Angel’s expression suggested they were looking at an alien autopsy.  His face was contorted into a grotesque caricature of disgusted horror, like something out of an 80’s slasher flick.  “Are you sure you want to do this, Spike?  I mean-“ he visibly shivered “-this isn’t something to be taken lightly.”

Rolling his eyes, Spike pushed himself up from a kneeled position.  “They’re bloody puppies, you great big git.”

Just then the scrappy black one with the white patch over its eye let out a shrill bark and tried to attack Angel’s leg through the glass wall of his pen.  If he hadn’t already been taken with the little mutt, Spike would have been sold after that display of good taste.  Spike grinned wide as he reached into the confinement and picked the bugger up.

“No, not that one!” Angel exclaimed.  “If you’re going to seriously go through with this, you should pick the one that isn’t criminally insane.  Like that one in the corner.”

Spike studied the puppy, which was huddling in the far corner of the pen, for a moment before shaking his head.  “It’s brooding.”

“No, it isn’t.  He’s just…thoughtful.”

“He’s bloody sulking.  Clearly, it has issues.”

“Maybe his issues aren’t his fault.  How would you feel if you were on display in a giant fishbowl in the middle of the mall?”

Spike arched a brow.  “I take it back.  You’re the one with the issues.”

“Look,” Angel began, his arms folding over his chest.  “All I’m saying is that this is a big step and maybe you shouldn’t rush into it.”

“It’s a dog, Angel, not an engagement ring.”

“If you’re saying that, then you really don’t have a clue,” Angel informed him.  “You buy a woman something that needs to be fed and watered and housetrained and trust me, you might as well be strapping yourself down to a minivan, khaki pants and the white picket nightmare.”

Captain Forehead probably had a point and that point should have scared the living hell out of him, yet Spike was…contemplative about the idea.  Marriage.  Kids.  A nice suburban home with a lush green lawn and the scent of hamburgers on the grill.  Buffy’s smiling face, her belly round with his child, glowing, gleaming--- effulgent.

Of course, he drew the line at the minivan and he wasn’t thinking about actually having any of those things for a good long while, but that future appealed to him in a way he had never thought it would.  He couldn’t remember a time when he wanted to get married or have children; in fact, he actively sought to avoid both.  It wasn’t until Buffy that his vision of the future had begun to change, his subconscious slipping in bits of children’s laughter and wedding marches until everything was infused with her and him and their life together.

“Tell me it ain’t so, Spike.”

Spike blinked away the cloud of thoughts and frowned at Angel.  “Wot?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I like Buffy, but you can’t seriously be thinking you want to marry her,” Angel said, his mouth gaping open slightly like a fish out of water.

A part of him wanted to tell Angel where to stick it, that he could think or do whatever he pleased, but he didn’t want to explain himself.  Not about this.  Not when the idea was so fresh in his brain that all of his nerves were firing out of order.  Yes, he was thinking about it, or maybe thinking about thinking about it.  Or maybe, he had been thinking about it for a while and never realized it.  Or-

“It’s a soddin’ puppy!” Spike shouted, lifting the squirmy creature up to Angel’s face.  “It’s Buffy’s birthday an’ she wanted a pet, so that’s what I’m doin’.  End of story.”

Angel threw his hands up in surrender and took a great step back.  “Okay, okay.  Just trying to look out for you, is all.”

Rolling his eyes, Spike threw out a two-fingered salute to Angel’s stupidity then turned on his heel to go to the counter.

“Are you interested in purchasing that little guy, sir?” the plump woman behind the counter asked.

He gave her a sheepish grin.  “Yeah, ‘s for my girlfriend.  It’s her birthday.”

Spike could practically see the little cartoon hearts swimming around the clerk as she sighed.  “That is so sweet.  I’m sure she will love him.  His litter comes from very reputable breeders, so I can guarantee his temperament.  He’s also all current on his vaccinations and he just had a well check last week.  How would you like to pay?”

“Cash.”

“Okay, so that’ll be…”  Her voice trailed off as she grabbed a small binder from the shelf and began sifting through the pages.  “Twelve hundred eighty-six dollars and thirty-seven cents.” 

His jaw dropped.  “How much?”

