Twenty months later, November 2008
“Spike! I can’t do this!” Buffy hollered from the kitchen of their new apartment—well, what had started out as his apartment and six months prior had become theirs.
“Stir in some flour and keep stirring until it gets thick!” Spike hollered back from their bedroom.
“I’ve been stirring for five minutes and it’s not turning to gravy. It’s just brown water.”
Coming into the kitchen seconds later, Spike peered over the pan Buffy was trying to make gravy in and failing horribly. “Oh. What did you do?”
“What did I do? I did what you asked me to do! How is this my fault?”
“I’m not blaming you--”
“You just asked me what I did. That leads me to believe I did something wrong!”
“Pet, calm down.”
“I’m calm!” It was confirmed how calm she was a minute later when she burst into tears. “I can’t do this! I can’t make Thanksgiving dinner, not even a practice one.”
“Buffy, baby, just add a bit more flour, like this and….” He whisked fast as she watched. “Wa-la! It’s thickening. You just didn’t add enough. Get some salt…pepper…okay, that’s good, sweetheart.”
Her sobs turned to sniffles and soon the pair were working alongside one another, making a practice Thanksgiving dinner. Buffy had gotten it in her head after she and Spike had moved in together that they were going to host Thanksgiving dinner that year. Giles had been invited first thing and he was making the trip with his fiancée, Jenny, in just two weeks. It was also Buffy’s idea to make a practice dinner. The key to be able to make it without Spike hovering to help, only to later take over when Buffy literally threw in the towel.
“I am so not Betty Crocker,” Buffy muttered.
“Sweetheart, it’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. I wanted to do it all on my own so that I could impress Giles and Jenny and Willow and Xander and Lorne if he comes, and well, you.”
He looked over at her and smiled, “You wanted to impress me, kitten?”
She nodded, pouting, her bottom lip protruding as she watched him petulantly. “I wanted to, you know, be better at the whole cooking thing.”
“Kitten, I knew you couldn’t cook when I fell in love with you. I knew what I signed up for when we moved in together.”
“You mean you knew that if you wanted to eat something besides Dinty Moore beef stew and pasta, you were gonna have to cook.”
“Well, you can do toast.”
She swatted him playfully, “I cannot. I always burn it. I know my culinary skills leave a lot to be desired, but I’m trying.”
“And I admire you for it. You want something; you go after it with gumption. Don’t you know how much I admire you for that?”
She looked up at him wide-eyed. “You do?”
Spike nodded and lifted a spoon with some gravy on it. “I do. Taste?”
Buffy wrinkled her nose. “I can’t just taste gravy without meat or mashed potatoes to go with it.”
Spike chuckled and pulled oven door down. “Turkey is looking good. Did you baste it a bit earlier?”
“I did.”
“Good girl.”
Buffy giggled and when Spike shut the door and turned to her, she lunged at him, winding her arms around him and dotting his face with exuberant kisses. “I love you, I love you, I love you…”
He grinned at her attention and wrapped his arms around her, basking in her love. “I love you, too sweetheart.”
“Looks like you’re going to have to help me after all,” she told him.
“Well, luv, I like to think your adventure in the kitchen is a metaphor for our life together.”
She looked up at him quizzically. “Oh?”
“You want to do it alone, yeah?”
“Yes,” she nodded, agreeing.
“And I still want to help, but knowing how important it is for you to try it alone, I back off. And then when it gets to be too much, you call me and I come help.”
Buffy smiled, “And in the end we end up working side by side like now?”
Spike smiled broadly. “Exactly.”
“I like that. Thank God one of us can do this, otherwise we’d starve.”
“Well, there’s always take out.”
Buffy giggled and then looked up at him solemnly. “You know you’re my rock, right?”
Spike nodded and pecked the tip of her nose. “I know. You’re mine as well.”
“If I’m your rock, then you’ve got serious issues,” Buffy commented dryly.
Spike shook his head, “Nah. Hey, you know who I talked to the other day?”
