Chapter 4.07

Buffy knocked on her own room door, before she pushed it slowly open. As she’d expected, she was greeted by a waft of cigarette smoke. Spike was prowling round the room like a caged tiger on speed.

"Hey," she said in a soft voice. He turned to face her, his eyes automatically softening, but she could see he was still fighting the rage within him. She walked over to her dresser and pulled open one of the drawers to take out a ceramic ornament. "Catch," she said as she tossed it in his direction. "In case you feel the need to smash something."

He hefted the statuette in his hand checking its weight and balance before he actually looked at it and saw what she didn’t like about it. A big strong Fred was carrying a seemingly grateful Daphne to safety in the best Scooby Doo tradition. Anger faded into amusement and his eyebrow rose a fraction of an inch. "Present from soldier boy?"

"You guessed it." She swayed over to him.

"Not in the mood for smashing stuff now, but if you want I could do it as a public service."

"We can save it …for the next time Xander acts like a total ass." She took the offending article from him and sat it on the dresser. Then she took the half-smoked cigarette from his hand and dropped it into the remains of her mocha from earlier.

"So, other than implying that my mom was some two-bit ho that you were sneaking around with behind my back, what else did he say to get you that worked up?" Buffy asked.

"Wha’? How?"

"Just because you don’t leave a card doesn’t mean I haven’t got a brain. I know Dawn doesn’t get enough allowance to pay for fresh flowers every week. I knew it wasn’t me and if Dad had been that thoughtful they wouldn’t have been divorced in the first place.

I had my suspicions for a while, but after Saturday I was sure. I’ve been in your head, remember."

"S’pose, and yeah, that was pretty much it," Spike conceded.

"Why didn’t you ever leave a card?"

"‘Cause if I did Harris would probably have staked me. Him and Red all but physically chucked me off the property when I tried to leave flowers outside the house after. Said Joyce meant nothing to me and the only reason I bothered was to try to get in your knickers. As long as I didn’t put my name on the card, it’d never occur to him that it might be me. Not the sort of thing an evil soulless git would do, not in his book, anyway."

"God, Spike, I’m sorry. I didn’t know," Buffy apologised. "If I’d known… I mean, back then, I didn’t get the thing between you and mom. But I got that there was a thing that I didn’t get."

"Ancient history, pet. Don’t worry ‘bout it." His hands came up to cradle her neck, thumbs brushing her jaw-line as he tilted his head to come in for a kiss. Her hands fisted in the front of his sweatshirt as she pulled him toward her. He tasted of smoke and mints and she lost herself in him until he pulled her tight against him.

"Ah. Ow." She pushed away from him to get a look at her forearm, which had been crushed between them. His gaze followed her own to where a large handprint showed a livid darkening purple just above her wrist.

"Spike, no. Don’t," but it was too late, Spike was already out the door and running down the stairs, leaving Buffy to trail behind.

"Harris, you bastard…"

"Will, don’t. It was an accident."

"Bollocks, accident. You don’t get bruises like that accidentally."

Spike hauled a stunned looking Xander up off the couch by his shirt front, before sending him back into it with a nose-breaking punch, which in turn caused the headache that brought the vampire to his knees in a screaming heap. 

Xander rose to his feet again, wiping away a stream of blood from his nose but Buffy managed to get between the two before Xander could make a move on the vampire. Willow meanwhile rushed to shut the curtains in the room to prevent the now smouldering member of the undead community from bursting into flames, a situation he seemed to be only just becoming aware of. He pulled up the hood on the sweatshirt and let the material fall over his hands, but still he struggled to rise to his feet, his eyes a swirl of midnight blue and golden fire.

"Xander, just tell him it was an accident. You forgot you had the orbs, right?"

For a second, Xander stood there bemused by what was going on, but then Buffy’s words penetrated his brain and his gaze moved from her face to the arm she held extended to keep him back from the vampire.

All of a sudden Xander fled for the front door of the house, yanking it open and falling to his knees on the front porch as his lunch and a packet of Cheetos made a reappearance.

"I know Giles wanted you to hit Xander, Spike, but I think making his nose bleed and making him throw up his lunch is a bit much," Anya surveyed the scene as she returned from the kitchen with a beer in either hand.

Spike merely pulled himself to his feet and took one of the open beers from her hand. "Ta, pet. I don’t think your other half is going to be wanting one just yet."

"Spike!"

