “What was I supposed to wear?  For a slumber party with your mother?”

 

“Guess you’ve got a point,” he laughed before kissing her.  His fingers slipped under the hem of her shirt.  She gasped into his mouth once his fingers caressed her stomach and inched towards her breasts.

 

“Spike--.”

 

Suddenly he covered her mouth with his free hand.  The office door opened.  Instead of Angel or Wesley, it was Gunn.  He closed the door behind him before putting both hands into the pants pockets of his three-piece suit. 

 

“You’ve got some balls, man.”

 

“Charles.”  Spike moved in front of Buffy to block her from Gunn’s view.  “What’s the cause for this latest meeting of the minds?”

 

“What are you doing out here, Spike?  Spying?  Or are you really just macking on Angel’s ex in front of the windows?”

 

“The Slayer needed a mirror,” he explained with a shrug.  “Being a vamp and all, I don’t have one.  I’m escorting her to the bathroom.”

 

“I see.  You could’ve gone to any floor though.  We’ve got dozens of them.  And on every floor, the bathrooms are right next to the elevators.  You’re far from the elevators.”

 

“Don’t see how it’s any of your concern.  I’ve been coming and going as I please for weeks.  Never encountered a hall monitor before.”

 

“I hear that’s about to change.”

 

“Is it?”

 

“There’s no need to be defensive,” Gunn said with a close-lipped smile, rising up his hands.  “I hear you’re Vegas-bound.”

 

“That news traveled fast.  Was that a topic of the meeting?”

 

“More or less.”

 

“More or less?  How completely not helpful you are.  Maybe I should just…”  He reached for the door, but Gunn stepped in his way.  “You back to being a bodyguard, Mr. Attorney?”

 

“I think you and Angel have had enough of each other today.  Give it a rest.  Take your girl upstairs and call it a night.”

 

They didn’t say anything for a minute and Buffy wished she could see more than just the back of Spike’s head.

 

“Alright,” Spike said finally.  “The Slayer and I will head back to where we came from.  Pet?”

 

Not sure what he wanted her to do, Buffy went to his side.  He wrapped an arm around her shoulders before saying, “Charles, will you tell his majesty that we’ll speak with him tomorrow?”

 

“Just get out of here.  Now, Spike.”

 

“What the heck was that all about?” Buffy asked, shaking off Spike’s arm as they walked back toward the elevators.

 

“Honestly, I’m not sure.  You think they were talking about us in there?”

 

“Who knows?  Maybe?  Probably?  Did you let me wander over there just so we could put on a show outside of that office?”

 

“From your tone of voice, if I said yes you’d be pissed off?”

 

“Royally.”

 

“Then I should deny it, yeah?” he asked, scratching his brow.

 

“It’d probably be in your best interest.”

 

“In that case, of course I didn’t.  I wouldn’t dream of being so crass.”

 

“No, not you.”

 

They walked in silence until they reached the bathrooms. 

 

“Suppose you won’t be needing a hand…?  Right,” he replied, faced with Buffy’s dirty look.  “I’ll wait for you out here.  Take your time.”

 

Buffy entered the bathroom grumbling under her breath, but she froze as soon as she saw her reflection.

 

“Wow,” she whispered.  She turned her head from side to side, inspecting the elaborate braided up-do.  All at once, she could envision herself as a bride and it made her heart swell.

 

“Now I know where you got your talented fingers from,” she said, walking out of the bathroom a minute later.  “Spike?”

 

He wasn’t where she’d left him, but she could hear him nearby.  Buffy tried not to have her flip-flops smack the floor as she hurried toward Wesley’s office.

 

“You’re too much,” Spike was saying practically in a snarl.

 

“She told me it was okay,” Angel shot back.  “Buffy told me to contact Willow about the spell.  Aren’t you the least bit curious?  Your mother was a vampire, but now she’s suddenly cured?”

 

“She’s cured, but she’s got an expiration date!  She’ll be gone in a few days!  Why bother--.”

 

“I don’t particularly care about your mom, Spike.  I want the spell.”

 

“What’s going on?” Buffy asked, deciding that that was the best moment to walk into the office.

 

“Buffy, your hair,” Angel began.

 

“He’s got a hard-on for your spell,” Spike interrupted as he paced the room.  “Since we won’t let him put my mum under a bloody microscope, he’s invited your friends to join us on our weekend.  Willow, Xander, and if we’re lucky, they’ll have fucking Giles with them.”

 

“Oh,” Buffy replied.

 

“They’ll all be with us on Sunday.”

 

“I gathered that much.  The more the merrier…I hope.”

 

“Would you care to share with the rest of us?” Angel asked.  “What are you two talking about?  Buffy, since when are you not eager to see your friends?”

 

“I see them all the time, and eager is such a strong word…” 

 

Buffy looked around the room at Angel’s team.  She knew some of them more than others.  She hadn’t had a lot of time to imagine how she’d tell Angel of her upcoming wedding, but this wasn’t what she’d had in mind.

 

“It’s a good thing I’m wearing my most conservative pair of pajamas,” she mumbled to herself.  “Or this would’ve been just a little more awkward than it already is.”

 

Hearing her, Spike stopping pacing.  “You don’t have to do it.  Babe, you can wait for the others.”

 

“According to Carl’s brochure, Lorne’s the Entertainment Director of this place?  Maybe we could use his help?”

 

Hearing his name, Lorne perked up.  “Sounds as if you kids might be planning a party?”

 

Buffy nodded.  “Something small, intimate, with food, formal attire…the exchanging of vows.”

 

“It also sounds an awful lot like a wedding,” Wesley declared with narrowed eyes.

 

“Percy, you always were the brains of the operation,” Spike remarked.  He stood next of Buffy, but he didn’t touch her.  “With my mum in town, we’ve decided to put on a ceremony.  I’m gonna get Buffy a ring, and I’m going to put it on her finger on Sunday.”

 

“And you’re all invited,” Buffy added.  She spoke to the group, but her eyes were on Angel.  He was completely stiff and emotionless.

 

“Oh—uh, wow!” Fred exclaimed with a nervous smile.  “I guess I’ll be the first to say congratulations!”

 

“Yes,” Wesley agreed quietly.  His eyes were also on Angel.  “Of course congratulations are in order, and we will attend--.”

 

“Speak for yourself,” Angel interrupted.

 

“Angel--.”

 

“Not now, Buffy,” he said before storming out of the room.

 

She tried to remain calm although her heart was racing.  Tears filled her eyes but she blinked them away.  “When will my friends be here?” she asked no one in particular.

 

“Sometime in the afternoon,” Wesley answered.  “Willow said they should be here around two o’clock.”

 

“I know you all don’t know me well,” she began.

 

“You mean other than as the tiny blonde with super powers that brings our mighty leader to his knees whenever he hears your name?”

 

“Watch it, Lorne,” Spike warned.

 

“I love them both, but Spike and I…”

 

“There is no need to explain it to us, Buffy.  Your love life isn’t our concern, but Angel is,” Wesley said.  “Honestly, I don’t know if he’ll recover from this.”

 

“Come on, he’ll suck it up!” When no one seemed to share his enthusiasm, Spike sighed.  “He bloody-well has to!  The Slayer’s made her choice.  I’m the one she wants and we’re getting hitched.  That’s that.  He’ll learn to live with it.”

 

Another awkward silence filled the room and Buffy looked to Spike for help.

 

“Right.  We’ll keep everyone posted on the time and place of our upcoming shindig.  And, as for Angel…”

 

“I’ll talk to him,” Buffy said.  “I’ll make him understand.”

 

“Good luck with that.”  She heard Gunn say as the group parted ways.

***

“I can’t say that I’ve done a whole heck of a lot in Vegas.  Registering Dawn for school was a nightmare.  And then, there’s the unpacking.”

 

“Unpacking?”

 

“Oh, yeah,” Buffy answered.  “I’ve put some of it off, but the rest of it I can’t get to fast enough.  We traveled before settling in Nevada.  I’ve picked up things here and there, but most of the boxes are from Giles.  Furniture, kitchen stuff, books.  God, he’s sending us lots and lots of books.  But we’re rebuilding, you know?”

 

Spike nodded.  As they leisurely walked down the hallway, his fingers brushed against Buffy’s.  “And you want your Watcher’s furniture?  I hope it’s in better shape than that heap he called a car.”

 

“It isn’t so bad.”  Without thinking twice, she held his hand between both of hers and tangled their fingers together.  “Everything is very…practical.”

 

“I bet.  But your place is nice, yes?”

 

“It isn’t as big as Mom’s, but I think I did well with my Sunnydale Relief Fund check.”

 

“Come again?  Your Sunnydale what-now?”

 

“Relief fund check,” she repeated with a laugh.  “You can’t cover it up when an entire city in California explodes.  The government stepped in and I was there with my hands out.”

 

“It’s about time you got some compensation.  So, money is alright then?”

 

“It’s fine.  I haven’t found a job yet, but you won’t see me back at the Doublemeat Palace.”

 

“Now that’s a shame.  You made that uniform look damn sexy.”

 

“Yeah right,” she snickered.  “No words can express how much I hated that outfit.”

 

“Is that why you were always hot and ready for me to take you out of it?”

 

She wanted to give him a dirty look, but she couldn’t do it.  She smiled and rolled her eyes.  “Spike, you were the only thing that got me through that shitty job.  You were a lifesaver.”

 

The smirk on Spike’s face vanished.  “You’ve never told me this before.”

 

“I’m telling you now.  And if you can help get me through this weekend, I’ll be forever grateful.  You’ve been a doll so far just by keeping the small talk going and my mind off the drama.”

 

They stopped outside of his penthouse.  Spike looked down at their joined hands and Buffy knew he was considering what he should say next.  “Do you want to go to him?” he asked finally.

 

“To Angel?”

 

“Who else, pet?  I saw your face, Buffy, after he stomped off.  You said before you wanted things squared away with him before we could exchange mooneyes, so…  Slayer, I won’t stop you.  If it’s what you need to do before you can be with me one hundred percent, go to the miserable sod.  I know you’ll come back to me when you’re finished.”

 

“Spike…  God, Angel couldn’t be more wrong about you.”

 

“Yeah well, he’s usually wrong about most things, especially where I’m concerned.  He’s a prick.”

 

“I know.”  She yanked on his hand and bumped against him playfully.  “You both bring out the worst in each other.”

 

“That’s because he refuses to acknowledge that I’ve changed.  He’s entitled, why?  Because of his decades of self-pity.  Everything I’ve done carries no weight.  He says my good deeds were done purely for you, because I love you?  Well, so bloody what if that’s the case?  I’ve got my soul, I’ve got my conscience, they revolve around you, but I still know right from wrong.  I’m choosing to do what’s right.  Shouldn’t that mean something?”

 

“It means everything,” she replied.  “Spike, what Angel thinks doesn’t matter--.”

 

“Is that right?  When was this declared?  Is it too late to throw a parade since you’ve finally come to your senses?”

 

“Jerk, much?” she laughed.  She swung their connected hands back and forth a little before adding, “In all seriousness, it blows my mind that you think that way about me.”

 

“Really?  I thought it’d be old hat, seeing that I’ve been doing this song and dance for awhile now.”

 

“About that…”  She looked up at him and licked her lips.  “I’m sorry for not being very receptive before, to your singing and, uh, dancing.  But I’m listening now.  My ears are wide open.”

