Chapter 1.04

Monday

Over the course of the night and the following morning Spike and Buffy slept for short periods. In between times, they made love, they shagged, they fucked like a dockside whore and a sailor on his first shore leave in years and covered a fair few variants in between. Despite Dawn’s assurances Buffy had set her alarm in time to get Dawn up for school, but since she could already hear her sister in the bathroom when it went off she hadn’t actually bothered leaving the bedroom. True to form at some point in the evening the bed had been abandoned, the pair and a selection of bedding having found their way to the floor.

It was only mid-morning, when Buffy’s stomach started making rumbling noises, that the pair actually made it out of the room. Buffy led the way to the kitchen, checking for open curtains en route. She filled the coffee machine on autopilot, while Spike checked out the fridge and cupboards. He passed the almost empty milk carton to Buffy for her coffee. He didn’t like to comment, but in his opinion there wasn’t much in the way of food in the house to feed even Buffy and Dawn. Factor in Red, Pixie and him and things looked even worse. It was no wonder the slayer was starting to look like a big-eyed waif. From here it looked like half their grocery money went on bottled water, and not even big bottles just lots of the little ones.

"Not enough milk for cereal or pancakes. Reckon I can do you toast or scrambled egg on toast and that’s as much of a choice as you get, unless you’re weird enough to want an omelette with nothing on." He looked across to where Buffy was pulling mugs from a cupboard, his shirt from last night only just covering her bottom as she reached up.

"Scrambled egg sounds good. Have you always been able to cook or is this a recent thing?" Buffy asked.

"Bit of both. Used to knock around the kitchens with the cook’s sons when I was a kid, but didn’t have any call to do much till I ended up lookin’ after Niblet. Had to learn most of it all over again since tastes have changed and your average suburban kitchen doesn’t have a wood-burning stove, but hey. Even watch some of those god-awful cookery programs they have on daytime television. Have to get Bit to check the seasoning on some things what with vamp taste-buds working a bit different but mostly they turn out okay if I stick to the recipe." As he spoke, Spike moved efficiently around the kitchen collecting together what he needed and making a start on Buffy’s breakfast.

"To judge by how well you know your way round the kitchen you must have looked after her a lot?" Buffy came up behind him sliding her arms round his waist while he beat the eggs with some seasoning and a little water.

"An odd time the Wiccas wanted to go out, but mostly it was just covering for Scooby meetings or movie nights or whatever."

"Wait a minute. You’re saying that when the rest of the people you patrolled with got together socially, you wouldn’t get invited? You’d be expected to watch Dawn?"

Spike couldn’t actually see Buffy’s face but he could tell by the tone of her voice that she was getting herself worked up again.

"Well, yeah, but way I see it, I got the better deal. D’rather spend the night playin’ rummy with either of the Summers girls than watchin’ some chick flick and listenin’ to Harris makin’ asinine jokes. ‘Sides, meant they never asked me to do any of that research that gets you lot all excited either."

"Despite the fact you probably know more languages than any of us with the possible exception of Giles, and know demons like that Glar Gluck Cash Machine thingy on sight whereas it took us half a day to work out what it was."

Spike smirked, putting the bowl on the counter next to the cooker and turning to face Buffy. "Not my fault your mates assume that I must be thick ‘cause I can fight." He gave her a chaste kiss, determined not to get distracted till after she had eaten, then, turned back to his cooking.

"Hey, I could take that as an insult. Just so long as you realise you won’t be getting off that easy any more now your secret’s out."

"If it means spendin’ more time with you ‘n’ the Bit you won’t catch me complainin’... Well, you probably will but it’ll be more to get up Harris’s nose than anything."

"You’re Evil."

Spike reached behind him with one hand to briefly squeeze Buffy’s butt. "‘N’ don’t you forget it." In response, Buffy nuzzled in against his shirtless back and tightened her grip around his waist content to remain there until he finished preparing her breakfast.

Ten minutes later they faced each other across the kitchen island, Spike sipping at a cup of coffee and Buffy tucking into her perfectly prepared breakfast.

"Not bad for someone who can’t taste what he cooks. Thank you." Buffy said after the first couple of bites.

"Least I can do when you spend so much of your time cookin’."

"Not just the cooking. Being here, really being here for me. It’s sort of new. Riley was sort of… you’d go to bed with Riley and wake up to Agent Finn – all vitamin supplements and push ups and not the naked kind. Soon as he woke up, his mind was at least partly on what he had to do that day. Angel and Parker weren’t even there when I woke up. Kinda nice having somebody’s undivided attention."

