Less than an hour later, Mrs. Pratt was suitably dressed in a pair of Buffy’s sweatpants and one of Spike’s t-shirts.  Over that, she wore a hospital gown and over that, she wore a lab coat buttoned up to her neck.  She was perched on the couch while Buffy sat cross-legged at her feet.  Her fingers were working deep in Buffy’s hair, braiding and pinning it up and off her shoulders.

“It’s starting to look really pretty, Buffy,” Dawn assured her.  “A little old-fashioned maybe, but vintage is always in.  It’ll be a great hairstyle for the wedding.  Can you do mine next, Mrs. Pratt?”

“Of course,” Anne replied.  “Although I had no daughters, I was blessed with plenty of sisters.  Being the eldest, I became quite versed in hair.  You’ll see, Miss Summers.  Once I’m finished, you’ll knock my son to his feet with your beauty.”

“Spike had better be careful then,” Dawn snickered.  “Buffy’s always been really good at knocking him down, but now if she can do it without lifting a finger…?”

In the recliner, Spike looked up from reading Dawn’s cell phone.  “I’m feeling off-kilter already.  But then, I always feel that way when the Slayer’s around.”

“Slayer?” Mrs. Pratt laughed.  “My, that’s another peculiar nickname!”

“She slays me,” Spike explained with a smirk.  “There isn’t much more to it.”

“Oh, gag,” Dawn said, rolling her eyes.  “When is the reading going to start?  Mrs. Pratt has great taste, you guys.  She picked out one of my personal faves.  It’s about this girl and this guy, and--.”

“I’ve been skimming through your personal fave, and, I’m sorry, bit, but it’s filth.  A bloody teen-angst driven soap opera.”

“Excuse me?”

“And a poorly written one to bat.  Maybe, instead of exposing my mum to this, I should just pop my tape of Passions into the deal over there?”

“But—God, I think you and Giles are the last ones on the planet to actually use freaking VHS players!  Buffy, tell him--.”

“Oh, no.  I’m being pampered here.  You and Spike can battle this out on your own.”

As Dawn and Spike continued to bicker, Buffy shook her head as much as she could.  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Pratt.  I hope the arguing doesn’t bother you.  They aren’t really fighting.  Think of them as feisty puppies or, um--.”

“It’s alright, Miss Summers.  It doesn’t bother me in the slightest.  I wanted William to have siblings.  His father passed before we could expand our family.  It’s rather nice to get a taste of how things might’ve been if fate had treated us differently.”

Buffy paused for a moment before speaking again.  “I like how you look at things, Mrs. Pratt.  You’re always so positive.  Anyone else would’ve crumbled hours ago, but here you are, after a completely crazy day, staying up late to party--.”

“No offense, but some party this is,” Dawn grumbled.  She sulked on the couch next to Mrs. Pratt.  “Since Spike won’t read from my book, and since I refuse to sit through his dumb soap opera, what are we going to do, play board games?”

“Board games?” Mrs. Pratt repeated.

“They’re like the parlor games we played back home,” Spike explained.  “Only much more tame.”

“Tame?  Just what kinda rowdy games did you guys play in Victorian times?” Buffy wondered out loud.  “It’s not like Spin the Bottle was around yet…or was it?  Hey, when were bottles invented anyway?”

“William, do behave yourself.  These are good girls.  Don’t sully them with your wicked tales.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Mother, but they should know we weren’t all lace, corsets, and button shoes.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Buffy saw Spike’s mischievous wink as he scooted to the edge of his chair.  “Okay, now I’m almost afraid of what you’re going to say,” she laughed.

“I want to know!” Dawn exclaimed.  “Are we talking Victorian orgies?  This is great!  I can totally put this in my paper!”

“I wasn’t aware of any specific orgies, but at parties, a group would regularly tiptoe off.  They’d duck into other rooms to play games like, “Squeak, Piggy, Squeak.”  It was innocent fun, but you still had a blindfolded girl spinning around on some bloke’s lap.  He’d make farm animal noises until the chit could correctly guess who she was squirming on.  Another game was “Hot Cockles,” where the bloke would press his face into the lady’s--.”

Before Buffy could interrupt him, Mrs. Pratt beat her to it.  “That’s enough, William,” she said.

“But it was just getting interesting,” Dawn protested.

“Use your imagination to fill in the blanks, bit.”