 

“Is that right?  Well, hell, if I would’ve known my untimely demise would’ve brought on this change of heart, I might’ve offed myself during the apocalypse before last.”

 

“Spike, that isn’t funny.  I don’t love you because you died.”

 

“It’s because I’ve worn you down through the years, isn’t it?”  She knew he was still teasing, but Buffy noticed something else flicker in his eyes.  “Let’s not get carried away, Slayer.  You’d better hurry along now; your Angel is waiting.” 

 

“But Spike--.”

 

“Go on, get it over with.”

 

“But I don’t want to see Angel.”

 

“What was that?”

 

“You heard me,” she said.  “I’m probably the last person he’d want to see right now and I’m not in the mood to argue with him tonight.  I want to stay with you.”

 

“You’re certain?”

 

“Angel doesn’t need me--.”

 

“He wants you, Buffy.  Just as much as before.”

 

“I’m not interested.  Are you trying to change my mind?”

 

“No, not at all.  But I won’t sulk—Slayer, you won’t hear a negative peep from me if you do choose to see him.  I just want you to know--.”

 

“That you’re a good guy?”  When Spike opened his mouth to speak again, she pushed a finger to his lips.  “As much as I appreciate the blessing, Angel can wait.  I should stay with my new fiancé, don’t you think?”

 

“Suit yourself,” he answered with a content smirk.

 

Standing on her toes, she leaned to kiss him.  It was a surprisingly sweet kiss that was cut short once the door to Spike’s penthouse swung open.

 

“Mrs. Pratt, I told you there was nothing to worry about!  They were right outside the door!” Dawn yelled.  Then she stuck her head further into the hallway to whisper, “What, were you guys trying to avoid the rest of Family Fun Night?”

 

“No,” Buffy said, taking a step back.  “We got sidetracked, but we’re ready now--.”

 

“You’re too late.  Mrs. Pratt just finished my hair.  She’s wiped out.  She’s going to bed.”

 

“Your hair is…finished?  Dawn, you look like some kinda porcupine.”

 

Dawn’s hand went up to her head of twisted pieces of fabric and she grinned.  “Isn’t it great?  When I wake up tomorrow I should have ringlets.  Ringlets, Buffy!  Without using a curling iron!  I’m so stoaked!  We almost cut up one of Spike’s t-shirts, but I decided to use washcloths instead.  They had little Wolfram and Hart emblems on them so I thought Angel wouldn’t mind if we hacked them up.  He probably has a factory full of them, right?”

 

“Bit, you could’ve used the bloody sheets for your rag curls; I doubt Angel would bat an eye,” Spike answered with a short laugh.

 

“But don’t,” Buffy added.  “Please don’t.  We’re already on his bad side.  Take it easy with the cutting and hacking.”

 

“Especially since your big sis here has already done a similar number on Angel’s delicate heart this evening.”

 

“He knows?”  Dawn’s eyes went down to their connected hands.  “Are you guys okay?”

 

“Only mildly offended,” Spike shrugged.

 

“What did he say?”

 

“Nothing,” Buffy said.  “He just left the room.”

 

“And before that, he announced that the Scoobies are coming to town.  Aren’t we lucky?” Spike asked with a grin that wasn’t exactly thrilled.  “It’ll add more to the headcount of the wedding party.”

 

“But…why?  I love Xander and Willow, but I was enjoying it being just the four of us.”

 

“I know what you mean,” Buffy admitted.  “But maybe they’ll be happy for Spike and me?  Maybe they’ll be civil?  They’re willing to help Angel and they helped me when I tried to resurrect Spike.”

 

“And if they aren’t?”

 

Buffy looked at Spike after he asked the softly spoken question.  “Then we ask them to leave.  Or we’ll leave.  We’ll take our wedding on the road.”

 

“You’d do that?  Really, pet?”

 

“Well, I’m sure running away should be the last resort, but I don’t want everyone upset on Sunday.  It should be a happy day.”

 

“Buffy, all I need is you, me and a ring.  No offense, Dawn, but sod the rest of them.”

 

“But…but what about Anne?  I thought,” she shielded half of her mouth from Dawn and whispered, “Isn’t she the driving force behind this?”

 

“I love her dearly.  This reunion means the world to me, but…”  With his eyes still on Buffy, he said, “Dawnie, will you give us a minute?”

 

“Why don’t you guys just come inside?  Unless you really like sneaking around and muttering in hallways?”    

 

He thought it over and then he nodded.  He motioned for Buffy to enter the penthouse first.

 

As Dawn shut the door behind them, he spoke to Buffy alone.  “I don’t need an excuse to marry you.  I’d do it with or without my mother as a witness.  I don’t want to scare you off or push too soon, Slayer, but I will mean my vows.  In my eyes, our wedding will be far from fake.  Maybe there’s a chance you’ll feel the same way?”

 

She gasped silently.  Her heart started to pound.  “Spike, I--.”

 

“Hush, you don’t have to say anything now, or at all, babe.  You should get some rest.  Think it over.  We can continue this tomorrow.”

 

Buffy blinked as he kissed her forehead and finally released her hand.

 

“Goodnight, Buffy.  Dawn.”

 

She watched as Spike went into his bedroom and shut the door behind him.

 

“That was kinda sudden,” Dawn remarked.  “What happened?  Are you going in there after him?”

 

“I want to.  God, I really want to, but I made a promise to Mrs. Pratt.”

 

“What kind of promise was that?”  As she spoke, Dawn dropped a blanket and two pillows on the couch.  “Do you promise not to bone her son?”

 

“What—ew, no!”

 

“Just checking,” she laughed.  “I see the way you’re looking at him, Buffy, and everyone knows Spike’s completely insane about you.  I just don’t understand why you aren’t busting down that door to be with him.  If I were you, I’d be all over him.”

 

“Dawn,” she mildly scolded.

 

“Well?”

 

“I told Mrs. Pratt I wouldn’t sleep in his bed.  She wants me in her room.  She wants to spend mother-daughter time with me.  What else am I supposed to do?  I can’t say no to that woman.”

 

Dawn settled on the couch with the pillows behind her head and the blanket up to her chin.  “You know, I bet she wants to give you ‘the talk.’  I read that mothers did that back in the day.  They’d let you know what to expect sex-wise just before your wedding night so the virginal bride wouldn’t be as horrified—oh God!” Dawn giggled.  “Maybe she wants to give you tips on how to please her son!  They used to do that too, you know.”

 

“Do you think she’s really do that?”  Buffy’s face twisted at the thought.  “It was bad enough when Mom gave me the sex talk years ago.  I’d probably curl up and die if I had to go through that again with Spike’s mother.”

 

“If Mrs. Pratt thinks she’s being helpful…  She probably has no idea that you and Spike are former sex fiends.”

 

“Dawn…  Where the heck did you read about this?  And don’t you dare tell me it was research for your damn paper.”

 

Her sister closed her eyes then she said, “Library.  Historical romance section.  I have a few books downloaded on my phone if you want to educate yourself.”

 

“No.  Thanks.”

 

“Okay, but I think you’re missing out.  Can you turn off the lights for me?”

 

Once the living room went dark, Buffy heard Dawn say, “There, now I won’t see you when you sneak into his room.  Isn’t that convenient?”

 

“God, you’re such a brat.”

 

“I’m thinking I’m more like cupid.”  Dawn waited a beat and then she added, “Goodnight, Buffy.  I know you’ll do the right thing.”

 

Buffy shook her head and replied, “Goodnight, Dawn.”

***

 

Buffy took off her flip-flops and let the straps dangle from her fingertips as she walked toward the bedroom. She opened and closed the door soundlessly. She faced the bed and accidently dropped her shoes onto the carpet.

“Buffy?”

In the dark room, Spike’s skin seemed to glow, making it possible for her to make out his half-naked body from where the sheets were riding low on his hips up to his still-perfect hair.

“I wanted to see you,” Buffy said. The words came out in a rush. “I hope that’s okay.”

“It’s great, but we haven’t been apart more than a couple of minutes. Shouldn’t you be cozying up to my mum instead of gawking at me?”

“Did you happen to overhear my conversation with Dawn? Or,” she continued, scanning the rest of the bedroom. “Is this place magically sound-proofed too?”

“The walls were made with vampires in mind like everything else in Angel’s mighty palace. You could scream your head off right now, and no one would hear you. Not even Dawn’s meddlesome ears.”

She took two steps forward and then she nodded. “That’s good to know.”

“Is it?”

“If you make me scream, Spike, it won’t be because I’m scared.”

“Is that so?” His head tipped slightly to one side. He pushed back the sheets and Buffy was surprised to see he was wearing loose drawstring pants.

“Just living by your modest example,” he said, as if he could read her mind. “You’ll have to put in a little bit of effort if you wanna get to my naughty bits tonight.”

Even in the shadows, she could see his wink and mischievous smirk. She was also lucky enough to see his muscles flex as he crawled from the middle of the massive bed to sit on its edge. He sought out her hand and she couldn’t help but smile as he brushed a kiss onto her knuckles.

“Is that why you’re in here?” he asked. “Is this a booty call?”

“You wish,” she snorted.

“That isn’t far from the truth.” He looked down as he played with her fingers then he gazed at her through heavy-lidded eyes. “How much time do we have? Minutes? A few hours? Let me know so we can manage our time as wisely as possible.”

“I try to get eight hours of beauty sleep each night.” She walked toward him again until she was standing between his spread knees. Her chest was at his eye-level. “But don’t worry, I’m pretty flexible. I can write off a few hours and I should still be able to pull myself together in the morning.”

“Forgive me for being daft, but what’s that supposed to mean exactly?”

“I couldn’t make it down the hallway. I couldn’t force myself to even try. Then Dawn said I should do the right thing.”

“And you ended up in here?”

“As much as I like your mom, I’ve missed you too much and I’ve wanted you back too badly to sleep under the same roof but not in your bed. It just can’t happen.”

“Now, pet--.”

She took one final step forward, pressing her body against his. She smoothed back his hair and leaned over to lightly kiss his mouth. “About what you said before…”

“I didn’t want to mislead you.”

“So your proposal was real after all?”

“It might’ve not been my most inspired confession of love and devotion to date, but--.”

“You meant it.”

“I assumed that was a given.” He laughed, but quickly sobered. “How does all this make you feel?”

She took a deep breath and released it against his skin. “I love you. I need you with me.”

“As your husband?”

The word sent a shiver throughout her body.

“’Cause you know, if we’re going to battle it out with Angel and your friends, it’d be silly to do so if we’re faking. To fight over something we aren’t certain about ourselves? Why go through the heartache over nothing?”

“This isn’t nothing,” she protested without a second thought. “But that…that’s a valid point.” She dug her teeth into her lower lip. “Did you just come up with that?”

“Makes sense, doesn’t it?”

“Do we—Spike, do we have to talk to Gunn about the legal stuff before we get married? Isn’t there someone else? I don’t think he likes me very much.”

Spike blinked then a smile pulled at his lips. “He’s just standing up for his leader as your Scoobies do for you. When the teams huddle up, they can be ruthless. Being the odd man out, and for both sides, I can say they mean well enough. In most cases. Usually.”

“You’ve felt that way a lot, haven’t you? Like the odd man out?”

“Eh, historically speaking? I wanted to belong quite terribly once. I got over it. Now, I’m only interested in belonging with you, and to you.”