"Prob’ly ‘cause I’m still tryin’ to convince myself I’m not dreamin’, love. If it wasn’t for the fact I’m Evil I could think I’d died and gone to heaven, except then there’d be some blood in the fridge… which is my unsubtle way of asking if it’s okay to stock up your fridge a bit?"

"Sure," she smiled over at him. "If everything hadn’t happened all at once I would have probably tried to get you some."

"So, you got anything you’ve got to do today? …Other than making an old man very happy, that is" Spike raised his eyebrow and treated Buffy to the trademark leer.

"I’ve got work, late shift, four till twelve. Patrol. But nothing till this afternoon. Need some groceries though, or Dawn’ll have to order in."

"Wasn’t me cooking when you work late part of our deal? I’ll make sure Niblet gets something to eat, love. It still leaves me plenty time to do a sweep of the graveyards before it’s time to meet you from work, unless of course after eight hours at a grill you need to kick some demon ass to let off steam."

"You’re joking, come midnight it’s Buffy the Zombie Vampire Slayer. I’d normally blow it off, but I did that last night, so…"

"So, Spike here gets a spot of violence before bedtime."

"Spike, last night, you were joking about driving to LA, weren’t you?"

"Yes ‘n’ no. I’d rather get it out of the way, but seein’ as I’ve got a busy night planned it can wait."

"How about I ring Cordelia and maybe arrange a visit. Tell her my boyfriend’s bringing me to town and I thought we could meet up. If we had already arranged a visit there’d be no reason for him to come here."

Spike shrugged. "It’s all going to end up the same way however you try to come at it, but feel free."

"Maybe, you should have kept those balls you gave to Xander a bit longer," she teased.

"Not a hope, slayer. That’d ruin all my fun, there wouldn’t be any challenge to a fight then. There’s no glory in beating up on things as don’t have a chance against you. Remember, pet. Death, glory and sod all else, other than love."

His hand reached out to where hers rested on the counter, covering it until her fingers moved to intertwine between his. Buffy looked up from her empty plate, into a pair of soft blue eyes. "Death and love, kinda unmixy, least not fun mixy. Don’t ever want you any more dead than you already are," she said shyly.

"Feeling’s mutual, love." Without loosening his hold on Buffy’s hand he walked round the island to stand beside the slayer’s stool, Buffy turning to face him. The knuckles of his free hand brushed her cheek as his head moved in, tilted slightly to one side, bringing his lips ever closer to hers. Buffy flicked her tongue over her lower lip and then her eyes drifted shut and everything except the feel of his lips on hers ceased to exist. The kiss had nothing to do with foreplay and everything to do with laying bare their feelings to the other.

With a breathless gasp, Buffy tilted her head so she sat forehead to forehead with the vampire, both reluctant to end the moment of total intimacy. Finally as her breathing returned to normal Buffy was the first to speak.

"Can we go back to bed and just talk and cuddle for a bit?"

"As you wish," Spike’s response was barely louder than a whisper.

"You’ve been watching ‘The Princess Bride’ again, haven’t you?"

"Guilty as charged, princess. But how many films are there where the handsome yet evil pirate, renowned for leaving no survivors gets to find true love. Not to mention the fact that that he’s blond, dashing, good with a blade… though my personal preference is for an axe rather than a sword and pretty much love’s bitch."

"Ooh. Over-identify much?"

Buffy grabbed the cordless handset and started leading her very own peroxide pest to back to her bed.

"Hey, I could have said he was intelligent, well-travelled and had an English accent and a girlfriend with perfect breasts, but I didn’t."

"Want me to start calling you Westley?"

"Hell, no. That’s a poofy name, only thing they got wrong, shoulda called ‘im William." Spike delivered this last absolutely deadpan. Buffy took advantage of the turn on the stairs to steal a furtive glance back at him only to see him wiggling his eyebrow at her in a way that brought her to a giggling standstill. Undeterred Spike bent down and before Buffy realised what he was doing she was over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift.

"Who are you?" Buffy asked in between taking advantage of the view from her new position. "And what have you done with sarky Spike?"

"If you must know Sarky Spike went off looking for his soul-mate Bitchy Buffy, so when you run across one of them I’m fairly certain the other’ll be close by."