“Okay, so I guess when you say cockles, you aren’t talking about those shells you find at the beach?”

“Miss Summers, your hair is now complete.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” Buffy said, jumping to her feet.

“William, do you have a mirror so Buffy may see herself?”

“Eh, yeah.  We’ll have to go a bathroom on one of the legal floors though.”

“Oh sure,” Dawn said, filling Buffy’s empty place so Mrs. Pratt could do her hair next.  “They just want to be alone.  Again.  I bet he’ll even show her how to play “Hot Cockles.”

Mrs. Pratt’s eyes met Buffy’s and a wave of embarrassment flooded her body.  It made her flinch.  “I know you did a wonderful job, Anne.  I just want to see it for myself.”

“Of course you do, dear.  Now, William.” 

She looked at her son and he nodded.  “Got it.  No funny business. We’ll hurry back.”

“I’ll get my shoes,” Buffy announced.  She kept her head down as she hurried into Spike’s bedroom.

“Pet, you alright?” Spike asked, following one step behind.

“I’m great.  I just need shoes.”  She went to the open suitcase on his bed and started to search for her flip-flops.

“You’re sure?  Baby, it’s okay if--.”

“I know it’s okay, but did you see how she looked at me?  And did you see how I reacted to it?”  After slipping on her shoes, she grabbed his hand and pressed his palm to her warm cheek.  “I’m still recovering.  One look did this to me.”

“You did light up real nice,” he said.  Buffy knew he was trying not to laugh.  “Like a cherry tomato, ripe for picking.”

Her eyes narrowed and she swatted his hand away.  “That’s just what I needed, to be compared to a fruit.”

“What is it that you need, Slayer?”

“Nothing.  I’m ready to go now.”

“Alright,” he said, although he looked at her suspiciously.  “Just so you’re aware, you being bashful?  Especially when it comes to my mother?  It’s becoming on you.  Entirely not needed, but it’s still bloody flattering.”

“Gee, thanks,” she mumbled, leaving the room.  After saying a quick goodbye to Mrs. Pratt and Dawn, she waited until she and Spike were alone in the elevator to ask, “Do you think she knows about us?”

“What do you mean?”

“Does Anne know we’ve had sex?”

Spike blinked.  He waited a minute to think over the question.  “I doubt it.  Is that why you’re flaring up?  It is paranoia?  Guilt?”

“Possibly,” she admitted, staring ahead at the elevator doors.  “She’s already called me a trollop once today.”

“What?”

“It was when she thought I was your kidnapper.  You know, toying with your heart and out to get your money?”  When the doors opened, she walked onto the floor of law offices.  Without looking behind her, she continued, “She’s protective of you.  But at the same time, she thinks I’m some kinda saint.  It’s bizarre.”

“I don’t think you can change her mind about it though.  Whatever we’ve done, it doesn’t matter--.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Why not?  She won’t judge you.  She isn’t the type.  We were from the end of the Victorian age; we weren’t bloody Puritans.  She stopped me from telling you about “Hot Cockles,” because she knows the game.  Hell, she’s probably played it before.”

“No way,” Buffy said, spinning around.  “Not Anne, she’s too…good.”

“Now who’s calling who a saint?” Spike snorted.  “Just because I lived a dismal life with the wallflowers and spinsters, that doesn’t mean she did the same.  As you can tell, she’s a regular night owl.  Before she got sick, you couldn’t drag her away from her high society parties.”

“She did mention something about that…but “Hot Cockles?””

“Slayer, it wasn’t so bad.  A guy kneeled over with his hands behind his back and his face in a lady’s lap.  That was supposed to confuse him into not knowing who was slapping at his bound hands.”

“Your people sure were crazy about guessing games.  It still sounds pretty vulgar--.”

“’Cause you’re looking at it with your modern-day dirty mind.”

“Trust me, when I have your head anywhere near my lap, you aren’t the only one with hot cockles.”

“Is that right?” he laughed.  “Pet, have you considered just how many layers of clothing that women wore back then?”

“After seeing Anne bundle herself up like an Eskimo?  Something tells me it was a lot.  So they weren’t, like, nose to nose with…?”

“No, not even close, but I appreciate the imagery.  I like your version of the game much better.”

“You would.”  She turned on her heels so Spike wouldn’t see her blush again.  “Is this the floor we were on before?”