She frowned thoughtfully. “I don’t know, who? It couldn’t have been Tara; you stopped seeing her months ago. Xander? But you just saw him last night. I don’t know, who?”
“Your mom.”
Buffy pulled back slightly. “What? Spike…do you need to see Tara again?”
Spike chuckled. “Listen to me, imp.”
“Okay, listening.”
“I had to chat some things over with her so I went to see her.”
“Oh? What’s up?”
“I wanted to ask her permission, since I couldn’t ask your Dad’s him being in Boston and all, plus I kind of felt that I had to tell her and talk with her about it since you know she was my first wife and it just felt like the right thing to do--”
“Spike?”
“Sorry.” Heaving a deep breath, he gazed down at her and Buffy felt her insides melt at the look he gave her. No matter how “old” their relationship was she knew she’d never get tired of the way he would look at her: as if she were a Goddess put on Earth just for him. Pushing some hair from her face, he kissed her softly before continuing.
“I asked her for her permission to ask you to marry me,” he told her softly.
Buffy hadn’t been expecting that and she thought it was a good thing he was holding onto her, because that had just made her limbs turn to jelly. “Y-you wh-what?”
Pressing his forehead to hers, he whispered, “I told her I wanted to marry you, wanted to make you my wife. I think she was okay with it. The wind blew after I asked; I decided to take that as my answer. Buffy, luv, I love you more than life itself. You are my world.” His eyes bore into hers soulfully. “Please, Buffy, marry me. Be my wife and make me the happiest man in the world.”
Buffy hadn’t realized she was crying until Spike kindly wiped a tear from her cheek. She nodded, unable to find her voice.
“Luv, say it, please, I need to hear the words.”
“Yes, yes, a thousand, million times yes.”
Letting out a whoop of joy, and crying himself now, Spike lifted her from the ground and swung her around. “Oh, sweetheart, I love you so goddamned much!”
Buffy giggled holding onto him tightly. When she was on her feet once more with Spike this time peppering her face with kisses, Buffy grinned. “You know, this came at a perfect time.”
“What do you mean?” Spike murmured, nuzzling her neck.
“I was going to tell you on Thanksgiving when we were alone…”
“What?”
“I’m pregnant.”
Spike’s eyes widened and he stared down at her his mouth gaping open.
She laughed at his expression. “Well, we haven’t been that careful and when I got sick last month and was on those antibiotics...yeah, they kind of screwed up the pill. I missed my period two weeks ago and took a test, then went to the doctor to confirm it…”
Spike placed a shaking hand on her belly, looking at her stomach reverently. “You’re carrying my baby?”
Leaning in, Buffy kissed the spot next to his ear and whispered, “Yes.”
Whooping yet again, Spike swooped her up in his arms and carried her to their bedroom where he lay her down. “You should be off your feet, not slaving in a hot kitchen.”
“Doesn’t that go against the stereotype? Aren’t I supposed to be barefoot and pregnant in one of those unfashionable sundresses that look like Rainbow Brite threw up on it?”
Spike gave her a look. “Not my girl. She’s going to be pampered, taken care of.”
“Spike, I’m not an invalid, really, I can do things still. Including cooking. Though my cooking could kill us all. What are you doing fishing in that drawer?”
Turning, Spike produced a little black box, smiling.
“Oh.”
Lying down next to her, Spike opened the box presenting her with an aquamarine ring. The ring Buffy had ogled in a catalogue she’d received from a Wiccan shop months ago. She remembered telling Spike she did not want a traditional diamond for her engagement, she wanted that ring, that simple ring nestled among a silver band.
“You remembered,” she whispered, staring at it.
“I did,” Spike said and pulled the ring out. Extending her hand, Spike slid the ring on and kissed it. “I love you kitten.” He looked up at her, in that awe-filled expression she loved so much. “You’re amazing.”
More tears, tears of joy, slid from her eyes and she shook her head. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she brought him closer, kissing him softly. “You are.”
“And we’ll be together for how long?” Spike asked softly.
Without even having to think about it, Buffy replied, “Forever. We’ll be together forever.”
The End