Start, part 19.



Spike took in the small shop Giles had led him into with one glance. Turned a narrowed stare at the ex-watcher. "I didn't know you still hated me, Rupe. Kinda stings."

"Oh... Shut *up*, you git!" Grabbing Spike by the arm, he led him to the counter.

"Can I help you?" The red-haired lady at the counter addressed them. Her nametag announced that, yes, her name *was* Sheila, the proud owner of the "Yesteryear Costume Parlor."

"Um... Yes..." Giles said, cleaning his glasses. "I need- my.. eh... well, friend. He needs a suit, mid-1860's, gentleman's formal wear. 1860's, if you've got it."

Sheila smiled knowingly, leaned over the counter seductively. "A masque? Aren't those always so..." She drew a finger down her neck. "Ellilcit?"

Spike gave a small smile. "I suppose they are. But, you see, Sheila," he squinted at her nametag, "This is for my wedding."

She backed off immediately, a small pout forming between her eyebrows. "I'll see what we have... Just a moment."

As she walked away, Spike turned a ferocious glare on Giles. "Why on God's earth would you take me to one of these places?? You know as well as I that they never carry any thing of... quality, or... I DO bathe, Watcher. Me AND my clothes bathe."

Sheila interrupted with a small throat clearing.

Draped across her arm was the perfect suit. Perfectly tailored, suiting the period, it had a beautiful swallow-tail evening coat. The suit jacket had the same tail, and came up the the center of the chest with four buttons. The collar was stiff and starched, but not too high, as had taken the trend in the early 1900's; the shirt's color was a slight cream color. The suit was a beautiful charcoal black, soft. His vampiric senses took a tiny wiff and detected nothing but dry-cleaning scent.

Without a word, he took it from her hands and made his way to a dressing room. Sheila followed him in a slight panic.

"Sir! That's... You may need help with some of the-"

Giles stopped her with a hand on her arm. "He's from- well, he's been to a lot of masques... He knows what he's doing."

"Kid gloves." The muffled order came from the dressing room.

"What? Spike, you bloody pervert. There are NO gloves made of children! The very NOTION is appalling, and furthermore-"

"Shut UP! Soft leather. It was... I can't touch her dress. It's the way things went. I need soft cream gloves to match the shirt. Get on it."

He walked out, the suit draped over his left arm. "I'll buy it."

Slightly confused, Sheila said, "Ummm... This is a rental shop."

Measuring her with his eyes, he said quietly, "Five hundred dollars."

A grin encased her face. "Best wishes on your wedding."

He dropped the bills on the counter, waited her for her bag it, and walked out,Giles trailing him.



That night, Spike knocked on Xander's door.

He opened it, arched a brow, and swung the door open. "Come in."

"You're Buffy's best friend," he told the Whelp, coming straight to the point.

"Yeah... One of 'em." Xander was highly confused, and kept a careful eye on him.

"You piss me off. Every damn time you'd turn around. There you'd go. Pissin me off." He looked intensely at him. "First, it was cuz you were stupid. You still are. But then... It was because you had something I couldn't. Her friendship. Then, I had her body." He swallowed hard, sat down. "You still had something I wanted, Xander."

"A beating heart?"

"Her respect. I think... I think this is a good beginning. I think that we're happy. And it would mean a lot to m- to Buffy. To Buffy if you approved. Wanted to stand in as, ya know. Best man."

Xander grinned. "Bachelor party?"

Spike laughed. "God no! I kinda like this beating heart bit... It'd kinda sucks if Buffy killed me."

Xander rubbed his hands together, said slowly, "Best man, uh?"

Spike scowled at him. "Don't let it go to your head. You're still a dumbassed whelp."

Xander let a smiled quirk his lips. "And I still hate you."

Spike stood. "Goodnight, Whelp."

"Night, Grateful Dead."

End, part 19.

Part 20:

Dawn walked into Buffy's room, and saw her sister sleeping with her head at the foot of the bed, on her back, uncovered. She smiled at the sight of all the shoes strewn around the room. Buffy was having trouble finding the right shoes. And decided to sleep on it apparently. Crawling onto the bed slowly, Dawn lay beside her sister. Looking at Buffy's small smile, she fell asleep too.

And woke to Buffy's awake smile. "Hey sleepyhead."

"Hey, Buffy." The line between her eyebrows betrayed the small grin she was giving her older sister.

"What's wrong?" Buffy sat up.