Buffy landed once more in the middle of the bed. She climbed in under the covers as Spike peeled off his skin-tight jeans before joining her. He felt her feet rub against his legs as he climbed in but she made no move to bring her upper half closer, so he settled into position facing her far enough apart to watch her face. Their legs intertwined seemingly of their own volition and his hand reached over to hold hers once more.

"What did you want to talk about, pet?"

"You. What you like, what you don’t like. Places you’ve been. Stuff you’ve done… minus the killing and maiming. Want to know a bit more about what’s inside that head of yours. You’ve been part of my life for years and apart from Passions, The Princess Bride, The Sex Pistols and The Ramones I haven’t got a clue about anything you like. I’ve seen you with a book in your hand but I’ve no idea what you read.

Help me understand who you are. Starting with why you hardly ever go into "game face" any more? Why did it make you feel awkward last night?"

Spike’s eyes darted nervously downward and she gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. He met her gaze again, his eyes constantly gauging her reaction as he spoke. "I fell in love with you because you treated me like a man. Even though I know I’m a monster, you made me want to be that man. Bringing the demon forward reminds me how far I am from what you deserve, that I’ll always be beneath you."

"Oh Spike… You said it often enough. I can’t believe you don’t know it, don’t feel it deep down. I need a bit of monster in my man. I need an arrogant, confident guy who doesn’t get intimidated by a strong woman. I need a strong guy who can stand by me in a fight without me worrying whether he’s going to break. I get hot for the predator that crawled into this bed last night and made me come so often I gave up trying to count. Get the picture. I’m attracted to you. As you are. The whole package.

When you’re in game face you’re more difficult to read. I kinda miss those blue eyes of yours and you’re right the fangs aren’t practical for every situation but it’s still part of you. The things I said, the way I treated you, they’re to do with me being screwed up. You didn’t do anything to deserve them. You’ve got no reason to be ashamed of what you are. As for you being beneath me, I think we both know who’s been the better person since I came back. I can’t guarantee next time we have a fight I won’t fling it in your face. Sometimes Bitchy Buffy just takes over, but I can guarantee that I won’t mean it.

Maybe, if I was a normal girl, with a normal life in some quiet little town then I could have fallen in love with that shy guy in your dream if I ever got to know him well enough. But that’s not how my life went. I am who I am. My life is a mess and I need someone who’s more than a man. I need you."

"You’re trying to tell me this," Spike morphed into his demon façade, "isn’t repugnant to you? That it doesn’t remind you of the thousands of inhuman beasts you’ve executed since you were called?"

Buffy threw the hand, which she had been holding, away from her in disgust, anger flashing in her eyes.

"What makes you think you can fall in love with a slayer, but the slayer can’t love a vampire? It’s all you. Snaggle-toothed yellow-eyed demon or the most gorgeous bloody hunk of man-flesh to ever walk the planet, it’s still you.

Get over yourself already. I’m not that shallow that I can’t accept what you are. Except for times like last night I’m probably not going to ask you to change, but I know it’s kinda natural for it to come out when you’re ‘emotional’ and that’s okay. You said when I had sex with Riley I would be holding back all the time, well, evidence tends to suggest you haven’t exactly been letting yourself go when we’re together. Stop being a hypocrite. Get over worrying what I’m going to think and let yourself go."

Spike’s face changed back to his normal human form about halfway through the slayer’s little speech, a self-satisfied grin splitting it in two.

"What did you just call me, slayer?"

"A hypocrite, a stinking, lousy hypocrite." Buffy’s arms were crossed beneath the duvet and her lips had formed into an irritated pout.

"Before that, pet. Right after the snaggle-toothed yellow-eyed demon bit?"

"Oh, then." Suddenly shy, her voice was tentative and as she dug herself in deeper she spoke faster and faster. "I think I said something like you were the most gorgeous hunk of man-flesh to ever walk the earth, but then I am biased. I have seen you naked. To be totally objective I’d really have to see all the others naked too and let’s not go there."

A low rumble issued from Spike’s throat and at first Buffy was unsure whether it was a laugh or a growl, until she looked at his face. "How the hell do you manage to be the wanton sex goddess of my dreams and still blush at the very idea of seeing a bloke naked? And do you have any idea how bloody adorable it is?"

"Stop it!" She prodded him in the chest. "I’m supposed to be angry at you, not all shy and happy and squidgy feeling."

