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CHAPTER 26 -- Pieces of Me

Author’s Note: Thanks for all the reviews and votes on Spuffy Archives! This chapter took me a little longer than planned, let me know if you like it! Next chapter should be out Friday or Saturday.

Buffy slid across the front leather seat of the Desoto, inching closer towards Spike. They wove smoothly through the streets of Sunnydale and Buffy let her head fall back against the headrest, relieved to be out of the clutches of Anya. At least for now.

Spike glanced over at the tired angel next to him, “Hungry luv?”

Buffy shook her head in the affirmative, her drooping eyes fluttering a little. She was wearing herself out working as both Anya’s wedding planner and maid of honor. This did not go unnoticed by Spike. The circles under her eyes were getting darker, and her body a little more angular by not eating right.

“How’s Joe’s sound?” he asked, noticing the sign for the diner up ahead.

“Very good,” she answered with a smile, dreaming of juicy hamburgers and milkshakes.

He pulled into the parking lot of Joe’s Diner, a local joint designed with fifties motifs in mind. At night you could see the neon outline of Marilyn Monroe in her pose from “The Seven Year Itch”.

Spike held the restaurant door open for Buffy, guiding her in with a hand on her lower back. The color scheme was a shiny red -- the cushy booths, the bar stools sparkled and the walls were covered in retro Coca-Cola Norman Rockwell-esque ads.

They sat themselves in a booth on the right, under a framed poster of James Dean from the “torn sweater” series.

An older woman with snowy-white hair pulled up in a tight bun and a nametag reading “Wilma” approached the table, handing them each a menu and taking a notepad out of the pocket of her apron.

“Our lunch specials are the BLT and ham and cheese sandwich, both come with fries or onion rings. Can I start you kids off with something to drink?”

The couple ordered, made quick by their stomach rumblings, and sat back to wait for their food.

Spike reclined back in his seat, “So how’d the shower go?”

Buffy shrugged, “Smoother than I thought. Anya only rejected one gift, asking what she would possibly do with a bread maker. Granted this was after she learned it didn’t make bread as in money, but the kind you eat. She demanded they go back and get her something she planned to get some use out of -- lingerie.”

Spike laughed at the story, not incredibly surprised that such a thing had occurred.

“Bachelor and bachelorette parties in a couple weeks.” Buffy reminded him.

“Don’t worry, Summers. I didn’t forget -- we got the whole thing planned already.”

Buffy sat up, “Let me guess . . . A night consisting solely of strippers and beer?”

Spike smirked, “No, we thought we’d mix it up a little . . . Strippers, whiskey, and beer.”

Buffy’s eyes widened in false shock, “Oh, my mistake.”

He smiled, “You’re excused.”

_____________________________________________

After their meal, they slid back into the car. Instead of making a right out of the parking lot, back towards the wedding shower, Spike made a left, following the sign that pointed towards the highway.

Buffy quirked an eyebrow, “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

Buffy sat up, “Spike, I’m the maid of honor.”

“It’s not your wedding. They have Tara and Willow to help finish up.” He wound his fingers into hers, “Come on, let me have you for the rest of the day.”

“But I have to get back to . . .” she began halfheartedly.

“To what?” he challenged. “What do you have to do today that can’t wait until tomorrow? Pretend you don’t have a job. You don’t have any responsibilities.”

“Like you?” she smiled.

Spike returned her grin, “Yeah, like me.”

Buffy yawned in response.

He cupped her cheek and ran a hand over her hair, “You can sleep, luv. I’ll wake you up when we get there.” Buffy yawned again and didn’t fight him. Spike reached into his backseat, bringing up a blanket and arranging it over her.

__________________________________________

“We’re here, luv.” Buffy was awoken a couple hours later by his gentle tone and hands rubbing up and down her back. She smiled and stretched against the seat, feeling so much better from her nap.

He opened her door, taking her hand and helping her out of the car. She looked over the hood of the car at the scene around her. She was presented with a gorgeous view of the sun setting over the ocean. “Where are we?”

“Secret place. Not many people know about it, just the early morning surfers.”

They walked down the beach a little ways then sat down to watch the glorious colors across the sky. Buffy sat between his legs leaning her back against his chest. A breeze greeted the couple, giving Spike an intoxicating aroma of the salty ocean and vanilla perfume. Spike brought his hands up to rub her shoulders and lower back and she relaxed further against him.

“Buffy, I did bring you out here for a reason . . .”

She tensed immediately at his words and Spike wound his arms around her tighter, not allowing to runaway.

“I told Xander today about my feelings toward you. Willow knows to, so does Tara. Point is . . . I don’t want to keep this thing between us from anyone. Buffy, I’m in love with you. I want you to be mine,” he whispered. He turned her so she was straddling his lap, her hands on his shoulders, love and uncertainty shining in his eyes. Shining for her. “Will you?”

She kissed him in response. It began with a simple press of her lips against his, her hands holding his face in place and his arms wound around her back. It escaladed quickly with a swipe of his tongue across her cherry coated lips. She opened her mouth to him and allowed her tongue to battle with his. She let herself go, allowing all her weight to rest on him. Her actions drove him further, slipping his hands under her top to skim her stomach and back. She moaned and wound her fingers in his hair. In her movements she ground herself down onto his hardness and heard him growl low in his throat. She smiled against his lips and repeated the action.

They continued their assault on each other’s mouths. Buffy felt his fingertips graze the outline of her breasts, causing her to realize her own emotions going out of control. She pulled back, “We . . . We have to stop . . .” she blushed, “I don’t want to . . .”

“I’m not asking you to,” he interrupted, worship and awe on his face. Buffy shifted away from him, uncomfortable in the intense silence.

Spike brushed golden locks off her face, causing her to look at him, “I’m just asking you to refrain from dating anymore of my friends,” he smirked. He furrowed his brows, “Or anyone else for that matter,” he finished, smiling again. “Can you do that for me, luv?”

Buffy smiled, nodding her head agreeably.

He dropped a light kiss on her swollen lips, “Come on,” he stood up in the sand, helping her to join him. Not letting go of her hand, they walked along the shore, stopping every once in a while to kick waves at each other and kiss. Looking up ahead, they saw a party in full evening swing. White Christmas lights shone through a white gauze tent. Jazz music flowed from the party, drifting down the beach.

Buffy slowed, ready to turn back. They had reached the end of the beach and she had no intention of interrupting anyone’s gathering.

Spike tugged on her arm, “We can’t just crash someone’s party!” she said.

“Watch me,” he replied, urging her further down the shore. But he didn’t take her into the tent like she thought, but led her up a steep set of wooden stairs leading to a deck built high over the ocean.

Once atop their destination, Buffy let go of his hand and walked over to the edge. From their place high above the tent, she could see through the flimsy cover at all the couples slowly swaying to the music below them. Paper lanterns glowed down on the romantic gathering, glints of lights dancing off couples old and young, eyes closed in bliss.

She felt him come up behind her and wrap his arms around her, beginning their own movement to the flowing beat. She brought her hands up around his neck. He placed a slow kiss on her neck and she closed her eyes as they continued to dance. He gently tugged on her waist, turning her around in his arms, never stopping their own personal waltz under the stars.

Hours later as the Desoto began it’s trek back home, the only thing lighting the road was the bright headlights of passing cars. Throwing the blanket over Buffy’s shoulders, she curled up against him. He kissed her silky strands and drew his right arm around her and she burrowed deeper into him, inhaling his scent of tobacco and musk, and closing her eyes.

TBC





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