‘Of course it would be in a bloody church,’ Spike thought as he stepped through the tall, oak doors adorned with wreaths of white lilies. Soft, instrumental music drifted to his ears from inside, and he sucked in one last drag of his nearly-spent cigarette before flicking it away. He could smell her already; hear her strong, willful heartbeat.
It had been ten years since he’d last seen her, right before the Hellmouth crumbled down around him, and he died for the second time.
And now here he was, on her wedding day. What did he expect, he wondered to himself; that she would abandon her groom to be with him? Certainly not – he just wanted closure, to be released from her.
There had been others for him, over the years - beautiful, strong women that brought the best of him forward. But they never lasted long, and he’d return to memories of her, to his burning love that hadn’t dampened over the last decade.
He stood a moment longer, casting a glance at the stormy sky above him. The air smelt of rain and blew cold gusts of wind over him. Steadying himself, he heaved open the door.
There she stood, before the altar, in that long, flowing white gown. She hadn’t aged a bit, it seemed, in the last ten years, and he wondered if it was just him imagining it or if there was some Slayer thing he hadn’t known. She was glowing, he saw, the veil flipped over the cascading locks of her golden-blonde hair, though her smile seemed a bit dim.
The groom was some bloody pillock, he decided. All tall and dark and so damn feminine with his giddy happiness. Spike doubted he’d look any less a fool, though, if it was him up there.
The preacher was talking; some nonsense about objections, and forever holding your peace. When Spike first thought of coming here, he’d imagined himself storming up the aisle to steal her away, pulling her to him and kissing her before taking her away and driving pedal-to-the-metal out of this little town. But instead he stood, unnoticed, at the foot of the long, petal-strewn aisle, watching her give herself away to some man who could never deserve her.
And you do, mate?
No one was offering objections, the gathered friends and family all smiles. Spike couldn’t see any of the other faces, but Willow and Dawn were gathered in the wedding party, Harris as well, with his eye patch. They were smiling and crying, watching the Slayer get married.
But before the minister could commence with the ‘Do you so-and-so take Buffy Anne Summers…,’ her smile faltered, eyes clouded with confusion, and Spike’s heart seemed to swell as she slowly turned her head. The minister seemed to notice, raising his bespectacled eyes to the slim man with peroxide hair and infinite swagger and paused, eyes flickering to the bride.
“Spike?”
Her voice seemed so small that she hardly realized she’d spoken at all, until Greg squeezed her hand and gave her a questioning glance. She looked down at her hand in his, and the absurdity of the last few years hit her. Here she was, about to marry some regular Joe from Minnesota when she could crush his hand in a second. And there…there was Spike, not looking any different from the dreams she still had of him nightly.
“I-I can’t,” she stammered, and - what was his name? Oh yeah, - Greg’s face fell as she pulled her hand from his. The bouquet fell from her hands, the delicate white roses falling apart as she trampled them on her way down the raised dais to Spike.
Murmurs and cries followed her as she ran down the aisle. It seemed to take forever, running down that small expanse of white carpet, but finally she was there, being enveloped in his open arms, melting into the steady pillar of his body.
“Let’s go, let’s just go,” she whispered into his neck as she held him closer. There was a sudden rush of gravity falling away from her as he scooped her up into his arms, rustling the heavy silk as he held her close, and they were leaving the church, all of the gathered family and friends filing after them in a crush to see this mysterious man carry off the bride.
“It’s Spike! It’s Spike!” Buffy heard Dawn’s voice over the rest, her younger sister rushing out after them. She was smiling so hard, tears coming down her face, with Willow and Xander and Giles behind her. Some looked incredulous; Willow had a small smile curving her lips, and Xander seemed swollen with anger.
Spike was tumbling her into the front seat of some long, black shiny car of his – not the limo they’d hired – and she was craning her head out the window to smile at Dawn, to reach out to grasp her hand.
“I’ll call you,” she promised as Spike revved up the engine. And then they were shooting away, leaving the wedding guests bewildered and outraged.
They disappeared out of that small town where she’d almost signed away her life in a matter of minutes, Spike’s foot pressed hard against the gas pedal. She sighed in contentment, closed her eyes and reached across to hold one of Spike’s hands. He pulled it up and kissed the palm of it before interlacing his fingers with hers.
“Wasn’t plannin’ on something so dramatic,” he said after a while. Buffy smiled, a small giggle rising up in her throat.
“Aren’t you always?”
He gave a small half-smile, and then they were pulling up in front of a pretty little motel on the side of the road. He gestured for her to stay put while he got a room.
The sudden realness of everything that was happening suddenly crashed down on Buffy. She’d abandoned her husband-to-be for Spike, who she’d believed dead, who she hadn’t seen in ten years. And it was okay, she realized; she was doing something for herself, instead of to please everyone else.
He was back in minutes, lifting her out of the passenger’s side seat and into his arms. They were laughing and murmuring and kissing – God, how could she stand to kiss anyone else after him? He fumbled with the room key for a moment, distracted by her as she pressed kisses to every inch of his face that she could reach while her arms were looped around his neck.
Finally, the door was open, and he slammed it behind him as he lay her down on the bed. Crawling up her body, he accepted her kisses, and she felt the lean hardness of his body through the thick folds of her wedding dress.
“Bloody hell, pet,” he whispered, pulling away to look down into her face. “We really just do that?”
“We did, we did,” she replied through her smile, reaching up to trace the contours of his face. Tears were welling up now, just sheer happiness that he was here. “You’re here.”
“Had to be, didn’t I? Had to see you one last time.”