His arms went around her and settled low on her hips. “I’m yours already, Buffy. You positive you want me as your ball and chain?”

Nodding, she held his face between both hands. “You won’t be alone or the odd guy out ever again. We’ll have our own team: just you and me. ‘Til death do us part, but let’s hold off on the death, okay?”

“Death has always brought us closer.”

“I don’t care. I’m so over it. I’ve had enough.”

“Alright,” he chuckled.

“I won’t lose you again,” she promised.

Kissing him, she let go of her inhibitions. Using her lips, tongue and teeth, she poured out the feelings she’d been grappling with for so long. She clung to him and was grateful when Spike helped her into his lap. She tangled her legs around his waist and a groan erupted from the back of her throat.

“Hang on, hang on,” he chanted. He yanked her shirt over her head. “That any better, love?”

“No,” she replied stubbornly.

“Baby wants more?” Clearly pleased, he stood with her huddled against him. “Oh, now she’s gonna get it.”

“She’d better,” she said, arms clinging around his neck. He was keeping her elevated with both hands on her backside. He squeezed her ass simultaneously and Buffy knew he was purposely trying to drive her crazy. “Spike, put me down. I need…”

“I know exactly what you need.”

He dropped her onto the center of the bed as if she were weightless. She hadn’t stopped bouncing against the mattress before he was next to her with his mouth on hers, rubbing and searching. Mirroring her urgency, he slipped off her pants with one quick motion.

“Once we’re married, it’ll put an end to nonsense like this,” he said, tossing the pajama pants to the floor. “There will be no more conservative nightclothes for you. For either of us.”

“Is that your first husbandly decree: we sleep naked?”

“Nakedness isn’t necessarily an requirement, but it’ll always be appreciated.”

“For the record, I like these pants on you. You shouldn’t have all the fun. I like undressing you.”

“Well then, by all means.” He leaned back and straightened out his legs. Buffy laughed, noticing his wiggling toes as he provocatively lifted his eyebrows at the same time.

“Sexy, honey,” she snickered. In only her underwear, she went to him on her knees. Facing forward, she straddled his hips and sat.

“Hey, I thought--.”

“What’s your hurry? I told you we have until morning. And you told me I’d have to put forth some effort before I’d see your naughty bits.”

“Yes, but you know me very well, well enough to know just how much of an easy lay I am with a naked Slayer within reach.”

“I’m not naked yet,” she sang. She ran her palms up and down the taut muscles of his chest.

“And yet I can hardly contain myself. You always have me quivering like some bloody schoolboy.”

“I love it. It’s amazing.”

With a hooked finger, she pulled at the band of his pants and peeked inside. Suddenly her mouth became dry. She slid the tip of her tongue along her equally dry lips.

“I’ve thought about this. About how different it’d be if a miracle brought us back together. Things between us would be slow and tender and—well, honestly, my daydreams include excessive amounts of smooching and cuddling.”

“Is that still what you want?”

Swallowing, she bobbed her head. “With you sitting in front of me, and with me sitting on you…? I’ve thought about those last few nights in Mom’s basement so much. They were perfect.”

“But?”

“But we need more.” She scooted her hips, suggestively nudging the bulge in his pants. “We both need a lot more. And no matter what, this’ll be different. Because this time, you’ll know that I love you. And hopefully you believe it?”

“Buffy--.” He said her name on the tail end of a gasp. “Buffy—fuck, pet, you’d better stop that.”

“Why?” she asked sweetly. Her fingers were dancing against his velvety-smooth cock. “I’ll have no problem getting you hard again.”

She tugged on him, knowing exactly how to make him cum quickly and intensely. She watched his body convulse with a satisfied but still stunned smile.

Holding him close, she dotted his lips with kisses as he continued to gasp for unneeded air.

“That was almost better than I remembered. Your o-face is so damn pretty.” Laughing, she rested her head on his shoulder. Spike squeezed her against him roughly and her giggles died in her throat.

After being rolled onto her back, Buffy opened her knees wide so she could cradle his weight. She tunneled her fingers through his hair and sighed as he kissed her neck. They’d been together countless times before, but she wanted to savor every second. She wanted to be present mentally and physically.

“Kitten, I’m southern-bound here. You might want to release your claws from my hair so I can go down on you properly.”

“Oh,” she said, sheepishly releasing handfuls of his now-messy hair. “Um, carry on.”

“Any suggestions on where I should begin? Any particular fantasies you’d like to reenact?”

As he spoke, he slipped her bra from her shoulders one strap at a time. Her left nipple caught his attention first. He licked it through the satin of her bra and took it into his mouth.

Buffy was aching before; now she felt as if she were on fire. She squeezed her eyes shut as they twitched. He licked a trail down her stomach. He inhaled, facing the sweet spot between her legs, but then he pulled away.

“Slayer, you still with me?”

A finger grazed her damp underwear. The simple touch made her body jerk.

“I won’t be for much longer.” Grabbing his wrist, she pushed his palm flat against her core. “I love the sexy teasing and foreplay as much as any other girl, but—please? Please, Spike?”

She didn’t wait for an answer. Groaning in frustration, she tore off her remaining clothing and pitched them aside. Spike watched her every move closely then he welcomed her back into his arms and onto his lap. Latching her mouth over his, she managed to keep her hands busy. She snaked them between their bodies to position his cock at her entrance. Then she took him deep inside.

“Buffy?” He said her name quietly and she met his dilated eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Well now, it’s about fucking time.” With a playful snort, he cupped her butt, rocking her against him at a steady pace.

Surrendering completely, Buffy just held on tight. She babbled about how good he felt and how much she’d missed him until she could no longer form words.

The orgasms hit them both hard, but Spike was relentless. He prolonged her pleasure to the brink of lightheadedness.

“Stay with me,” he said, keeping her stable. “Focus on me. Fight off the swoon.”

“I don’t swoon. Slayers don’t--.”

“Oh, but mine does…when you push her buttons just right.”

“I see what you’re doing there, with your word play and double meanings. Cute.”

With a grin, he lowered her onto the bed. He gave her one last kiss before leaving her.

“Spike?”

“Just a sec. I’ve got to free myself from these damn shackles.”

“Oh,” she laughed, realizing his pajama pants were still tangled around his ankles. “Hurry up and hurl them already. I’m not done with you.”

“Bossy, chit. Get under the covers if you’re cold, and roll over so I can get behind you.”

“Now who’s Mr. Bossy?” she asked, although she followed his directions without hesitating.

Her chest tightened as he spooned against her back. Their legs became intertwined. An arm wrapped around her and he held his hand under her belly button. The tip of his pinky finger was nestled in the curls between her legs.

“This what you had in mind?” He mumbled the words against the back of her neck. “You, me, lovemaking and a cuddle until you fall asleep?”

“You know the answer to that.”

“Never thought you and I would be on the same page, let alone be able to agree on something as permanent as marriage.”

“Thank you for taking this chance with me,” he continued in a whisper. “I won’t let you down. Wouldn’t muck this up for the bloody world.”

She said his name, but it came out as a soft croak.

“Why don’t we rest for a bit? Before morning, I’ll love you again. How’s that sound? Good?”

“Perfect,” she managed to get out. Her eyes were damp. She slid his arm up so it fit more snuggly around her waist. She held her hand over his.

Feeling content and thoroughly loved, she slept with a smile on her face.
***

Buffy woke up to the sensation of fingertips gliding across her lower back. She was on her stomach with half of her face against a pillow. Inhaling deeply, all the memories of the day and night before flooded her sleepy brain.



“Good morning.”



“Hey,” she said, turning her head toward Spike’s side of the bed. He was sitting up as if he’d been watching her sleep. The sight of his spiky hair and kiss-swollen lips made her smile. He was more attractive first-thing in the morning than Buffy had thought possible.



“What time is it?”



“About half past eight.”



“I thought you were going to wake me up early,” she accused with a slight pout. “You promised.”



“I did. But you were dead to the world. Snoring and drooling. Couldn’t bear to bother you. Knew you needed the sleep.”



Her mouth opened, she was about to tell him she didn’t snore and that she never drooled, but she rolled her eyes instead. “It’s because you remembered what Dawn said yesterday. God, she’s always butting in, even when she isn’t in the damn room. Well, I think sleep is overrated. I don’t need sleep.”



“You’re gonna get it though. That, and food. You’re skin and bones, Slayer. Did you eat at all yesterday?”



“I was busy. I had a big lunch before I came here, and when I saw the food Lorne brought up, I lost my appetite.” Scooting over, she pulled the blankets up to his lap so she could rest her head on his thigh without extra temptation. “Spike, are you going to take care of me from now on?”



“Someone’s got to. You’re not doing it too well on your own.”



She could feel him playing with her hair. One by one, he plucked out all the pins and untwisted all of the braids.



“It isn’t intentional,” she explained, snuggling closer to his leg. “Ever since we left Sunnydale, I’ve just felt…off. I thought I was covering it up, but apparently you can’t get anything past my sister. But seriously, as much as I appreciate it, you don’t have to take care of me. I’m not Drusilla--.”



“That’s for sure,” he laughed.



“Excuse me?” She sat up suddenly and her hair fell to her breasts in unruly curls. “I hope for your sake that that was a compliment.”



His blue eyes had a hungry glint as they swept from her waist up. “Absolutely. Pet, there’s no comparison.”



“Well, she is crazy and unstable and—and she’s got that goth-thing going on.”



“And you’re my golden goddess.”



“Please,” she grumbled with another eye roll.



“I love it when you’re jealous.” Reaching forward, he brushed the pad of his thumb across one of her nipples. “You know,” he continued, staring at her thoughtfully. “I think we’d both enjoy this conversation more if you came a bit closer.”



“She must’ve had something special about her,” Buffy grumbled, lying on the bed again. This time, she pillowed her head on his chest and wrapped an arm around him. “You tolerated that big ho for, like, ever. Way too long if you ask me.”



“She made me what I am.”



“No, she killed you. She turned you into a vampire, but it hardly changed who you are. And that’s amazing. Even before you fought by my side, and then for your soul… Spike, I take it back, you’ve always been the special one.”



“You flatter me,” he said. Buffy could hear a smile in his voice. “And I will take care of you, Slayer, especially when you’re my wife. It’s in my nature. I’m a bloody caregiver, alright?”



“Okay,” she laughed. “Vampire superhero, world-class lover, and now nurse extraordinaire? Lucky me, I’ve hit the husband jackpot.”



“What was that?”



Hooking her arms around his neck, she kissed his lips as she climbed on top of him. “You heard me,” she said, experimentally rubbing her hips against him. She found him hard, just as she had anticipated. “You heard every single word.”



Using his short fingernails, Spike scratched a light trail from her waist to the sides of her breasts and back down. Then he rested his hands squarely on her backside.



“We should memorialize that. You think Mum could teach you how to cross-stitch that onto a throw pillow for our bed in Vegas?”



“Sure, why not? Once she realizes we slept together, and if she doesn’t shun me for defiling her sweet William, I’m sure anything’s possible. I’m sure I could figure out how to sew.”



“Are you worried? I’m sure she’ll react as any 19th century mother would.”



“You think she’ll react badly?”



“I didn’t say that, but we are breaking all the rules of etiquette that she holds dear. Our two-day engagement has our reputations in shambles already. In her eyes, we’re ruined.”



“Really?” She gasped without meaning to. “She hasn’t said anything.”



