Chapter Thirty Nine

A/n- Just wanted to add a little extra disclaimer here, I own NOTHING NASCAR. Any names used here in out belong (obviously) to the people that answer to them. I get no monetary compensation for this, so I am not making money off anyone, alive or dead. In other words, please don't sue. That being said, on with the story. Also, Brett Hargrove is not a Nascar driver. He's made up.








Chapter Thirty Nine




The next couple of months seemed to fly by for the small group of friends. Buffy had spent the entire day of Thanksgiving alternating between teasing Willow, and pouting at her for getting married without telling them. Mark had hired Jack, and Native Soul had started to rehearse for the rescheduled tour. He was happier than he thought he should have been over their decision. Jack was a great drummer, as well as funny. He took the fact that he was the 'replacement' very seriously. In the few interviews he had done after being hired, he'd made sure that his respect for Johnny shone through. So now, after Christmas, they were starting their tour, with Willow. She had decided to take a semester off and travel with them. Mainly because the press was making it impossible for her to attend class. Once the story of their marriage broke, Sunnydale had been inundated with reporters once more. Good for the economy, bad for life in general.

Cordy's pregnancy was moving along well. They often teased her that they could turn off the lights after she walked into a room, she glowed so much. Xander hovered around her like he didn't already have a daughter. Jazz alternated between excitement and jealousy. She had asked Xander one night while he was putting her to bed, if he would love the new baby more than her. He'd just smiled, and kissed her head, then told her that nobody could take her place in his heart. That seemed to make her happy and she had been a lot less petulant towards her mother after that. Xander had been diligently going to his weekly meetings of Survivors of Child Abuse, and had started to forgive himself for what he considered his weakness.

Anya and Giles had gone to England over Christmas. Unlike Spike, the older Giles had missed his birth country, and had wanted to show her the places of his childhood. He also visited Rosemary's grave for the first time in six years, at Anya's urging. He had tenderly cleared her resting place of weeds, then placed a spray of deep, red roses across the top. He still loved her as much as ever, but he also loved Anya. It had taken him longer than Anya to admit it, but he did to Rosemary, and had felt a lightness enter his heart. He knew, in his soul, that she understood, and was giving him her blessing. When they had returned home to Sunnydale, he'd asked Anya to sell her townhouse and move in with him. He had presented her with a diamond ring when he did it. She had looked at him, in that piercing way of hers, and had told him if he hadn't asked soon, she was planning on asking him.

Spike had taken the news better than anyone expected. He couldn't say that it had surprised him, really. His father was the marrying kind, so a part of him had been waiting for it. It didn't stop the pang of grief that stabbed his heart, or the flare of resentment, but it kept him from being unreasonable. Of course, when Giles and Anya announced it at the Christmas celebration at Cordy and Xander's, Dawn had dragged Spike to the side. She'd demanded to know just when Spike was going to get around to asking Buffy. He'd merely smiled at her, and told her it wasn't time. At which point she'd rolled her eyes, huffed something about 'men', and stomped away.

Dawn had passed her tests and was now a graduate. She was looking at art schools in New York and sending out her applications. Buffy was praying for financial aid, not even considering asking Spike for the money. He was paying out the ass to get the car and crew ready to go and didn't need the added expense of sending her sister to school. After a rather brief, almost 'duh' type conversation, the girls had gone through their mother's house, kept the things they wanted, and sold the rest. Except for the art work they didn't keep. Those went to the gallery. They had then sold the house, every dime that wasn't used to pay off bills, going into an account for Dawn's education.

Spike and Buffy had had a battle of wills over how to split the money for the bills at his place. When she had insisted on paying half the condo payment, he'd very smugly told her that it was paid off. She'd then started haggling over the rest of the bills, starting with the electricity and working her way down to the Internet access. He'd been just as insistent that she didn't have to pay anything. Hell, as far as he was concerned, she didn't have to work. That suggestion had not been met with pleasantness. She told him, rather bluntly, that they weren't married, and no, this was not a ploy to get him to ask. But until they were, she would pay her own way. So, Spike had decided to give her what she wanted. It wasn't that important, really. It wasn't like she'd have to worry about it for long.

By the time Christmas passed, Spike had a full crew assembled. They worked long, hard hours to get ready for Speed week, each wanting to prove themselves. Most of them were new, never working above the dirt track level. Xander being one of them. He took it very seriously, doing everything to make sure that he and Spike were in sync on the headphones and with the car. They went over every detail, ten times, just to make sure they'd be contenders. During it all, they'd done a good job of keeping it a secret that Spike was returning to the racing field. Around the middle of January, that changed.

Buffy had been the first to find out that the story broke. And from of all people, Riley. She had been walking in from her lunch break, still a little sad that Willow was gone, when she saw him. She had been surprised to say the least, especially since he was seeking her out. After they'd broken up, she'd found out he'd switched banks. Dawn had seen him at school a couple of times, and he had always said hi, but he never approached her. Until Johnny had been killed. Then he had gone up to the teen to offer his condolences. But he had never tried to contact any of the rest of them.

Buffy had walked over to him, giving him a warm smile, hoping that they could at least be friends. He'd merely told her, in very curt tones, that he hoped she was happy. Then he went on to tell her that he had seen on the news that Spike was going back to racing. Buffy had been stunned. She knew that they'd tried very hard to keep it under wraps, not wanting to have to deal with another round of reporter infestation. There had been enough of that over the last six months.

Unfortunately, Riley had seen her shock, and had come to the conclusion that Spike hadn't told her. She'd only been able to stare at him when he had launched into a monologue about how could the blonde betray her trust like that. She'd cut him off, telling that she DID know he was going to race again, she was just surprised that someone had leaked the information. The fact that he had immediately apologized was the only thing that kept her from calling security to escort him out. Afterwards, they had stood in awkward silence for a few minutes, until the bank manager told her it was time to go back to work. That was the last time she had seen him.

Spike had cursed a blue streak when he'd come home that night. Several reporters had already called the garage, as well as shown up. Some local fans had stopped by to express their support as well as concern. A couple of his old racing buddies had very bluntly asked him what the hell he was thinking. Not only did he have the vision impairment, but he also had an inexperienced crew. If he wanted to race again, he should have started in the Busch League. Or better yet, one of the lesser known, non televised leagues. The things Spike had said to them had not been repeatable.

