It was exhausting, and a bit stressful in itself, though Buffy felt after the hell her and Spike had gone through the night before, everything now was just cake. All she really wanted to do at that point was just get hitched and go away with Spike on their honeymoon to London. That was all she wanted, and if it were plausible that they could move everything up, she’d have done it in a heartbeat.
Spike, she knew, felt the same way. Mostly because he’d told her as much after all the smiling and meeting and greeting they’d done at the hotel her relatives were staying at. It saddened Buffy quite a bit that Spike didn’t have family for himself that was there – his distant relatives unable to make the leap across the pond, which was one of the reasons they had chosen London as their honeymoon. Buffy wanted to meet what relatives he had left plus see where the man she loved beyond reason had grown up. As well as she knew her fiancé, there were still some things that remained a mystery, and putting a picture to the places he spoke of would help alleviate that mystery. Besides, she could see how excited he was by the prospect of showing her where he grew up and there was no way she could resist that joy she saw in him.
“Let me see the eye,” Buffy directed Spike later that night after dinner. Her mother had cooked and before Buffy went out for a quick drink with the girls, in another attempt to have a girls night before the big day, she wanted to spend some time with Spike before the big ‘can’t see the bride before the wedding’ began. She honestly thought at that point they defied convention and tradition, but this was a time where she felt she really did want to listen to her mother’s direction. Course, she wasn’t going to admit that to her.
Spike turned and Buffy pressed a finger lightly to the slight bruise under his eye. “My poor baby,” she cooed at him.
He growled lightly. “Yeah, yeah.”
“It doesn’t look all that bad. How does it feel?”
“It feels fine. Sure you’re not going to freak out some time months from now about how I ruined our pictures?”
Buffy giggled. “No, I won’t. It was my Dad that did it and it was all Isabel’s fault. I figure they’ll add a certain character to our pictures don’t you think?”
Spike grinned, “And we’ve got character coming out our asses.”
“Plus I could just lie and tell people I kicked your ass.”
“I knew it! I’m going to be an abused husband aren’t I?”
“You’ll take the beatings dammit, and you’ll like it.”
“You know…in a twisted way, I think I will.”
And now it was the day of the big event and Buffy felt as though she were crawling out of her skin. Gazing down at the lawn while the girls got ready in her room, she took in how beautiful her backyard was and watched the photographer snap photo after photo of it.
The archway to the garden had been decorated with gold and silver leafing coiling all around it. White wrought iron chairs facing toward the archway formed an aisle for Buffy to walk down. Tables were to the far off corners of the yard where the food would be held. And once the wedding was over, the yard would be transformed into a reception area with a long table in front of the archway for the wedding party, and various smaller tables for the guests forming a half moon in front of the wedding party table with enough space for dancing in the center.
Her mother’s garden, and smaller beds of flowers sporadically placed around the yard, was the main decoration, and that was fine with Buffy, it was what she had wanted – to be surrounded by the beauty she always found in her own backyard. She was marrying someone extraordinary in what some would call an ordinary place.
Turning to watch her maid of honor and bridesmaids get ready, Buffy smiled. She’d chosen periwinkle dresses in a Regency style dress: A tight bodice that was cinched at the waist and flared into a simple and elegant gown. Faith’s hair lay in curls around her face, Anya wore hers pulled back with ringlets cascading down, and Willow wore hers loose.
“It’s your turn now,” Faith said, grinning and grabbed the slip while Willow grabbed the dress.
“Wait! My mom,” Buffy said, holding up a hand.
Joyce, on cue, came in the room, smiling. “I’m here, my darling.”
Buffy smiled. “I’m ready mom,” she announced and the proceedings began.
The dress was a strapless satin gown with an embroidered lace bodice that flowed into an organza beaded skirt, and a slight train. She wore a small crown with a veil attached that she did not plan on putting over her face, but rather let it cascade down her back along with her freshly curled, full looking hair that flowed down around her shoulders and back. Spike loved it when she did it this way and she shivered in anticipation of him seeing her and of her seeing him…in a tux...the thought alone made her salivate.
Once she was in her dress, and her mother was dutifully crying, the photographer came in whilst her mother gave her her Grandmother’s broach to pin to her slip as something old, Faith gave her a satin blue handkerchief to stuff between her breasts because she just knew Buffy was going to start crying, and Buffy decided she had her something new and something white pretty much covered. All she’d really wanted was her grandmother’s broach that had been passed down through the generations each time one of the women got married.
“It’s time, honey. Ready?” Joyce asked, opening the door.
Buffy nodded. “I am.”
It was a flutter of skirts and shoes, giggling and chattering as the girls made their way down the stairs to the kitchen where they huddled beyond the sliding glass doors so no one would see them. Joyce went outside to direct Hank to meet Buffy inside and the music for the wedding party began. Faith went, followed by Anya, then Willow and finally, it was her turn. Stepping out onto the deck, Hank met her there holding out his arm and beaming at her.
“You look beautiful, pumpkin,” he told her and kissed her forehead.
“Thank you, Daddy.” And she looked down the “aisle” to her future.
God, he looked so breathtakingly handsome in his black tux— nervous and yet so incredibly sure. Focusing on him so as not to fall in her heels, and using her father as support, Buffy began her walk down the aisle, keeping her gaze focused on Spike.
When her father had customarily passed her off, Spike held out his arm and Buffy took it gratefully and smiled when he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You look so gorgeous, kitten,” he whispered to her.
“And you look so handsome,” she whispered back. She couldn’t stop looking at him as the JP started the proceedings and she found he couldn’t stop looking at her. She was surprised to note tears in his eyes and soon, she had tears in her own, not caring if her carefully done makeup wiped away. This was truly the happiest day of her life.
The words and rings exchanged went by in a flash and all Buffy could think was He is my husband now, over and over. She was his, he was hers; they were each other’s.
And when they kissed, everything melted away until it was just them.
“I love you, Mrs. Madden,” Spike whispered huskily, pressing his forehead to hers, unwilling to let her go just yet.
“I love you too, Mr. Madden,” and she threw her arms around him for one more kiss.
“I’m so glad I spent so much time and money buying that nightgown,’” Buffy said breathlessly, collapsing on top of her husband later that night after a marathon love fest.
Spike chuckled under her. “Oh, you mean that scrap of lace that went flying as soon as you came out of the bathroom?”
Buffy giggled, “Yeah, that one.”
“Get used to it. You’re my girl now.”
“I was your girl before.”
“Yeah, but now it’s official, we got the rings and everything.”
“Well…you’re my guy now.”
He smiled, brushing some hair from her face as she looked down at him, pouting slightly. “I’ve always been yours, Buffy. And will be, always and forever.”
The End. . . For Now