“And she won’t. Decorum won’t allow it, and my mum has never failed to observe the proprieties.”



“And that means..?”



“Worst case scenario? I imagine we’ll get the silent treatment or a disappointed look. Perhaps she’ll settle on a guilt trip.”



“You’re kidding,” Buffy remarked. “Here I thought I’d have to sneak back in there and lie through my teeth to avoid some kinda vicious mama bear attack. If we were talking about my mom—heck, we’d be dead meat, and she was only like three steps away from a hardcore hippie.”



“Okay, so there’s some wishful thinking on my part. I can’t say what she will or won’t do with absolute certainty. She’s never had to face this before. It’s only taken a hundred-plus years for my mum to stumble across me with a girl in my bed. And under these circumstances, she’s earned her status as a wild card.”



“So maybe I should go in there? Maybe there’s enough time to--.”



Before she could finish, Spike kissed her silent. He rolled them both over, pinning her beneath him. “To what?” he asked gruffly. His hands snaked between them to hold his cock to her opening. “What is it that you want to do, Buffy?”



“That…God, that’s not fair,” she gasped.



“Don’t go. Stay. Just ten minutes,” he continued softly. “Give me this chance to keep my promise.”



“As if I need convincing.” Her hand met his and she helped to push him into her body. “Spike, you totally had me at hello.”



“What?”



“You complete me?” When he still looked lost, she laughed. “Um, show me the money?”



“Babe--.”



“Still nothing? Damn.” Giggling again, her hooked her legs around him. “Where were you circa 1996? Dru must’ve had you living under a rock.”



“And where were you? In diapers somewhere?”



“Eh,” she paused, finding it challenging to keep their conversation going as waves of pleasure rocked through her. She dug her fingers into his shoulders. “I was, um, here. A freshman in Los Angeles. Valley girl to the extreme. Hung up on Tom Cruise, before it became lame to crush on Tom Cruise.”



“Buffy, kiss me.”



Their mouths met frantically, but she wasn’t able to kiss him back for long. She whimpered as she started to cum. She gripped him, squeezing from the inside out. Spike let out a growl, finding his release almost at the same time. Without thinking twice, Buffy guided his head to her neck. He kissed the smooth tender skin, but he didn’t bite her.



“Slayer—baby, I can’t.”



“Oh. I just thought…you always asked to do it before, so I thought… It’s okay. I should’ve asked.”



“Buffy, let me explain,” he began. He withdrew from her body and motioned her into his open arms. “What you just did there, just the offer, it means a bloody lot, but if I have any human blood in my system the Wolfram and Hart guard dogs will sniff me out. I’ll be tossed out on my ass or worse.”



“Let me guess, it’s another one of Angel’s rules?”



“Animal blood only for all vamps. It’s enforced company-wide with random blood screenings. Doesn’t matter if it’s donated or… Pet, my grand sire is entirely no fun. Besides…” Inhaling deeply, he leaned in to kiss and nuzzle her neck one more time. “Perhaps we should keep you pure until our wedding night?”



“Spike,” she laughed, running her fingers through his hair. “I hate to break it to you, but I don’t think there’s anything pure about me anymore. I’ve been there, done that. Unless…will you claim me after we’re married?”



Spike froze then he looked at her with narrowed eyes and a crooked grin. “What do you know about claiming, cutie?”



“Um, not much. Nothing, probably. Giles brought it up once or twice. Here and…uh, there. It’s a pretty big deal, right?”



“More or less,” he replied, grinning a little wider. “Sweetheart, don’t look now, but we’ve run out of time.”



“Oh.” Buffy frowned at the clock on the nightstand. “You’re going out there with me, aren’t you?”



“You have to ask? Of course. I’ve got your back.”



“Good,” she said. She held his face in her hands and kissed his lips three times in a row. “Let me—just don’t move. I’ll find our clothes.”

***



“All I can say is, things are different nowadays. We have standards and rules, but they’ve changed. They’ve evolved with everyday life. Divorces are super common, women vote and work out of the house… Some of the changes you’ll find are really good, but others? Not so much. You guys cared a lot more about what society thought. Well, now, we’re pretty self-centered. You can call it independence or whatever, but most of us don’t give a crap what other people think.”



“Oh my,” Mrs. Pratt replied.



“I know,” Dawn continued with her mouth full. “It’s crazy.”



“Dawn, what are you talking about?”



Her sister jumped a little before turning in her chair to face them. “Hi, Buffy. Hey, Spike.” She waved her hands as she continued to chew. “Hold on, I’m about to choke on my bagel.”



“Now that would be tragic,” Buffy said with a forced smile. “Answer the question, please.”



“Fred brought us food. Mrs. Pratt said that Froot Loops and bagels are unlike anything she’s had for breakfast. So one thing led to another and--.”



“And that fancy speech just came to you?”



“Actually I was about to explain how views on love and sex, not unlike our wide variety of breakfast foods, have dramatically changed since Mrs. Pratt’s day, but you can take over if you want to.”



Buffy nose flared. Her hands balled up into fists.



“Well now,” Spike spoke up with a snort laugh. “I’m usually all for tackling the elephant in the room head-on, but let’s take a step back. This isn’t suitable talk for our breakfast table. Don’t you agree, Mother?”



“I believe so…?” Anne replied. “William, I will trust your judgment on the matter. Miss Dawn’s been very helpful and informative, but I confess I’m still rather perplexed.”



“I know, and that’s perfectly alright.” As he spoke, he ushered Buffy toward the tabletop of food and handed her an empty plate. “My mum isn’t here as some kinda social experiment, Dawnie. Yes, she’s in the future, but she doesn’t need to know every detail on how humans have or haven’t mucked up their lives for the past century.”



He sat next to his mother and smiled. She smiled back warmly, reaching for his hand.



“Mother, you are loved.”



“Oh, dear, of course. I realize that.”



“You will be cared for and protected by every person in this room until you leave us. And as much as I’m aware of you being a blasted worrywart--.”



“Now, William,” she looked away and laughed softly. “It’s a mother’s duty to worry, and you know it.”



“You needn’t worry about me or my future wife, but if something is weighing on your mind, something about last night’s sleeping arrangements for example, I hope you’ll speak up.”



“Oh. Oh, I would never. It isn’t my place.”



“I never lied to you, Mother. I won’t start now. Buffy slept in my room last night. Now she’s terribly upset to think you’ll look down on her for doing so. Isn’t that right, Slayer?”



All at once, Buffy was the center of attention. She slowly put down her plate of food and joined them around the table. “I…I didn’t want to be disrespectful. But then I couldn’t stay away from--.”



She cut herself off, realizing what she was about to say.



“Mrs. Pratt, I snore,” she continued in a rush, tearing her bagel into small pieces. “It’s bad. So, so bad. Sp—um, William knew I’d keep you awake so he offered me his room.”



She looked around, waiting for someone to challenge her.



“And since she’s airing out all her dirty laundry, I’ll let you know, Buffy drools as well.”



“Spike.”



“That’s what Buffy’s known for, her deviated septum and her plastic pillow case,” Dawn chimed in with a giggle.



“No, she’s known for her heart and her courage,” Spike corrected. “Mother, she’s worried herself sick over you.”



“I hate to hear that,” Anne said, turning toward Buffy. “Miss Summers, I only wish you would’ve told me of your condition last night. William’s always been a heavy sleeper. He’s also a considerate man. It pleases me to see that you and my son were cut from similar cloth.”



“Mrs. Pratt,” Buffy began, relieved. “You have no idea how much it means to--.”



“Okay, when you say cloth, what kind of cloth do you mean exactly?” Dawn asked thoughtfully. Then she giggled again, “Is it pleather? Or velour?”



“You were cut from Spandex!” Buffy hissed, tossing a chunk of bread across the table. “That’s for sure!”



Dawn’s smile instantly became a frown. “What’s that supposed to mean? Spandex is way gross.”



“Think about it. It’s skin tight, it smothers and it’s literally a pain in the--.”



Spike’s laugh cut Buffy off. “Come now, ladies. Of all the ways to squabble, name calling by way of fabrics? Is there anything else we need to share or clear up before we can start on our breakfast?”



“Fred made me promise not to bother you guys until after you got up. I guess Angel’s been demanding to see Buffy all morning. He missed some important meeting; he’s holed up in his room. Fred thinks he’s drunk. He won’t stop talking about Buffy and cookie dough? God, he must be plastered.”



Buffy’s eyes grew wide; she was caught taking her first bite of food.



“Slayer, do you know what he’s going on about?”



“Unfortunately.”



“What to talk about it?”



She shook her head and after she swallowed, she continued, “I’m no poet. I don’t have your way with words. It wasn’t my best analogy, that’s for sure. It isn’t worth repeating, especially not in a group setting.”



“Say no more. I suggest we finish up here and get dressed—both at a leisurely pace—then we’ll pull his sorry ass out of its drunken stupor, how’s that sound?”



“William?”



“Sorry, Mum. I’ll mind the language, but Angel inspires me, you see.”



“Will you tell me about this Angel fellow? You dislike him, does he truly not live up to his name?”



“Angel’s the man in charge here. He runs this building and the law firm on the floors below us. Some swear he’s a saint, but I know better. I’ve known him for a very, very long time. He’s taken what’s been mine more times than I care to admit. But that won’t happen again. He used to court Buffy--.”



“You’ve taken his intended?” Mrs. Pratt asked with a scandalized gasp.



“No, no, it was nothing like that,” Buffy answered. “We weren’t that serious. Angel and I didn’t intend to do anything.”



“They were sweet on each other,” Spike continued.



“And it was a long time ago. Like ages ago, Mrs. Pratt. And it didn’t last very long either. Just, um, two or three years,” Dawn added. When Buffy looked at her, she shrugged. “What? I can’t contribute to the conversation too?"



“It’s a tangled web, Mother. Mutually, we can’t stand each other, but we’ve worked together recently. He’s always been sore about Buffy and me. About me in general really. It’s jealousy. He could never be as handsome, charming or--.”



“Humble?” Buffy suggested. She and Spike exchanged a smirk before she continued, “Angel’s one of the good guys. He may not act like an actual angel all the time, but he’s okay. He’s letting us stay here. He’s feeding us.”



“Oh, and he’s letting Lorne be your wedding planner! I forgot that part! He told Lorne to help you guys out before he got wasted. Sounds like your wedding might be all expenses paid.”



“Fred said this?” Spike asked Dawn.



“Fred told me what Lorne told her. Lorne talked to Angel this morning and heard about the cookie dough firsthand.”



“And Lorne is? Should I know that name?”



“The guy with the horns, green skin and red, beady…” Buffy trailed off once Anne’s eyes grew wide. “Okay. Maybe we should just eat? Unless Dawn has anything else to spring on us?”



His sister shook her head. “I’ve got nothing.”



“Thank goodness.” She caught Spike’s eye again and said, “First, we conquer breakfast. For some reason I’m starving.”

***

“Spikester, you’re sure about this? It isn’t too late for me to put a bag over my head. Cover me up in burlap; Mama won’t know what lies beneath this burgundy Calvin Klein suit.”

“Just act normal, mate,” Spike replied, speaking softly. “She wants to take part in this. Try not to scare her.”

“I may be green-skinned, but that doesn’t automatically make me a monster. Did you try explaining to her that I’m just your regular-old, karaoke-singing empath demon?”

“We try not to use words like ‘demon’ around Mrs. Pratt,” Buffy whispered from where she stood next to Spike.

“Now, there’s our blushing bride-to-be,” Lorne said, touching Buffy’s shoulders as he air-kissed her cheeks. “You’re in good hands, blondie. I know you just left Vegas, but I’m here to give you Vegas back. Say the word, and we’ll reconstruct the entire Little White Wedding Chapel in Wolfram and Hart’s ballroom.”

“I…” Buffy trailed off, staring at him blankly.

“But if that isn’t your style, we’ll do something else.” Forcing a laugh, Lorne pushed a heavy tote bag toward Spike. “Hold this for me, will ya? I have color palette samples, menus galore, and every bridal magazine I could find within a five-mile radius. We’ll have your dream wedding planned out in no time. Which is a good thing because we only have twenty-four hours and counting—did anyone else just feel a spike in their blood pressure?”

“Yes, but probably not for the same reason,” Buffy mumbled.

“Lorne, how much coffee have you downed this morning? Simmer, man. We’ve given my mum the best pep talk we can manage, but she’s still fragile. Take it down a notch. And before we start with the wedding planning, we need to speak about my mother’s clothes.”

Lorne peeked over Spike’s shoulder to where Anne was sitting in the living room and he grimaced. “Yes, I see that we do. What exactly is she wearing?”

“Exactly what it looks like,” Buffy answered. “A dress, a hospital gown and a lab coat.”

“And no one else finds that just a tad kooky?”

“She needs clothes for today, tomorrow, and probably the next day. Not to mention her special party dress. She wrote down her measurements. She needs dresses. Modest dresses, underwear, nightclothes; you get the picture.”

“We wanted to take Anne out, but—well, you see her,” Buffy explained. “She isn’t ready for the mean streets of LA.”

“Leave it to me,” Lorne said, his red eyes dazzling. “Heck, I’ll do all the shopping. I’ve got Angel’s company card. I can get the decorations, your gown, the rings--.”

“Wait, I’d like to get my dress,” Buffy interrupted. “That’s something I want—I need to pick out my own dress. And I want me and Spike to chose our rings. But everything else? It’s fair game as far as I’m concerned. Spike, what about you?”

“It’s fine by me.”

“That’s music to my ears,” Lorne said. “Let’s get started.”
***

Buffy sat on the couch with her legs tucked under her. Sandwiched between her and Spike was his mother. Dawn was sitting in front of Mrs. Pratt on the carpet. As a group, they watched as Lorne paced the length of the living room.

“First thing’s first: location. Do you want to stay in this building? Is a nighttime ceremony a given? The sun-proof windows here open up a lot of opportunities. You could say, “I do” at noon in sparkling daylight. What about a rooftop wedding?”

“Rooftop?” Buffy repeated, instantly interested. “Is it, like, enclosed? If Spike’ll be safe… I like the idea of a ceremony at sunset or dusk. The reception could go into the night, and I know the city lights from thirty-stories high would be to die for.”

“You trying to make this easy for us, Slayer?” Spike asked. He leaned forward to smirk at her from across the couch.

“You told you; you won’t find any bridezillas here. No, sir. I have enough drama in my everyday life; I want my wedding to be a breeze. Just call me, Miss Agreeable.”

“Well, Miss Agreeable, how about we clear out the rooftop greenhouse for the ceremony?” Lorne continued. “I can have the Spells and Incantations Department remove all their poisonous and oozy plants. We can get white folding chairs and some accent lighting—have you thought about your wedding’s colors?”

“I’m partial to red and black.”

“William, you can’t be serious,” Mrs. Pratt spoke up. “Black is the color of mourning and other unpleasantries. Using such a gloomy color for a wedding? It simply isn’t done.”

“It is, actually, and it can be quite chic, if used correctly,” Lorne began, but a glare from Spike stopped him. “But let’s keep the colors more…perky?”

“The Slayer likes hot pink. Pink and gold remind me of her. Not bubblegum, but something deeper, richer. Like a coral or peach or something.”

“And what do you think, Buffy?” Lorne asked, leaning against the recliner.

“I wish I had my crayon box with me right about now,” she responded with a little laugh. “I would like to see brighter colors. And I do like pink, and maybe blue? Spike’s eyes are an amazing shade of blue.”

“Yes,” Mrs. Pratt agreed. “I’d say they are cerulean in hue, however they change with the lighting he’s under. I’ve noticed they’ve become more remarkable since I’ve come to this place.”

“Pink and blue? Okay, there’s my first challenge: how to make this soiree not look like a baby shower.” Lorne said the words quickly and under his breath. “What about flowers? We’ll fill the greenhouse, but now we’re talking bouquets, the groom’s boutonniere, the mother’s corsage, a headdress for the flower girl--.”

“Flower girl? Does he mean me?” Dawn asked, looking Buffy. “I want to be the maid of honor or at least a bridesmaid. Come on, I’m not twelve anymore.”

“No one said you have to be a flower girl, Dawn.”

“Oh, okay. Good. But…but I can still have a flower headdress, right?”

“Sure, why not? Heck, I don’t know anything about flowers, you guys,” Buffy admitted. “I mean, I like them, I think all girls do, but I’ve rarely received them. Aren’t there like millions to choose from? I won’t know where to begin. I don’t have a favorite flower. I don’t even have a top five.”

“You know, pet, Mum’s expertise could come in handy here. Her tussie mussies were treasured throughout London. She’d gift people tiny bouquets wrapped in a hanky. Every flower held some meaning. Maybe, if she’s willing to work with Lorne, she could put together some samples for you to choose from? I hope you’ll consider it, Mother. It’d give you something to do when we’re out and about and tending to Angel.”

“And it’s not like you’ll be alone with him,” Dawn added. “I’ll be with you. I’ve been trained by both Buffy and Spike, if he tries something, I’ll just kick his funny green butt.”

“Isn’t that heartwarming?” Lorne remarked, looking uncomfortable. “Mrs., um, Mother of Spike--.”

“You may call me Mrs. Pratt, young man.”

“I’m not as bad as I look, honest. We have a common goal here, right? We want to give these crazy kids the best shotgun wedding that Angel’s money can buy.”

“Lorne.”

“Okay, forget the shotgun part,” he said, shrugging off Spike’s warning. “Let’s forget about weapons, butt-kicking and skin color in general. I need all the extra hands I can get, and I could really use your help, Mrs. Pratt. What do you say?”

Their eyes met, but this time, Anne didn’t look away. “I will do it,” she said with a single determined nod. “I will offer my guidance. I will do it for my family.”

“Mrs. Pratt, that’s great news,” Buffy said warmly.

“I’d like clarification on some things though, what is a rooftop wedding exactly? And it will take place as the sun sets? Why, I’ve never heard of a ceremony taking place past three o’clock! How will the ceremony take place in a greenhouse?”

“Mum, surely you remember hothouses?”

“Yes, but do they hold church services among the flowers in the future? Where will the clergyman stand?”

“It won’t be a traditional religious ceremony, per say,” Spike began carefully. “But we’ll have the greenhouse mimic a church, just, we’ll go easy on the crosses and such. I know couples usually wed in church or at home in England, but we’ll make do with what we have.”

“It already sounds beautiful,” Buffy said, smiling at Mrs. Pratt. “I can’t wait to see what you and Lorne come up with.”

“It’s gonna be awesome, I can feel it,” Dawn added. She crawled over to the tote bag Spike had dropped by the coffee table and pulled out a magazine. She flipped through it as she spoke. “Instead of having a wedding planner, you’re getting an entire wedding team. Lorne will make things flashy, Mrs. Pratt will keep things traditional, and I’ll oversee so everything is still hip and trendy. Boy, this’ll be fun!”

“I bet,” Spike laughed. “Just remember to have Buffy’s okay on everything, alright? In the end, it’s all about her. This is Buffy’s special day.”

“William, will you really have no opinion?” Anne asked.

“If Buffy likes it, I’ll like it.”

“And you all thought I was easy to please,” Buffy snickered.

“All I ask is that the Slayer and I look over this greenhouse before you get carried away. I’ve never seen it, and if it really holds poisonous oozy plants—whatever the hell those may be—we might need hazmat up there before we can throw our party for all we know. It’s best to be safe rather than sorry.”

Spike stood and he motioned for Buffy to do the same. “We’ll check it out before we see Angel and we’ll report back.”

“What? You’re leaving already?” Lorne followed them to the door. “I still have a million questions! What about food? Are we providing a meal? We haven’t discussed the cake! Cake flavors, icing types, designs, colors, wedding toppers!”

“Buffy likes chocolate.”

“Yes, she does,” Buffy confirmed with a grin.

Spike hooked their arms together, hurrying her through the door. “Mrs. Pratt, Dawn—I gotta go!” she called out with a laugh. “Text me with questions, okay?!”
***

“That wasn’t very nice,” Buffy said, still arm-in-arm with Spike as they entered the elevator a second later. “Did your ADD kick in, honey?”

“All that bloody fussing,” Spike grumbled as he pushed the button for the elevator’s highest floor. “I couldn’t take anymore.”

“That’s how you plan a wedding though. You fuss and nitpick over every teeny tiny detail--.”

“It’s insufferable.”

“I thought it was exciting,” Buffy shrugged.

“Did you really?” He turned to face her. “You enjoyed all that prattling?”

She nodded, a close-lipped smile on her face. “It’s overwhelming, but in a good way. It’s another girl thing, I think.”

“I see, so you were one of those types…” Trailing off, he moved in front of her. He smiled and played with a strand of her hair. “Let me guess, bitty Buffy imagined herself in a big fluffy ball gown, doing a victory lap in her pumpkin carriage after joining the one and only Captain Forehead in heavenly matrimony?”

“That was the dream once, but it’s changed. Captain Forehead morphed into his devilishly handsome enemy Captain Peroxide and I outgrew the princess motif.”

“Sounds like an upgrade if you ask me.”

“I agree. It is better. Much better,” she said as Spike leaned in to brush their lips together again and again. His kisses were so light, each one felt like a separate tease. “I think we’re a better fit. You…fit me.”

When the elevator paused, its doors opened and closed. They didn’t look up or away from each other until they heard someone clear their throat.

“What do you want?” Spike asked with a heavy sigh. “Come on, speak up.”

“Are you on your way to see Angel?”

“Not at this very moment. We’re going to the roof.”

“The roof?” Wesley repeated. “Whatever for?”

“It’ll more than likely be the spot for our wedding if you must know.”

“Oh, I see.” Wesley said nothing for a second then he cleared his throat again. “Perhaps I could convince you to make a brief detour before you reach the roof? As thrilling as the roof may be--.”

“What is it, Wesley?” Buffy asked, taking a step away from Spike’s arms.

“What has Angel done now?” Spike added.

“It’s what he isn’t doing that I’m afraid of.”

“We know he missed a meeting, but can’t he have a sick day or take personal leave?” Buffy wondered out loud.

“Wolfram and Hart’s shareholders can be very…strict, if not demanding. I will beg you if that’s what’ll take for you to help get him out of that bloody room.”

Buffy looked at Spike briefly then she shrugged at Wesley. “What if he won’t see me?”

“If you could try—sooner rather than later—I’d ask no more of you.”

“Guess that isn’t a deal to pass up,” Spike remarked. “Silly us, for thinking we could put off Mr. High-and-Mighty for an hour or two for our own business. But you should do a favor for us as well. Can you look into the greenhouse that’s on the roof? Do you think it’d be safe enough to have people in there?”

“I don’t see why it’d be a problem. If the flesh-eating plants are moved out, of course it’d be safe.”

“Flesh-eating? Like the flesh of people? You’re joking, right? Spike, is he joking?”

“I don’t believe Percy’s capable of cracking a proper joke… We need that place cleared out, mate. Preferably before Lorne leads his flock of tasty sacrificial lambs up there, alright?”

“I’ll have a team sent up at once,” Wesley said with a serious nod.

“And when this team is up there, they’ll help with whatever else is needed, right? My mum and her sister can only do so much.”

“As long as you’ll hold up your end of the bargain, yes.”

“Okay,” Buffy replied, taking Spike’s hand. “We’ll do it. Right now. Or at least we’ll give it a try.”
***

Nothing was said for the rest of the elevator ride. Wesley stepped onto Angel’s floor, and Buffy and Spike followed a step behind.

“Something on your mind?” Spike asked, gently shaking their joined hands. “Slayer, I can see steam coming from your ears.”

“I’m just wondering why a fancy law firm like this has a greenhouse of people-eating, poisonous, and oozy plants. Not only is it bizarre, it’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

“That sounds like a question best-suited for Angel’s right-hand man.”

“Angel hasn’t told you about Wolfram and Hart?” Wesley asked, looking over his shoulder.

“She’s asking now,” Spike said. “Come on, take the bait. We all know the Watcher in you can’t resist the lure of spouting off exposition.”

“Well, this isn’t your typical law firm,” Wesley began. He turned and stopped walking just outside of Angel’s penthouse. “We have many dealings here besides our legal work.”

“I read all of Carl’s brochure and it didn’t mention anything about harvesting evil plants in the firm’s CV. I didn’t know Angel was into gardening.”

“How about Interment Acquisitions? You know that’s just a fancy term for grave robbing? Found that out the hard way.”

Wesley cringed at Spike’s remark, but it disappeared quickly. “The plants are used in spells and as weapons. Cultivating new species is one of a wide range of activities sponsored by our Special Projects Division, along with hiring assassins, developing cutting-edge supernatural warfare, and so forth. Angel is doing his best to rehabilitate certain departments, but this is a firm, run by demons, that represents despicable clients from all walks of life. The agenda here is…colorful at best.”

“He really means it’s just one step above downright evil.”

“And you chose to stay at this place?” Buffy asked, side-eying Spike.

“Wolfram and Hart has existed since before the dawn of human history,” Wesley continued. “If we weren’t managing it, someone else would be, and I’d rather Angel be in charge, at least of the LA branch. We do good work here. Fred’s research laborites alone have made staggering progress. And we protect as many innocent lives as possible with the firm’s unlimited resources. Understandably, it’s led to the Senior Partners questioning Angel’s leadership. Therefore we don’t need his absence agitating them further.”

“I guess not,” Buffy said, frowning. “I’ve promised Mrs. Pratt that we’re safe. Are we safe here? I have very important people here, people that I love, and more are on their way. If we’re sitting on some kinda demon-law firm landmine… Cancel the wedding, because I’m checking out of this place so fast.”

“Pet, there’s no immediate threat,” Spike assured her. “If we were in any real danger, I’d know about it.” He waited a beat before saying, “Right, Wesley?”

“Angel’s meeting was rescheduled, if he isn’t sobered up by this afternoon…we’ll talk.”

“Oh, so there’s no pressure on us or anything.”

“All of it will turn out fine,” Spike said, squeezing her hand. “We’ve gone up against much nastier baddies than a heartbroken Angel with a hangover. And I’m sure Wesley has a backup plan if all else fails.”

“You mean other than us running for our lives?” Wesley asked.

“Spike.”

“Now that was a joke,” Wesley continued with a barely noticeable grin. “Mostly, anyway. You do know when our employees are fired, the Shareholders literally have them set on fire? Poor job performance is simply not tolerated.”

“Spike!” Buffy gasped, bugging out her eyes.

“What do you want me to do, babe? Smack him one? He isn’t joshing this time. I know it happened.”

“I just—Wesley, stay here,” she said, pointing next to Angel’s door. “I can only handle one cheeky British guy at a time right now.”

“Suit yourself, but if you need anything--.”

“We’ll know where to find you, especially since the Slayer’s put you in timeout,” Spike snorted. With his free hand, he tried to open Angel’s door. “Do we know where he keeps a spare key?”

“I believe--.”

Before Wesley could finish, Spike kicked the door in.

“I was about to say there’s an extra key on the top of the doorframe!”

“Well, isn’t that a case of shoddy security?” Spike shrugged, unaffected by the annoyed tone of Wesley’s voice. “Maybe we should change that once the door’s replaced, yeah?”

“After you, Slayer,” he said, holding the door open for Buffy. “Let’s get this over with.”
***

Angel’s penthouse was nearly identical to Spike’s, only Angel’s living space was a mess. Books, paperwork and empty bottles covered the tabletops along with most of the floor.

“Looks like a tornado hit this place,” Buffy said, scanning the dark room. “God, what’s that smell?”

“It’s booze, love. Surely you remember that distinct aroma from our night of kitten poker, where you got completely hammered?”

“Ick, don’t remind me. I’ve had two hangovers in my life, and that one went on for days. I was so mad at you.”

“Me? Who am I to refuse a lady when she’s itching to drown out her sorrows?”

“Do you think that’s what Angel’s trying to do here?”

“Yeah, too bad the booze will only magnify his woe-is-me state,” Spike answered, narrowing his eyes. He stayed close and kept their fingers securely entwined. “I should know; I tried to drink away Drusilla numerous times.”

“How’d you get over her? Wasn’t she the love of your undead life?”

“You have to ask? I moved on. I became fixated on you. She means nothing more than squat to me now. If I were in Angel’s shoes, I’d--.”

“What would you do?”

Angel emerged from the dark bedroom with a bottle hanging from his fingers. He was dressed for bed, but he looked exhausted, as if he’d been awake all night.

“Bloody hell, man. Put a shirt on, will you? We don’t need you prancing about like some drunken Chippendale.”

“It’s nothing Buffy hasn’t seen before,” Angel replied, leaning against the doorframe lazily. He leered at her and took a long drink, draining his bottle. “Don’t keep us waiting, William. What would you do if the girl of your dreams was snatched up by the biggest pain in your ass?”

“You mean like when you stole Dru from me for the umpteenth time back in Sunnyhell? Sure, I drank my share, but I kept my wits about me. I teamed up with the Slayer and we sent you to a miserable hell dimension. Remember that, peaches?”

“Didn’t you abandon Buffy in the end though? Hey, maybe I should send you to a different dimension?” Angel suggested cheerfully. “One word to the Senior Partners and that’ll take care of William the Bloody once and for all.”

“No,” Buffy said, breaking her silence. “If you touch him, or send him anywhere…”

She trailed off, too irritated to finish. “You will not do anything to Spike. I’m sorry you’re upset. Angel, I didn’t want to hurt you.”

He ignored her, focusing only on Spike. “You know what she told me in Sunnydale—right after she kissed me? Hold on, she reeked of you then, were you two dating at the time? Oh, but you never dated, you just fucked.”

“Okay, that’s enough.” Buffy stomped forward, but Spike held her back.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but we did share a bed those last few nights. We did nothing but sleep. You see, the Slayer and me, we’re more than sex, but you can’t get that through your thick skull. If I couldn’t ever make love to her again, I wouldn’t bail on her. Unlike you, I’d stay with her, because I love her--.”

“I love her too!” Angel roared. He threw the bottle at the wall behind them. It wasn’t close enough to hit anyone, but Buffy and Spike ducked anyway. “She said she wasn’t done baking yet! She said I had to wait—but lover boy doesn’t have to? I wait patiently while he’s eating cooking dough? Now you’re talking marriage? To him? Damn it, Buffy, does this mean you’re cookies?”

“Oh, you’re actually talking to me?”

“It isn’t fair, Buffy.”

“And neither are your tantrums. Knock it off and sit down. Now,” she said when he just started at her.

“Buffy--.”

“On the couch,” she demanded, her voice icy. “Spike, you might as well join him.”

“What? No—but why? What’d I do?”

“Nothing. You don’t have to sit next to him, just stand over there. Please?”

Spike reluctantly released her hand. On his way to the other side of room, he flipped on the lights and smiled when Angel hissed and covered his eyes. “The Slayer wants us to pay attention. Listen up.”

“When Angel gave me that amulet, he asked me questions that I wasn’t able to answer. He wanted to know if you were my boyfriend, and—well, it didn’t sound right. So I told him you were in my heart,” Buffy said, looking at Spike.

“I wasn’t sure if any of us had futures, so I was completely unsure of what was happening with our relationship. I wasn’t ready to deal with our Dawson’s Creek-style love triangle that night either. With the First and Caleb, and the world about to end… So I said I was cookie dough,” she said with a shrug. “I was baking: learning, finding myself. I thought it would be a long, drawn out process, but being with Spike, fighting by his side, and loosing him? And then missing him, mourning him…getting him back.”

She took a deep breath and finished softly, “I’m not unsure anymore. I was miserable without him. I’m still learning about myself, but Spike—he makes me better. And he tells me that I have the same effect on him. I can’t ignore that. I know I said I needed to bake…” She trailed off with a quiet laugh and rolled her eyes. “I can’t wait. What I feel for Spike is real and intense and—and good. If you can’t accept him or our marriage…”

“Buffy. Sweet, calm down.”

Suddenly Spike was at her side. She wanted to tell him she was completely calm, but she realized her face was wet once he slid the pad of his thumb under her eye.

“You alright? You don’t have to continue if you think we’re not getting through. Fuck him, pet, especially if he’s making you cry.”

“It isn’t him, these are tears of the happy kind,” she said with an embarrassed grin. “I just got carried away. Where was I anyway?”

“I think you were about to give him an ultimatum.”

Buffy turned back to Angel. All the anger seemed to have drained from his body. “I’ve been working so hard,” he said. “Pursuing prophecies, soul searching, constantly fighting—who is it all for now?”

“How about doing it for yourself, mate?”

“Oh, that’s fucking rich, coming from you.”

“What other choice do you have?” Spike continued. “Unless you get off on setting yourself up for failure and disappointment? Let’s say you continue your good deeds, all in her name. She’ll probably continue to love you for it, but only as a friend. Guess you could wait around until we break up, but I’ll tell you now, I’m not letting her go without one hell of a fight. We aren’t just playing house, we’re in this for keeps.”

“We aren’t looking for your permission,” Buffy added. “But I need to know where we go from here. Can we be friends? If it’s too painful—say the word, and we’ll get out of your hair. But I’m hoping I won’t have to loose you. You mean so much to me, but if I have to choose, I’m choosing Spike.”

The room became eerily quiet. Angel just stared ahead.

“Angel?” She took a step toward the couch. “Are you still with us?”

“Watch it, he’s known to have hellish mood swings when he’s sloshed. Give him an inch, he’ll start throwing shit again.”

“No, he won’t.” She caught Angel’s eye and joined him on the couch. “He’s too smart to do something like that. I just need know what he’s thinking.”

“He’s thinking that you deserve someone better than him,” Angel answered finally.

“Angel--.”

“It’s insane, but if he truly makes you happy… Damn it, Spike, you’re a lucky bastard. I don’t know how you managed to pull this off.”