Buffy had been a wreck when he got home. Several reporters had called, shooting off their questions before she had a chance to say hello. The question that was repeated the most was how did she feel about him racing when he was practically blind? About the fifth time she'd heard it, she decided to let the machine pick up. Over the next few days, it got so bad that Spike hired a press agent, and had him set up an interview with Darrell Hammond on RPM tonight. That way he could officially announce his plans, as well as answer the nay sayers. He WOULD race again, and if he had anything to say about it, he would win his second Daytona 500.


~*~*~


"I'll miss you." Buffy was sitting next to Spike at the airport, waiting for his flight to be called.

"I'll miss you, too. But I'll only be gone a couple of days," he assured, lacing his fingers through hers. "Call if you need anything. The number for the hotel is by the phone. And make sure Xander's taking care of the car, and not letting anybody get a sneak peek at the paint scheme." Buffy rolled her eyes and chuckled.

"Everything will be fine. Xander watches that car like a hawk. No unauthorized person will dare set foot in the garage with him on duty," she told him. He gave her a grin.

"I suppose not. You'll watch?"

"Always have." He leaned down and kissed her, drinking his fill of her lips before he would be without her.

"This is a much better way to leave," he said, pulling away.

"What do you mean?" Her brows drew together in confusion. He brought their combined hands up to his lips, and brushed them across her knuckles.

"This time I know that you're here to come home to." Her smile lit up her face, and tears glistened in her eyes.

"I love you."

"I love you, too." They both groaned when his flight was called. He stood and pulled her up, kissing her once more. "I'll call as soon as I get there. Don't forget, tomorrow at seven," he reminded her.

"I know. I'm sure we'll have a full house. I've already given out the list of snacks for everybody to bring," she teased. Spike chuckled at that, handing his ticket to the stewardess.

"Love you, pet," he said one more time, kissing her with such vigor, that the other passengers turned away with embarrassed envy. She was breathless when he pulled away. He gave her a smirk, then turned and moved through the gate, his duster flowing behind him.


~*~*~


"So, how are you doing?" Cordelia asked, sliding into the stool while Buffy poured her a drink. Xander and Jazz were in the living room with Dawn and Connor, while she and Cordy had come into the kitchen to gather up the food.

"Alright. I thought it would be hard to sell the house. But once it was done, it was almost a relief," she replied, setting the glass of iced tea in front of the brunette.

"That's good. But it's not what I meant." The two friends locked eyes as understanding passed between them. With a sigh, Buffy sat down next to her, and stared down at the ice in her own glass.

"I don't know, really. I'm scared, excited. Nervous. You name it, and it's probably right," she said with a chuckle. Cordy smiled and took a sip of her drink.

"I know what you mean. And Xander's not even DRIVING the car. He's so worried about letting Spike down, and he's just being so. . .anal." They both laughed at that. "He's driving me insane with all this nonsense about cams and carburetors and exhaust manifolds. Not to mention the way the track banks, or the weather. I swear, he has watched the weather for Florida every night this week. I keep telling him, it's a month away. They're not going to be able to tell you anything yet."

"Oh, I know. Been dealing with pretty much the same thing around here. What's funny, is everybody keeps freaking about his sight, and if anything, it's made him MORE aware of what's going on around him. It worries me, but I don't think it's going to be as much of a problem as they think. I've watched them practice a couple of times this week, trying to look at it from a fan's perspective, instead of a girlfriend's."

"Yeah? Come to any conclusions?" Cordy asked when Buffy paused.

"He was born to do this. I mean, really. I'm not just saying that because that's what he wants me to believe. He REALLY is good. His reflexes are amazing, he's almost got a sixth sense about it. It's almost spooky."

"You sound like you've come to terms with being a NASCAR wife." Hazel eyes met brown, and they both smiled.

"Yeah. I think I have. And you know what? It's not as terrifying as I first thought it was going to be."

"Good."

"Hey! It's getting ready to start! Where's the food?" Xander called from the living room. The two women rolled their eyes and stood.

"Coming, oh bottomless pit," Cordy called, grabbing the bag of chips. Buffy snickered and followed her out, carrying a six pack of sodas.

"What? I'm a growing boy," Xander said as his wife settled next to him on the couch. Jazz was laying on her stomach on the floor, head propped in hands. Connor and Dawn were snuggled in the big, overstuffed chair that matched the couch. Buffy sat next to Cordelia, and picked up the VCR remote.

"Yeah, Mommy. Daddy's a growin' boy." Jazz jumped to her father's defense, giggling when her mother rolled her eyes.

"He's growing alright. Out." Xander pouted at that, but wrapped his arm protectively around his wife, his hand settling on her rounded stomach. All talking ceased when the opening credits started.


"Hello everybody, and welcome to RPM tonight. My name is Darrell Hammond. Tonight in the studio, we have a very special guest. He is a legend in his own time, winning the Winston Cup championship his second year out. He was the type of driver nobody wanted to see in their rearview mirror, his driving style reminiscent of the late Dale Earnhardt. He earned the respect of his peers, and gave that respect in turn. Everything was looking good for this young, charismatic champion. Until last year, at Michigan International Speedway. Just ten laps from the win, he found himself involved in a horrific crash. Fans watched in fear that day, afraid when they saw his unconscious form being taken from the car, that they had lost another of their heroes. Luckily, that was not to be. Now, I would like to introduce that young man, a man getting ready to make his return to the racing scene at the upcoming Daytona 500, William 'Spike' Giles." The camera panned off the sincere face of the former crew chief, turned announcer, to the ever smirking face of Spike. "Hello, Spike. And welcome to RPM tonight."

"Thanks Darrell. Good to be here."

"I'm just going to go ahead and ask the question that everybody wants answered. Why? Why are you coming back?"

"Well, I love it, obviously. You can't spend five years living your life on the edge of 190 mph and then just settle down. Maybe if I had chosen to do it, it would be different. But, in the space of ten seconds, the choice had been taken away. They said I'd never race again. I'm going to prove them wrong," Spike answered, staring Darrell in the eyes. He saw the flare of respect in the older man's eyes, and relaxed his face into a smile.

"No problems with your eyesight?"

"Let me explain something about that. It's not as bad as everybody thinks. Yes, I do have a fuzziness in the corners of my eyes, which makes it difficult, but not impossible to drive. With the use of the side mirrors and spotters, I won't be anymore handicapped than any of the other drivers."

"What do you have to say to the people who are claiming that letting you back in a car is a mistake?" Spike snorted at that, and shifted in his seat.

