Sunday, March 6, 2011
Spike let himself in the front door at Wesley and Fred’s house and called out a hello.
Fred yelled back immediately. “We’re in the nursery. Come look!”
He smiled as he followed the sound of her voice back to the room they’d been preparing for several weeks already. He was not surprised to see that the paint color had been changed…again. The walls were now a pale green.
“I was worried that the green wouldn’t work if the baby is a girl, but I think it’ll be really sweet with some pink touches. Don’t you think?” Fred asked anxiously from her spot on the rocker in the corner of the room.
Spike nodded confidently. “Absolutely. It looks smashing.” He walked over and bent down to give her a quick peck on the cheek before turning to Wesley to shake hands and clap backs. “Nice job painting. You’re getting better.”
Wesley laughed. “Better at paying someone else to do it. I hired a couple of college students.” He shrugged.
“Ah. That explains why I didn’t get a call from you cursing in the middle of the night.” He held out a pretty gift bag with owls on it to Fred. “This is for you.”
She gasped before he could finish. “You wrapped?”
He chuckled. “Nah. Buffy dropped this by the shop for me to bring by a couple weeks ago but I haven’t had a chance.”
Fred teared up slightly just reaching for the bag. “Oh! That’s so sweet.” She took the bag and began removing the tissue paper wrapped contents. “Look how cute the little owls are.” She held up the bag to Wesley, who promptly agreed the little owls were indeed impossibly adorable. Several moments were spent flipping through the small stack of picture books Buffy had selected and reading the sweet baby card. “Oh. Now I want to give her a bug hug. Why didn’t you bring her by?”
Spike shrugged. “Haven’t seen much of her myself-what with all the wedding planning.”
Fred gave him a sad smile before pushing herself up out of the chair and bringing the baby’s new books over to the small bookshelf they’d hug in the corner above a toy box. She placed each book lovingly on the shelf.
Wesley smiled at the pretty picture his wife made readying the nursery before turning back to his obviously distressed cousin. He sighed and gestured that they should leave the room. Once in the hall, he asked quietly, “Have you ever told her how you feel?”
Spike scoffed. “Have you seen the rock on that girl’s finger?”
“Do you truly think that she’s shallow enough to choose a man based on the size of the diamond he can give her?”
Spike frowned. “Of course not. Buffy’s not like that. She’s…she’s good and sweet. God, she’s so sweet it should be irritating, but it’s not. I can’t even—you know I had the flu last month? She heard me coughing on the phone and showed up with a half a gallon of chicken soup and a bag lozenges—said it was what friends do. She’s not thinking about the money. She’s not like that. She hates the country club set because they’re all snooty and dull.”
Wesley smiled and spoke gently. “Then perhaps you ought not to worry about the size of the ring either.”
“I’m not.” He sighed. “Or I am, but only a little. I just can’t—she’s taken.”
“Is she the one, William?”
Spike turned and studied the collection of family photos lining Wesley’s and Fred’s hallway wall. Buffy was the only girl he’d ever imagined making a wall of family pictures with. He nodded, slowly. “Yeah, mate. That’s her.”
“Then you tell her that. You tell her before she adds a second ring to her finger.”
“But—”
“You’re a good man, a better man than you give yourself credit for, and you deserve to be happy. If Buffy is your chance for happiness, then you have to tell her that.”
“I won’t even be able to keep her as friend, not if I tell her.”
Wesley nodded. “Yes, but that’s gone on too long already.”
Spike couldn’t deny the truth in that or even pretend that he wasn’t already losing her friendship. He swallowed hard. “What will she say? I mean if I did tell her, what do you think she’ll say?”
“I don’t know.”
“Right.”
Wesley clapped a hand on his cousin’s back a couple of times. “Come help me set up for dinner. I ordered Thai. Fred is mortified about serving take-out to guests for Sunday dinner, but she can barely reach the stove over her stomach these days and I want her resting as much as possible.”
“The doctor said it was normal though, right? First babies often come a few days late?”
Wesley nodded. “She said that the due date was just an estimate and could have been off by a few days itself, which has not stopped Fred from worrying and is the reason we will be eating spicy food at every meal until the baby comes.”
Spike chuckled. “And Fred’s the only worrier?”
“I remain a pillar of calm strength.”
They both laughed as they walked to the kitchen to pull out dishes and silverware.
Giles and Anya showed up a few moments after the food, looking like the proverbial cat after eating the family’s pet canary. They waited until the food had been dished to share their news.
Anya held out her hand, gleefully displaying a twinkling ring. “We went to Los Vegas and got married yesterday!”
Wesley nearly fainted.
Sunday, March 6, 2011 (still)
Buffy carried two plates with sandwiches and pickles over to the table and sat down across from Angel.
He smiled. “Thank you. This looks great.”
She shrugged. “It’s just a sandwich.”
“Yeah, but you got the tomato sliced into perfectly even slivers.”
She laughed. It was a long running joke. When they’d still been in high school, Angel had stopped by Buffy’s house after school one day and she had attempted to impress him by serving him a sandwich. Having never sliced a tomato before, she’d chosen a butter knife for the job and had mangled the tomato into sloppy bits which she’d piled onto the sandwich only to later watch in dismay as they all slid out the sides of the bread when he lifted it up to take a bite. Angel had eaten every bit anyway, including a sticker she’d forgotten to take off, and proclaimed her an excellent cook.
Now she sat and watched as he started eating a much tidier sandwich and tried to push away the painful knot in her stomach. “Angel?”
“Hmm?” He lifted a napkin to his mouth.
“Can I ask you a question?”
He chuckled. “Of course.”
“Have you ever…I mean do you ever have…doubts about marrying me?”
“When you can make a sandwich like this? No way.”
She frowned. “I’m being serious.”
He put the sandwich down and studied her quietly for a second. “No. Not for a second.”
“Oh. “ She nodded before looking down at the sandwich on her own plate.
“Princess, what’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
“Buffy?”
She looked up at him with wet eyes. “I think maybe it’s just happening too fast. I mean six months was not really enough time to plan the kind of wedding that your mom wants and now there’s only three months left and we still haven’t decided on…almost anything—and—and maybe we could just postpone it for a while.”
Angel could feel the blood draining from his face as he paled. His palms started to itch with sweat. “Postpone the wedding?” He asked quietly. “How long?”
“I don’t know. Maybe just a few months or if your mom really wants a June wedding, we could wait until next year.”
He watched her hand tremble against the tabletop. “I see.” He reached over and took her hand in his. “Princess, I’m so sorry. I had no idea my mother was being so difficult. I’ll talk to her tonight.”
“No, it’s not—”
He frowned. “I can talk to her. I can get her to back off and let you plan a simpler affair, if that’s what you wish. Is it?”
Sunday, March 6, 2011 (still)
Spike sat on an old ottoman in the middle of his still unfinished party room and strummed his guitar for an audience of one small dog.
No one had come to claim the pup. Spike, feeling particularly unwanted himself, decided that they could take refuge in each other and brought him home. He was happy to find that the pup was already potty-trained and less thrilled to discover that he considered boots a combination toy and snack. He was calling him Doc in honor of the boots he’d already destroyed.
As much as he loved his family, he’d been glad to leave the noise and chaos that afternoon. His talk with Wesley was weighing on him and he did his best thinking when he had a guitar under his fingers.
He was truly bothered by the idea of moving in on another man’s girl, but he had to admit that he’d probably have gotten past that by now if he wasn’t also terrified. He’d gotten so used to waiting. He’d been certain that there would be a sign if he was meant to step in. Surely she would break up with the boyfriend and come to him looking for a cheer up or she’d be in trouble and only he could help. But she’d never treated him as anything more than a friend, a good friend certainly, but she’d never given him a clear sign that an advance would be welcome. Until she’d kissed him, of course, then he’d been certain that she was coming around. But she hadn’t. The kiss had been the beginning of the end. She’d been mortified and had barely spoken to him since. Oh, he could still paint scenarios in his mind that gave them a happy ending; he was good at that. There was no guarantee though. He had no way of knowing if she had any idea how he felt about her; telling her meant risking it all. He had to go all in without ever hearing the odds. The thought that she might look at him with shock and pity bore a hole in his gut.
Wesley had asked if she was the one, like that was the most important part, and maybe it was but it seemed like the obvious part to Spike. Of course she was the one. She made him laugh out loud without a touch cynicism. He couldn’t see her smile and not smile himself. He’d been pulled in by her the second he’d laid eyes on her standing mortified in front of him with red cheeks and her hand covering her mouth in dismay. She’d looked like a cartoon Disney Princess: too expressive and adorable to be real. Yet she was real. If anything, Spike thought, she was one of the most real, honest people he’d ever met. At first he’d thought she was naïve, but now he realized that Buffy wasn’t oblivious to the cruel truths of the world, she simply refused to let the possibility of those truths change her. She gave everyone a smile, assumed anyone she met was good and kind until she saw otherwise and was always trying to help someone. Buffy Summers had changed him in sweet, subtle ways. Spike found himself being gentler with browsers that came into his shop, learning children’s songs and taking in fluffy mutts. He wasn’t as cool as he’d been a few months earlier but, despite the aching need he felt for her, he was happier. It was, he thought whimsically, as though she had erased the voice that told him to worry and he’d reverted to his natural self. William had been a happy child before he’d learned that he was too soft and too peculiar. He’d learned to be more careful, to build and guard a reputation as cool and care-free and to hide his more sensitive self. But Buffy liked him best when he wasn’t hiding that sentimental self and Spike thought he might like himself more too.
He had to tell her. He couldn’t deserve happiness if he wasn’t willing to fight for it and she was his happiness.
Sunday, March 6, 2011 (still)
Buffy was almost relieved to hear the knocking on her front door. She walked over, opened it and furrowed her brow in confusion. “Spike? What are you doing here?”
“Will you invite me in?”
She frowned. “It’s not really a great time.”
“I won’t take long. I just—invite me in for a moment.”
Buffy nodded. “Okay Spike, come on in.”
Spike stepped through the doorway and watched her shut the door behind him. He stared at her.
“What’s up?”
“Right.” He’d hoped that she would lead him into the living room and he’d have a chance to settle some before he had to say it, but clearly she was intent on their remaining in her tiny front hall. Spike looked down at her small bare feet and took a deep breath. “This is …I know that this is the worst possible time and I shouldn’t even—it’s wrong to come and—But I can’t simply say nothing. It’s not going away. Hell, love, I’m an arse for saying it now but I love you. I’m in love with you and I can’t pretend that—” He stepped forward suddenly, cupped the sides of her face and kissed her.
It only lasted an instant before she pulled away and stared at him in shock. “Oh god.” She looked over his shoulder. “Angel, it’s not—”
Spike turned to see the other man, pale and angry behind him.
“Is this why you want to postpone the wedding?”
He couldn’t help himself, Spike turned back to Buffy in surprise. “You’re postponing the wedding?”
Buffy pushed past him and grasped Angel’s arm. Spike noted the man hands were both fisted.
She spoke to Angel first. “Come in the living room. Please, baby.” When Angel nodded, she turned back to Spike. “You need to leave. Now.”
He couldn’t even argue.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
This was a challenging chapter to write. I hope you all like it. Thanks for reading and commenting.
Chapter End Notes:
Thoughts, Hopes, Dreams?