“He never gave up. He was patient and loyal and--.”

“Okay, I get it: Spike’s great. Spike’s super. He’s so freaking fantastic, my head hurts just thinking about it.”

Buffy watched, slightly amused as Angel held his head and rubbed his temples. “I detect no lies on the Spike front, but I doubt he made your head ache. I mean, really? Don’t you think you drank a little too much last night?”

“And this morning,” Spike added.

“No,” Angel grumbled. “I’ll play nice for you, Buffy, but I’ll always blame him.”

“For what?”

“Everything.” Spike and Angel answered at the same time. Where Spike was smirking, Angel had a grimace on his face.

“At least you two can agree on something,” Buffy remarked with a laugh.

“He loves pestering me.”

“That, I do. I live for it. Well, that and you, babe,” Spike added after a beat.

“You’re sure about this guy?” Angel’s eyes met Buffy’s. “He’s the one? You realize he’s an ass, right?”

She nodded, a smile pulling at her lips. “He isn’t the only one to luck out here. He’s been sure about me when I wasn’t sure about myself. I almost made a huge mistake by not really accepting his proposal—thank God, I woke up. I love him.”

Angel looked between them with a frown. “I can’t change your mind?”

“Nope, but you can continue paying the tab on our big day though. Your money’s being put to good use already by the way, on napkin rings, party favors and those little bite-sized corndogs.”

“Spike,” Buffy scolded. “Angel, we’ll pay you back--.”

“No.” He leaned forward and before Buffy knew what was happening, he pulled her in for a tight hug.

“Oh, hey,” she said, patting his bare shoulder. “You might want to hold off on the PDA, mister.”

“If I can’t change your groom, Buffy, let me perfect the rest of your wedding. Consider it a gift.”

“How heartwarming, a present and an insult all rolled up into one. Thanks, ever so.” Spike said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Now if you’ll kindly release my bride-to-be, you can gift us further by pulling yourself together. Stop drinking, clean up, and do your bloody job.”

“Wesley’s preparing for another apocalypse if you miss this meeting,” Buffy said once Angel returned to his corner of the couch. “Why is it so important? Do you always jump through hoops for these Shareholder-Partner guys? Wesley filled me in somewhat, but he didn’t say what this meeting’s all about.”

“That’s because he doesn’t know. The Senior Partners are big on confidentiality. They’re interested in keeping their secrets, and finding out yours. They have spies—telepaths planted throughout this building.”

“Will you be reaching the point anytime soon?” Spike asked, growing impatient. “Buffy already feels uneasy here. Why egg it on? What’ll you say next, that they’ve got our rooms bugged? Don’t be a fear-mongering idiot.”

Angel’s eyes narrowed then he said, “They know about Anne. Why else do you think I wanted Willow here with that spell? Anne was a vampire. She died. Somehow she’s managed to come back from the dead, as a human, with no recollection of dying--.”

“So you’ve pointed out before. And spies told the bigwigs this, and about my mum…? You sure you aren’t interested in using the spell yourself in one last pathetic attempt to steal Buffy away? Next you’ll say you drank yourself silly to stall your meeting with the bosses. Because you can’t just be the jealous sod you are, right? You can’t own up to it. There has to be a courageous ulterior motive.”

Buffy let Spike’s words sink in. She turned to Angel and asked, “Is he right? Would you do that? Angel, it’s okay to be hurt, but--.”

“No!” Angel snapped, jerking away from her sympathetic touch. He stood up too fast; he lost his balance and fell back against the couch with a curse. “Spike doesn’t know everything! He’s so—he’s completely out of line! Believe what you want, but he’s wrong!”

“Told you he’s a mean drunk. Even his golden-boy soul can’t change that.” Reaching for Buffy’s arm, Spike nudged her toward the door. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this, love.”

She nodded, startled by Angel’s outburst. “We’ll come back when he’s sober.”

Before they could leave the penthouse, she heard Angel say, “Don’t bother. Just plan your stupid wedding.”

Swiftly, she turned on her heels to scowl toward the couch. “I think that’s exactly what we’ll do, because we’re done here. You’re not yourself. You’re upset. You’re hurting. I don’t know if you’re drunk or if you’re having a hangover—I don’t even care, but I understand. We’re not trying to flaunt our relationship, I just thought… For the first time, in a long time, I know what I want and I’m happy. I’m getting married.”

“I’m not stopping you. I’m giving you money. Go, marry the guy.”

“I don’t want your money--.”

“But we’ll take it,” Spike interrupted only to flinch when Buffy glared at him too. “Well, it isn’t even his dosh, pet! He’s only a puppet for Evil, Incorporated! If we don’t spend their money, they’ll just spend it on more evil!”

Buffy took a deep breath and closed her eyes briefly. “Just tell me: Angel, are you going to your damn meeting?”

“I’ll be there with bells on.”

“Good, then our job is done here.”

Grabbing onto Spike, Buffy stomped out of the penthouse.

“He’s all yours,” she said to Wesley as they continued down the hallway.

“How’d it go?”

“I’m not talking to him again until he’s sober.”
***

“Keep it up, love, and your face’ll freeze like that. Can’t have you turning into a permanent sour puss. Imagine what it’ll do to the wedding photos.”

Buffy reluctantly looked over at Spike, and as expected, his smirk was contagious. “I can’t help it. Angel’s made me grumpy. I haven’t seen him act like that since…”

She trailed off and her frown came back in full force. “Booze or no booze, that was borderline Angelus bullshit, Spike.”

“Hey, let’s take a break for a bit.” Before they reached the elevators, Spike pulled her aside. “Come here, will you?”

“I guess,” she said, walking into his arms. She rested her chin over his shoulder and closed her eyes. “We should’ve just stayed in bed. Or at least in your place, I was much happier there.”

“I wholeheartedly agree, but—alright, Slayer, although I hate the big poof, I think you’d benefit from a touch of devil’s advocating here.”

“You’re going to back Angel up? Has hell frozen over? Did I miss the office memo?”

“Hush, you. It’s been twelve hours tops. He’d be not only a fool, but he’d be a bloody saint to get over you in so little time. In his eyes, we’ve dropped a bomb on him. He needs time to lick his wounds. Time, where he isn’t pickled in alcohol preferably.”

“That doesn’t excuse his behavior and the things he said. ” She looked at Spike, but then she played with the neckline of his black t-shirt. “I want Angel to be okay, is that too much to ask? I don’t want to rush him just so I can feel better about my bomb-dropping, but I don’t want our happily ever after to, you know…?”

“Turn him into a bigger baby than usual?” Spike suggested.

“Yeah,” she admitted with a muffled laugh. “Do you think he’ll retaliate somehow? Do you think he already has? He’s wigging out over this damn spell.”

“I say, let him have it.” He slid both hands under her shirt and pressed his palms against her lower back, bringing her closer. “Let him make his point. It’ll only prove how fucking wrong he is.”

“But these all-seeing, all-powerful shareholders…?”

“Are they interested in my mum? Doubt it, but I could be wrong. Did Angel purposely rat us out? Maybe. He said Wesley was clueless about this meeting—well, that isn’t how they run things here. It’s one giant game of telephone, especially among the old Angel Investigations team, no matter how confidential a secret is.”

“You think he’s lying.”

“I think he wants to become a real boy very badly and old age is making him lazy. If a spell could bypass the hard work he was bellyaching about, and if it won you over to boot--.”

“That’s dumb though. I won’t dump you because he starts breathing.”

“What if he could walk with you in the sun?”

“You mean, we’d be exposed to harmful UV rays together? Be still my heart.”

“Okay,” he chuckled. He leaned to kiss the side of her face and then he asked, “But what if he could give you children?”

That question made her pause. “First of all, infertility is something a lot of couples deal with. Second, I think babies are overrated. I don’t know if I’d be any good at taking care of one. I’m still convincing myself that I’m cut out for my upcoming wifely duties.”

“You’ll be brilliant on both counts. A bloody fantastic wife and mummy.”

She smiled as he buried his face against her neck. “Besides, we can adopt if my maternal instincts wake up all hungry and demanding up one day.”

Before she could say more, Spike was kissing her. “Don’t worry about Angel,” he said, breaking away to rest his forehead against hers. He watched her catch her breath. “Don’t let him get to you.”

“That’s so much easier said than done.”

“He may never be okay, Slayer, not while he still carries a torch for you. And I know from experience, once someone falls for you, there’s no turning back. You get your hooks in deep.”

“It isn’t intentional. God, what is it about me that drives you vampires wild?” she laughed. “Wait, don’t actually answer that. I love Angel, I really do, but—you saw us when we tried to date. Sexual tension was an obstacle, but it still felt…forced? I wonder about it a lot; if he didn’t have a curse, or if he hadn’t left at graduation, would Angel and I still be together?”

“A better question is: if you were tied to him, would I still be able to weasel my way into your heart?”

“God, you and these questions. How do you come up with them? Remind me never to play Truth or Dare with you.”

“Buffy,” he sang, coaxing her to answer.

“I wouldn’t cheat.”

“But?”

“But.” She snorted softly and rolled her eyes. “I’d be attracted, tempted and turned on, maybe, but not enough to cheat. I’d want you. I thought you were a total hottie from day one. I hated you more because of it. A big bad shouldn’t be so damn pretty.”

“You’ve got this three-pronged attack going on,” she continued, stroking his sharp cheekbones with both hands. “The accent, the hair, the body; and that’s not touching on any of the greatness that lies beneath the bad boy surface—and speaking of appearances, you mentioned wedding photos. I thought vampires didn’t photograph, but then I saw you in the Wolfram and Hart group huddle on that brochure. Does that mean…?”

“That we have the capabilities to give you an entire album of yours truly striking a pose? It’s another Special Project.”

A shot of excitement hit her hard. “We can have wedding pictures? Pictures of you—you and me—you and your mom together?”

“We can be one of those families with an entire wall dedicated to awkward snapshots. How’s that sound?”

“Good. Really, really good,” she said, trying to tame her wide smile. “Is there anything that vampires can’t do around here? Vampire-seeing cameras, sun-proof windows—next you’ll tell me they’ve found away to make you age and breathe.”

“It’s all about equal opportunity, cutie. Blending the dead with the living, the demons with the humans. You know, those sun-proof windows extend outside the office? Namely to Angel’s collection of fancy hot rods. We could take a joyride, me and you--.”

“Shut up,” she gasped, still buzzing with enthusiasm. “We could get our shopping done early if the store has underground parking? If we could borrow one of those cars, and—God, Spike, this is amazing!”

She laughed out loud and quickly kissed his lips. “I gotta—I need my phone!” she exclaimed, digging in her pockets. She continued on in a rush with her head down as she sent a message to her sister, “I’m sure Lorne’s on top of a photographer, but I want a zillion pictures taken tomorrow. I want every minute documented. Do you think they can get us one of those cameras in a disposable version for the honeymoon? And maybe they could ship some of that glass to our place in Vegas? I want all the windows changed out asap.”

“Hold on, who said anything about a honeymoon? And I thought seeing my pasty ass in daylight meant nothing to you?”

Buffy’s head popped up and she put her phone away mid-text. “Hey, it means a lot—a ton. I would never change you.” She touched his face again and took a deep breath once he turned to kiss her palm. “Your surroundings, on the other hand? They are fair game. If I can keep you safe without you having to travel via the smelly old sewers for protection? Or if we can live with the blinds open instead of keeping the house like a dark cave? Sign me up.”