The clerk rattled off the price again with a bright smile then began going on about taxes and dog breeds and why the mutt in his hands was so expensive.  Honestly, it all sounded like bullshit to him.  It was highway robbery where the victims were lured in by the cute furry faces peering out of their cages, seemingly saying with their big eyes, ‘Take me home, please.  I am terribly cute and vulnerable.  Please buy me before some mean bastard gets to me first.’

Spike looked down at the puppy and the scrappy bugger ruffed at him then licked his hand.  Oh, hell.  It was only money, right?  He dug into his jeans to fish out his wallet and began counting out money.

“Oi!  Angel!  Loan me three hundred bucks!”

***

Buffy hissed and rubbed at the red scorch mark that she had just given herself with the curling iron.  It really wouldn’t be a stretch to say that she was beauty technique-challenged.  She was constantly burning, poking, smearing, dropping and streaking when she attempted to make herself more presentable.  Luckily, Anya was always around help and even though Buffy wished it were her own mother fussing over her, Anya was the best alternative she could have ever hoped for.

“Don’t worry, we all burn ourselves sometimes,” Anya was saying as she put a little ointment on the burn right below Buffy’s hairline.

Once Anya moved, Buffy got a good look at the damage she had done.  “Ahh!  Anya, it looks like I put my head on the stove!  It looks horrible!”

Anya slapped her hands away.  “Stop touching it.  You’ll only make it worse.  We’ll cover it up and no one will be able to see it.”

A few moments later, Anya had Buffy sitting on the vanity and was dabbing on concealer, then foundation.  Cream blush was next followed by a dusting of powder on her forehead, nose and chin.  The eyes were Buffy least favorite part, but Anya kept it simple this time with a peachy eye shadow and slate gray eyeliner with a few coats of mascara.

“Do you know where Spike is taking me?” Buffy asked.

“No, he said I wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret,” Anya replied, voice coated in outrage.  “I can keep a secret very well, I’ll have you know.”

Buffy wasn’t going to disagree with Anya even if her friend truly couldn’t keep a secret.  She wasn’t at all surprised that Spike hadn’t divulged his plans to Anya either, but she had to admit that she was a bit bummed that she couldn’t glean even a hint as to what tonight had in store for her.  Anya had been her last chance for some information because everyone else had kept their mouths firmly sealed shut, including Spike.

The last few weeks had gone by in a blur- a happy, bathed-in-sex blur that had her walking around like she was dumbed down.  It was nice not having her thoughts churning constantly or fear sending her into a panic, though, she could do without the clumsiness that her body sans brain seemed to incur.  Case in point, the stupid burn on her head that was still stinging.

The front door shut with a muffled thump and Buffy could hear Spike moving around the apartment. 

“Buffy, luv?  Are you ready to go?”

Her heart fluttered at the sound of his voice.  “Yeah!  I’ll be out in a second.”

She and Anya quickly finished up their preparations and after giving herself one last look in the mirror, she rushed out of the bathroom to meet him in the living room. 

He stood towards the middle of the room, tall and confident, wearing black pants and jacket over a silk aubergine shirt and black leather shoes.  His platinum blond hair was slicked back straight and Buffy longed to run her fingers through it, mussing it up and working all of the gel out until all was left were those soft curls that he worked so hard to hide.  He had caught his lip between his teeth and was staring up at her through his lashes as if a full on look would be his undoing.  Then he crooked a finger and motioned her to come hither.

“You’re beautiful, Buffy Summers,” he whispered breathlessly.

She blushed.  “Nu-uh.  You’re just saying that because it’s my birthday.”

His gaze intensified as his thumb moved to brush against her sticky, gloss-covered lip.  “Not just.  Birthday or not, baby, you shine like the sun.”

Buffy melted at his declaration and a very large part of her wanted to say the hell with special birthday plans and show him just how much she loved it when he said things like that.  Well, she really didn’t think he’d mind spending the night in, especially since that seemed to be his favorite thing to do these days.  Maybe she could just slip a hand down the front of his pants and murmur dirty things into his ear and he would forget all about whatever arrangements he’d made for the evening.

She grinned, taking a step towards him and then begun tracing a line from behind his ear down.  There was a spark of lust flaring in his eyes as her fingers played at the fabric covering his navel.  She licked her lips then slid her hand down, down, dow-

“You’re going to be late if you keep that up.”