"What?" The vampire turned to look at the former ex-vengeance demon.

"They were both for me," she said, looking distinctly put out by the fact that Spike had now drunk at least half of the bottle in one pouring motion.

It was only Spike’s vampiric hearing that let him catch Janice’s comment from the top of the stairs.

"I don’t know why you come to mine to watch Jerry Springer when your house is like this."

Buffy looked at the chaos surrounding her. "Will, Anya, you two want to check on Xander? I’m going to take Blondie here upstairs and try to find some migraine tablets. Dawn, you and Janice, back in your room or you can clean up the porch."

 "That’s so not fair. Xander made the mess," pouted Dawn, but went back to her room regardless.

"Tablets’ll wear off too quick for it to be worth takin’ them, pet." Spike sat on the edge of the bath while Buffy ransacked the bathroom cupboard for headache pills.

"What makes you think they’re for you? Maybe it’s the thought of you and Xander in the same house that’s giving me a headache," Buffy teased.

"Sorry if I upset you, love."

"But not the least bit sorry for hitting Xander, I suspect."

Spike gave a small chuckle before replying, "no, can’t say as I am. Even if it wasn’t deliberate, he’s still got to be responsible for how he uses those things."

"Well, I think he realises his mistake now, so leave it alone, okay?"

"‘Kay. Are you okay? Your arm I mean. It is just a bruise?"

"I’ll be fine… Nothing that won’t sort itself out in a day or two. So, are you going to tell me why there’s half a florists shop downstairs," Buffy prodded.

"‘Cause I told her not to bother with the stuff you would need to find a vase for?"

"Funny. Spill."

"You seemed sort of …edgy, before, and I didn’t know if it was something I’d done, or maybe didn’t do, or whether you were working up to telling me something or what, but I figured a pleasant surprise wouldn’t do any harm, whatever. Enter Harris and the whole thing goes to hell."

"If you did something wrong, then we both did." She closed the bathroom cabinet and took a seat next to Spike, her attention apparently focussed on her most recent footwear acquisition. "I can’t say I felt entirely comfortable with the idea we can’t keep our hands off each other, even when Dawn’s two feet away."

"You’re uncomfortable." Spike snorted, not noticing Buffy’s answering glare. "Scares me shitless …but it’s a good scared.

It’s part of how we’re right together." He reached over and took her unresisting hand in his. "I don’t ever want to look at you across a room and not want you.

But, I don’t want you wandering around all day guilt-ridden ‘cause we had a quickie with the Niblet next door either, so if we find ourselves in a similar situation I’ll try to have a bit more self-control …not that I’m makin’ any guarantees, ‘cause you know you’re irresistible, right?"

"Hmpf, tell that to your predecessors. And who are you to talk, Mr Sexy-Swagger Eyes-to-Die-For Energiser-Bunny Vampire? But we try, next time rather than just give in."

Before she could work out quite how he did it, he’d scooped her up into his lap and put a chaste kiss on her lips. "So is that it? Or did I piss you off when I asked you to wait to claim me, as well?"

"Not piss-off, not exactly." Buffy kept her eyes focussed on the dip at the base of his throat.

He kept his voice soft, trying to coax her out. "Then what exactly?"

"I… the way you want it. I can’t do it." She flicked a glance over his face trying to gauge his response, only to find his expression so deliberately neutral that she knew he was masking his feelings. "I mean, I want to do it. It’s just all the blood stuff, not a turn on. I want to have the bond, but the idea of biting you and drinking your blood, and is it even your blood, or is it just the pig blood that you had for dinner?"

He smiled softly. "It’s my blood. Otherwise you would have people turning themselves by slaughtering innocent pigs… So what do you want to do?"

"I think I want to do it, but it can’t be all moonlight and roses and soft seduction. It’s not a sensual thing for me. It’s got to be all endorphins and adrenaline."

"You’re saying if I want you to claim me, it’ll have to be during a good hard shag?"

She nodded her head against his chest.

"Pet, that’s okay. Like you say, maybe not exactly what I had in mind, but it’s not like we can’t have the gentler stuff after, is it?"

She didn’t answer him in so many words, but her hands wrapped themselves around his neck and she shifted against him till there was no gap between their bodies, letting her cheek rest against his shoulder. And they stayed like that until they heard Tara at the front door.

 "Glinda."

"Hey, guys."

"Hey, Tara."

The blonde pair strolled downstairs hand in hand as Tara was pushing the door closed.

"Is that stuff on the porch some sort of demon goo or is it just what it looks like?"

"Harris goo."

"I guess that means they decided to leave the mess for me to clean up," Buffy sighed.

"Harris made the bloody mess. Let him clear it up."

The two women exchanged glances and then looked at Spike as if he’d lost his mind.

"What? …Why’re you two lookin’ at me like I’m some sorta moron?"

Buffy tilted her head as she watched him. "For one thing, there’s no polite way to ask him to do it. For another, if he tried it might end up making him ill again and for a third, there’s a chance they’re still trying to set his nose and stop it bleeding. Whatever, he’ll be doing the guy thing and playing up for sympathy."

"Yeah, well, as I recall your standard bedside manner consists of the phrase ‘You’ll live’. An’ if you’re worried about being rude then I’ll bloody tell him to do it. Nobody expects me to be polite."

"No you won’t!" Buffy hissed loudly at him. "You will not embarrass me in front of my friends. Look, just ring up... Actually maybe we’ll wait till later to get the pizzas. Just take Tara through, get her a beer if she wants one.

I’d rather do it myself, anyway, than have Xander do a half-ass job and have to try to get rid of it when it’s dried on."

Buffy ducked out the front door and started to make her way round to the back of the house to get the hose. Spike told himself that he should do as she said. No way was he cleaning up the Whelp’s bloody puke. But no way was he letting her lift that hose reel and run round after that git when her arm was in that state. His gaze darted back and forward between the door and Tara for a few seconds before he made up his mind.

"Pixie, you know where the fridge is. Help yourself." Adjusting the sweatshirt so it would protect him from the rays of the setting sun he dashed after his girl.

Buffy looked up as he came round the corner, not fooled by his sudden change to walking pace. "What now?" she asked irritably as she struggled to find a way to pick up the heavy reel so that it wasn’t resting against her bruised arm.

"Thought maybe I could help."

"But why?"

Spike shrugged. "‘Cause you’re hurt and I’m not. ‘Cause I don’t think it’s right you havin’ to do it. ‘Cause you’re better than that."

"How about ‘cause the sun hasn’t set yet and you could catch fire… I appreciate the thought but I don’t think you should be taking chances with Mr Sunlight."

"Then leave it and I’ll get it later. Sun’ll be down in an hour or so."

Buffy sighed. "Compromise. You carry that round to the front of the house and then get your melanin-deprived ass back inside, and I’ll hose it off. It can’t be any worse than cleaning the gents after a weekend late shift at DMP."

Spike picked up the heavy reel without comment carrying it round to the tap at the front of the house and hooking it up. Buffy grabbed the other end of the hose before Spike could. She’d noticed his lack of agreement re the division of labour. The porch was soon damp, but free of debris. Spike hung back by the door.

"I woulda got it for you, pet," he said.

"I know …but maybe I think you’re better than that," she told him.

For once, the vampire was stunned into silence.

To say things were tense when the blonde duo walked into the front room would be like saying Pavarotti could sing a bit. Spike was staring daggers at Xander. Xander couldn’t work out whether to retaliate or look sheepish for Buffy’s benefit. Buffy was trying to keep an eye on the room’s testosterone quotient. Dawn and Janice were quietly treating the whole thing like a tennis match. Tara had found the wine that was left over from Spike and Buffy’s picnic and was looking far more civilised than the beer-swilling adults as she and Willow snuggled up on the sofa. Anya had got over her earlier fright and was now busy making a fuss over Xander and his busted and puffy nose.

"Spike. You broke Xander’s nose. Now he may never recover his classic profile," Anya whined.

"You’re telling me he’s been round Buffy for six years and it’s the first time he’s had his nose bust. One of us must’ve been getting special treatment," Spike snarked.

"Spike," said Buffy in a soft voice, a plea to the vampire and she was surprised that he immediately dropped back and stood back leaning against the wall, pulling out his cigarettes and a lighter. "How’s your nose, Xander?"

"It’ll be fine. It’d take more than the blond bimbo to do any permanent damage," Xander answered in a subdued tone. "What about your arm?"

"Just bruised. A few days and it’ll heal right up. Don’t sweat it."

"Look, Buffy, I’m really sorry. I didn’t realise how tight I was holding you. I know it’s no excuse, but you have to know that I would never deliberately hurt you."

"If you really meant that, you wouldn’t be trying to cause trouble between me and Spike and I wouldn’t have this bruise. He’s right. You don’t know him. Either get to know him or just stay away from him, but don’t …just jump to all the worst conclusions then start throwing accusations about. I’m sick of it."

Buffy moved over into Spike’s waiting arms, looking up to give him a smile of thanks for staying quiet. Spike returned the smile and asked, "Anybody need another drink?"

"It’s okay, Spike, I’ll get them. Beer right?" Tara offered, scanning round the room for any other takers.

"Yeah, pet. Thanks." Spike treated her to a glowing smile as his arms settled more firmly around Buffy, only moving to take a draw from his cigarette or to flick ash into the fireplace.

"Well, how about we skip to the filmed drama rather than the real stuff?" suggested Willow as she picked up the first of the tapes and slotted it into the machine.

A few minutes later the trailers finished and a disgruntled English voice asked, "Alright, which one of you two is the evil bint responsible for this?" The opening titles of Coyote Ugly moved across the screen.

The rest of the evening passed without further incident. The men in the group were slightly mollified by the Jet Li film that followed the blatant chick flick. Xander even played nice and said he’d leave his plans and sketches for the basement so that Buffy and Spike could look through them together and discuss the various alternatives. Of course, he still didn’t actually speak to Spike, but then no-one expected miracles.

Everything more or less broke up when Buffy and Spike walked Janice home. It seemed to instigate a general parting of the ways. The pair had planned on doing a patrol after they finished escort duty, with a stop at Spike’s flat at some point in the night. Things turned out slightly differently.

"Spike, I kinda wanna just go home now… curl up in bed… get some sleep. This whole thing with Xander… and patrolling injured… not a great plan."

"Oh… right then… I’ll see you home and do a quick sweep before I head for my place."

Buffy sighed. "I was hoping you would come with. Keep the bad dreams away? …if you think you could just sleep."

"Maybe," Spike answered, his head tilted forward and a mischievous grin matching the sparkle in his eyes. "…if I get a cup of cocoa first."

"With little marshmallows," Buffy agreed. "We could have a look through Xander’s plans. See if there’s something we like… then we’ve got the morning to ourselves… well, together anyway. I don’t know who else will be around."

"Slayer, shhh. You had me as soon as you asked. And I was going to ask to be excused from the sexcapades tonight anyway. I’ve got a stinkin’ headache." He squeezed the hand he was holding and then released it in favour of slipping his arm around Buffy’s shoulders.

SECTION 5 – THE THINGS WE DO FOR LOVE

A compromise would surely help the situation
Agree to disagree, but disagree to part
Well after all it’s just a compromise
For the things we do for love

(10CC, Album Deceptive Blends)

Chapter 5.01

Each time Spike woke up with Buffy in his arms it made it harder for him to go back to sleeping alone. This time, at least, it looked like her alarm was going to go off before she got to the "interesting" dreams. Okay. Who was he kidding? There weren’t words to describe how it made him feel to hear the woman he loved moan his name in her sleep with the scent of her arousal in the air. Well, there were, but they were words like effulgent, and so best avoided.

Spike reckoned he had ten minutes to wake Buffy gently before her alarm went off. He pulled her closer with the arm that circled her waist and brushed open-mouthed kisses against her satin covered shoulder, taking care not to dampen the fabric. He moved ever closer to her neck and she began to stir, until shifting her injured arm she came abruptly awake. When she stretched she brushed against him in a hundred delicious ways, satin against skin and he gave a contented moan that came awfully close to being a purr.

"Morning, baby. How’s the arm, pet?"

Buffy rolled over in his arms to give him a kiss before replying, "better than it was. Morning, Dead Boy. What time is it?"

"About five minutes before your alarm’s going to go off. I was just going to go brush my teeth and see to breakfast. Anything special you fancy, bearing in mind we decided I’m not on the menu until after ‘Bit’s off to school?"

"In that case, I’ll make do with a crispy bacon sandwich and some nice fresh coffee."

"Want me to bring that up, or do you want to eat downstairs."

Buffy seemed to consider for a couple of seconds. "Down, like watching you cook."

Spike, smiled even brighter at her answer and kissed her on the forehead. "I love you, Miss Summers."

"You’re not so bad yourself, Mr the Bloody? Say, what is my married name going to be?"

Spike shrugged as he made his way around the bed. "I was thinking maybe Duffy. What d’you think?" He ducked through the door just before the pillow hit it.

Buffy scrambled out of bed and set off in pursuit. "I am not going to spend my life as Buffy Duffy just to satisfy your warped sense of humour."

Spike drooled toothpaste foam into the sink as he tried to brush and keep from laughing at her indignance.

"This is not funny. What was your real name?"

Spike spat and rinsed, suddenly serious. "What happened to the Romeo and Juliet quotes, pet? I swore when I was turned that my misdeeds would never bring the family name into disrepute. I’ve kept to that for more than a century. If you want to know the name, I’ll tell you, but it won’t be the name I’ll be married under." His eyes glowed golden and his demon ridges came to the fore.

Buffy wondered if she’d overstepped the mark until she noticed he had been busy putting more toothpaste on his brush as he spoke. "Okay, fine. I can wait till you want to tell me then, but what about the name you are going to use. You’re going to have to get some ID sorted out so we can get the licence and everything."

"I spoke to someone yesterday about getting some made. I should get everything back within a couple of weeks." Spike got to work on cleaning up his fangs, or at least getting them as clean as they’d come.

"So you must know what name you’re going to use."

"Mommov." Buffy just crossed her arms, rolled her eyes and tapped her tiny bare foot, which brought Spike’s attention entirely to her slender golden legs sticking out from under the black satin pyjama top.

Spike again got to the rinse and spit stage and turned his attention back to the argument in hand. "Look, pet. How about we discuss this after breakfast. Nothing’s settled yet. He won’t be starting work before Monday, and I’d rather not be distracted while I’m shaving."

Buffy gave a snort before she grabbed her own toothbrush, toothpaste and tumbler, taking them over to the bath. She couldn’t resist watching him as he shaved. For some reason she’d expected him to use the old-fashioned soap that came in stick form and was applied with a brush, not an aerosol can. A disposable razor seemed even more out of place. She’d imagined an open razor and a big leather strap.

"This is the first time I’ve seen you shave."

Spike shrugged before continuing his ritual. "Only bother every other day or so. You haven’t necessarily been around." It didn’t take him long to finish off and he made sure to leave the sink sparkling clean. An understated splash of that spicy cologne that smelled so good on him and by the time Buffy had brushed her teeth and washed her face, he was ready to go. "Why don’t you check that your sister’s up and take her order and I’ll go and get the coffee started?" Spike suggested.

Buffy was in two minds as to whether she should get dressed before she went downstairs or not. In one sense it was pointless because once she and Spike got the name thing sorted out they weren’t going anywhere other than the privacy of her bedroom.

On the other, the blond butt-pain could just have told her what she wanted to know without the whole Mr Mysterious act and as for that Buffy Duffy crap …so not funny.

There was also the fact that, okay, the top covered more than any swimsuit and most of her skirts in high school come to that and she had bought several pairs of matching french knickers during her LA trip. It wasn’t as if she was going to flash the room if she bent over. Something still made her feel slightly uncomfortable though. Was it all too …intimate? Especially with Spike downstairs in the matching bottoms looking like he’d walked straight off the set of some martial arts movie…or a porn film. Not that she’d seen any real porn films but she could imagine.

Okay, Spike was downstairs looking like a wet dream and she was up here? Who cares what Xander thinks when he shows up? Willow and Tara would deal. Dawn had seen it all before. Well, not semi-naked Spike, but her. Semi-naked Spike she’d just have to learn to live with.

Buffy wandered downstairs to find coffee already brewing and the smell of cooking bacon coming off the frying pan.

"Dawn says since it’s you cooking she’ll have French toast. When she thought it was me she was going to have cereal. How’s that for making you feel appreciated."

Good for me, I’d say. Not so good for you. Any other signs of life or is it just the three of us?" Spike asked as he set about preparing Dawn’s breakfast

"So far. Give it another five minutes before you write them off though."

"D’you want juice or are you sticking with the coffee?"

"I could have some juice while I’m waiting for the coffee." Buffy decided

A couple of minutes later Buffy was munching on her sandwich when Tara came downstairs, fully clothed. "Hey, you two. You beat me to the cooking."

"Yeah, we’ve had bacon going in one pan and french toast in the other. What d’you fancy?"

"I’ll go with the french toast and I think it’s safe to say Willow will too, if that’s okay?" Tara answered.

"Easy." Spike added some more eggs to the bowl he was whisking before cutting the crusts off of about half a loaf of bread.

Buffy’s cheeks brightened and she piped up. "Speaking of Willow, I was supposed to give you a message yesterday. She said she’d ordered all the bits for your PC. She’s going to build it here, get everything working and then move it to your place. She says you can pay her any time between now and when she has to pay her credit card bill."

"Money’s upstairs, pet. Just need to know how much she needs." Spike looked over at Tara. "Are you or Red going to be about when the Niblet gets out of school today. Buffy ‘n’ me have got an appointment and I don’t know how long it’ll take."

Buffy interrupted before Tara could reply. "I think it might be good if she came to your place, actually. That way …your guest could meet us as a family. Gives you an extra person to speak up for you."

"Okay. Fancy going out somewhere for dinner afterwards?"

"If you’re sure. You don’t have to. You’ve already spent a fortune this week."

"I’m sure," Spike replied. "It means I’ve got something to bribe the Bit with if she thinks about saying who we’re seeing."

Dawn breezed into the room at this point and Spike served up the first of the french toast, dumping it on a central plate and letting the girls fight it out.

"Hey, Spike," Dawn teased. "Can I have Janice sleepover one night when you’re staying. She’d probably faint clean away if she saw what you’ve been hiding under that duster."

"Very funny, Bit. An’ if it wasn’t just ‘family’ that’s around I’d be getting dressed before I came downstairs. Now eat."

Buffy and her sister sorted out the details for after school and Dawn managed to talk them round into agreeing to a Bronze trip after the restaurant.

"If Janice’s mom let her meet up with us, I could stay at hers tonight and then the two of you could stay at Spike’s instead of having to be here for me," Dawn suggested slyly.

"We’ll see," said Buffy. "Pack an overnight bag and I’ll take it over to Spike’s for you. We can leave it in the car once you’ve changed, but that doesn’t mean it’s definite."

Dawn grinned as she bounded up the stairs. She knew that Buffy might as well have said yes. It was so cool.

By the time Xander showed up, to pick up Dawn, everybody except Willow had finished eating breakfast and Buffy had even put on a load of laundry and washed up as much as she could. Willow also had a bundle of sequentially numbered hundred dollar bills at her elbow. Buffy had tried to bring up the subject of surnames again but Spike had insisted it would keep until Xander had been and gone. Instead the women were back to looking through bridal magazines.

"I take it you have a favourite amongst Sunnydale’s florists?" Buffy said to the blond one.

"You could say that. Once we’ve got a date I’ll introduce you to Kate. She’ll be able to cope with anything you want. Have you sorted out how many bridesmaids you want yet?"

"I don’t know. It’s like I have to have Dawn. She’s a definite, but I want Willow too. And if I have Willow I should ask Tara. And then if I do that that means the only female Scooby I haven’t asked is Anya. So, I have to ask her cause otherwise it looks like I don’t like her but that might only leave Olivia and my female relatives in the congregation if we can’t ask the LA bunch. And we don’t have to but normally there’d be an equal number of guys and so far you’ve come up with Clem, who I haven’t even seen since we started going out. I don’t even know if he knows we’re engaged."

"He knows. I’ve spoken to him on the phone, but it’s probably not a bad idea if we swing past his place sometime soon when we patrol," Spike responded.

"Buffy, it’s okay you know, if you wanted to just have Dawn and Willow. I mean you’ve known Willow way longer than either me or Anya," Tara intervened.

"Yeah, but if Willow’s a bridesmaid and your not, you’d be on different tables," Buffy said.

"Sod that, pet. Just make the thing informal. Let everybody sit where they please. I mean how many people are we talking about when all’s said and done. Twenty? Thirty? We’ll only be getting a little place. Stick a podium in one corner for the speeches so everyone can see and let them go where they want."

"Why didn’t I think of that? That’s right we had to try to keep my parents away from the bar and prevent bloodshed," Xander answered obviously catching Spike’s point of view as he came in through the back door this time. "Eloping is much easier."

"Yeah, but you’re going to have to go through it all again for that blessing Anya wants."

"True, but that is sometime hopefully far into the future, so far she might forget about it. Besides she cut the guest list down to more or less the occupants of this room after the last disaster."

"You mean the Buffalo Lodge Fiasco or BLF as it is now officially called," Willow offered.

"Great. You’ve got an anacronym for the worst day of my life?" Xander asked. "Hey, pretty pieces of paper." Xander’s hand moved toward the pile of notes only to be rapped with Willow’s fork and find himself on the receiving end of her resolve stare.

"No, they’ve got an acronym for the worst day of Anya’s life," was Spike’s response.

"Whatever…" Buffy interceded, giving Spike an unfriendly glare before returning her attention to Xander. "We had a look at your sketches last night. We liked the one where the stair end is mostly laundry stroke training area with the bathroom taking up a strip in the back corner and the studio area’s rectangular, rather than the ones where you end up with an L-shape room. Do you think you could do the drawings we need for planning permission based on that layout?"

"For you, Buffy, no problem. Now where’s little sis. Time for the school going."

"I’m right behind you, Xander. Where I’ve been for the last five minutes. I’ve left that bag next to the front door, Buffy."

"Okay, see you after school," called her sister as Xander and Dawn headed out the front door.

One of Spike’s smirks landed on his face. "I’ve got the solution to evening up the ushers and the bridesmaids. I’ll take Clem, Glinda and Demon Girl. You can have Bit, Red and Harris."

"Very funny, Spike."

"What? Reckon Pixie here and Anya could look pretty cute in a sort of Edwardian school-marm way with the waistcoats and cravats and the high collars and button-holes?" He flashed Tara a grin. "What d’ya think, pet?"

"And Xander?" Buffy asked irritably before Tara could respond.

"Put him in a pink lounge suit for all I care, as long as he doesn’t look like I asked him to be an usher and he gets to carry his bouquet."

"Spike!"

"You know the more I think about it the more I like it. I get three of my favourite people. You get your sister and your two best friends and everybody pairs off …as much as they ever would anyway. Dawn’s always going to be stuck with Clem but at least they’re friends."

"Spike, forget it. Besides you and I have another matter to settle now Xander’s gone."

"Yeah, right. Excuse us ladies and I apologise in advance if the slayer entices me to use some loud and manly cuss words. After you, pet." Spike waited for the slayer to precede him into the dining room.

"Okay …you. Quit with the mysterious and tell me now. Name."

"Right then, reckoned I’d keep my original middle name. It’s a bit out of date now, but it was me dad’s name so I’m keepin’ it, so if you find Arthur offensive, tough."

The slayer gave him an impatient look but decided that interrupting his narrative flow would be counterproductive.

"Surname took a bit more thinking about. There were some that I thought of, but then when I checked what they meant I wasn’t keen. Anyway, the one I was planning to go with is apparently the patron saint of beggars and cripples, so what with the chip it seemed fairly apropos."

"Spike, stop going all Giles on me and just tell me what the damn name is!" Buffy blustered, her fist itching to connect with his nose.

"Well, actually those two requests happen to be contradictory. I thought, short of staying a Summers, that that might be the name you would pick given a choice." Spike saw Buffy trying to work up to saying something and quickly rushed ahead. "I asked the watcher. I didn’t just assume it would be okay. I think he was pleased really. He’s sort of stuck with me, but in a weird way it makes you and him officially family."

"Buffy Anne Giles. Buffy Giles. BAG? My initials are going to be BAG!"

"Mine aren’t exactly a vast improvement, pet. Thought it would make you happy, but like I said I can change it as long as I let him know before Monday. And you could always keep Summers as a middle name. Make it B A S G."

"Too much of a mouthful. I think if I have to initial anything I’ll just leave out the A."

"So it’s settled then."

"Yeah. I approve …on one condition."

"Wha’s that?"

"It is going to be Mrs William Giles not Mrs Randy?"

Spike gave a snort of laughter. "Should bloody hope so, pet."

"Spike?" Buffy looked over at him, her eyes warm and her cheeks lightly flushed.

Spike closed the gap between them his hands coming to rest lightly on her hips. "Uh-huh?"

"Thank you… It must have been hard to ask."

"We-ell. Not as hard as certain other things could be in the near future." His body pressed against hers, leaving no doubt about his meaning as their lips met in a soft slow caress.

After a couple of minutes she finally drew back from his oral ministrations to respond to his comment, the insult coming out as a breathy sigh. "Pig."

"Yep. Me and Mr Gordo. Your two pigs."

"I’ve got to go tell Tara and Will."

"That I’m a pig. I think they already know, pet."

"No-o." She slapped him lightly on the arm before taking his hand and dragging him back in the direction of the kitchen.

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