“All looks the same, doesn’t it?  Every floor in this bloody high rise has the same layout, the same furniture, the same miserable cooperate wannabes.”

“It looks nice though.  I couldn’t have a steady diet of it, but it’s clean, modern, contemporary…nice.”

“All words you wouldn’t typically use to describe my grand sire.”

“Well, to be fair, I wouldn’t use three out of the four,” Buffy admitted with a grin.  She continued ahead until she saw an office with its light on.  “Is that Angel’s office?  Is he in there?”

“It’s Wesley’s, but I can’t tell if anyone’s with him.  The door’s closed.”

“And?” Buffy whispered.  “Can’t you tap into the office with your vampire hearing?  Can’t Angel hear us?”

“It’s the walls.  With so many shady-types under one roof, they had to find a supernatural way to block out the sounds behind closed doors.  Privacy, legal matters, confidentially, office gossip.  Hold on.  Pet, I think we should hide.”

“What?” she asked with a laugh.  She couldn’t get another word out before Spike had her back against the wall.  Then they were nose-to-nose.  His knee was nudged between her legs and his hands were at her sides.

“Wouldn’t want them to see your jammies, right?  Though I must admit, I was disappointed to see you chose such a conservative set.”

“Seriously?”  With a wrinkled nose, she looked down at her t-shirt and lounge pants.  “What was I supposed to wear?  For a slumber party with your mother?”

“Guess you’ve got a point,” he laughed before kissing her.  His fingers slipped under the hem of her shirt.  She gasped into his mouth once his fingers caressed her stomach and inched towards her breasts.

“Spike--.”

Suddenly he covered her mouth with his free hand.  The office door opened.  Instead of Angel or Wesley, it was Gunn.  He closed the door behind him before putting both hands into the pants pockets of his three-piece suit. 

“You’ve got some balls, man.”

“Charles.”  Spike moved in front of Buffy to block her from Gunn’s view.  “What’s the cause for this latest meeting of the minds?”

“What are you doing out here, Spike?  Spying?  Or are you really just macking on Angel’s ex in front of the windows?”

“The Slayer needed a mirror,” he explained with a shrug.  “Being a vamp and all, I don’t have one.  I’m escorting her to the bathroom.”

“I see.  You could’ve gone to any floor though.  We’ve got dozens of them.  And on every floor, the bathrooms are right next to the elevators.  You’re far from the elevators.”

“Don’t see how it’s any of your concern.  I’ve been coming and going as I please for weeks.  Never encountered a hall monitor before.”

“I hear that’s about to change.”

“Is it?”

“There’s no need to be defensive,” Gunn said with a close-lipped smile, rising up his hands.  “I hear you’re Vegas-bound.”

“That news traveled fast.  Was that a topic of the meeting?”

“More or less.”

“More or less?  How completely not helpful you are.  Maybe I should just…”  He reached for the door, but Gunn stepped in his way.  “You back to being a bodyguard, Mr. Attorney?”

“I think you and Angel have had enough of each other today.  Give it a rest.  Take your girl upstairs and call it a night.”

They didn’t say anything for a minute and Buffy wished she could see more than just the back of Spike’s head.

“Alright,” Spike said finally.  “The Slayer and I will head back to where we came from.  Pet?”

Not sure what he wanted her to do, Buffy went to his side.  He wrapped an arm around her shoulders before saying, “Charles, will you tell his majesty that we’ll speak with him tomorrow?”

“Just get out of here.  Now, Spike.”

“What the heck was that all about?” Buffy asked, shaking off Spike’s arm as they walked back toward the elevators.

“Honestly, I’m not sure.  You think they were talking about us in there?”

“Who knows?  Maybe?  Probably?  Did you let me wander over there just so we could put on a show outside of that office?”

“From your tone of voice, if I said yes you’d be pissed off?”

“Royally.”

“Then I should deny it, yeah?” he asked, scratching his brow.

“It’d probably be in your best interest.”

“In that case, of course I didn’t.  I wouldn’t dream of being so crass.”

“No, not you.”

They walked in silence until they reached the bathrooms. 

“Suppose you won’t be needing a hand…?  Right,” he replied, faced with Buffy’s dirty look.  “I’ll wait for you out here.  Take your time.”

Buffy entered the bathroom grumbling under her breath, but she froze as soon as she saw her reflection.

“Wow,” she whispered.  She turned her head from side to side, inspecting the elaborate braided up-do.  All at once, she could envision herself as a bride and it made her heart swell.

“Now I know where you got your talented fingers from,” she said, walking out of the bathroom a minute later.  “Spike?”

He wasn’t where she’d left him, but she could hear him nearby.  Buffy tried not to have her flip-flops smack the floor as she hurried toward Wesley’s office.

“You’re too much,” Spike was saying practically in a snarl.

“She told me it was okay,” Angel shot back.  “Buffy told me to contact Willow about the spell.  Aren’t you the least bit curious?  Your mother was a vampire, but now she’s suddenly cured?”

“She’s cured, but she’s got an expiration date!  She’ll be gone in a few days!  Why bother--.”

“I don’t particularly care about your mom, Spike.  I want the spell.”

“What’s going on?” Buffy asked, deciding that that was the best moment to walk into the office.

“Buffy, your hair,” Angel began.

“He’s got a hard-on for your spell,” Spike interrupted as he paced the room.  “Since we won’t let him put my mum under a bloody microscope, he’s invited your friends to join us on our weekend.  Willow, Xander, and if we’re lucky, they’ll have fucking Giles with them.”

“Oh,” Buffy replied.

“They’ll all be with us on Sunday.”

“I gathered that much.  The more the merrier…I hope.”

“Would you care to share with the rest of us?” Angel asked.  “What are you two talking about?  Buffy, since when are you not eager to see your friends?”

“I see them all the time, and eager is such a strong word…” 

Buffy looked around the room at Angel’s team.  She knew some of them more than others.  She hadn’t had a lot of time to imagine how she’d tell Angel of her upcoming wedding, but this wasn’t what she’d had in mind.

“It’s a good thing I’m wearing my most conservative pair of pajamas,” she mumbled to herself.  “Or this would’ve been just a little more awkward than it already is.”

Hearing her, Spike stopping pacing.  “You don’t have to do it.  Babe, you can wait for the others.”

“According to Carl’s brochure, Lorne’s the Entertainment Director of this place?  Maybe we could use his help?”

Hearing his name, Lorne perked up.  “Sounds as if you kids might be planning a party?”

Buffy nodded.  “Something small, intimate, with food, formal attire…the exchanging of vows.”

“It also sounds an awful lot like a wedding,” Wesley declared with narrowed eyes.

“Percy, you always were the brains of the operation,” Spike remarked.  He stood next of Buffy, but he didn’t touch her.  “With my mum in town, we’ve decided to put on a ceremony.  I’m gonna get Buffy a ring, and I’m going to put it on her finger on Sunday.”

“And you’re all invited,” Buffy added.  She spoke to the group, but her eyes were on Angel.  He was completely stiff and emotionless.

“Oh—uh, wow!” Fred exclaimed with a nervous smile.  “I guess I’ll be the first to say congratulations!”

“Yes,” Wesley agreed quietly.  His eyes were also on Angel.  “Of course congratulations are in order, and we will attend--.”

“Speak for yourself,” Angel interrupted.

“Angel--.”

“Not now, Buffy,” he said before storming out of the room.

She tried to remain calm although her heart was racing.  Tears filled her eyes but she blinked them away.  “When will my friends be here?” she asked no one in particular.

“Sometime in the afternoon,” Wesley answered.  “Willow said they should be here around two o’clock.”

“I know you all don’t know me well,” she began.

“You mean other than as the tiny blonde with super powers that brings our mighty leader to his knees whenever he hears your name?”

“Watch it, Lorne,” Spike warned.

“I love them both, but Spike and I…”

“There is no need to explain it to us, Buffy.  Your love life isn’t our concern, but Angel is,” Wesley said.  “Honestly, I don’t know if he’ll recover from this.”

“Come on, he’ll suck it up!” When no one seemed to share his enthusiasm, Spike sighed.  “He bloody-well has to!  The Slayer’s made her choice.  I’m the one she wants and we’re getting hitched.  That’s that.  He’ll learn to live with it.”

Another awkward silence filled the room and Buffy looked to Spike for help.

“Right.  We’ll keep everyone posted on the time and place of our upcoming shindig.  And, as for Angel…”

“I’ll talk to him,” Buffy said.  “I’ll make him understand.”

“Good luck with that.”  She heard Gunn say as the group parted ways.

***