Spike’s voice was soft and gentle and Buffy wondered if he knew how the tone and the accent combined to make her go weak at the knees. "I thought this was "learn about Spike" time, not "get mad at Spike" time. And in answer to your point before, if now and again I hold in the demon, it’s because I don’t want to get carried away and bite you or claim you or something without you being fully aware of what’s going on and a willing participant. I understand what you’re saying and when we’re both ready I’ll take you up on what you said. Until then things will have to stay as they are because I’m not going to muck this up a second time. Next question?"

"Okay, what sort of stuff do you read?"

Spike shrugged. "Anything I can lay my hands on as long as it’s well written and not total bollocks like that Anne Rice stuff. Can’t be arsed with all that "I feel so guilty", "I cry blood" crap."

"Okay, so no Le Stat in Spikey’s Christmas stocking, but what do you like? What were you reading when I came in that night when Riley was in town?"

Spike looked sheepish and his response was all but inaudible.

"What was that?" Buffy asked unwilling to believe her ears.

"I said poetry. It was a book of poetry." He looked so embarrassed and almost angry at being caught out, she just had to kiss him. As she drew away from him she once again took his hand in hers.

"What’s your favourite poem? Do you know any by heart?" she asked.

"I don’t know. Poetry’s a bit like music. There are times when you want to listen to the Ramones and times when maybe you’d rather have a bit of Enya or Sarah Maclachlan, and yeah, I can recite more than a few."

"Give me some examples," Buffy suggested.

"The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight, over the purple moor," Spike recited, his diction automatically falling back to the more precise tones of his human days, stopping when he saw Buffy shake her head.

"Great poem, wrong mood. Too much blood and guts, try again and not ‘The Charge of the Light Brigade’, or Graves or Sassoon or any of the rest of those depressing First World War ones."

"Okay. How’s this then?

Macavity’s a Mystery Cat: he’s called the Hidden Paw—
For he’s the master criminal who can defy the law.
He’s the bafflement of Scotland Yard…

What, pet? Still not the right mood?"

Buffy was now in a definite pout. "Your century’s version of Dr. Seuss is not going to win fair lady. Want smoochie type poetry."

A half smirk on his lips and laughter in his eye, Spike responded. "T. S. Eliot’s twentieth century, pet. As I recall that particular volume was published in 1939, but if Buffy wants smoochies, smoochies she shall have.

The fountains mingle with the river
And the river with the ocean,
The winds of heaven mix for ever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single,
All things by a law divine
In one another’s being mingle –
Why not I with thine?

See the mountain’s kiss high heaven
And the waves clasp one another," Spike was stunned to see Buffy’s lips moving along with his as they finished the rest of the poem together.

"No sister-flower would be forgiven
If it disdain’d its brother:

And the sunlight clasps the earth,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea –
What are all these kissings worth,
If thou kiss not me?"

As they recited the last verse they moved gradually closer, their lips meeting as soon as the last word was spoken and tender seconds passed before the two broke apart.

(Poem is Love's Philosophy by Percy Bysshe Shelley.)

Chapter 1.05

"How is it you keep surprising me?" Buffy asked Spike.

"I could ask you the same thing. Only difference is I thought I knew more about you than you knew about me. So how is it you can quote Shelley?"

"Half a semester with Professor Lillian, and they used it on a Twin Peaks rerun on the Sci-Fi channel the other week, but only the end bit. I liked that class. Professor Lillian was a sweetie and at least I understood what he was talking about. Not like that class I went to with Willow." Buffy sighed.

"What’s up, pet?" Spike asked.

"I re-applied for college, but they turned me down because I didn’t re-apply early enough, like while I was dead."

"How long have you known?"

"That would be the morning after the night I spent trying to get the grass stains out of what was my new wool coat that ended up in the bin." She fixed him with an accusing stare.

"You mean that mustard yellow duffle coat thing? It was a mercy killing. That was ages ago. Did you talk to Pixie or Red or the Watcher about it?"

"No. I didn’t tell anyone. Nobody… it seemed like there wasn’t…"

"Shh, pet. I know things were strained between us but I was always there to listen to you any time you needed it. I always will be. Don’t suppose you checked to see if you could have your credits transferred over to a community college course?"

"No. Kinda figured I’d just mucked up college altogether. Didn’t want to talk about it to Willow and Tara with them being all big with the studying. I suppose I could have told Giles, with him being a drop-out, but he said he left to make me stand on my own feet."

"Next time me and your watcher are on the same continent, pet, I think it’s safe to say we’ll have words. Why don’t you pick up a prospectus for the next semester and try and make an appointment to speak to someone about whether you can salvage any credits."

