Buffy woke up to the sensation of fingertips gliding across her lower back. She was on her stomach with half of her face against a pillow. Inhaling deeply, all the memories of the day and night before flooded her sleepy brain.
“Good morning.”
“Hey,” she said, turning her head toward Spike’s side of the bed. He was sitting up as if he’d been watching her sleep. The sight of his spiky hair and kiss-swollen lips made her smile. He was more attractive first-thing in the morning than Buffy had thought possible.
“What time is it?”
“About half past eight.”
“I thought you were going to wake me up early,” she accused with a slight pout. “You promised.”
“I did. But you were dead to the world. Snoring and drooling. Couldn’t bear to bother you. Knew you needed the sleep.”
Her mouth opened, she was about to tell him she didn’t snore and that she never drooled, but she rolled her eyes instead. “It’s because you remembered what Dawn said yesterday. God, she’s always butting in, even when she isn’t in the damn room. Well, I think sleep is overrated. I don’t need sleep.”
“You’re gonna get it though. That, and food. You’re skin and bones, Slayer. Did you eat at all yesterday?”
“I was busy. I had a big lunch before I came here, and when I saw the food Lorne brought up, I lost my appetite.” Scooting over, she pulled the blankets up to his lap so she could rest her head on his thigh without extra temptation. “Spike, are you going to take care of me from now on?”
“Someone’s got to. You’re not doing it too well on your own.”
She could feel him playing with her hair. One by one, he plucked out all the pins and untwisted all of the braids.
“It isn’t intentional,” she explained, snuggling closer to his leg. “Ever since we left Sunnydale, I’ve just felt…off. I thought I was covering it up, but apparently you can’t get anything past my sister. But seriously, as much as I appreciate it, you don’t have to take care of me. I’m not Drusilla--.”
“That’s for sure,” he laughed.
“Excuse me?” She sat up suddenly and her hair fell to her breasts in unruly curls. “I hope for your sake that that was a compliment.”
His blue eyes had a hungry glint as they swept from her waist up. “Absolutely. Pet, there’s no comparison.”
“Well, she is crazy and unstable and—and she’s got that goth-thing going on.”
“And you’re my golden goddess.”
“Please,” she grumbled with another eye roll.
“I love it when you’re jealous.” Reaching forward, he brushed the pad of his thumb across one of her nipples. “You know,” he continued, staring at her thoughtfully. “I think we’d both enjoy this conversation more if you came a bit closer.”
“She must’ve had something special about her,” Buffy grumbled, lying on the bed again. This time, she pillowed her head on his chest and wrapped an arm around him. “You tolerated that big ho for, like, ever. Way too long if you ask me.”
“She made me what I am.”
“No, she killed you. She turned you into a vampire, but it hardly changed who you are. And that’s amazing. Even before you fought by my side, and then for your soul… Spike, I take it back, you’ve always been the special one.”
“You flatter me,” he said. Buffy could hear a smile in his voice. “And I will take care of you, Slayer, especially when you’re my wife. It’s in my nature. I’m a bloody caregiver, alright?”
“Okay,” she laughed. “Vampire superhero, world-class lover, and now nurse extraordinaire? Lucky me, I’ve hit the husband jackpot.”
“What was that?”
Hooking her arms around his neck, she kissed his lips as she climbed on top of him. “You heard me,” she said, experimentally rubbing her hips against him. She found him hard, just as she had anticipated. “You heard every single word.”
Using his short fingernails, Spike scratched a light trail from her waist to the sides of her breasts and back down. Then he rested his hands squarely on her backside.
“We should memorialize that. You think Mum could teach you how to cross-stitch that onto a throw pillow for our bed in Vegas?”
“Sure, why not? Once she realizes we slept together, and if she doesn’t shun me for defiling her sweet William, I’m sure anything’s possible. I’m sure I could figure out how to sew.”
“Are you worried? I’m sure she’ll react as any 19th century mother would.”
“You think she’ll react badly?”
“I didn’t say that, but we are breaking all the rules of etiquette that she holds dear. Our two-day engagement has our reputations in shambles already. In her eyes, we’re ruined.”
“Really?” She gasped without meaning to. “She hasn’t said anything.”
“And she won’t. Decorum won’t allow it, and my mum has never failed to observe the proprieties.”
“And that means..?”
“Worst case scenario? I imagine we’ll get the silent treatment or a disappointed look. Perhaps she’ll settle on a guilt trip.”
“You’re kidding,” Buffy remarked. “Here I thought I’d have to sneak back in there and lie through my teeth to avoid some kinda vicious mama bear attack. If we were talking about my mom—heck, we’d be dead meat, and she was only like three steps away from a hardcore hippie.”
“Okay, so there’s some wishful thinking on my part. I can’t say what she will or won’t do with absolute certainty. She’s never had to face this before. It’s only taken a hundred-plus years for my mum to stumble across me with a girl in my bed. And under these circumstances, she’s earned her status as a wild card.”
“So maybe I should go in there? Maybe there’s enough time to--.”