"I was... ya know... thinking about Mom." Dawn sat up, too. "We used to talk a lot."

Buffy smiled softly. "Yeah?"

"I told her how... I wanted to get married. But love marrying doesn't work out. So... I was going money approach. But she said-" The young teens eyes welled unexpectedly, and she bit her lip.

Buffy ran a hand up Dawn arm, and over her hair. "What did she say, Dawnie?"

"That marrying for love was the only thing worth marrying for. Money could be spent, but- She wanted you to marry for love, Buffy. She wanted that. She knew... Your life was hard. And... and unexpected things happened. But all she wanted was for you to love someone and get a happily ever after." A tiny sob escaped her. "And you don't get one."

Buffy held the crying teen's face in her hands. "Dawn... Spike loves us. He wants what's best for all of us. You, me, and the baby." She misted up a bit herself. "He's a good man. He wants to take care of us."

Dawn jerked her head back. "So does Giles. And Xander. You didn't jump into bed with either of them."

Buffy blinked. "A part of me... Dawn..." She didn't speak older to younger. Woman to woman. She spoke, loving sister to loving sister. "A part of me is afraid to let someone have my heart again. I'm not... not good at the couple thing. I've never found someone who didn't care *what* I was, but *who* I was. Spike was the first one to see that they're one and the same. He's as strong as me. Asinine like me. But he's so open about his feelings, and it confuses me. A part of me loves him, just for giving me my baby." She laughed dryly. "A part of me wants to kill him for it, too." She licked her lips, and held Dawn's hands between her own. "I guess, what... what I'm trying to... to say, is that... a part of me... a big part of me is in l- love with Spike." Heaving out a sigh, she finished, "And the other part of me is trying desperately to pull back and save myself."

Dawn looked into her sister's confused eyes, and gave a tiny smile. Reaching forward to hug her sister, she realized Buffy had spoken to her like an equal. Her smile spread a little bit more. She had also admitted, partly, to loving Spike. The smile turned to a full-fledged grin.

Walking into the room, holding a suit bag, Spike grinned at his hugging women. "Hello, cuties."

Detangling herself from her sister, Dawn grinned hugely at Spike. "Hello."

"What's *that* grin for, Nibblet?" He stopped, frowned. "That wanker bastard better not have asked you out. And the answer is no. It's bleedin' always no!" He rounded on Buffy. "You didn't tell her YES, did you??"

The girls laughed and Dawn slipped past Spike out the door saying, "He hasn't asked yet, but I'll remember when he does. Yes, wasn't it ?" Her laughter echoed down the hall.

Spike shook his head. Leaning with one knee on the bed, he stroked a hand down Buffy's cheek. "What're you doing tonight?"

Buffy smiled quickly, averting her eyes. "Eh... Nothing much! I've just been looking for... shoes. Ya know... to match the dress."

Spike nodded. "Why don't we go out to dinner?"

"Why?"

He blinked incredulously at her. "'Cuz I bloody well want to take my fiancee out to dinner!"

"Ok."

Spike blinked at her again. Too easy. "All right, luv. I'm gonna hop in the shower. Be ready at eight." Grabbing some clothes, and a towel, he walked to the bathroom.

Safely in the shower, the water on, he braced his hands on the tile as the water beat down on his back. Her words swam through his head.

"A part of me... a big part of me is in l- love with Spike."

The words he'd waited to hear for... too long. Choked laughter fell from his throat. He turned to face the spray again, closed his eyes against it. Tried not to be ashamed of the tears that stung the corners of his eyes. He laughed again. Looked at the ceiling, said, "Thank you. I know... you're giving me so much... But... This is the only thing I wanted... She'll fall in love with me completely tonight."

His small monologue was cut off by a small knocking on the door.

"What?"

Buffy peeked her head in the door. "How should I dress?"

He didn't lean out the curtain. He could still feel the triumph shining in his eyes. "Formal. Not too. Maybe... nice night at the Bronze- esque."

"Ok."

Buffy sat at her vanity, making herself up. She was going to let Spike love her. Totally. She would tell him tonight. Confidence weighted her hand, and her makeup reflected her mood. Suddenly sure of her footing, she felt better. Even though the dress felt foolish on, she thought she looked all right. Of course, seven months pregnant didn't make for the most svelte of figures.

She stood in front of the mirror, surveyed herself. The red knit dress clung, pronouncing her elongated stomach, wider hips, and, she noted with a smile, her bigger boobs. The small cap sleeves fit, and she took off the necklace Spike had given her. She replaced it with a diamond teardrop that settled between her breasts. She slipped into her heels, checked the clock. For some reason, she knew that Spike wouldn't be coming into the room again. 6:56 pm.

Spike adjusted the tie, then pulled it off. To hell with them. He pulled on a black suit jacket, looked in the bathroom mirror. Grinned rakishly. No, this wasn't his wedding tuxedo, but a black suit always HAD looked pretty good on him. He walked downstairs, checked the clock. 6:59.

Buffy walked to the hall stairs. It was seven. Time. She took her first step down, and saw Spike staring up at her, holding one red rose.

Confusion knitted her brow. Suddenly it cleared.

This was their first date.

End, Part 20.

Start, Part 21.

Buffy twitched. It was not a habit Spike was aware she had. And he was aware of EVERY habit she had. Even that ridiculous one of her spraying body splash in front of her, walking through it, then spraying it behind her, and backing herself into it. Or that leg-slide-butt-wiggle-sigh right before she woke up. Or- Focus. Buffy twitched.

She twitched. Uncrossed, recrossed her ankles. "So." She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "Where are we going?"

"Nowhere." He caught the temper flare in her eyes. My, my... Emotions were easy to wring out of his slayer THIS tri-mester, hmmm? "Somewhere. You'll see." He took his hand off the gear-shift, let it touch Buffy's hand, down to the tips of her fingers, and back up to her elbow. Down again, he took her hand in his, took his eyes off the road long enough to kiss her palm and look in her eyes. "You look beautiful."

Buffy smiled. "You do, too." With her hands now free, she lifted the rose to her nose.

Ten minutes later Spike was pulling up to a very tiny, very pretty little Italian restaurant called "Giambelli's". Spike stepped out, crossed to Buffy's side, and gave her a hand out of the car.

Walking into the restaurant, Spike stepped up to the boy dressed in a suit, taking reservations and seating. Grinning as the boy pumped his hand vigorously, he accepted his offer of his 'usual table'.

Seating Buffy and himself by a window looking out into a small but beautifully colored garden, Buffy arched a brow at him. "Good tipper?"

He laughed. "You could say that."

A short, vivacious woman in her mid-sixties came rushing to their table, wiping her hands haphazardly on her apron. Spike rose as she reached them.

"Senor Spike!" She tossed her arms around him as he bent to hug her, and receive a kiss on each cheek, twice.

"Nonna. Buon giorno. Come va?"

She waved him aside fondly, saying absently, "Bene, bene... Ma che vuoi??" She drew Buffy up by her hands.

Spike said somewhat sheepishly, "Buffy, this is-"

"Buffy?" Nonna said in an Italian accent. "This is the Buffy that you talk no stopping of? And you just now bring her to me?" She made tsk-ing noises in his general direction. "She is... bellisimo. Glowing." She laid a hand on her stomach. "And she is with your child?"

Buffy was flustered, and feared the reproach she was sure the lady was going to give her. She became even more flustered when she drew her in, also for kisses. She patted Spike's cheek with one hand, the other still holding Buffy's. "A child is a wonderful gift, non? You make my beautiful boy happy." She let go of them long enough to place her hands on her chest. "My heart sings." She ushered Buffy to her seat again, saying, "You must eat. Too skinny for a beautiful woman like you." She again tsk-ed at Spike as he sat. "Do you not feed her? You need to see Nonna more often. We will fix plates for her home." She smiled fondly at Buffy. "She will not go hungry."

And with that, the woman was sweeping her way back to the kitchen, telling the man who ran the bar the good news with a laugh and quick clap of her hands.

Buffy again arched her brow at Spike. "That's more than a good tipper."

He looked down at the empty appetizer plate, ran his tongue across his teeth and said slowly, "Remember that song... 'I Want A Man With Dishpan Hands?'"

Buffy's mouth fell open. "No."

He glance sharply at her, saying defensively, "Can't go 'round knockin' off the sodding bank. They look for ya after that. Don't fancy the headache after having to beat off six of Sunnyhell's finest to pay for blood and fags. Do you know those bleedin' wankers carry stakes now?? Besides... your electric bill needed paid." He stopped in an abrupt silence.

Buffy reached across the table to lay her hand over his. "Thank you. That's... After everything-" She took a deep breath. "It means a lot, Spike."

The boy who had seated them returned with half a loaf of still steaming Italian bread. "Compliments of La Signora."

Buffy looked quizzically at Spike. "La Signora?"

"Uh... Nonna."

"Ah... Nonna."

Dinner arrived, and it was the most exquisite food Buffy had ever eaten. Angel hair pasta had been drowned in a white wine sauce, and she was stealing bites off Spike's plate, which was something red, meaty, and delicious.

She had stalled enough. Looking at Spike, who was now guarding his plate strategically, Buffy smiled. "I'm full."

He blew out a relieved breath. "Thank God. I'm wastin' away 'ere, and I have to share with my pregnant slayer." Under his breath, he muttered, "Who eats like a pregnant moose..."

The icy look he met across the table confirmed his belief that she had heard.

"I'd like to see a moose that could fit into this dress, Spike. And when you find that moose, marry it."

His eyes grew wide, and that made her laugh, forgetting his unseemly remark for the moment. She laid her hand on the table, waited for Spike to lay his on top of it. She turned their hands, so hers was on top, tracing small patterns on his palm.

"I was talking to Dawn earlier."

"Oh? What'd Nibblet have to say?"

"We uh... Talked about Mom."

Spike's eyes shone with compassion, but Buffy was unaware of it, staring intently at Spike's palm while she ran her fingers over it. "She told me how much... How much Mom wanted me to have a happily ever after. Just one. Just... To be happy with one person. Marry a man I love, because a slayer's life is uncertain. And I just..." She raised her eyes to his. "I want you to know that I am."

He grew still, his breathing shallow. "You are what?"

She wanted so badly to drop her eyes. But his blue ones entranced her. "Marrying a man I love."

Spike's hand snaked out, to wrap at the base of her neck. He pulled her forward across the table, pressed his lips to hers. He leaned his forehead against hers, eyes closed tightly.

He shuddered out a sigh. "I love you, Buffy. Give me the words."

A small smile curled her lips. "I love you, Spike."

They came home, fell asleep together. But Buffy's sleep was troubled. She pulled out of his protective grasp, and went to sit by the window.

She was staring at the moon when she heard a groggy Spike say softly to her, "Come back to bed, luv."

She gave him a half smile. "In a minute."

Buffy heard his sitting up, the sheet falling to his waist. "What's wrong?"

She turned to him, tears making silvery tracks down her cheeks. "I'm sorry."

Confusedly, he answered, "For what, Buffy? I love-"

"I know. I knew. But I'm so sorry. For every... horrible thing I've ever said to you." She tilted her head. "After we had sex." She came back to the bed. Lowering herself to it, she placed a hand on his cheek. "Nothing I said was true. You're a wonderful man. Soul or not, Spike, I love you. I'm just so sorry I hurt you. It was just so much easier to have you... I thought I could-"

He put his hand over her mouth. "Push me away. And you couldn't. And you didn't. We shouldn't have said a lot of things, Buffy. But we did." He smiled tenderly. "And now we've said a lot of things we should. So come back to bed with me." He tugged her down gently, covered them both back up.

With Spike spooning her back, Buffy fell asleep with Spike murmuring 'I love you' in thirteen languages.

End, Part 21.

Exactly thirteen days later, Buffy slid away from the warm body next to her. She couldn't sleep, and he was. Tomorrow was the wedding. Or, more accurately, later this afternoon was the wedding. She made her way downstairs, one hand on her protruding stomach, gazed out a window. Wandered to the next. She was marrying the man upstairs in less than twenty-four hours. And he hadn't touched her in almost eight months. She wondered if that would even change in the months to come, after the baby came. If he'd still want her, or just love her for the baby. Silly, but relevant.

Upstairs, Spike reached out to pull Buffy closer. His eyes opened, confusedly when no reaching was pulling her closer. He got up, checked in Dawn's room, then heard the pat of her feet across the floor in the living room. He went down the stairs slowly, hair tousled, and ran a hand down his bare chest in a sleepy gesture while he watched Buffy pace.

"Wass 'is all about?" He asked as she settled by a window.

Buffy put a hand on her stomach, not turning from the window. "He can't sleep."

Spike came up behind her, placed his hands on her shoulders, then swept them over her back, and down her arms, kissed the side of her neck softly. "Maybe 'cos her mum's upset." His fingers trailed over her arms. "Wass wrong, luv?"

"You love the baby."

He frowned, not sure where she was going with this, but, "Of course I do."

"And you love me."

Steel, warmth, and love echoed through his voice. "Always."

"But... you don't want me anymore, do you? I'm not... new, and beautiful and sexy to you anymore."

Spike just smiled. "'Course I do. And 'course you are. Just a bit diff'cult to get around you these days."

Buffy's hand crept up to curl on the windowpane, and her eyes teared up as he spoke the words. Her back shuddered, but she made no noise.

"...Now... c'mon." Stern, pleading voice. "I was just... just teasing, luv." He turned her to face him, cupped one cheek, let his lips play over hers gently, sweetly. "I love you..."

She made a protesting noise, pulled back slightly.

His hands slid to her upper arms, pulled her back to where she was originally, and not gently. "'m not *finished*, Slayer." There was a growl to his voice, and his hands moved down to trace the swells of her breasts, slid his hands around them, his eyes concentrating on them entirely. Finally, he lifted them to hers. "I love you, but I've always wanted you. I wanted you before I loved you. I can never stop wanting you. I wake up at night sometimes, aching for you." He swept his hand down her cheek, looking hungrily at her. "Aching, luv. 'S not pleasant. But I won't hurt you... won't hurt our baby." Swallowed, took in her body, that still aroused him. "So I'll ache..." His eyes lifted in promise. "But not for much longer."

He sat on the couch, settled back against it. "Come here." His voice, usually so soft with here these days, was rough with the command.

"Spike-"

He cut off her terse comment sharply. "Slayer. I said. Get over here. We both know I'm not above making you."

And they did. They both knew. She sighed, moved to stand in front of him. He started to pull her down on his lap, but she balked.

"I'm too-"

"Shut up, Buffy. You're not too big, or too fat." He pulled again, harder, this time succeeding in settling her sideways on his lap. "What you are," he told her, angling her slightly, turning her head to him, "is mine. You, belong to me. No one before or after. Just me." His eyes bored into hers. "Do you understand?"

Her eyes heated, but she said, "I'm not a car, Spike."

Small smile. "You're not. You're my Slayer, my heart, my hate, my love, my beginning, and end. Everything. So I'm not letting you go. Because this fire will never go out, and if you go, it'll consume me, and there'll be nothing left."

The way he was looking at her was making her shake, giving her chills. She opened her mouth to speak. To say something, anything.

Spike shook his head, put one finger over her lips. "No words. I just wanna touch you."

And he did. He smoothed his hands over her face, brushing her hair back, swept his thumbs over the smooth skin under her eyes, traced the line of her nose. He knew. He knew everything that she was, could ever, would ever, hope to be. And he loved it all. But love wasn't an issue right now. They had resolved that. Buffy didn't feel beautiful. And he wouldn't tolerate that. Because she shined like the sun, and sparked a fire of want and fantasies that never ended. She saw it in his eyes, the way the flecks of cobalt in his eyes darkened to midnight when he was enticed, aroused.

She felt a thrill of satisfaction as his mouth molded hotly to hers, his hands tangled a bit roughly in her hair. Gave a small moan as he bit down on her bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth to lavish attention on it, before releasing it to beg entrance to her mouth. Her hands smoothed across his chest, heightening his awareness. As their tongues dueled, Spike touched her. His Slayer... his lover, his partner... his... wife. His kiss and touch were defiant. Defiant against anything that would dare attempt to steal her away. ANY outside force against her. Defiant against a destiny they had triumphed against. He was still kissing her, pulled one of her deceptively small hands from his chest, slid it down his jeans. Kissed across to her ear. As he bit at it, sucking on the lobe, he whispered roughly, "How could you have thought you didn't still do that to me?"

She pulled in a breath.

Spike needed to stop. He wanted her, to take her, but earlier, months earlier would have been the time for that... Now, now he had to wait. They could be gentle and soft, he was sure, but not for how long. He couldn't risk his baby girl, when he didn't know how he'd react being with Buffy again. He pulled her head down, to rest his forehead against hers. Bent a smile at her close face. "Think she can sleep now?"

Buffy let out a small huffing laugh, gave a little nod. "Yeah. I think so."

He helped her stand, turned her towards the stairs, and gave her butt a slap as she headed to the stairs. She turned to give him a look.

Leveled a devilish grin at her. Winked. "Next time I see you, luv, you're gonna be in your white fluffy dress. Have a good sleep."

She fish-mouthed at him. "You're not staying?"

Shook his head. "Nah. Bad luck, all that rot." Eyes turned serious. "I love you, pet. Go rest. I'm gonna grab some things, and I'll be out of your hair."