"Will, there’s no way I can afford to go back to college even part-time."

"Look, pet. You want to go back to college. I want you to be happy. If you insist we can call it a loan. You know if you get a decent job after college you could pay me back over two or three years and you know without an education you’re likely looking at one minimum wage job after another. No ulterior motive, I’m not going to demand any money back or refuse to give you the money for the rest of the course if we split up. If anything happens to me, it all goes to you and Bit anyway.

Think how stupid you’d feel if you said no now and two years from now we were either married or I was dust and you were trying to go back and do this after another two years in a job you don’t like and the credits you’ve got have expired."

"And think how stupid you’ll feel if you pay for me to go to college for two years and then I die before I can get a proper job and pay you back."

"Love, you’re not leaving me here alone again. If you die again I’ll not be sticking round for longer than it takes to see one last sunrise."

"Dawn—"

"Dawn isn’t a little kid any more. She’s nearly old enough to be treated as an emancipated minor and what I’d leave her would give her the house free and clear, pay her a decent allowance and the rest would stay in trust for her until she’s twenty-one. She would be okay."

"No. She wouldn’t, you selfish bastard. She loves you. What do you think it would do to her to lose both of us the same day? —"

"Well, you better not go sacrificing yourself for some greater good then, because I’d rather spend five months under torture with that hell-bitch, Glory, than re-live the time when you were dead. I refuse to go through that again for anyone, even Dawn. And you can either like it or lump it, ‘cause by definition you ain’t goin’ to be here to do anything about it."

The pair glared at each other in silence.

"Quitter," she spat.

"Yeah, like you were so happy to be back, and that was with me, your sister and all your mates to come back to."

"This discussion is not over. You ever think maybe it might take more than a couple of years helping out the good guys before there’s a chance we’ll end up in the same place?"

"Slayer, we’re never going to end up in the same place. You might end up with wussy-boy William, but I’m a demon. At the end of my time on earth I’m going somewhere warm. I came to terms with that a long time ago. If I can share what time I have with you that’s as much of heaven as I need."

"Stubborn, pig-headed vampire. Don’t think I won’t talk to the priest about this next time I’m scrounging up some holy water. We’ll see about this ‘damned’ business."

"Think about it, pet. The bloody holy water you’re talkin’ about gives me blisters. I think that’s as much of an indication as I need that God wants no part of me."

"You promised you’d never leave. You said you would always be there for me. Well, I don’t know if anyone ever told you what Angel said when you first came to Sunnydale. He said once you start something, you don’t stop until you get rid of everything that’s in your way. So, you better start working out a way to get your demon ass into heaven ‘cause if you don’t then I’m damn well going to take that the same as you walking out on me. Are you clear on that?"

"You’re a Grade A bitch, d’you know that?"

"But it wouldn’t be half as interesting if I was all sweetness and light twenty-four seven, would it?" Buffy turned his earlier words against him.

"Do you have the least idea how much what you’re asking would screw with the natural order of things?" A smile was forming on his lips.

"No more than a soulless vampire and a slayer being in love with one another."

"Yeah, well I’ve always been a reb-" The grin that had made its way onto his face at the prospect of this ultimate rebellion was suddenly replaced with a shocked expression. "What did you just say? Word for word…"

"I said "no more than a soulless vampire and a slayer…" Shit. I guess that’s what they call a Freudian slip."

"Say it, slayer." Spike’s voice was hard, brittle.

Buffy’s was filled with surprise and a little awe. "I said I’m in love with you. I’m in love with Spike. I, Buffy, the vampire slayer, am in love with, William the Bloody, master vampire and slayer of slayers… I’m certifiable."

"No, pet. In a mad world, it’s one crazy thing that makes perfect sense."

Spike turned his back to Buffy and swinging his legs out of the bed, bent over to pull on his jeans in one swift movement.

"Wh-where are you going?"

"Only as far as the bathroom, love."

Buffy sat up, her voice getting louder as he left the room. "But vampires don’t need to use bathrooms."

Almost as soon as he left the room he was back, duster in one hand, feeling through his inside pockets with the other. The coat was slung to one side and he took Buffy’s hand pulling her forward until she sat on the edge of the bed.

Spike dropped to one knee and Buffy suddenly realised what was happening.

"No, Spike. No way. Don’t do this."