"Don't have anything to say that they could put on the air. Everybody thought that Brett Hargrove was a fool for coming out of retirement to race at Bristol, him having double vision and all. But he did, and he went on to win that race. So, I don't really see the difference."

"Why the Daytona?"

"What other race is there? It's the superbowl of stock car racing. It's the one I debuted in. So, it's the one I'll come out of retirement in."

"Are you going there to win? Or just to prove that you can still do it?"

"Oh, I'm going there to win, Darrell. And to prove that I can still do it."

"Well, I wish you good luck, and we'll see you at Speed week." Darrell started to turn away from him, but Spike drew his attention back.

"Uhm, Darrell. Was wondering if you'd let me do something."

"What is it?"

"I have a very important question to ask somebody, and I was wondering if I could do it here." All eyes shot to Buffy, her mind screaming, "WHAT THE HELL IS HE DOING?" Darrell smiled, seeing what he wanted.

"It's all yours. We'll even open the phone lines." With that, Spike turned towards the camera, his blue eyes seeming to pierce through Buffy, even across the miles.

"Buffy," Cordy gasped, and Dawn squealed, a grin splitting her face as her eyes shot to her sister. Connor and Xander just looked between the three woman, confused.

"Get up and go over to the closet. In my jacket you'll find a box." Dumbfounded, Buffy stood and walked to the closet, her mind dumbly thinking, *But he wore his duster.* She opened the door, and peered inside, seeing a shorter leather jacket hanging there. With shaking fingers, she checked the pockets, her breath seizing in her chest when she felt the velvet box. Pulling it out, she stared down at it, her heart hammering in her chest.

"Buffy." She turned back towards the tv, her eyes wide. All her friends' attention slipped between her and the tv. "Open it." She did, her mouth dropping open at the exquisite ring she found inside. "Will you, pet? Marry me?" The words were barely a whisper, but they seemed to echo in the room. She nodded numbly, staring at his face filling the screen.

"Buffy, he can't hear you. Here." Dawn thrust the phone into her sister's hand, ready to rattle off the number Spike had given her. Tsking disgustedly, she took the phone back and dialed herself. The camera never left Spike's face as he waited, tension written across it. Once the connection was made, Dawn gave Buffy the phone again, giving her a push when she just stared down at it.

"Hello, is this Buffy?"

"Y-y-yes," she stammered, slowly moving towards the tv.

"Hold on." She listened to a series of clicks, then heard and watched Darrell Hammond speaking to her.

"Buffy?"
"Y-yeah. This is Buffy." Spike's eyes drifted closed at the sound of her voice.

"Spike, there she is. Ask her again."

"Buffy Anne Summers. Will you marry me?" Tears leaked from her eyes, making his image blurry. She blinked them away, then drew in a hitching breath.

"Yes, Spike. I will marry you." The collective scream from behind her drowned out the laughing congratulations Spike was getting on air. "Now," she said when it quieted, "get your butt home so you can put this ring on my finger."

"I'm flying home tonight, pet."

"Good." With that, she hung up, her face blooming into a wide smile, accepting kisses and hugs from her friends. Spike shook the announcer's hand, thanking him for his congratulations, then pulled off his mike and practically sprinted away from the desk. He had to get home to his lady.


~*TBC*~
 

Speedway (continued)

Chapter 40

Spike walked through the door of his condo, his heart fluttering in his chest. He was running on adrenalin, jet lag not having a chance to set in. He'd left the studio amidst called out congratulations and good natured ribbing from the crew, and went straight to the hotel to check out. He'd already made sure that he was booked for the late flight out, so that he could come home right after the broadcast. He just made Buffy think he was going to be gone for a couple of days. Dawn had barely been able to contain herself when he told her what he'd planned. At first, he thought it had been a mistake, afraid that her excitement would lead her into spilling. But she promised not to tell, and took the number he gave her. He'd then called the producers, clearing it with them and asking Darrell to make it look like it was out of the blue. The only thing that had kept him from jumping up and down with glee, was the very tiny fear that she would say no.

As soon as the plane touched down, he fought to get off, wanting to get home. His father met him at the airport, as pre-arranged, clapping him on the back and offering his heartfelt congratulations. Spike had even swung Anya around in a twirling embrace, making her giggle like a school girl. They'd evaded the few reporters that had shown up, and in the space of twenty four hours, he was home again.

"Buffy?" he called, dropping his bag by the door and pushing it closed. "Dawn?" When he got no answer, he moved further in, wondering at the darkness of the place. He walked over to Dawn's bedroom, having given her the ground floor room so she could have privacy, and knocked on the door. "Dawn?" He pushed it open, glancing around the dark interior. Puzzled, he closed the door again and turned towards the stairs. It was there that he saw the string, attached to a card. With a smirk, he walked over to it and picked it up.

Follow this to find your treasure.

He pulled the string off the card, and tucked it in his pocket, then began to roll the string up as he started up the stairs. Whistling softly to himself, he chuckled when he saw it lead under their bedroom door. He could already feel his body responding to the 'treasure' that lay beyond its closed surface. With a smile, he dropped the string and turned the knob. He gasped at what he saw when the door swung open

Candles sat on every surface, their soft perfume infusing the air. Quiet music was filtering out of the speakers of his stereo, and fresh roses were tossed across the floor. But what really took his breath away, was the sight of Buffy, propped up against the pillows, wearing nothing more than a smile. Her golden hair curled around her shoulders, falling just short of the soft swell of her breasts. In one hand, she held a rose, and was idly tracing it across her skin, the action riveting his eyes. On the index finger of her other hand, was the ring, waiting to be put in its proper place.

"I thought you'd never get here," she whispered, the rose never ceasing its motion across her tanned flesh. Her smile turned feline at the dumbstruck look he had on his face. "Are you going to stand over there all night, or are you going to come over here and say hello?" That seemed to nudge him out of his daze, and he gave her a smile that sent electricity shooting through her. Desire flushed her skin, her eyes never leaving him as he started towards the bed. Her mouth practically watered when he reached for the buttons of his shirt, sliding them slowly through the holes. When the shirt hit the floor with a whisper, she rose to her knees, and met him at the side of the bed. They stared deep into each other's eyes, while his hand rose to take the one with the ring on it. He broke their stare to look down at the finger, shaking his head at its placement.

"Well, this just won't do," he said, pulling it off her finger and poising it at the tip of the proper one. He then looked up at her, his blue eyes reaching into the very depths of her soul, and started to slide it on. Her hand came up to caress his face, her eyes never leaving his when the ring hit home. She brought that hand up to his other cheek, and leaned in to kiss him ever so softly on the lips. She pulled back to look at him, tracing a finger lightly over the scar in his eyebrow.