Before she could finish, Spike kissed her silent. He rolled them both over, pinning her beneath him. “To what?” he asked gruffly. His hands snaked between them to hold his cock to her opening. “What is it that you want to do, Buffy?”
“That…God, that’s not fair,” she gasped.
“Don’t go. Stay. Just ten minutes,” he continued softly. “Give me this chance to keep my promise.”
“As if I need convincing.” Her hand met his and she helped to push him into her body. “Spike, you totally had me at hello.”
“What?”
“You complete me?” When he still looked lost, she laughed. “Um, show me the money?”
“Babe--.”
“Still nothing? Damn.” Giggling again, her hooked her legs around him. “Where were you circa 1996? Dru must’ve had you living under a rock.”
“And where were you? In diapers somewhere?”
“Eh,” she paused, finding it challenging to keep their conversation going as waves of pleasure rocked through her. She dug her fingers into his shoulders. “I was, um, here. A freshman in Los Angeles. Valley girl to the extreme. Hung up on Tom Cruise, before it became lame to crush on Tom Cruise.”
“Buffy, kiss me.”
Their mouths met frantically, but she wasn’t able to kiss him back for long. She whimpered as she started to cum. She gripped him, squeezing from the inside out. Spike let out a growl, finding his release almost at the same time. Without thinking twice, Buffy guided his head to her neck. He kissed the smooth tender skin, but he didn’t bite her.
“Slayer—baby, I can’t.”
“Oh. I just thought…you always asked to do it before, so I thought… It’s okay. I should’ve asked.”
“Buffy, let me explain,” he began. He withdrew from her body and motioned her into his open arms. “What you just did there, just the offer, it means a bloody lot, but if I have any human blood in my system the Wolfram and Hart guard dogs will sniff me out. I’ll be tossed out on my ass or worse.”
“Let me guess, it’s another one of Angel’s rules?”
“Animal blood only for all vamps. It’s enforced company-wide with random blood screenings. Doesn’t matter if it’s donated or… Pet, my grand sire is entirely no fun. Besides…” Inhaling deeply, he leaned in to kiss and nuzzle her neck one more time. “Perhaps we should keep you pure until our wedding night?”
“Spike,” she laughed, running her fingers through his hair. “I hate to break it to you, but I don’t think there’s anything pure about me anymore. I’ve been there, done that. Unless…will you claim me after we’re married?”
Spike froze then he looked at her with narrowed eyes and a crooked grin. “What do you know about claiming, cutie?”
“Um, not much. Nothing, probably. Giles brought it up once or twice. Here and…uh, there. It’s a pretty big deal, right?”
“More or less,” he replied, grinning a little wider. “Sweetheart, don’t look now, but we’ve run out of time.”
“Oh.” Buffy frowned at the clock on the nightstand. “You’re going out there with me, aren’t you?”
“You have to ask? Of course. I’ve got your back.”
“Good,” she said. She held his face in her hands and kissed his lips three times in a row. “Let me—just don’t move. I’ll find our clothes.”
***
“All I can say is, things are different nowadays. We have standards and rules, but they’ve changed. They’ve evolved with everyday life. Divorces are super common, women vote and work out of the house… Some of the changes you’ll find are really good, but others? Not so much. You guys cared a lot more about what society thought. Well, now, we’re pretty self-centered. You can call it independence or whatever, but most of us don’t give a crap what other people think.”
“Oh my,” Mrs. Pratt replied.
“I know,” Dawn continued with her mouth full. “It’s crazy.”
“Dawn, what are you talking about?”
Her sister jumped a little before turning in her chair to face them. “Hi, Buffy. Hey, Spike.” She waved her hands as she continued to chew. “Hold on, I’m about to choke on my bagel.”
“Now that would be tragic,” Buffy said with a forced smile. “Answer the question, please.”
“Fred brought us food. Mrs. Pratt said that Froot Loops and bagels are unlike anything she’s had for breakfast. So one thing led to another and--.”
“And that fancy speech just came to you?”
“Actually I was about to explain how views on love and sex, not unlike our wide variety of breakfast foods, have dramatically changed since Mrs. Pratt’s day, but you can take over if you want to.”
Buffy nose flared. Her hands balled up into fists.
“Well now,” Spike spoke up with a snort laugh. “I’m usually all for tackling the elephant in the room head-on, but let’s take a step back. This isn’t suitable talk for our breakfast table. Don’t you agree, Mother?”
“I believe so…?” Anne replied. “William, I will trust your judgment on the matter. Miss Dawn’s been very helpful and informative, but I confess I’m still rather perplexed.”
“I know, and that’s perfectly alright.” As he spoke, he ushered Buffy toward the tabletop of food and handed her an empty plate. “My mum isn’t here as some kinda social experiment, Dawnie. Yes, she’s in the future, but she doesn’t need to know every detail on how humans have or haven’t mucked up their lives for the past century.”
He sat next to his mother and smiled. She smiled back warmly, reaching for his hand.
“Mother, you are loved.”
“Oh, dear, of course. I realize that.”
“You will be cared for and protected by every person in this room until you leave us. And as much as I’m aware of you being a blasted worrywart--.”