At Anya’s voice, Buffy bolted backwards and proceeded to trip over her own feet.  She wobbled, her high heels making it impossible to catch her balance and she started toppling over.  But then a strong hand clasped her arm and she felt her body begin righting itself upward.

“Easy, luv,” Spike said, anxious as he checked her over.  “You okay?  Didn’t twist anythin’, did you?”

Buffy shook her head.  “No, no, I’m okay.  Just really clumsy lately.”

“Well, it probably didn’t help that someone startled you.”  Spike glared at Anya as she hedged around them towards the door.

“Oh, excuse me, I was just trying to keep you two from going at it like rabbits…again, so you weren’t late for whatever big, fancy plans- that I know nothing about- you have.  Remind me not to help next time,” Anya retorted before exiting the apartment with a loud slam of the door.

“I think you hurt her feelings,” Buffy said softly.

Spike sighed then nodded.  “Yeah.  I’ll apologize to her tomorrow.  But she’s right.  If we don’t get goin’, we will be late.”  He grabbed his keys from the table beside the door and started ushering her out.

“So,” she began nonchalantly.  “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise, luv, an’ that’s all I’m sayin’.”

Buffy stuck her lower lip out.  “I hate surprises.”

***

Now he remembered why he hated driving a car in Las Vegas.  Traffic on the Strip was horrendous as usual, but instead of being able to zoom around it all on his bike, he was stuck in Angel’s Viper surrounded by all of the other gits trying to get by the streams of pedestrians and lunatic cabbies. 

“I thought Angel worked with you at The Blue Temple.”

Spike flicked his gaze to Buffy.  “He does.  Why?”

She hesitated for a moment, her hands fidgeting in her lap.  “Well, this is a really nice car.  How can he afford it?  I mean, I know that you guys probably make pretty good money, but you’re not rich, right?”

He laughed.  “No, we’re certainly not.”

“Then how?”

“Angel has a lot of girlfriends.  A lot of rich, married girlfriends that like to keep him in the lap of luxury.”

“Oh.”

He stopped the car at a red light and turned to her.  She was frowning, that little crease between her eyebrows deep as she visibly contemplated what he’d said.

 “Doesn’t make him a bad person, luv.  Just unconventional,” Spike told her.

“But they’re married.  That’s not right, Spike.  How would you feel if we were married and I started cheating on you with Angel?  Would you still think he was a good person?”

There were so many triggers in what she said that Spike wasn’t sure what to focus on first.  Them married?  Her cheating?  With Angel?  And would he still think Angel was a good person if the issue was a bit more personal?  He felt his anger start to build, but he quickly smothered it.  It wasn’t real.  Just some hypothetical question like which came first, the chicken or the egg? 

But...what if?

“Would you do that?” he asked quietly just as traffic began to move once more.

“Do what?”

He snorted at the absurdity of his train of thought, but in the end, he couldn’t stop himself from vocalizing it.  “Cheat on me.”

The expression on her face spoke volumes.  Shock and outrage made her eyes go wide and she looked as if she had truly been insulted. 

“No!  It was just a-“

“I know.  I know it was just an example, but…  Soddin’ hell, Buffy, I don’t know what I would do if…”  Spike let out a defeated breath.  God, he was a prat.  “If you ever…  If you find someone else, just break it off then and there.  Don’t go behind my back.  I don’t think I could…”

“Spike, I’m not going to find someone else.  I love you.  There’s no one else I could ever love,” Buffy assured him vehemently.  “Ever.”

He shook his head, self-doubt flooding his veins and settling into the pit of his stomach.  “You say that now, but one day you might change your mind.  There are a lot of good men in the world, Buffy.  Younger, richer, smarter than me.  Maybe one will come along and sweep you off your feet and I wouldn’t blame you for tradin’ up.  I want you to be happy, luv, even if that means you bein’ with someone else.”

“Do you want me to find someone else?”

“What?  No!”

“Good!  Because I don’t want anyone else.  I want you.  I love you, Spike, not Mister Younger-Richer-Smarter.  So like it or not, you’re stuck with me,” she declared, folding her arms over her chest with a finality that made him crack a smile.

Stuck with her sounded like heaven to him. 