"Stop being a bitch for once and just listen." One arm stretched up, just managing to reach far enough to place his fingertips on her lips, stilling her protests. "Buffy, I asked you this once before and you said yes, but what I imagined I felt then is only a fraction of how much I care for you now. You are what makes my existence worth living. You are the sun that lights my world. Every day we can have together is precious and I don’t want to waste a single one. Please would you do me the honour of consenting to be my wife."

"Stupid vampire." Tears of frustration welled in Buffy’s eyes. "How on earth can you propose when we’ve only been on one date. It’s ridiculous. And what you said was beautiful and that makes me feel like I should say yes, but it’s way too soon."

"Buffy, you’re the one who’s always said slayers come with an expiration date. If I’m going to have less than a handful of years with you then I am damn well not going to hold back because of convention. Maybe if Dawn didn’t exist and there wasn’t anyone from social services snooping around and I could spend every night in your bed then I might be prepared to wait. Honestly though, the part of me that isn’t demon is one hundred percent Victorian male and damned if I don’t want to make an honest bloody woman out of you, you stubborn awkward bint. It’s so bloody simple even Harris could manage the math. I’m in love with you. You’re in love with me, now for Christ’s sake just say yes so I can get up off this floor and kiss you, woman."

"I suppose you call that a proposal?" Buffy queried.

"No. I called the first bit a proposal. This is an argument with my demented soon to be fiancée who hasn’t got the good sense to know when she’s onto a good thing. Besides, you might as well give up now. You just said that once I set my sights on something I don’t stop till I get it."

Buffy realised she was beat and decided to get as much out of the bargain as she could.

"On two conditions. One, we have a church wedding-"

"Are you stark ravin’ bonkers, woman? We can’t have a church wedding."

"I’ve never actually seen any physical reason why not. You’re not repelled by crosses. They don’t bother you unless you actually touch them, so stop acting like a fledgling. As far as I’m aware wedding services don’t involve touching crosses or holy water, so I don’t see what your big problem is. You can’t tell me you can’t go in a church ‘cause I’ve seen you in one. Besides, I think it might be a step in the right direction for condition number two.

You do not in any way shorten your life, or unlife I should say, unless you have good reason to suppose that we will be together in the afterlife or you’ve spent at least as long helping the good guys as you did on the other side of the fence." Buffy’s face set in her best imitation of Willow’s resolve face.

"What the hell do you expect me to do? Play nursemaid to every slayer they send to this hell-hole for the next hundred and twenty years?"

"See if you can up the average life-expectancy a bit. Maybe a few more will get the chance to have a life, but look after Dawn and if she has any family, well, hey, you know what you’re like for Summers women. Maybe keep an eye on the Scoobies as a whole."

"The concept of sarcasm just flew right over your pretty little valley-girl head, didn’t it?"

"No, I’m deadly serious. And when their eighteenth birthday’s coming up find out from Giles about the Cruciamentum or whatever they call it and warn them. Them’s the conditions, put up or shut up."

Buffy wasn’t sure exactly what the string of muttered curses that came from Spike’s mouth consisted of, but she did think she caught the phrase "blackmailing bitch" and "whipped" in there.

"It’s a deal, love. You have my word, provided you find a Protestant vicar prepared to perform the ceremony knowing that I’m a vampire."

"Done." Buffy grinned, pleased with the concessions she had gained.

"In that case, Buffy, my love, would you please do me the honour of consenting to be my wife?"

"I will."

Spike produced a rather worn looking leather box, snapping it open to reveal a reddish-gold band with five good sized diamonds set into it in a row. Around the stones and particularly at either end of the row the band had been engraved or etched with curling lines. "It belonged to my great-grandmother and then my mother. I had the family lawyers take it out of storage and get it cleaned a while ago. It might need to be resized, but I don’t think so. I have the matching wedding band, as well, but if you’d rather pick something more to your own taste, then we-."

The fingers of Buffy’s left hand were placed gently on his lips and then dropped to where his hands were waiting. It was hard to believe that Spike’s hand would shake as he placed the ring on her finger, but maybe he was more William than he would ever admit.

He rose to his feet, pulling his fiancée into his arms with a "Come ‘ere, ya stubborn bint." Then he swept her over in a dip and laid a kiss on her that would have done credit to Rhett Butler and Scarlett O’Hara.

"Just ‘Buffy and William’," he said as Buffy struggled to regain her composure.

"What?"

"The wedding invitations. No ‘Summers’. No ‘the Bloody’. ‘No Spike’. