Chapter 5.02

"I still like the idea." Spike tossed a sponge cake and several packets of cookies into the shopping cart as he argued.

"And I still say, it’s all right for you, but what am I meant to do with Xander. You have him and I’ll have Anya." Buffy countered.

Spike shook his head. "Na-huh-hah. No way. I said two years ago he was off the usher list and he’s staying off it."

"I thought you wanted me to have my perfect day." Buffy’s bottom lip came out in a pout and Spike determinedly forced his attention to scanning the rows of shelves for a teapot, sugar bowl and milk jug.

"I did assume your perfect day would involve a happy smiling groom, which I won’t be if Harris comes anywhere near me." Spike leant back pulling on the cart handle to bring it to a stop next to a very limited selection of crockery. ‘Great, someone up there’s laughing at me. I’ve got the choice of bright yellow or one with kittens on… Sod it, wouldn’t look good if I got the gurglies.’ He picked up the yellow one.

He looked over and happened to catch a glimpse of her half-angry, half-sad face and gave a sigh. "You could make him ring-bearer or something. I know it’s normally a kid if you have one, but it’s better than giving him a bouquet ‘n’ I suppose he can wear a suit s’long as it’s not the same as mine and Clem and Rupe’s. Okay?"

"Okay. I suppose."

Spike smirked wondering if Buffy knew how much like her sister she sounded.

"We can have proper three piece suits like the English gentlemen and demons we are and Harris can have a dickie-bow and an elasticated cummerbund to match the bridesmaid’s dresses."

Buffy scowled at him. "You got what you wanted. Don’t push your luck."

"I thought you liked it when I pushed my luck."

"That’s a different type of luck and you pushed it plenty this morning. Now behave. We’ve only got an hour and a half before the vicar’s due. You need some milk." She pulled the front of the cart off to the right. Spike managed to toss in some cold meat, some cheese and some butter before she pulled him past. Finally the pair had everything Spike deemed necessary for afternoon tea. It looked excessive to Buffy, but then she’d have given their visitor a mug of coffee and maybe a cookie or two and expected him to be thankful.

They got back to the flat with seventy-five minutes to go. The first ten evaporated while Spike finished constructing the computer desk and moved it into position at the side of the room. The still-boxed swivel chairs for the two desks were banished to the cloakroom until after the clergy had been and gone. Then Spike started on his kitchen frenzy.

She suspected his mother would have been proud. The Spike she knew would never have fussed the propriety of anything. I mean this is the same guy who took her from behind in the middle of a crowded night-club that catered largely to teens. Now he was cutting the crusts off of his cucumber sandwiches before he halved them into little triangles. He kept glowering at her as he worked, warning her of the dire consequences were she to indulge the hysterics she could feel bubbling up within her.

It was funny how the flat was starting to look like it was Spike’s. The walls were still palest cream, the woodwork and kitchen units brilliant white and the carpets grey, but all round in all the rooms there were bits that were Spike.

He’d bought a bunch of A1 clip-frames and some posters to go in them. He’d said they could pick new posters together when he moved in, something a bit more contemporary, but for now they all had a theme. All the posters were monochrome head-shots of famous film stars. In the bedroom it was Bogart and Bacall, in the living room the eclectic mix of James Dean, Audrey Hepburn, Jimmy Stewart and Katherine Hepburn. Marilyn Monroe was in the hall with Alec Guinness. Buffy wasn’t sure she wanted to replace them. In a weird way they reminded her of her mom and the old films they would sometimes watch together.

A few small lamps and a host of candles were scattered all round the flat. They had brought some of the flowers over from Buffy’s house, the ones that would tone in with his colour scheme that was. The beech and aluminium finish on the desks and bookcase managed to seem light, modern and natural all at the same time. The first few books adorned the bookcase, her mom’s old complete Shakespeare, the poetry book he’d been reading that night and a few novels but he’d filled the bulk of it up with framed photos. Mostly her and Dawn and a few of their mother but there were a couple of him and Dawn together, one of him with Tara and a couple of Dawn with the two witches. None of the photos were from his old shrine. She suspected Dawn had given him some from her own personal photo album or had had copies made for him. At a guess all his photos had been downstairs. She wondered if she had destroyed all his pictures of Dru, Angelus and Darla, but couldn’t bring herself to ask. Even worse, what if he’d had pictures of his human family?

There were ashtrays on every flat surface other than the floor that happened to be within arms reach of any type of seating. Now that he had wall to wall carpeting as opposed to dirt floors he couldn't just flick ash anywhere. A specially purchased wooden trunk sat behind the sofa filled with weapons, taking the place of the coffin he’d used in his crypt. His stack of Passions tapes sat by the TV. Cushions were scattered over the black leather suite and the bed in colours from deepest violet to lavender and silver grey to charcoal. It was all him, yet somehow the over all effect conveyed the home of a quieter more introspective man than she had ever taken Spike to be.

It wasn’t like he’d had Sex Pistols posters all over the walls of the crypt, just the fact that it was a crypt. The scavenged furnishings had always been more about what he’d been able to find than what he would have chosen. It had only really been the rugs, the four-poster, his books and his music that had been his. She knew he’d always been particular about his personal hygiene and the crypt hadn’t even had a water supply. He lived…okay, scratch that. It had been his abode for years. For a hole in the ground it had been pretty impressive. Yet it never seemed like a home or maybe it was just that it could never have been her home. Her refuge? Yes. Her home? Never.

This place, if they were in some alternate universe where say, Dawn was headed off to college instead of looking forward to her first year of Hellmouth High, she wouldn’t have freaked if they had ended up staying here and selling her mom’s place.

"You do realise you’re nesting don’t you?" she asked him as he carried through plate after plate of sandwiches, cakes, muffins, tea-breads and cookies lying them out on the coffee-table along with cutlery, side plates with serviettes, sugar and milk.

"Your point?" he asked.

"Well, you’re all domestic. All homemaking and Martha Stewart."

"You mean the flat or tea with the vicar?" he asked. "‘Cause it’s not like he’d get this response if he wasn’t the one who can say yes or no to what you want. You want a church wedding. If this guy says no, you don’t get the church you want. I can’t scare him into doing it any more. So we have to play nice."

"And the flat?"

"In case you hadn’t noticed, we picked almost all of this stuff together, so maybe you should be saying we’re nesting, and isn’t that what you would expect from two people who are about to get married."

"Can’t say I noticed it with Anya and Xander, and Will and Tara’s stuff just seemed to merge. You buy… okay, we buy nice stuff. You come in here now, and you think, "this looks nice". You could have bought some cheap melamine stuff that would have done the same job, without being anything special, but this stuff… When I imagine our room and what they’ll look like… we’re painting the walls lavender… I know it’s going to feel special, and it’s like I must be special too if I get to live there."

"Good. That’s how you should feel. You deserve to have the best of everything. And you’re not just special, you’re precious." He came up to her, resting his hands on her shoulders. As if by some unseen signal they both tilted their heads forward until their foreheads rested against each other.

"You’re biased," Buffy reminded him.

"Yeah, true. I’m a demon, predisposed to hate and despise you and to regard you as no more than my rightful prey. And here you are, my beginning and my end…" Words failed him, so he just let all his feelings for her show in his eyes.

Buffy realised that the pain in her chest was due to the fact she had forgotten to breathe for a couple of minutes. "If you looked at Dru like that I don’t know how she ever left you."

"She knew that you’d found your way into my heart before I did. She knew she’d lost me before I knew I wanted to go."

"You still love her." Buffy made it a statement of fact not a question.

Spike shrugged. "Reckon I always will, but I’m not in love with her, any more than you’re in love with the Poof."

"You still think we shouldn’t have him at the wedding?" Buffy asked.

"You tell me. Was the Niblet right when she said the watcher was in love with his gypsy girl?"

"Yeah, and okay, I doubt he ever told her she had stupid hair," she flashed a half smile, her eyes twinkling with amusement, "but she did use to get him all flustered. It was sweet."

"Hey. It’s not fair taking the piss out of a guy that’d only just realised he was in love with you. Took me a while to come around. Besides at least when I said it was stupid you didn’t cut it all off," Spike argued, displaying obviously feigned irritation.

"Just surprised I never realised at the time. You did everything but punch me on the arm and run off. How is it that it took my baby sister one evening to work it out but I never saw it at all till she told me. Did you look at me like that back then? ‘Cause I don’t see how I could have missed it."

"Yeah, well, chip, couldn’t punch you and I never said I fell in love with you ‘cause you were the brains of the family." Before she could protest Spike covered her lips with his own, effectively ending their bickering.

Thirty minutes to go and Buffy was opening every window except those in the main living room area, trying to clear the smell of smoke while Spike was nervously making more smoke to be cleared.

"Spike, it’s going to be okay," she tried to reassure him. "If he was going to say no, he would have said it back at the church. Once he meets you he’ll understand."

"Never said I didn’t think it would be okay, pet. But don’t think because he wears a dog-collar he’s automatically being straight with you. This is the guy from the church Adam had those vamps attack. Even though the guy wasn’t there at the time, he could still have heard enough to give him a permanent grudge against my kind and that’s ignoring the fact his Bible tells him to hate us. It’s possible he’s only coming to do what you can’t …or won’t," he amended on seeing the look on her face.

"You’re serious."

"Yeah, I didn’t get to be as old as I am by assuming everybody always has the best intentions."

"Do you think I’d let him lay one finger on you?"

"Way to make me feel real manly, slayer," Spike groused.

"Oops. Guess I kind of forgot you were unconscious the last time you were using my body as a shield."

"What are you talking about, you awkward bint. You know I’d never use your body as a shield."

"No, but I would. Angel’s son would have finished things off while you were unconscious if I hadn’t convinced him you weren’t trying to kill his father."

"Great. Say, next time you’re out, buy me some nappies. That way you can make me look even more pathetic."

Buffy took a deep breath and counted to ten. "Just because you’re nervous doesn’t mean I’m going to let you pick a fight. If he does decide to kill a demon for Jesus, then you and I both know you can’t defend yourself. And it doesn’t make me think you’re any less a man to let me help you, but it does when you pout about it like a big …cry baby."

His eyes glittered with anger and his bottom lip came out in a pout, which made it look even fuller and more luscious than usual. "I can defend perfectly well, thank you. I just can’t hit him back."

"You, like it or not, are going to be part of the Summers family and we take it personal whenever anyone tries to hurt one of ours. So count yourself lucky we didn’t get to this stage sooner, or you would have had mom defending you as well as me and Dawn.

His look told her he was disgusted at the situation but her words had hit a chord. "That’s one humiliation I’d have been proud to live with, love."

"Yeah. She’d have been proud of you, too. I’m not the only one who would be grateful for everything you’ve done for Dawn." Buffy came to sit next to him on the sofa, nudging him along so she could sit on his left instead of his right to avoid her bruised arm getting trapped between them. She tucked her feet up under her and looped her arm through his before letting her head rest on his shoulder. "You know, even if he’s exactly what he seemed, we’re going to get through this together. And if he does try to kill you, then we can start looking into the Vegas option. I hear evening services are the norm over there."

Spike turned to place a kiss on the top of her head. They were still cuddled up together when the doorbell rang to announce the arrival of their guest. Buffy began to rise at the sound but Spike waved her back down.

"You might have your own key, pet, but, technically you’re still a guest. Park your arse." He rose and moved to answer the summons. When the door opened he was confronted by a man a few inches taller than him in his late twenties. He wore a black casual winter jacket that all but hid the dog-collar. Spike held out his hand. "You must be the vicar. We’ve been expecting you."

The clergyman took the proffered hand shaking it firmly but not aggressively. "Ian Hamilton. And you must be William."

"Most people call me Spike, but I still answer to William on occasion. Come in. Buffy’s waiting in the living room." The vampire led the way down the narrow hallway feeling like he had a target painted on his back the entire time. When they reached the living room Spike took his guest’s jacket and offered him a seat. Buffy volunteered to make the tea and coffee saying it would give the two men a chance to talk. Spike doubted that using slayer hearing in the open-plan room there would be much that she would miss.

"Okay, reverend—" Spike began.

"Ian, just Ian’s fine."

Spike’s smile warmed up slightly. "Okay, Ian. What do you want to know? Buffy’s sister will be turning up here some time in the not too distant future when she gets out of school, so I suggest we get straight down to some plain talking and settle matters before she gets here."

"That’s fine with me. I guess the first thing would be to confirm what Buffy’s told me about your nature."

Spike let his face morph into demon form. The clergyman started slightly, but didn’t move back. "And all the other things we hear about vampires?"

Spike chose to revert to human form before he continued the conversation. "Yeah, direct sunlight burns and prolonged exposure can kill. Holy water burns, but short of forcing someone to drink it I’ve never known it to kill. Crosses burn undead flesh on contact and can be used to ward off weaker vampires and a wooden stake through the heart is fatal except with the oldest and an odd one with showy gypsy magic."

"And the blood."

"Yeah. Vampires need to drink blood to survive. For the past two years I’ve been buying mine from the butcher’s."

"And before that?"

"Before that I killed humans just like every other vampire I’ve ever known. Buffy is fond of reminding me that I once said that people were like Happy Meals on legs."

"Why the change?"

"I was captured by some secret government branch and used as a lab rat. When I escaped I was in no fit state to hunt and I ended up having to go to my one-time enemy for help. We made a deal. I’d tell them about the soldier boys and Buffy and her mates put me up and kept me in blood. Once I started getting stronger I was able to help out with the physical stuff and occasionally with information. At first I did it for money.

Thing is once you start living with the cattle, you stop wanting to eat steak. I’ve been in love with Buffy for a long time, but I’d like to think her mother and her sister were my friends before that." Spike shrugged.

"It’s been a process. You can’t look back and say this is the point where I changed. I should probably say it still is a process. I don’t think she’s ready yet to give up smoothing off the rough edges.

What it comes down to is that I love that woman over there and I love her sister and I care about her friends and I won’t do anything that would hurt any of them, other than maybe punch Harris when he really pushes his luck.

Aside from that, I’ve made certain promises to her and I’ll do anything in my power to avoid breaking them. I’ve failed her before but I’ve never quit and I won’t, no matter what happens to her."

"Why do you want to get married?" the minister asked.

"I love her and I want to make her happy for however long we might have together. I want her to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I will always be there for her, that I will never walk out of her life.

There will be people who know the truth of what I am, who will look down on her if she marries me. There are an awful lot more, who would look down on her if we lived together. Some of those people could take her sister away from her. I can’t let that happen to either of them."

"So why not a civil ceremony?"

"One, Buffy wants a church wedding. She wants to be married in your church. Two, I believe in God, it’s hard not to when crosses and holy water have a detrimental effect to your epidermis. I may be damned but I’m not taking her down with me. First Corinthians, chapter seven, verse nine, "…let them marry: for it is better to marry than to burn." Whoever it is that decides on who goes where, he might accept a civil ceremony. He might not. Why would I want to take an unnecessary risk with her soul? However long we may have together the afterlife will be longer."

"You read the bible?" the clergyman seemed startled.

"Not recently, but I was well-schooled in my youth," Spike replied.

There was a pause in the conversation as if the minister could think of no further questions, and Buffy rapped her knuckles on the kitchen worktop. "Can I come back in, yet?" she asked, teapot in hand.

Spike glanced over at the clergyman who gave the smallest of nods. "It’s safe, pet. Either that, or he’s reached that stage of the interrogation where he wants your input." Spike’s half-smile was encouraging, sort of a "not out of the woods yet, but we might be getting there." His eyes, though made her insides melt, from the wealth of affection and support he let show there. She just hoped that her answering look conveyed at least a fraction of what she saw in their irresistible sapphire depths.

Clearing his throat to gain their attention the clergyman looked back and forwards between the pair. "Have you both been christened?"

Spike was the first to answer. "William was, if that counts. Christened and confirmed. C of E."

"What of what?" Buffy asked.

"Church of England, love."

The minister looked over to Buffy. "What about you, Miss Summers? Have you been christened?"

"Em, Buffy’s fine. It’s not like you’re ancient or anything. I think so. There were some photos of me in the long white dress thingy. I assume it was a christening. And I think maybe I remember Dawn’s so if they got her done, they would have done me, right?"

"I think we‘ll take that as a yes. I assume you’ve never been confirmed."

"As far as I’m aware I didn’t even have a provisional booking," Buffy shrugged and raised her eyebrows as if begging someone to laugh.

A loud shrill ring shattered the awkward silence, only to stop and then start again immediately. Spike rose from his chair and headed toward the door. "Better go let in your sister before she gets impatient," he said in a sarcastic tone, as the teen momentarily rested her finger before pressing her full weight on the buzzer once more.

The minister turned to Buffy and asked in a soft voice, "Buffy. Do you know what confirmation is? In the religious sense?"

"Ehm, no, not really," Buffy admitted. "Mom and dad were never really big on organised religion."

Dawn came in the room dropping her back pack.

"Ian Hamilton. Dawn Summers. Buffy’s younger sister and ward. Ian is the vicar at the church where they had that problem with vampires that time," Spike introduced them.

"The one with the big long porch thing out front? Cool. Is that where you two are getting married?"

"That would be up to the nice man, sweetie," Spike managed in only a slightly sarcastic tone of voice.

"Is it okay if I have some of this food. I’m starving and you don’t look like you’ve touched anything." Dawn’s stomach rumbled as if to prove the point.

"Help yourself, Niblet. You’ll get a soda or some milk in the fridge."

The minister cleared his throat once more. "The way I see things at the moment, there’s one thing that would prevent me from being able to perform your wedding ceremony."

"And that would be?" Spike asked.

"Buffy would have to be confirmed." The minister turned to face the slayer. "It’s quite simple really. When you were christened your parents and godparents made promises on your behalf to ensure that you were brought up according to God’s teachings. On reaching maturity, or in some cases on finding Christianity, it’s normal to confirm your own commitment to this way of life. Normally, I run study groups once or twice a year and we’d do this over three to four months with a group of anywhere between six and ten people in the group. Since you were wanting to get married in the next two or three months I could arrange special tuition. I dare say, in a smaller group, we may be able to move through the material faster.

Perhaps your sister could join you. I tend to hold the group studies at the manse and since I live alone, I think propriety would be better served if it wasn’t a one-on-one situation."

Spike bit his lip to prevent the snicker from leaving his mouth. Buffy’s face was priceless, but the spray of sandwich crumbs from Dawn’s mouth when she found herself roped in, was even better.

"Vuffy?" Dawn asked, her eyes round and her mouth still half-full.

"Dawn. I think at the end of the day it has to be your choice whether you become a member of the church or not, right? I mean, that’s the point, isn’t it, that we learn enough to make up our own minds …right?" The minister nodded and Buffy continued. "But I think you should go to the classes with me."

Dawn looked backwards and forwards between the blonde pair but she could tell from their expressions that arguing wasn’t going to get her anywhere.

"In that case, if you two ladies can set aside two hours a week, I think we can look at wedding dates any time beyond the next couple of months," the minister said. "I think it’s safe to say that you won’t clash with any other bookings since you’ll need an evening service."

"So, pet, did you want to be a July bride?" Spike asked.

Buffy pulled out a diary from her purse and checked the dates. "How about the twentieth?"

The minister and Spike both nodded. "Eight thirty?" suggested the clergyman.

Again Spike shrugged. That close to the middle of summer it would be light well into the evening, but eight-thirty was probably as late as they could let things go and still finish in time to have a reception.

"Okay, July the twentieth, eight thirty p.m." Buffy marked it in her diary.

The minister spoke up again. "I will need to speak to you both before the wedding to make sure you understand the commitment that you are going to be making, but that can wait till after Buffy’s confirmation. One hurdle at a time. At the minute I have Mondays and Thursdays free. We can either do one two-hour session every week or two one-hour sessions. Which would you ladies prefer?"

"One two-hour session," the girls chorused. "D’you think we can do it early so it doesn’t interfere with patrol?" Buffy added.

In the end it was agreed that Buffy would meet Dawn straight from school every Monday and they would go together to the minister’s house, and he left without having either a drink or anything to eat. As soon as he was gone Buffy could be heard ranting and bemoaning her fate.

"And what do you think’s so funny?" Buffy looked daggers at the smirking vampire.

"You. You wanted the church wedding. You thought you could just say, "hey, you’ve got a pretty building." And the vicar would say "hey, since you think so, I’m not bothered that you’ve only been inside a church twice in the last six years or that you know nothing about the faith you want to be married in. Just so long as you look pretty in your dress, I’ll marry you any time you want."

"Well, yeah. I kinda thought rescuing his parishioners from a gang of vampires might cut me some slack. Isn’t getting married meant to be good? If I’da known there was going to be study, you might have been on your own, blondie. I got into heaven without having to be married or having to know any bible stuff."

"Last time, you died saving the world, making the ultimate sacrifice. What if next time you die it’s ‘cause you stepped off the kerb in front of a drunk driver? Doesn’t exactly buy you the same leeway."

"Whatever," Buffy grumped.

Dawn decided this was the point to make her irritation known. "Hey, I don’t know what you’re complaining about. I get all the bible study and I don’t get to marry the totally besotted, drop-dead gorgeous guy at the end of it, either. Just because you didn’t want to go alone. But I have got a drop-dead gorgeous date for the prom."

Chapter 5.03

Her sister and her future brother-in-law’s heads spun in her direction. Spike started repeating a little mantra inside his head, ‘Not her father. No right to interfere. Not her father. No right to interfere. Not her father…’

Buffy began the interrogation. "Not yet, you haven’t. If you want this guy to take you to the prom then we have to meet him first, and I don’t mean for five minutes before he drives you away in his car on the night.

What’s his name? How old is he? And how do you know him?"

"His name is Brandon Michaels. His dad’s the new English teacher and he just transferred from San Diego. He’s in my year and he sat next to me in Art. And he’s a hottie. And he gave me a ride over here tonight," Dawn supplied.

"Okay. You can ask him over for dinner, Tuesday night. If he’s human and he’s not an asshole you can go with him," Buffy conceded.

"Well, he might be at the Bronze tonight."

"In that case you’ll be able to introduce us. After which you can sit with him. You can dance with him. At the end of the night if you haven’t blown it, you can kiss him goodnight, but we will be seeing you and Janice safely back to her mother’s. You will at no point leave the building and we’ll be keeping an eye on you and if you do anything that isn’t appropriate for a first date you will be home so fast you won’t believe it.

Now go through to the bedroom and get changed. I brought some sweats and stuff for you. We’re going to make a start on that training you were wanting."

"Really?" Dawn squeaked.

"Really. We’re going over to the Magic Box. We’ve got a good few hours before our dinner reservation."

Fifteen minutes later, the threesome headed out, taking the old DeSoto to the Magic Box. Spike was once again enveloped in the oversized sweatshirt and this time he simply parked the car at the front door, the three of them, walking in as a group. Spike checked round the room for customers, but found the place empty.

"Hey, kitten, got any spells we can use to keep a teenage boy from thinking about sex?" Though Spike was speaking to Anya, his intent was more to tease Dawn.

"If we had, don’t you think we’d have used it on you." Xander offered, still making the most of his last day off work.

"Very witty. Anya, pet, come show me how these thingies over in the corner work." The vampire took the former vengeance demon by the elbow and escorted her over to the far corner of the shop.

"So what did you really want to not talk about in front of Xander? Because I think it would take a lot more than a fertility symbol or two for you to get Buffy pregnant, and from what I’ve heard Buffy has no complaints about your performance as regards any other aspect."

"What’re you doing July twentieth, pet?"

"As far as I know we don’t have any plans."

"I was wondering, pet. Would you be an usher at our wedding?"

"But isn’t that normally a man?"

"Yeah, well I happen to like you and Glinda better than any men I—"

The rest of what Spike had to say was lost below Xander’s exclamation, which caused the two former black-hats to look over at the counter, where Buffy was trying to calm him down slightly.

"Ringbearer! Do I look like a hobbit or something?"

The ex-evil duo looked at Anya’s husband protesting. "Buff tried to get me to ask him, but I told her if she was getting Dawn I wanted both my other favourite Scoobies."

"Well, in that case, how can I refuse."

Spike picked her up by the waist and twirled her round, taking care to ensure no merchandise was broken. "Thanks, pet," he said gently before putting her down on her feet again. "Why don’t you give us a couple of those symbols anyway. It’s not like they can do any harm, is it?"

Anya picked up a couple of the small ornaments from the shelf and the two made their way back to the counter, where Anya discreetly wrapped up the overly endowed and very erect male figure and the heavily pregnant female figure before Dawn could look at them too closely.

As they were crossing the room, Buffy called across, "I take it from the twirly thing that you got a yes."

Spike nodded. "Take it your best friend isn’t so keen to share your special day with you?"

Buffy turned her pouty lip on Xander. "You would think I asked him to wear a dress or carry a bouquet or something, instead of wearing a tux and carrying a cushion."

"Couldn’t I give you away or something in—"

"Giles," chorused Dawn, Buffy and Spike altogether.

Spike dropped a couple of bills on the counter, before pulling Dawn away toward the training room "Platelet, why don’t you go warm up. Kitten, I don’t suppose somewhere in that filofax of wedding stuff you had, you’ve got your measurements handy. I thought I might go and see old Mordecai, get him to work on the suits."

Anya’s eyes widened. "Ooh. Very classy. It’s in the office. Come on through. I hope he’s not too heavily booked up…"

"Never is the prices he charges. And he’ll like as not make sure he can do them rather than miss out on the money for making all five. ‘Sides I used to put a lot of business his way when I was still with Dru. She always had to have her pretty dresses and corsets and everything.

"Which five?" Anya asked.

"Well, there’s you and Tinkerbell are the ushers. Rupes is givin’ Buffy away and then there’s me and Clem’s best man."

"So you’re not getting Xander’s there?"

"No he’s Buffy’s worry and I don’t think he’d take it too well anyway. Mordecai may be the best tailor in Sunnydale, or California for that matter, but, no offence to you, all your husband would see was a dwarf, and you know how temperamental the short one can be. One Snowhite joke and we’d all be going to the church nude. No thank you."

"It’s not like you can take Clem into Brooks Brothers," Anya agreed. She rifled through stacks of books and paperwork on the office shelves before pulling out the organiser she had used for the wedding, flicking through until she found the page with all her measurements on and pulling it out. "I should have Tara’s here as well." She flipped over a couple of pages before pulling out a second page. "There you go."

"Thanks, pet. I’m glad I got you." He popped a kiss on her cheek and almost bounced out of the door and into the training room.

Buffy was teaching Dawn some defensive moves, while she played the role of attacker. Spike secured the sheets of paper into a zip pocket in the sweatshirt before taking off both it and the T-shirt underneath. He kicked off his boots and socks and lit up a cigarette while he was waiting for a break in the session between the two women. They were still busy with moves and countermoves when he finished, so he pulled out his phone.

He hit speed dial and waited. Soon the phone was picked up, the muted sound of a child’s cries audible in the background.

"Hello. Who’s there?" came a woman’s voice.

"Lily? It’s William."

"William, where you been? ‘S been three weeks now since you been here? Rosa, she no know you no more when you come back."

Spike held the phone away from his ear a little and rolled his eyes. "I’ve been busy. Haven’t you heard the news?"

"I hear." Spike winced when he heard the spitting sound that followed. "I hear, but not from you. You too scared to ring Lily, tell her that you let this girl break your heart all over again. Lily tells you that this girl she no good for you. That she no treat you like a man. You her dog. You worse than dog. People they go to jail if they treat dog like she treat you."

"Lily…"

"No, she say heel, William, he say ‘woof’. When you last play poker?"

"Ehm, la—"

"I bet you no even can tell me ‘bout latest big scandal in Harmony?" Lily asked about events in Passions.

"Been tap—"

"See. You no live own life no more. You run round after human girl. You ‘shamed to be seen with decent demons like us."

"Lil—"

"Or maybe you think your girlfriend, she try slay us. Maybe you think nasty little girl, she break Lily, like she break William."

Spike began to back out the training room door. "Lily!" Behind the counter, Anya’s eyes widened in alarm.

"What? You want to speak now. No just go ‘woof’."

"Lily, I’ll be over for dinner and I’ll be bringing two guests, okay, love. Now, why don’t you congratulate Anyanka on her wedding?"

"Anyanka, she get married? I thought the monkey boy, he run away?"

"Anyanka get married last Saturday. Here she is." Anya backed away as Spike approached with the phone, but finally when she was cornered snatched it, sticking her tongue out at him as she took it.

"Lily, how lovely to speak to you…"

Spike sidled back through the training room door just in time to hear Anya feigning problems.

"What?! What was that?! I think Spike’s battery must need charging."

"What was that all about?" two pairs of eyes looked at him coldly as he turned into the room.

"Em, we might have to leave here a bit earlier than I thought," Spike answered.

"Why?" Buffy asked.

"We’re going for dinner at a friend’s house before we go to the restaurant."

"Shouldn’t that be instead of going to the restaurant," Dawn asked.

"You haven’t tasted her cooking yet," said Spike.

At this Anya walked in the training room and slapped Spike on the back of the head, before handing him his phone, in two pieces.

"Your battery is broken. I suggest it stays that way at least until morning …and Xander says you should keep your semi-naked undead body in the training room where customers can’t see it, though I must admit I think it could potentially attract customers rather than discourage them, so ignore what Xander says." She turned and walked back out into the main shop.

"Buffy, why don’t I take over with Bit for a while and you can pop out and get a good bottle of wine and some nice chocolates. We can go see my favourite florist on the way, so that’ll be okay." Spike suggested.

"Eh, we’re with the gift-getting, now?" Buffy asked.

"It’s traditional …and I think Anya may just have put her in a bad mood. And you really don’t want to go there without a gift." Spike sounded suspiciously nervous.

"What do you mean? The way you said you there you made it sound weird. What’s going on?" Dawn asked, picking up on the anxious vibe the vampire was giving off.

"Don’t worry, Niblet. You, she loves, or she will. She’s never heard anything but good about you, pet."

"And me? What have you told her about me?" Buffy countered.

"Haven’t actually told her anything, not since you came back. Not since there was anything to tell." Spike shuffled his feet and looked embarrassed. "See, heard isn’t technically the correct phrase when you’re talkin’ about Lily. She’s an empath, a very talented empath, one I’ve been around at some of the worst points over the last year.

Clem got just enough to make him a good listener, maybe give him a bit of an edge at poker. His mum she’s got it in spades."

"Oh …o-o-oh!" Buffy panicked as she realised the implications behind Spike’s words.

"We’re going to have dinner with Clem’s mom. Cool." Dawn bounced on her toes.  

"But, you’re happy now. She’s going to know that you’re happy now. Right?" Buffy asked hopefully.

"It would be nice to think so, but I suspect nervous is going to be a bit higher up there."

"Does she really hate me?" the slayer asked.

"When I got hurt, just before your birthday, Clem took me back there. She looked after me for a week, until I was back on my feet again. She’ll be okay once she works out you love me and that you were hurting nearly as much as you hurt me. It’ll be fine in the end, but I still recommend taking her a nice big bouquet, so scoot, while I attack your big sister."

"Hey, not my big sister," Buffy quibbled.

Spike just raised an eyebrow, "younger maybe, little…" he shook his head.

Buffy’s mouth set in a line as she grabbed her purse and stomped out of the training room throwing dirty looks at her fiancé.

Dawn flinched visibly. "That’ll probably keep her mad all the way to the liquor store and back," she observed.

"Then she won’t have time to worry about meeting Lily, will she?" Spike said with a smirk.

Chapter 5.04

Spike decided that it was probably diplomatic to leave the bulk of the hands-on training to Buffy or at the very least to make sure she was around when he was doing it. Also, there was the distinct possibility that even a feigned attack could leave him with a headache. With this in mind he decided to walk Dawn through a simple kata or two. He went through the moves alongside her several times before standing back to comment and gently correct her stance and execution.

"I don’t get this," Dawn commented as she practised.

"Don’t get what, love."

"This. This stuff you’re teaching me. This is all structured and stuff, but it’s not how you fight and it’s not how Buffy fights either."

"No, it’s not how I generally fight. Most of the time I get away with working on instinct and a lot of what I do comes from fightin’ in the gutters on a Saturday night, but it’s never a waste to learn proper techniques. If you practice enough even in the middle of an adrenaline rush, you’ll still punch so that you don’t sprain your wrist, or maintain your balance without thinking about it. You’ll eventually learn to adapt bits of everything so that you have your own style that you’re comfortable with, but first you have to practice till the moves come naturally."

By the time Buffy came back to the shop, Spike had given Dawn a break on the katas and had her practising kicks on the punch-bag instead, which was probably as much a reflection on his attention span as anything else. The elder Summers still looked decidedly unhappy as she dropped her shopping bags on the floor, so Spike just dropped back deeper into the room until he stood on the training mats near the room’s centre. He raised his hands, palms toward him and flexed his fingers a couple of times in an invitation that probably predated the spoken word.

Buffy for her part stretched her neck, tilting her head to either side until bones popped into place with a cracking noise, and followed him onto the mats. Dawn worked her way around the punch-bag until she had a view of the sparring area, keeping the rhythm of her kicks going the whole time so as not to alert either of the participants to her interest.

The couple circled around each other looking for an opening to attack. Yet, each knew the other so well, feints were ignored and attacks were blocked. That is, until Spike set up a series of kicks, punches and counter-kicks so fast that Buffy seemed to have a problem meeting them. The moves culminated with a roundhouse kick to the side and back of her head, which she failed to block. It was only when the kick struck with less than the anticipated force that Buffy realised her problem and adjusted for it.

This was the first time she had officially sparred with the vampire. Indoors, sacrificing the protection and additional force to his kicks, he had removed the heavy boots he customarily wore. Probably, he had taken them off so that if he did land a solid kick there was less chance of doing any damage, but in doing so he had upped the pace of his attack beyond his normal and taken her by surprise. It wouldn’t happen twice.

The fight ebbed and flowed, with first one attacking then the other. Often the pair seemed like mirror reflections of each other, with no discernible delay between the movements of the arm that attacked and the one moved to stop it hitting. At other times, the duo moved like the gear wheels in a machine, one leaping upward at the exact instant that the other’s leg swept through the air where they had once been or bodies bending aside just long enough and far enough to evade attack. Occasionally, one would manage to take the other to the ground, but unless they were pinned, recovery was almost instantaneous, with the downed party either rolling or flipping to their feet. Even when one did appear to pin the other to the ground positions would be reversed so rapidly Dawn found it difficult to keep track.

The first sign that Dawn noticed was how the pair were panting, gasping for breath almost in synch, not so out of place for Buffy, even if she had fought far longer fights without obvious ill-effect, but from Spike who didn’t need to breathe? Then, she became aware of the heated glances passing back and forth, her sister’s eyes reduced to emerald rings around obsidian pools, Spike’s eyes so dark she couldn’t even tell any longer that they were blue. The tip of the vampire’s tongue gliding over his upper teeth in a predatory and obscene way, led her to check down below the waist for the final all too obvious sign that at least one half of the pair was enjoying their encounter on more than one level.

‘TMI,’ thought Dawn as she backed out of the room. ‘Altogether TMI. But then when you saw them move together, to begin with, you thought it was beautiful. They were beautiful. So can you blame them if he thinks… and she thinks… and their bodies… react. Yeuch! So not going there understandable or not.’

"So, Xander, are you secure enough in your masculinity to join me as one of Buffy’s attendants or are you going to let her down?" Dawn decided she couldn’t resist some Xander baiting.

"I’m still mulling it over. And what’s with you and your undead hero laying on the guilt trips?" the male Scooby responded.

"We’re just trying to get you to say yes, so Buffy can be all happy and excited. I don’t know what you’re stalling for unless you’re aiming to make her beg, and if that’s what you want… some best friend."

"But Dawn, it’s not exactly a manly job, is it? Why couldn’t Anya have been a bridesmaid and then I could be an usher."

"No, sweetie," Anya interrupted. "The ushers thing works because Tara and I are both doing it. It wouldn’t be the same effect with one man and one woman."

Dawn looked Xander straight in the eye and gave it her best shot. "Xander Harris, if you think about this from anyone else’s view-point but your own for five minutes you will see that this is the only way. Buffy wants you in the wedding party. All the other Scoobies will be. If you don’t do it you’ll be the only one in the congregation.

If you were asked to be one of the ushers, that would mean that you and Spike would be together for hours, possibly alone. You would be in a foul mood. Spike would be even worse. If one of you didn’t end up with a black eye or something it would be a miracle. Do you want to ruin Buffy’s perfect day?"

"Of course not."

"Then tell her you’ll do it, already."

Xander gave an exaggerated sigh and pushed himself up off his stool behind the counter, heading toward the training room.

Dawn’s voice squeaked she panicked so much. "Just not right this minute. When they’re finished. I mean when they come out. No need to interrupt."

"No need to interrupt what exactly?" Xander asked his tone indicating a mixture of suspicion and disgust.

"Sparring. Ehm… they… were.. sparring, when I left them."

"What’s your problem, Xander?" Anya asked in a voice he recognised as being far too reasonable.

"Buffy and Spike, in the training room."

"Yes, Xander. They’re in the training room. Not in the shop where the customers are and don’t tell me it’s because the training room’s a public place or because we’re out here. You talked me into doing it in the basement with that bunny doll and all the Scoobies sitting around upstairs, except Dawn that is, because she was busy being held hostage."

"But it’s Spi-i-ike and Bu-uffeee," he whined.

"Just get over it, Xander. Buffy isn’t the sweet sixteen you had a crush on any more. She’s a supernaturally enhanced woman in her prime with desires that will only ever truly be satisfied by an equally supernaturally enhanced man. She has chosen Spike as her life-partner. You, I thought, chose me to be yours. That means you don’t get a say in what the two of them do. Buffy doesn’t get a say in what we do.

They don’t appreciate your unhealthy fascination in their affairs and quite frankly I’m more than a little sick of it myself. Even if Spike and I had never existed, even if she was attracted to you, you and she could never have what they have.

You don’t even want her. You never really wanted her. You only ever wanted your idealised image of her and when she let you down by not being that person you passed judgement on her.

You lied to her about Angel. You gave her a hard time about wanting to be with him, even when they were just friends. She told everyone she was in trouble when Giles said he was leaving. You didn’t know how to help so you ignored it and hoped she’d just miraculously get better on her own. You told yourself she was fine and left her to deal with slaying and debts and looking after Dawn and you expected her to be able to help Willow through losing Tara and the magic thing when she wasn’t even keeping her own head above water. And when someone does try to help her you give both of them a hard time. If you had really been her friend she would have been able to tell you about her and Spike. If you are her friend you’ll let her find whatever happiness she can, however she wants to.

And if you meant those vows you said a week ago then it’s about time you made me feel like I’m the most important woman in your life, not her and not Willow."

"Ahn, honey. It is you that I love. It’s just I can’t help thinking my best friend is about to make a huge mistake."

Anya’s expression hardened. "A huge mistake like marrying a demon, you mean?"

"Yeah— No. It’s Spike. Spike who’s kidnapped us and tried to kill us and sold us out to Adam… You know I love you. I don’t hate Spike because he’s a demon. I hate Spike because of who he is."

"Xander. You say you hate Spike because he tried to kill you. Big deal. He tried. I did it. My vengeance spell saw you and Willow vamped and dusted, Buffy dead, Oz, Cordelia pretty much everyone you know except Giles, all dead. Sunnydale was a ghost town. The master was in charge of everything, and I did it. The only difference is that Giles reversed time when he smashed the pendant, so if you hate Spike for what he’s done years ago then don’t try telling me you love me because you’re lying to yourself about one or the other."

"Ahn, it’s different."

"How’s it different? Different because I give you orgasms and Spike doesn’t? You can make an exception, but Buffy isn’t allowed. Spike may have the attitude, but I have him beat ten times over when it comes to evil-doing. In fact, I’m sure he said he ‘didn’t much care for the pre-show’ so chances are, even the people he killed had it far easier than mine.

It’s like when Buffy found Warren’s bot everybody sort of felt sorry for him. He didn’t think anyone could really love him so he made himself someone who did. And you all said how sad it must be to be this guy with no hope of being loved.

But did Spike get any sympathy when he thought Buffy would never love him? What he did was exactly the same as what Warren did. No one gave him any sympathy. No one said gee, imagine feeling so much for someone and knowing they’ll never love you back. No, it was just Spike’s a pervert. He’s sick. He’s disgusting.

And the only difference is Warren’s human and Spike’s not. Same way as you ignore all the good stuff he’s done, and you didn’t ask him to help with the resurrection. You knew Buffy’s death tore him up more than anyone except maybe Dawn. You knew he helped Dawn with the spell to bring back Joyce but you didn’t include him and you didn’t even see fit to tell him, all because his heart doesn’t happen to beat.

I saw what you were like vamped. You don’t hate Spike because of anything he’s done. You’re jealous that you can’t be him."

There wasn’t much Xander could say to that. Lately it just seemed like everyone was throwing emotional bricks his way, and he got hit in the head every time.

Dawn decided to pass on some advice. "Xander, when I found out I was the key, the only person who helped me make any sense out of it was Spike. He told me that where you start out in life isn’t important. All that matters is where you end up. I started out as the key but it doesn’t matter because I ended up human. He started out human and ended up a vampire. It’s who we are at the end that counts.

And the Spike we first met was different from the Spike who got up out of that wheelchair after however many months. He was different again when Drusilla left him. He was different after he got the chip and again after he realised he was in love with Buffy. And then there was the whole big change where he had to adjust because he hadn’t dealt socially with humans for over a century and the only romantic experience he had was his time with Drusilla. It doesn’t mean his feelings were less real, just that he made some terrible mistakes trying to express them.

Now, he’s the guy my sister loves. He’s my friend, almost brother. He’s Anya’s friend.

He’s brave. He’s intelligent. He’s witty. He’s fun to be around. He makes me feel safe and wanted and loved. He’s a butt-hole too sometimes, but he’s our butt-hole.

And that’s all that matters. Not how he started out, not all the changes that helped him get to where he is, but who he is now. You just have to let yourself see that and stop letting all your old grudges prevent you from seeing what’s right in front of your nose."

"You really love him, don’t you?" Xander’s voice conveyed a world of amazement.

"Well, duh. Just for example, the guy let that bitch cut him up and use him for a punch-bag and still wouldn’t tell her who I was. How could I not?" Dawn asked. "Of course, if you tell him I said that, I’ll deny it.

But Xander, I’m not just talking about Spike. People are a bit like plants. They have to grow or they die. You’ve been putting way too much energy into staying in one place. If you keep holding on to the past… If you keep bottling up intolerance and resentment and hatred… eventually it’ll overshadow everything else that you are... And you’ll lose the people you love." The teenager looked over at Anya and then briefly at the training room door.

"Pet, I don’t think your little sister trusts our self-control."

"What?" Buffy looked around for her sister, leaving herself apparently wide open to attack.

Spike passed up the opportunity, choosing instead to slide his arms around her waist from behind and rest his cheek against her hair. "She just beat a retreat into the main shop."

"You think she thinks…?" the slayer asked.

"I think she thinks exactly what would have already been happening by now if she weren’t here is about to happen."

"And she just …left."

"Mm-hm, no "Ew", no "Euch", no "Gross", just a quiet retreat… Did I ever tell you how much I love your sister?" Spike’s voice wasn’t teasing or playful, just full of warmth.

Buffy tipped her head back against Spike’s shoulder and looked up into his eyes as she answered equally seriously. "I think you always just showed me."

She reached up a hand to cup his cheek, her other coming to rest over where his were clasped.

Spike tried to steer the topic away from raging hormones. "How’d your wrist hold up?"

"Fine. I taped it while you were talking to Anya."

Spike gently drew her hand away from his face and pushed back the sleeve of her top, so that he could remove the tape and unwind the bandage supporting her wrist. He took his time and when the last of the material was removed he brought her wrist to his mouth, brushing his lips over the already yellow-green bruise at her pulse-point.

"D’you feel up to patrol tonight, or should I do the rounds on my own?" he asked.

"It’s good. I won’t even notice it if I tape it up again and take a couple of aspirin."

"You feeling a bit less stressed out than when we started?"

"Less stressed, but every bit as tense …for all the best reasons," Buffy admitted.

"That, I might be able to help you with."

Buffy turned to face him, pressing her fingers against his brow. "Are you okay? Mmh, slightly over room temperature, I’m sure. Does that mean you’ve got a fever? Never heard you express any doubts about your prowess before. You must be ill."

"The only fever in my blood is you, Summers, you and you alone. As to my sexual prowess I think it’s only fair to let you be the judge. In this instance though, with Li’l’ Bit just the other side of the door, I thought we’d ruled out sex… as such."

"So where exactly was your deviant, little mind headed?"

"Just a bit of harmless necking, pet, maybe a bit of smutty talk, a bit of friction." The vampire pushed his thigh between hers and gripped her ass pulling her tight against his pelvic bone as he answered before letting her slip back down till her feet rested flat on the ground again.

Her breath caught in her throat at the sensation between her thighs and when she looked up at him, her eyes were bottomless black pools of desire. "Harmless meaning blood-free, hence the ‘might’… ‘cause we both know…"

"…that if I bleed you, I can make you come. That’s right. But if I did, we wouldn’t be leaving this room any time tonight and I wouldn’t give a damn who was outside the door."

"But what do you get out of it, Will? Seems like all you get is more frustration." Her tongue flicked across her upper lip. "It wouldn’t be fair."

"Since when has fair had anything to do with our sex-life, pet?"

"Since our sex-life became part of our relationship. So, if you’re going to have to wait, then so am I. Now, let’s get out of here before I jump your bones."

"I think you’ve got a bit to learn about offering incentives, love. And you don’t want to go out there just yet. Harrises are in middle of another row."

"What’s the what this time?" Buffy asked, watching the muscles of Spike’s stomach ripple as he stretched his arms over his head to put on his T-shirt.

"Us, or to be more precise the fact that Harris is more interested in trying to prove you’re making a huge mistake than in paying attention to his bride."

Buffy rushed to the door pressing her ear against the wood, glancing over at Spike’s expression of consternation when Anya said she had him beat ten times over on the evil front.

The bit about the ‘bot went down even better. "Valid point, pet, but could you make me out to be any more of a useless wanker?" he muttered under his breath as he lit another cigarette, breathing in deeply before exhaling in a long steady plume. His face fell into his habitual smirk when Anya told her husband he was jealous and Buffy who was watching his reactions almost as much as she was listening to the argument, just rolled her eyes as his trademark expression fell into place.

"Y’know, slayer, it’s not polite to eavesdrop on private conversations."

"Phft. I’m just saving Dawn from having to relay the details, and you’re listening."

"I just happen to have particularly acute hearing. I can’t help it. You’re the one with her ear to the door."

"Shh. I want to hear what Dawn’s saying," Buffy tried to quiet the vamp.

Spike turned away under the pretence of putting on his sweatshirt, zipping it up enough at the bottom to be sure it hid the bulge in the front of his jeans. He kept his back turned to Buffy as he fumbled with his socks and boots, not wanting her to see the effect of Dawn’s words. He blinked frantically, trying to stop the tears from falling. His hands fumbled with laces he could barely even see until small hands brushed his aside and hazel eyes looked up from where she knelt at his feet.

"Don’t worry," she said softly as she swiftly tightened and knotted the laces on his boots. "She kinda catches us all like that at times, even the Big Bad …or do you have to give that title over to Anya now?"

Spike grinned and, of course, two tears finally took their chance and slid down the planes of his face. He opened his arms and she stood up again so he could hold her. "Dunno, love. Reckon we could arm-wrestle for it?"

His lips brushed against her hair. "You are both so beautiful, y’ know. Like Joyce. You see the good in people, even people like me. I don’t deserve either of you."

"Sure you do. Just wait till you have a week where both of us have PMS."

"Well, can’t say it applies to the Li’l’ Bit but I seem to recall certain advantages to being around you at that time of the month." He gave her a knowing leer and she tried hard not to laugh.

"Spike, you are so gross. You do realise most men are just freaked by that."

"Vampire, so sue me. I love how you taste three hundred and sixty five days a year and I don’t recall you having any complaints."

"Yeah but now you’ve got a proper place, we’ve got to worry about getting stains on …I would say the sheets but in our case it’s probably more appropriate to say the carpets."

"In that case, I’ll just have to ravish you in the kitchen and the bathroom where there are all those nice wipe-clean surfaces."

Buffy didn’t know whether she should laugh or cry. "You are incorrigible, and as long as you don’t make those sort of comments in public, I have to admit I like it. Now, get out of here before you end up ‘even more desperate for a shag’ Giles. Which reminds me, none of them in there know about your new name, yet."

Spike picked up the carrier bags Buffy had brought in earlier and opened the training room door, stepping back to let her precede him through.

"Hey Xander. You know you asked the other day about what my married name was going to be. Were you really interested or just trying to stir things up?" Buffy quipped by way of introducing her topic of choice.

"Both," admitted the construction worker with a disarming grin.

"So if I told you Spike’s ID is all getting sorted out and we know the name would you still be interested?"

"Doesn’t matter if he is or not, your sister wants to know, and I think since I have to go to bible study I have a right to know first," Dawn demanded.

"How about third?" Buffy asked.

Spike cleared his throat. "Em, Ripper," he reminded Buffy.

"How about fourth?" she amended. "Willow and Tara were home when I found out and Spike had already discussed it with Giles."

"You are so going to pay, but I guess I’ll have to make do," conceded the teenager.

Buffy moved over and whispered in her sister’s ear, just so that she could say she heard before Xander and Anya.

The youngster let out a high-pitched shriek of excitement, attracting the attention of all canines within a three-mile radius. She looked up at Spike. "Really?" she asked, and when the vampire nodded, she burbled on excitedly. "That is so cool. You are so sweet to think of something like that." She flung her arms round her sister and then dashed round the table to throw her arms around Spike’s waist.

"Not sweet, pet. M’Bad," argued Spike, only to be met with the patented Summers eye roll.

Xander’s patience couldn’t hold out any longer. "So give, Buffy. What’s got Summers Jnr. all excited?"

Anya rolled her eyes in the background, having obviously guessed, maybe Bit had been giving her lessons while she worked off her sticky finger debt.

"You are looking at the future Mrs William A. Giles."

"Oh my God," said Xander. "Giles wasn’t training him to be a watcher. He’s going to be Giles Jnr." Xander began to laugh, and then giggle uncontrollably.

"Does anybody with two brain cells to collide together know what Bibble-Boy is talking about or should we ring for the nice men in their white coats now?" asked Spike.

"I think so," said Buffy.

Spike pulled out his cell phone. "I suppose it would only be 911 if he were a danger to himself or others."

His fiancée slapped him on the arm. "No, I think I know what he’s talking about. After we did the spell to invoke the essence of the first slayer, to defeat Adam…" She threw a sideways look at Spike. "…everybody that was part of the spell had all these weird dreams. I think Xander said in his you were all dressed in tweed and playing on a swing set with Giles and you said that Giles was going to train you to be a watcher.

But then in Giles’ dream you were hiring yourself out as a tourist attraction, so I don’t think it’s anything other than a coincidence."

"Look, pet, amusing as it is to watch Harris go through his nervous breakdown, we’re going to have to go now if we want to catch the florist’s before they shut."

"Don’t forget your purchases. Your change is in the bag," Anya called out, causing Spike to swerve toward the counter and pick up his Magic Box carrier bag.

"Bye, kitten. I’d check the refunds policy on that marriage license. See if it’s not too late to take him back and get one that isn’t broken." This earned him another slap on the arm, but since it came with a Buffy smile, he didn’t care a bit.

The group had just left when Xander stopped giggling. "Hey, how come Dead Boy Jnr. gets to be Giles Jnr.? I wanted Giles to be my dad."

Next