“And this honeymoon?”

She leaned in to give him another closed-lipped kiss, but she lingered this time, playfully pulling at his lips. “I don’t care where we go, I just want uninterrupted time with you. In one of those cars, we could take the long way home, make a few wrong turns… If we travel during the day, I can help you drive.”

“Alright, I was right there with you until that last bit. It’s funny how a little thing like you can kick demon ass from here to kingdom come, but you can’t drive worth a bloody--.”

“Think before you finish that sentence,” she warned. “Unless you prefer me in a bad mood.”

“It does liven things up.” Holding her close, he walked her into the elevator backwards.

“I drive good,” she insisted. “A little practice wouldn’t hurt though.”

“If you can pry a set of keys from our CEO’s fingers,” he paused to punch the button for the roof. “Hell, I’ll reteach you how to drive.”

“You have yourself a deal.”

“And you have yourself a challenge. Not only is he hurt and brooding, the greedy bastard does not like to share.”

“I’ll ask him very nicely,” she decided with a shrug.

“Once he’s sober?”

“Oh, yeah. Totally.” She rested her head on Spike’s shoulder and sighed happily. “I was skeptical at first, but everything is coming together. I feel really good about tomorrow, Spike.”

“You have no pre-wedding jitters?”

“Only good ones, excited ones.”

“And if Angel doesn’t come through with a car? Will you be crushed, baby?”

“Please,” she began. “Everything about Wolfram and Hart seems unreal and too good to be true. I welcome the perks and all, but we’d do just as well without them. Our honeymoon, for example, it isn’t really planned so we can change it around. I’m flexible.”

“Cause the honeymoon’ll really just boil down to you, me, your flexibility and a bed anyway, right?”

“That about sums it up.” Snickering, she kissed the soft skin just under his earlobe before facing him. “But the rest of it… Even if you live everyday in true vampy-form, we’ll be more than okay, Spike. I have a pretty good idea of what our limitations are, with you being undead and with me being unemployed with little job experience and no degree to fall back on--.”

“You still think we’ll make it?”

“We’ve lived through the end of the world how many times? Marriage shouldn’t be too hard. It’ll be a breeze, a walk in the park—it’ll be a walk in the park on a breezy day!”

“Cute, Slayer.” He smoothed down her hair and kissed her forehead. “For now, I’d still like to suggest that we make the most of what Angel’s evil law firm has to offer. I’m not too keen on accepting hand-outs, but I do rather like taking all that I can from that big ape.”

“Spike.”

“If it’ll give you the wedding of your dreams, so be it. If it’ll make you light up over something like a photograph of my ugly mug, I’m all for it.”

“It is nice, not having to worry about money…”

“And don’t forget your team of wedding planners. With them at your beck and call, makes you feel even more like a princess, doesn’t it?”

“It is nice,” she admitted again, her smile growing.

“Oh, I know you love it. Come on, love, let’s see what your entourage has cooked up for you so far.”
***

“I feel like I should have my eyes closed for this, like it’ll make the reveal more special. Is that dopey, or what?”

“Dopey?” Spike repeated, lifting a brow.

“Yeah, do you have a problem with dopey? I think it’s a mighty fine adjective.”

“Guess there’s no harm in it,” Spike snorted. They were standing side-by-side as they waited for the elevator’s doors to open. “Just don’t get your hopes up, that’s all. Nothing’s been done. They’re still in the planning phase. Your big reveal may fall flat.”

“No way,” Buffy said, shaking her head. “We get to see the location, the view—this is our potential venue, Spike. This is important. You’ve never been to the roof before? How come?”

“For starters, these elevators are slower than bloody molasses. And secondly, I can’t say that it was on my ‘to do’ list once I finally got my body back. I had more important matters to tend to.”

“Like jumping into bed with Angel’s secretary?” she asked sweetly, unable to resist an opportunity to tease him.

“Oh, balls,” he grumbled. It caused Buffy to let out a muffled laugh. “That blonde nitwit, I tell you, Harm’s gonna haunt me until my dying day. One mistake, baby…”

“A mistake you chose to repeat. Just how did you justify it? What was your excuse again?”

“Slayer,” he began as the elevator came to a stop.

“Hi, guys!”

“Um, hi,” Buffy said, surprised to find both Fred and the greenhouse directly in front of her after stepping from the elevator.

“Wesley said you two were on your way,” Fred continued cheerfully. “The crew’s on standby to clear everything out; they’re just waiting for your go-ahead. Look around and I’ll catch up with you in a minute.”

Buffy took a few steps forward. Glass panels enclosed most of the space; they made up the ceiling and the walls. The square-shaped structure was filled with rows of tables, and greenery covered all of the tabletops.

“It’s a bit bright in here, isn’t it?” Spike asked.

“I think it’s perfect,” she breathed. “Imagine it with an aisle, folding chairs, candles and mood lighting… This place has loads of potential.”

She walked to the right side of the greenhouse and looked down at the busy streets beneath them. Although she couldn’t see Spike’s reflection in the glass, she could still sense him behind her.

“Buffy,” he sang, playing with her hair. “You know I only sought Harmony out, because I was no longer a spook, right? I was desperate. I hadn’t touched anyone, including myself, for…well, it felt like a sodding lifetime.”

“Sorry, but you were hardly sex-starved.”

“Hey now. I have needs--.”

“Oh, please,” she snorted. “I haven’t been with anyone else, not since our very first night together. And I went a heck of a lot longer without touching, mister. I might’ve been a little cranky here and there, but I handled it just fine.”

“Pet--.”

“Don’t make me bring up that skank you brought to Xander’s wedding.”

“I never shagged that one though.”

“Well, good for you. Too bad we can’t say the same for Anya. Honestly, honey, we really need to work on your…”

After turning on her heels to face him, her mind went blank. She forgot what she was going to say. She swallowed hard as she stared. “Oh, wow.”

“Wow, yeah?” he chuckled, slicking his hair back with his fingertips. “So, how do I look in the harsh light of day? I’m certain the hair’s too much. And my skin? Like death warmed over, isn’t it? I belong in the shadows; darkness is forgiving, and—well, this squinting? Babe, I just don’t care for it. Doesn’t it lead to wrinkles?”

“Now who’s acting like a dope?” She smiled while crossing her arms over her chest. “You look hot, Spike. Just not in a firey, about-to-turn-into-dust kinda way. It’s a different look on you. I like it. But then, I liked it the first time, when you had that Ring of Mariah.”

“The Gem of Amara? Hell, if we only had that trinket back… You think the grand martyr-poof would give it up again, or would Angel not be so selfless if given a second chance?”

Reaching forward, he held his hands lightly at her hips. He ducked his head and whispered in her ear, “You noticed my looks while you were mourning your short-lived relationship with Dogface? I’m shocked, Slayer.”

“These eyes know a hunk when they see one, even if said-hunk and I were pummeling each other at the time. And Dogface? I can’t think of a better name for Parker Abrams.”

“Oh, I could. I could think of something much more suited for that rotten twat, but we have a lady present.”

“Hi, Fred,” Buffy said, looking over Spike’s shoulder. “Send in the troops. This place is a keeper.”

“That’s great to hear,” she replied. “Do you have questions, or will you need anything else? Both Angel and Wesley—and um, Lorne too, when I think about it—said we’re here to please. So, whatever you need, just ask for it.”

“You sure you want to open up that Pandora’s box?” Spike asked. “I’ve been seeing glimmers of bridezilla all morning, do you really want her unleashed, Fred?”

“Ha ha, you’re hilarious,” Buffy remarked, rolling her eyes. “This greenhouse is bigger than I expected… Some of these windows open, right? It’d be nice to let fresh air in once the sun goes down. Is that a door on the other side of the room?”

“Yeah, it goes to the rest of the roof. Want to check it out? It’s uncovered, so…”

“I’ll stay,” Spike offered.

“You sure?”

“Of course. You girls go. I’ll be alright, squinting down at the view here.”

“You do that,” Buffy said, kissing his cheek. “I think we’ve hit another milestone, honey. Later, when we pick up my wedding gown, we’ll get Spikey his very first pair of sunglasses. Unless you think a sun visor is more your style? My Grandma Summers always preferred her trusty, green, poker dealer visor.”

He shook his head and smirked as he swatted her backside. “Fred, get her out of here, but don’t keep her away for long, alright?”

“That was interesting,” Fred began, speaking quietly once she and Buffy were outside.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s like he’s a different person. I noticed it yesterday too. Angel warned us about him, but this side of Spike…”

“You’ve realized deep-down he’s actually a cuddly puppy with fangs?”

“He doesn’t seem as intimidating, but I don’t know if I’d go that far.”

“Good,” Buffy answered. “Because, not only would it crush his manly ego, it’d also be wrong. What exactly did Angel tell you about Spike?”

“He’s old. He’s dangerous. He’s killed Slayers. He’s selfish, and shouldn’t be trusted.”

“That’s fair enough; it’s all true. But did Angel mention that Spike has a soul, and that he fought for it? Or about how he’s helped me on the Hellmouth for years?”

“You must bring out the best in him.”

Fred’s words brought a smile to her face. “Yeah, I do, and it works both ways. It’s one of the reasons why I’m marrying him. And,” she continued, taking a deep breath, “I’m thinking we should set up a few tables out here for the reception.”

“Um, okay. So, how many people have you invited?”

“Just your friends and my friends, but since everyone seems to hate my boyfriend, who knows if any of them will show up. We shouldn’t have Lorne plan for more than a handful of guests.”

“Buffy, I can’t speak for your friends, but the people here, we don’t hate Spike. We just can’t trust him…majority of the time,” Fred added with a little sympathetic flinch.

“Well, it’s a good thing that after tomorrow, the promises he makes to me will be the ones that matter the most. I’m just asking people to put on some nice clothes as they sit through a quick ceremony and eat free food.”

“And we’ll do that! Or, at least…”

“Most of you will?” she suggested. “It’s okay. I don’t expect everyone to be won over instantly. Heck, even Spike and I hesitated over all this ‘til-death-do-us-part stuff. In the very beginning—well, yesterday, but early yesterday—we even considered putting on a fake marriage ceremony for his mom’s sake, how crazy is that?”

“It’s…pretty nuts?” Fred answered, as if she were unsure of what to say.

Snickering under her breath, Buffy walked to the wall around the roof’s edge. She took in the view of Los Angeles’s skyline before looking behind her into the greenhouse. “Love makes people do the wacky, and there’s definitely no shortage of love here. I love Spike, Angel, my friends—heck, I think I even love Spike’s mother after spending less than twenty-four hours with her. Now, if only those people could get along and be happy…? It shouldn’t be impossible, stranger things have happened. Hell, Spike and I were enemies; now we’re planning a life together. We’re getting married under my ex’s roof, on my ex’s dime--.”

“Wolfram and Hart has unlimited resources at its disposal, Buffy. Like you said, love makes people do remarkable things. Angel loves you. He wants you to have the best day possible. And the rest of us are happy to help. Planning a wedding is a welcome change from our everyday-jobs at the firm.”

“Even if it’s a party for a Big Bad like Spike?”

“Even if,” Fred answered with a grin. “Maybe we should add an extra table out here? Just in case? Just to be on the safe side?”

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt,” Buffy agreed.
***