***

They started the night with dinner at Chouwa, a traditional Japanese restaurant with the city’s best sushi.  Spike even tried the raw sashimi that she had ordered for herself, though she didn’t think he would be trying it again anytime soon considering the look he had made.  It was a texture thing.

After that, Spike took her to see a Cirque Du Soleil show at one of the huge casinos.  She was mesmerized by the acrobatics and high flying performers as they were lifted up towards the expansive ceiling on thin wires.  They danced across the stage, vaulted up in somersaults and back flips, and did things with their bodies that Buffy didn’t think was humanly possible. 

Spike knew someone on the backstage crew, so after the show was over, they got a behind the scenes tour.  She stared in wonder at all of the mechanical devices, pulleys and wires, catwalks and lighting as they walked around.  How cool would it be to work for a show, she thought.  In fact, while she was impressed by the performers, it was the backstage crew that really blew her away.  They weren’t in the spotlight, but without them, there would be no show. 

They went to Paris next and caught the view from the Eiffel Tower replica.  The city was lit up in bright, vibrant colors and the streets were a river of motion as people crowded the sidewalks on either side and traffic ran in constant waves on the Strip.

“This is probably the closest I’ll ever get to Paris,” she remarked without much meaning.

Spike arched an eyebrow at her.  “Do you want to go to Paris?”

“Oh.  Well, I guess so.  I never really thought about it before.  Didn’t seem very likely to happen so…”

“If you want to go, luv, I’ll take you.  It’s a beautiful city, especially at night.  This-“ he motioned to the cityscape before them, “is like a trailer park compared to Paris.”

“You’ve been to Paris?”

He leaned against the railing and nodded.  “Britain and France are close t’ each other.  Pretty common for folks to take holiday there.  Uncle Rupert took me an’ my mum when I was fourteen and after I started university, my flat mates and I went a couple times a year up until we graduated.”

“I miss Giles.”

“Me too, baby, me too.”

Leaving Paris, Spike drove them to a tiny Italian bakery that had fresh, homemade gelato and tiramisu.  Buffy would later be ashamed to admit that she ate both even though she was still full from dinner, but she couldn’t very well pass up the tiramisu after they stuck a little candle in it for her when Spike mentioned it was her birthday.  That would have been rude, right?

The evening was coming to a close and Buffy couldn’t remember a better night even if it had started out the slightest bit rocky.  There was only one thing that would make it all perfect, but she would have to wait until they got home for that.

Spike parked the car under the carport that was reserved for visitors and ran around to open the door for her.

“Did you have fun tonight, Buffy?” he asked her as they walked up the grassy hill to their apartment.

She beamed.  “Mmmhmm!  The best birthday ever!”

“Yeah?”

“Yep.”

“Well, you know the night isn’t over yet,” he said as they stopped in front of their door.

“I hope not.  I still have to unwrap my present.” 

His eyes went wide at that.  “What do you mean?”

Buffy giggled, then slid her hand along his belt, her fingers moving to unfasten the end from the buckle.  “I wonder what it could be,” she commented in mock-innocence. 

Suddenly, she found herself shoved against the door and Spike was kissing her fiercely.  His tongue slipped between her lips and tasted her mouth, still sweet from dessert.  He moaned her name as his hands sought purchase on her hips and his teeth nipped at her fleshy, pink bottom lip.

“Are you sure it’s not my birthday, luv?  ‘Cause I feel like I’m the one getting the gift.”

“Lame,” she retorted.  “Would you open the door already? “

Spike fiddled with the lock and then the door popped open wide, revealing a big, red box with a gold bow in the entryway.

“What?” she said dumbly.

“Go on.  Open it.”

She shook her head.  “What?  It’s mine?”

“Of course, it’s bloody yours.  You didn’t think I wouldn’t buy you a present, did you?” Spike replied as he encouraged her to go inside.

“Oh.  I-  What is it?”

He rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh before grinning at her.  “Just open the box!”

Buffy inched forward until she was right in front of it then she carefully knelt down.  It was a large box and she couldn’t even begin to imagine what might be in it.  Well, that is until the box suddenly lurched and…barked at her?

It took her a moment to-

“No!  No way!” she shouted, throwing Spike a shocked look over her shoulder.

She ripped the bow off and lifted the lid.  There, sitting in the middle of the box, was a black puppy with a white patch over his eye and a little tag that said ‘Scrappy’.