“Not the last time,” she shook her head, “because there won’t be a last time ever again. You’re going to be here in the morning. And the morning after that, and the morning after that, and-”
He silenced her with a kiss, and she held him closer, rocked her body up to feel him better. Suddenly it was her breaking away, her eyes narrowing.
“You didn’t believe me,” she accused him, feeling the tears well up in her eyes. “You didn’t believe me when I told you.”
“Didn’t think it mattered, then,” he admitted sadly, still hovering above her, eye-to-eye.
“Of course it matters,” she chided him. “I love you, Spike.”
He seemed to grow ten times bigger with that statement, and a low, possessive growl erupted from his throat. She screeched in wild delight as he began ripping the dress down off her shoulders, careful in his roughness to still preserve the dress. She helped him, shrugging it down off her body until she lay bare before him.
He reared up above her, tossing the gown to the floor, and studied her in the dim overhead light. Dawn had selected the underwear for her sister’s wedding night- all silky, transparent white fabric, cut tight and baring as much skin as possible. She hadn’t thought it so sexy at first - more innocent with its girlish bows on the hips and the rosettes that adorned the bra straps. But when his eyes darkened with heady lust, she felt her body humming beneath his gaze.
She wriggled her body beneath him, batting her eyelashes. He grinned in response, curling his tongue beneath his teeth. In a flash, he’d disappeared from her sight, slipping down her body to press faint kisses along her thigh. She giggled as she felt him close his teeth around the baby blue garter, slipping it down her leg and tossing it on top of her dress. Cupping her feet, he kissed the inner ankles and loosened the straps around them. He threw the heels off in his haste before he shimmied back up her body and kissed her mouth.
“You’re wearing too many clothes,” she muttered, tugging at the slim black suit he wore. It was a conjoined effort in undressing him, and she took the time to run her hands across the smooth expanse of skin as she did so, matching memory to flesh. Finally, he was bare between her legs, the light turning his pale skin colors of honey and gold, and he cupped her breasts beneath the silky bra.
He hovered above her, still and unmoving, drinking the sight of her flushed body beneath him. Her eyes sparkled, the smile shining through them as she gulped deep breaths of steadying air into her lungs. Already he could smell her growing excitement, radiating from her and warming his skin where he touched her.
“I’d think I was dreaming, if I wasn’t so sure you were here,” she whispered to him, raising a hand to his cheek. He smiled, dipped down to kiss her once more. She tugged him closer, wrapped her legs around his waist to hold him tight against her body. She could feel his swollen erection pressing into her, and she writhed beneath him, pulling and pressing him against her body. He moaned into her ear, bit down on his lip before he once again began to slide down her body.
“No,” she told him, tugging him back up to her. “There’s time for that later. Right now I just want to see you. Want to watch you.”
The words had a visible effect on him, and his hand wove between them to grasp her swollen sex through the thin material. He ripped them away with a loud snap, tossed them aside. Pressed the tip of his cock against her so that she gasped and bucked beneath him. He chuckled, pulling away from her.
“Feisty little minx, you are. Same as always, ‘cept we’re taking this slow. Gonna make love to you, right now on your wedding night.”
“Except it’s not, is it?” she whispered. “You took me from that, saved me from it.”
“Would you have been happy, you think? With a normal husband with live little swimmers in him still? With a little house and a dog and a picket fence?”
“I’d rather play footsie under the rubble,” she countered, taking them both back to the night when they’d first come together, Slayer and Vampire. He growled at her, that low possessive rumbling that sent shockwaves through her body.
He kissed her, softly on the corner of her mouth, barely a whisper against her skin that was suddenly oh-so-sensitive. Gave a little push against her until he was sheathed up inside of her, drawing out breathy gasps as he slowly thrust in and out.
Her eyes never left his as they moved slowly, rhythmically. They’d never had this before; this slow, mounting pleasure that came not from the frenzied thrusting, but the sensation of being so wholly absorbed in each other that everything seemed to melt away. Long gone, in some other universe, were her almost-husband, and their families and friends and the life she’d been so close to. None of it mattered, with her demon lover at her side.
She watched the way his face changed, forcing her eyes to his through her own excitement. Watched his eyes flicker up and down, meeting hers and leaving them but always focused on her. They were dark, it seemed, one moment and then startlingly clear and blue the next. His mouth was parted slightly as he breathed in unison with her, growing heavier and faster as she squirmed beneath him. The slow pervading warmth had started up, bringing her up and up and up to the lip of oblivion before she crashed over it.
The world seemed to spin away as she fell, every bone and muscle and fiber of her being clenching around him as she seized up beneath him. She could feel him, too, pumping faster as he emptied himself into her. It had been so, so long since she’d felt that, that overwhelming power coursing through her after such an intense orgasm.
Making love.
They’d never really had that, she knew. Never really took the time to take it slow, enjoy each other’s body besides the frenzied fucking they’d delved into headfirst. Never shared the quiet afterglow, either, wrapped in each other’s arms and sharing soft kisses and whispered endearments. She’d never let him, not that he hadn’t tried.
“We’ll be okay, now, won’t we Spike?” she asked in a small voice, feeling the pleasure that suffused her body pulling her lids down to the edges of sleep. “You love me, I love you, and when we wake up in a little bit we’ll go kill something big and nasty and then come back here and make love for hours and hours and days and days.”
“We’ll be okay, luv, yeah,” he answered, snuggled around her warm body. “The vampire slayer and her fierce demon lover.”
“The vampire slayer, and her demon lover,” she echoed softly, her lips smiling around the words. “I like that.” And then, “I love you, you know that, right?”
“I know, luv. I know.”