"I want to get married, before Daytona. I want to go there as your wife." He grinned wide, crushing her against him and taking her mouth in a hungry kiss.

"Whatever you want, baby. We can get married on the moon for all I care, as long as we do it," he answered, trying to maneuver her to lay back. She pulled completely out of his arms, taking his hands and pulling him up on the bed with her. She then laid him back and set to work on removing his boots and jeans, all the while evading his reaching hands. He felt like he was about to explode with need, the smell of her scent making him crazy. Once he was naked, she picked up the rose again and started to draw it lazily over his skin, making him hiss when it slid silkily over his erection. "Jesus," he gasped when her lips followed the path of the rose. With a devilish grin, she looked him in the eyes while sliding him fully into her mouth.

Groaning long and loud, he threw his head back and clutched desperately at the sheets. He thrust his hips towards her, the feel of her hot mouth on his shaft driving him wild. On her upward motion, she swirled her tongue around the head, paying special attention to the vein that was throbbing on the underside, before enclosing him again. Her nails played lightly along his thighs, making the muscles there quiver.

Too soon, Spike felt his orgasm start, and he reached out for her. She tried to evade him, but to no avail. With a squeal, she found herself pinned against the mattress, one very desperate man between her thighs. With a sigh, he pushed into her tight depths, struggling to maintain control. Buffy writhed beneath him, desperate to soothe the ache burning deep inside her. Spike ran his hands along the underside of her arms, until he reached her hands, then linked their fingers tightly together. Only then, did he start to move. Buffy pulled her knees up, locking her ankles behind his back to draw him deeper.

They stared deeply into each other's eyes, needing to watch the other as they crested the peak and fell into oblivion. Moans filled the air, their tempo increased until they were in a frenzy of motion. Suddenly, Buffy arched underneath him, crying his name as her climax crashed over her. As soon as he felt her tighten around him, Spike buried his face in her neck, gently biting her shoulder. Her name fell from his lips when he followed her into the abyss, burying himself as deep as he could, and emptying his seed deep within her body.

~*~*~

"So, do you think it will be alright?" Buffy balanced the phone on her shoulder and looked down at the list she had in front of her. It had been two days since Spike had proposed and she had been wracking her brain trying to find a place to get married. Neither she nor Spike were particularly religious, plus you usually had to book churches months in advance. Then, when she had woken up this morning, she'd slapped her hand against her forehead. The gallery. They could get married at the gallery, and in a way, it would feel like her mother was there.

"Buffy, if you and Will want to get married at the gallery, it would be more than alright. I will start on the preparations immediately, if you wish," Rupert answered, feeling his heart trip with joy that finally, his children were together.

"Giles, I know you're busy. I can take care of it, really," she started to protest.

"I won't hear of it. Just tell me what you want, and between Anya, Cordelia and myself, you shall have it." Tears sprang to Buffy's eyes and she had to wait a second to respond.

"Thank you," she finally managed, her voice thick.

"Think nothing of it," he answered, his voice just as inhibited with emotion. They spent the next few minutes discussing what she wanted, again disagreeing when Buffy told him to tell her how much everything cost. Rupert would not hear of it. His only child was getting married, and Joyce was gone, thereby, in his opinion, passing the responsibility onto him. Buffy had finally had to just give in when a knock sounded at the door.

"Giles, look, I gotta go. I'll call you tomorrow." She hung up and walked over to the door.

"I hear there's someone who needs a wedding dress," Willow Lynch said from the hallway.

"Ahh. You're here," Buffy squealed, launching through the door and pulling her friend into her arms.

"Of course I'm here. You don't think I'd miss your wedding, do you?" Buffy pulled back and looked at her, a golden brow arched.

"I missed yours." Willow had the decency to color at that.

"Well, you have leeway the next time something earth shattering happens, you don't have to tell me right away. Okay?" The blonde snorted at that, and closed the door.

"So, how's married life?"

"Interesting when you're married to a rock star. I've seen more nubile young teenagers than any teen movie could ever hope to have." They shared a laugh at that and walked into the kitchen.

"Want some coffee?"

"Yeah. I'm so tired. This flying from New York in the dead of night is for the birds." Willow sank down at the table in the breakfast nook, and smiled when Buffy set the coffee down in front of her. "Wouldn't know. Haven't been outside of California my whole life," she said with a pout.

"Well, that's going to change soon. Off to the sunny lands of Florida next month."

"I know. I'm actually kind of excited," she admitted.

"Well, that's good."

"I know. So, where are we going to go for dresses?"

"That little shop down on Main. I saw the prettiest dress in the window a few months back."

"Sounds good. You up for it?" Willow picked her cup up and drained it, thankful it wasn't that hot.

"Willing and able, captain. Lead me to the stores." With a giggle, they stood.

"Dawn! If you're going, come on." They heard a thud as the teen hit the floor, then a rustling. A few minutes later she emerged from the room, dressed in jeans and a sweat shirt with scuffed sneakers on her feet.

"Ready. I'm ready," she said, trailing the older girls out the door.

~*~*~

"Wow. This place looks great," Spike said, walking into the gallery. Giles looked up from his desk, a stack of papers in his hand. All the artwork had been pushed to the side, or placed in the back, to clear the area for the wedding. It was going to be a small one, the guest lit consisting of Cordy, Xander, Dawn, Connor, Willow, Mark who was flying in, Anya, Giles, the members of the crew, and a couple of people from Buffy's work. They weren't going to put out chairs, since they were limited for space. Two faux columns had been put up to indicate where the justice was going to stand and marry the couple. A buffet table was set up next to the door leading to the back, a white table cloth draped across it. Several pots of white and pink flowers had been set out on any free surface the girls could find, as well as white lace draped across the statues they had left out. Cordy and Anya had giggled like school girls when they draped some around the waist of the replica of 'David'. A pink runner spread from the back to the columns for Buffy to walk down.

"Yes. I suppose it does." Giles looked around with the eyes of a man, not really seeing the need for all the fluff. "What brings you here?"

"Had to get out of the house. There's enough estrogen floating around in there to make me doubt my manhood." Rupert chuckled at that.

"Yes. A wedding certainly is for the women, isn't it?"

"Yeah, and the honeymoon is for the man," Spike leered, wagging his brow. His father shook his head at the one track mind his son had.

"Not going to the garage today?"

"Nah. With the wedding only a couple of days away, I let them have a couple off."

"That was sporting of you. Come on into my office. I've got something for you." The two men walked into the back, to the much more masculine refuge of Giles' office. When they walked inside, he moved straight to the refrigerator and pulled out two bottles of British beer, handing one to his son before moving to the desk. He waited until Spike was seated then pulled out a box, looking at it for a minute then sliding it across the desk.

"What's this?" Spike asked, taking a swallow of his beer before reaching out and taking it. He looked up at his father, their blue eyes meeting for a brief minute.

"Open it," Rupert urged, settling back in his chair, and drinking his own brew. Spike looked back down at the small, white box, wondering at its contents. Then, he pulled the top off and pushed aside the cotton on the top. He sucked in a breath when he saw the pocket watch within. He pulled it out and held it up, watching as the light glinted off the gilded color of its surface. Swirled etching detail ran along the edge, and in the center was a calligraphy G.

Spike looked up at his father, his dark brows pulled together.

"Granddad's watch," he said, his voice full of question. Giles looked down at the beer in his hand, idly pulling at the label.

"Yes. He told me, before he died, that I was to give that to you when you got married. He was always very proud of you." Emotion thickened his words, and he had to blink rapidly to keep the wetness in his eyes at bay. Spike was having a similar problem, and he took a swallow of his beer to loosen his throat before he spoke.

"Thanks," he whispered. Rupert merely nodded. They sat in silence for a few minutes, until Spike's next words broke the tension.

"So, got any words of wisdom for me?" He gave his dad a smile, a twinkle in his eyes. Giles snorted at that.

"Boy, you knew more than I did at this age when you were fifteen." They both laughed at that, settling into a more comfortable line of conversation.

"Yeah, well. Look at who my mother was. She made it impossible for me to be ignorant about anything."

"Yes, Rosemary did insist that you were knowledgeable about the world."

"Yeah, but I wish she'd left the sex talk to you. I mean, do you have any clue how embarrassing it is to have your mother tell you what a condom does?" Spike had a look of horrified amusement on his face. Giles snickered, remembering his very free thinking wife with less grief than he had in a long time

"I tried to tell her that it would be better. But she just told me I'd lecture around the subject until you were so confused that you went to her anyway, so she just decided to 'cut out the middle man'."

"That sounds like Mum," Spike said with a smile.

"She certainly was one of a kind."

"That she was. So is Buffy."

"I know. A toast." Giles stood, waiting for Spike to do the same. "May you and Buffy have a life filled with as much happiness as Rosemary and I did." The two men clinked bottles, their eyes locking once more.

"Thanks Dad," he said, sitting back down after they drank.

"So, how are things with that car of yours?" They spent the rest of the day like that, talking about anything and everything, feeling their relationship change from just father and son, to also friends.

~*~*~

"Nervous?" Xander asked, adjusting his tie in the mirror that had been hung in one of the store rooms. The men had been relegated there, while the women got Giles' office.

"Terrified," Spike answered, tugging a bit at his collar.

"Take my advice. Don't think. Just repeat after the justice when he tells you to, then say 'I will' when you hear the question." The blonde laughed, sliding the black tuxedo coat up his arms.

"S'that what you did with Cordy?"

"Yep. I also stared into her eyes through the entire ceremony, the look she was giving me reminding me of just why I had decided, at eighteen years of age, marriage was a good thing."

"You got yourself quite a girl there," Spike told him.

"We all did," Xander agreed. The other man couldn't agree more. He figured they were all blessed, or extremely lucky, to have found the women that they did.

"Right then. Let's get this show on the road." They walked out of the store room and down the hall to the main room of the gallery. Cordy, Anya and Dawn were standing with Giles, Mark and Conner looking exquisite in their matching peach slip dresses. Modifications had been done to make Cordy's more appropriate for her widening stomach, and Dawn's neckline wasn't as low as the older women's. The three men had on dark suits, and the younger man had his long hair bound at the back of his neck.

"You've got the ring, right?" Spike asked for the tenth time. Xander rolled his eyes and held up his hand. There, on his pinky, Buffy's ring.

"Good, you guys are ready. Let me go see if the bride is," Cordelia said, brushing a kiss across her husband's mouth before turning to go back the way they had come.

"Glad you could make it, Tonto," Spike teased good naturedly, shaking Mark's hand.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world. Took you guys long enough." Spike snorted, nodding his head.

"Yeah, I guess it did."

"She's ready." Cordelia's voice reached them before she did, since her walking had become inhibited the further along she got. The people in attendance circled around Spike and Xander, all eyes turned towards the back. The justice, an older man with graying hair and kind dark eyes, gave the signal for the pianist they had hired to start.

A few seconds after the music started, Jazz emerged from the hall, a collective 'aw' going through the small crowd. She had on a white, a-line dress, white stockings, and white shoes to match. Baby roses had been braided into her dark hair, and she carried a small basket of flowers. Cordy blinked back tears and took a picture before holding out her hand to guide her daughter to the side. Next came Willow, her dress the same as the other women's, with a spray of baby's breath crowning her vivid hair. Her eyes locked with her husband's and she moved directly to him as she neared the end.

As soon as she was in place, the bridal march started. Spike's eyes never left the entry to that hall, his breath coming out in a whoosh when she appeared. The simple, ivory dress was strapless, the tight bodice leading into a drop waist skirt. Her hair hung in gold ringlets around her flushed face, and small white flowers woven throughout. In her ears, her mother's diamond earrings winked, and around her throat hung a diamond heart pendant. Spike thought she had never looked more beautiful.

Their eyes never left each other's as she made her way to him. The other people in the room melted away, leaving only them, ready to make their vow of forever.

"You're stunning," he breathed when she reached him. Her skin tinged a pretty red, and her smile lit up the world.

"So are you," she told him, before the justice started the ceremony.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the coming together of two people in the bonds of matrimony." It seemed that neither of them breathed while they listened, waiting for the time when they could proclaim their devotion to each other in front of all their friends. They turned away from each other for the briefest of seconds to collect the rings from Xander and Willow.

"William, please place the ring on her finger, and repeat after me. I William."

"I William," he repeated, as the ring slid into place.

"Do hereby promise to love, honor and protect you, Elizabeth."

"Do hereby promise to love, honor and protect you, Elizabeth."

"In sickness and in health. For richer, for poorer."

"In sickness and in health. For richer, for poorer."

"As long as we both shall live."

"As long as we both shall live." Tears slid silently down both of their cheeks as his soft, accented words filled her heart.

"Elizabeth. Place the ring on his finger, and repeat after me." Buffy slid the ring over his finger, feeling as if something inside of her that hadn't been right for a long time, was finally clicking. Her voice rang clear and true as she repeated the words that Spike just had, her eyes never wavering from his.

"Do you, William, take Elizabeth to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I do."

"Do you, Elizabeth, take William to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do."

"Then, by the power vested in me, by the state of California. I now pronounce you, husband and wife. You may kiss your bride," the justice told William, his heart swelling with the love the young couple was putting off. Spike's smile stole her breath as he reached for her, slowly pulling her to him. Their eyes drifted closed in the instant before their lips met, the cheers and laughs of their friends never penetrating their consciousness as they shared their first kiss as husband and wife.

Chapter 41

"God. This place is huge!" Dawn exclaimed, staring around the luxury suite.

"Yeah. Well, you better thank Mark for it. He's the one that got it," Spike told her, dropping their bags on the floor. Buffy closed the door behind them and slid a soothing had down his cotton covered back. Over the last week he'd snapped at each of them, more than once. Buffy had been the only one brave enough to call him on it. The rest just avoided him as much as possible. The only time Xander would talk to him was when Spike was in the garage. It made it a little hard to get things done.

A few of the other owners and drivers had called to actually wish him good luck. He'd started to calm down a bit after that, feeling a bit more settled with the acceptance of his peers. After his appearance on RPM Tonight, they'd been inundated with calls and flowers, and Buffy received a few hate letters. In general, though, people were happy for them and offered their congratulations.

After the wedding, Spike and Buffy had spent the night in a hotel, the closest thing they were going to have to a honeymoon until after the season. If the team did well, he was planning on taking her on an extended vacation in the Bahamas. If it didn't. . .well, he just chose to believe that it would and didn't dwell on the negative.

When the time came to transport the car, Spike was there to oversee it. Xander and crew were riding with it, in the specially designed cargo area, while Spike, Buffy and Dawn were going to fly down, with Cordy and Giles. Anya was going to stay behind and run the gallery, while Mark and Willow would meet them there. After all, the sponsor had to be there to see the unveiling of the car.

Now they were here with qualifying two days away. Spike wasn't participating in the Iroc race, or the 24 hours of NASCAR, but he did intend on making appearances with the press and meeting the fans. There was also the drivers' meeting he had to be around for.

Rubbing his tired eyes, he sank down into the plush leather couch of the sitting room, and clicked on the tv. The girls glanced at each other before moving around the couch and settling next to him, each with their heads resting on his shoulders.

~*~*~

"You doing alright in there, man?" Xander's voice sounded in Spike's ear. He was sitting in his car, waiting for his turn to qualify, and he could safely say that he was nervous.

"Yeah," he replied shortly. He growled at his friend's chuckle and turned to look at him at the front of the car. The inspector had just left, deeming the car as legal, and Xander was happier than he should have been. Granted, he had butterflies the size of golf balls in his stomach, but he knew the car was good, that the driver was good, and the crew, despite their inexperience, was good. The brunette had spent the last month drilling them on pit stops, knowing full well that a couple of them probably hated him now, but not really caring. This was the big time. And they didn't have the luxury of fucking up.

"Almost time. Gordon's going now."

"Who's got the pole, so far?" Spike asked, taking deep breaths. He glanced over at the pit box, smiling at Buffy who was waving at him. She had a brilliant, encouraging smile on her face and sunglasses protecting her eyes. This had been a little overwhelming for her. She'd never been to one of the tracks that NASCAR used, and she hadn't been prepared for the size. She'd stuck close to him as they moved through the crowds to the garage, smiling shyly at the other drivers they encountered. Spike had scowled at her when he introduced her to Dale Jr, since Buffy started to stutter. Dawn had even stared wide eyed at the good looking Earnhardt, saying something about he was better looking then he was on tv. The teen had blushed furiously when she realized what she'd said, but Junior just smiled, and said thanks. He'd then wished Spike good luck and went to his own garage bay.

Buffy and Dawn had watched him leave, only coming back to reality when Spike angrily cleared his throat. They'd at least had the decency to look sheepish, and his wife had very thoroughly kissed him to apologize. Cat calls and whistles abounded when she did that, causing her to color when she pulled away. Spike just shrugged it off and started walking again, smiling smugly.

"Harvick."

"Speed?"

"193.364mph." Spike did the math in his head. That meant he had to beat 46.6 seconds at least, to take the pole position over. *Calm down Spike. Taking the pole isn't important,* he reminded himself. It's where you finished that counted.

"All right, you're next. Good luck." Spike nodded, and moved up into position, waiting for his signal. As soon as he got it, he left pit row, keeping to regulated speed until he hit the track.

Once he was there, speeding around the 2.5 mile tri-oval track, taking the turns with a familiarity that seemed ingrained, his nervousness left him. He knew, listening to Xander's voice in his ear and seeing the fans explode at the sight of his car, with HIM behind the wheel, that this was the right decision. He answered the questions being shot at him, telling Xander where it was loose, but in general, the # 29 Native Soul Chevy handled beautifully. He was grinning like a madman, and he didn't care where he placed. The picture of Johnny on the hood grinned out at

the fans, as the car shot around the track like a bullet.

"You place fifteenth. Bring her in," Xander told him, when he passed the start/finish line the second time.

*Fifteenth?* Spike thought to himself, bringing it around the track a third time, and slowing to enter pit row. *Not bad for a has been,* he snickered to himself. *Not bad at all.*

~*~*~

"Nervous?" Buffy asked, sliding her hands up his bare back. They'd come back from dinner and Dawn had gone to see a movie at the cineplex across the street. Almost as soon as she'd left, Spike and Buffy were in bed. Now, they were just holding each other, lightly stroking each other's skin and talking softly about the upcoming race.

"No. Not really." Spike replied after a minute, pulling her closer so her head rested against his chest. "You?" He chuckled at her snort.

"No, not at all." Her tone told on her lie. "A little, I guess. It's different than watching it on tv. You can't really judge how fast they're going. Yeah, the announcers tell you, but it's not the same unless you're actually at the track." She sighed and snuggled closer. "Just be careful."

"Always." He rolled over in his mind whether or not to tell her that this was his last race. He'd planned on making an announcement afterwards, introducing the new driver at the same time. He knew he was risking a lot with who he chose, but he wouldn't be him if he didn't do risks. "Buffy."

"Yeah," she said sleepily.

"What if I told you this is my last race?" Her head shot up at that, her eyes wide with surprise.

"What?" She tilted her head towards him, eyes blinking once. He smirked at her expression, and tucked her hair behind her ear.

"This is my last race, pet." She sat up fully now, confusion etched in her face pulling her brows together.

"I don't understand. Why?" Spike sighed and pushed himself into a sitting position against the pillows. He then reached for his cigarettes, sparking one before he looked back at her.

"Because. As much as I love it..." He paused, taking a drag and pushing a hand through his hair. She just sat, watching him, her confusion turning to interest.

"And," she prompted after a minute. He flashed her a smile, then continued.

"As much as I love it, I know my sight's only going to get worse, and it's really not worth the risk. I'll still own the car, I'll still get some glory. But, my priorities have changed," he finished, lacing his fingers with hers. Her lip trembled at the emotion that statement, and the look in his blue, blue eyes, caused. Taking a shaky breath, she cleared her throat and looked down at their joined hands.

"You could have the surgery," she reminded him, running the fingers of her free hand over the ones linked with her others. He leaned over and tilted her chin up, making her look at him.

"No. Going completely blind is not even an option, no matter what the percentage of it actually happening is." He angled his head, in the way that seemed completely his, and studied her face. "I. Love. You. I want to be with YOU. Racing isn't important enough to me to risk everything. Or to make you have to deal with the consequences."

"Spike. I love you, too. And that means I would deal with whatever happens. If you wanted the surgery, or to keep racing. Whatever. I will be with you forever. No matter what." Her words settled over him like a warm blanket, making his heart feel like it might burst. He pulled her into his lap, covering her mouth with his and drinking deep from her sweetness. When he pulled away, both their eyes were darkened with emotion and desire.

"Thank you. This is still my last race. I'm retired, as of tomorrow night. Win or lose." She traced her fingers over his cheek, smiling softly.

"All right. Only if you're sure."

"I am," he assured, brushing her lips with his own. "Now, I can think of other things we could be doing right now that have nothing to do with racing," he purred, sliding his hand under the sheet that was tangled around her waist, his touch making her his.

"Oh, yeah? Why don't you show me?" she said breathlessly, her hands fisting in the sheets as he proceeded to do just that. As his fingers worked their magic, she decided that her own little confession could wait a little while longer.

~*~*~

The next morning bloomed bright as throngs of people began to prepare for the Superbowl of Winston Cup racing. As early as six am, people were lining up to get into the stands, a carnival-like atmosphere hovering in the air. Drivers milled around the garage area, nervous energy flowing through them. This was the first race of the season, on top of the most important, and the excitement of all involved was thick.

Spike stayed away from garage while the inspector was there, mainly because he didn't like any of them. Buffy walked beside him through the throngs of people, smiling as he signed autographs and took pictures. He really was good with fans, always gracious and self-deprecating. Many were glad that he was returning, others were in awe that he would even try. When they had first arrived, many of the crew from the other teams had come up to him, shaking his hand and relaying their respect. Many of the owners did the same, the only obvious omission being Spike's former employer.

As the time of driver presentation neared, they made their way back to the garage so Spike could pull the car onto the track, then head over to the stage. Once they got closer, Buffy saw a glimpse of a familiar dark head towering over the crowd.

"MARK!" she yelled, waving when he turned towards the sound of his name. He gave them a wide grin, pulling Buffy into a tight hug when she reached him. He then shook Spike's hand, accepting the short embrace from him.

"Glad you made it. Was starting to wonder," Spike said, as the three fell into step together.

"Plane was late," Mark explained, brushing a hand through his hair.

"Where's Willow?" Buffy looked around the crowd, looking for the tell tale red hair.

"Bathroom," he answered, following Spike into the garage.

"Hey man," Xander greeted, walking over to shake Mark's hand.

"Hey. Where's the wife?"

"She's sitting in the stands with Dawn and Giles. The smell of this place gets to her," Xander said with a chuckle.

"I know what she means." Willow came up behind them, a hand resting on her stomach. She looked a little green around the gills.

"What's the matter?" Buffy demanded, drawing her friend into a hug.

"Nothing. Well, nothing that won't go away," Willow said coyly. "In nine months, that is." It took Buffy a minute to catch on, but when she did, her squeal could be heard clearly through the bays.

"Oh my God! I'm so happy for you. What about school?" Willow grinned wide at the whirlwind that was her best friend. The men stood behind them, clapping Mark on the back, and doing the things men do when presented with such news.

"Thanks, and I'm going back. Don't worry," Willow assured, accepting another hug.

"Ladies, as great as this news is. The celebrating is going to have to wait. It's almost time to start," Xander declared, a goofy grin on his face, despite the seriousness of his words. Buffy nodded and pulled Willow behind her out of the bay.

"Come on. We get to hang out in the pits."

"Oh, joy," Willow quipped, feeling her stomach pitch dangerously once more.

~*~*~

"GENTLEMAN, START YOUR ENGINES!" The sound of powerful machines tore through the air as the drivers threw their switches. Spike glanced around him, taking in the cars that had qualified better. He had 200 laps to get to the front, barring anything catastrophic happening.

Calm settled over him as the cars made their way around the track, waiting for the pace car to break away and the race to start. The roar of the engines was deafening once that happened, the roar of the fans almost as loud.

"How's she handling?" Xander asked, fifty laps in.

"Great."

"Spike, #23 got into the wall on the back stretch. Watch for debris." Kyle, the spotter piped up a minute later.

"Bring her in," Xander instructed. A few seconds later Spike slid into the pit box, as his crew went to work on their first pit stop in the Winston Cup. Two tires and a can of gas later, he took off out of the box, barely missing the pole sitter on the way out. That move put him up into tenth place, with thirty two other drivers on his tail. Adrenalin pumped through his veins when the race was restarted, sweat pouring down his face. The smell of oil, tires and other automotive fluids filtered around him, the scent a sweet perfume to him.

"Gordon's coming up high." Spike slammed the gas, eyes searching for the car trying to pass. He grinned when Gordon had to pull back or risk getting spun out. For the next fifty laps, it went this way. He didn't move up, but he made damn sure nobody got around him. He usually waited for the last fifty laps to start trying to go forward anyway.