“Now, William,” she looked away and laughed softly. “It’s a mother’s duty to worry, and you know it.”
“You needn’t worry about me or my future wife, but if something is weighing on your mind, something about last night’s sleeping arrangements for example, I hope you’ll speak up.”
“Oh. Oh, I would never. It isn’t my place.”
“I never lied to you, Mother. I won’t start now. Buffy slept in my room last night. Now she’s terribly upset to think you’ll look down on her for doing so. Isn’t that right, Slayer?”
All at once, Buffy was the center of attention. She slowly put down her plate of food and joined them around the table. “I…I didn’t want to be disrespectful. But then I couldn’t stay away from--.”
She cut herself off, realizing what she was about to say.
“Mrs. Pratt, I snore,” she continued in a rush, tearing her bagel into small pieces. “It’s bad. So, so bad. Sp—um, William knew I’d keep you awake so he offered me his room.”
She looked around, waiting for someone to challenge her.
“And since she’s airing out all her dirty laundry, I’ll let you know, Buffy drools as well.”
“Spike.”
“That’s what Buffy’s known for, her deviated septum and her plastic pillow case,” Dawn chimed in with a giggle.
“No, she’s known for her heart and her courage,” Spike corrected. “Mother, she’s worried herself sick over you.”
“I hate to hear that,” Anne said, turning toward Buffy. “Miss Summers, I only wish you would’ve told me of your condition last night. William’s always been a heavy sleeper. He’s also a considerate man. It pleases me to see that you and my son were cut from similar cloth.”
“Mrs. Pratt,” Buffy began, relieved. “You have no idea how much it means to--.”
“Okay, when you say cloth, what kind of cloth do you mean exactly?” Dawn asked thoughtfully. Then she giggled again, “Is it pleather? Or velour?”
“You were cut from Spandex!” Buffy hissed, tossing a chunk of bread across the table. “That’s for sure!”
Dawn’s smile instantly became a frown. “What’s that supposed to mean? Spandex is way gross.”
“Think about it. It’s skin tight, it smothers and it’s literally a pain in the--.”
Spike’s laugh cut Buffy off. “Come now, ladies. Of all the ways to squabble, name calling by way of fabrics? Is there anything else we need to share or clear up before we can start on our breakfast?”
“Fred made me promise not to bother you guys until after you got up. I guess Angel’s been demanding to see Buffy all morning. He missed some important meeting; he’s holed up in his room. Fred thinks he’s drunk. He won’t stop talking about Buffy and cookie dough? God, he must be plastered.”
Buffy’s eyes grew wide; she was caught taking her first bite of food.
“Slayer, do you know what he’s going on about?”
“Unfortunately.”
“What to talk about it?”
She shook her head and after she swallowed, she continued, “I’m no poet. I don’t have your way with words. It wasn’t my best analogy, that’s for sure. It isn’t worth repeating, especially not in a group setting.”
“Say no more. I suggest we finish up here and get dressed—both at a leisurely pace—then we’ll pull his sorry ass out of its drunken stupor, how’s that sound?”
“William?”
“Sorry, Mum. I’ll mind the language, but Angel inspires me, you see.”
“Will you tell me about this Angel fellow? You dislike him, does he truly not live up to his name?”
“Angel’s the man in charge here. He runs this building and the law firm on the floors below us. Some swear he’s a saint, but I know better. I’ve known him for a very, very long time. He’s taken what’s been mine more times than I care to admit. But that won’t happen again. He used to court Buffy--.”
“You’ve taken his intended?” Mrs. Pratt asked with a scandalized gasp.
“No, no, it was nothing like that,” Buffy answered. “We weren’t that serious. Angel and I didn’t intend to do anything.”
“They were sweet on each other,” Spike continued.
“And it was a long time ago. Like ages ago, Mrs. Pratt. And it didn’t last very long either. Just, um, two or three years,” Dawn added. When Buffy looked at her, she shrugged. “What? I can’t contribute to the conversation too?"
“It’s a tangled web, Mother. Mutually, we can’t stand each other, but we’ve worked together recently. He’s always been sore about Buffy and me. About me in general really. It’s jealousy. He could never be as handsome, charming or--.”
“Humble?” Buffy suggested. She and Spike exchanged a smirk before she continued, “Angel’s one of the good guys. He may not act like an actual angel all the time, but he’s okay. He’s letting us stay here. He’s feeding us.”
“Oh, and he’s letting Lorne be your wedding planner! I forgot that part! He told Lorne to help you guys out before he got wasted. Sounds like your wedding might be all expenses paid.”
“Fred said this?” Spike asked Dawn.
“Fred told me what Lorne told her. Lorne talked to Angel this morning and heard about the cookie dough firsthand.”
“And Lorne is? Should I know that name?”
“The guy with the horns, green skin and red, beady…” Buffy trailed off once Anne’s eyes grew wide. “Okay. Maybe we should just eat? Unless Dawn has anything else to spring on us?”
His sister shook her head. “I’ve got nothing.”
“Thank goodness.” She caught Spike’s eye again and said, “First, we conquer breakfast. For some reason I’m starving.”
***
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