"Holy shit, go high, Spike, go high." Without thought, Spike did just that, barely missing the back bumper of the car in front of him as it plowed into the car spinning out in front of him. His heart slammed into his chest as he tore through the smoke, images of his accident superimposing themselves into his vision.

Buffy watched from the pit, her heart pumping as hard as his. She didn't feel Willow's comforting hand on her back, too intent on seeing where Spike was. When Xander nodded, letting her know he was through, she breathed a sigh of relief. She gave Willow a shaky smile, squeezing her hand.

"You alright?" Xander asked him when he pulled into the pit. Spike merely nodded, accepting the water given to him. As soon as the tires were changed, he was gone, this time taking the lead when he came off the row. He didn't want to admit that he was tense now. Not to himself, and certainly not to his crew.

"Spike, Gordon's coming up again. Low this time." Spike didn't acknowledge Kyle, just looked for Gordon, and kept him back. He drove on auto pilot, his reflexes good, but his happiness destroyed. The last caution had shaken him up. Badly.

As Buffy watched the race, she swore she could almost pinpoint the second he gave up. It was probably when Gordon finally got around him, that move leading to a chain reaction. Xander was constantly talking into the headphones, trying to get Spike to answer him, tell him anything. They didn't know that it was all Spike could do to hold on.

Then, during the forty seventh lap, was when it happened. They were two deep in the back stretch, when Junior got into the wall, the car hitting him spinning him down the track. Spike saw it, and tried to compensate, but misjudged the distance. He and Junior collided, the impact crumpling the hood. Spike swore his bones were going to break with the impact, smoke pouring from his tires as the force of the collision drove him backwards. Buffy watched with horrified eyes, the sound of Xander screaming into his mouth piece for Spike to answer him, the only thing she heard. Her face paled and her breathing quickened. She couldn't see where they came to a stop, and she looked to Xander to tell her if he was alright.

"Spike. SPIKE! Goddammit, answer me." Spike shook his head, trying to dispel the ache. With a sigh, he started to undo his helmet, knowing he was out of the race.

"I'm fine, Xan," he finally said, his voice flat.

"Thank god." The brunette turned to Buffy and gave her the thumbs up. Her eyes drifted closed with relief. The crew started to pack up, getting ready to take the car back to the truck and get her ready for transport home. Buffy heard the sounds of the other cars coming in to pit, but didn't open her eyes again until she heard Willow.

"There he is." She turned and saw him get out of the transport, letting go of Willow's hand she rushed to him. He caught her up in his arms, holding her close. He held her so tight, she almost had to struggle to breathe.

"Are you alright?" she asked him, managing to pull back a bit to look at him. He nodded, giving her a smile.

"Yeah. Let's go home. Okay?"

"Absolutely," she agreed, allowing him to lead her to the truck.

Epilogue

Dayton Intl. Speedway-One year later.

Spike watched as the cars sped around the track, sunglasses perched on his nose. His car was in the lead and about two laps away from taking the checkered flag. Life was good, in his opinion.

The last year had been hectic for the group. Three pregnancies followed by three babies was a big adjustment to make for all involved, even the Harrises, who out of the three young couples were the experts.

Cordelia had given birth two weeks shy of Jazz's birthday, making the little girl none too happy. Her parents had to promise that they would never throw their parties together, thereby keeping the specialness separate for the two. Cordy'd had an eight pound little girl, who they named Belle, for the heroine in Jazz's favorite movie.

Dawn had left for New York over the summer, with Connor in tow. The two were inseparable, making the adults smile. It hadn't been that long ago when it had been them, so young and in love. She had come back when Buffy had her baby, the changes she had gone through in New York making her more mature. The two sisters talked nightly, even if only to say hi, just so they were always in touch.

Mark had cut the tour short when Willow couldn't tour anymore, postponing the dates until after she had the baby. The record company had a fit, but he'd stood firm. Since their only option was to cut him from the label, and from their point of view that would have been bad business, they gave in. They'd had a boy, right after Labor Day. He looked just like his father, with a reddish tint to his hair. They called him Johnny.

Giles and Anya made it official in a small civil ceremony surrounded by the young group of friends. Buffy had sold them the gallery, after clearing it with Dawn, and they were now getting ready to open up their second.

Finally, a couple of weeks after Willow, Buffy called Spike home from the garage. Her water had broken, and it was time. He'd rushed around like an idiot for a few minutes, until she finally screamed at him to stop. Then, they had managed to get her to the hospital, the pain enticing Buffy to tell Spike he was never allowed to touch her again. By the time it was over, Spike was willing to write it in blood that he would never do this to her again. However, after the final push, and the first harsh wail, Buffy was ready to do it again. Especially after the nurse laid the tiny bundle on her chest. She was a beautiful little girl with her father's eyes and her mother's nose. After much deliberation, they named her Rosemary Joyce, the choice bringing tears to Giles' eyes.

Now, he was watching his car pull into victory lane, his wife by his side, and his daughter balanced in her arms. Spike couldn't think of a much more perfect moment than this. Xander and the rest of the crew were heading over to the car to congratulate the driver and do the required photo stuff. Spike turned to Buffy, smiling at the picture she made holding the little blonde girl with the gold curls framing her face.

"Ready, pet?"

"Always," she answered, smiling bright. Rose demanded to go to her father as soon as he was within her tiny arms' reach. He swung her into his arms, scolding her when she tried to pull out the earplugs.

"Ah, ah. Don't want my girl to go deaf, do we?" The baby just gave her father a one toothed grin, and batted at his finger. He chuckled and fell into step next to his wife.

"You made a good choice," Buffy commented, nodding her head towards the car.

"I told you I did. You weren't real sure." Buffy had to smile. No, she hadn't been sure. In fact, once she had met the person taking over, she'd adamantly opposed. Now, she realized she was just being silly, and actually liked the black clad figure climbing on top of the roof. With long dark hair blowing in the wind, and a wide smile splitting her pretty features, Faith Scott looked every inch a champion.

There had been grumblings around the circuit when Spike had decided to go with a woman. She'd shut them all up in her first race. She wasn't afraid to play with the boys, and she let it be known that if they got in her way, she'd make sure they got out of it.

"Come on, luv. Let's go share the spoils," Spike said, walking into the throng of people, his daughter laughing the whole way. She thought briefly of how she'd almost thrown away this life. Then, with a smile of her own, Buffy followed her family into Victory Lane.

~*THE END*~

AN:  Thank you all for the wonderful support you have given me on this story.  I hope that I did the ending justice.  Lisa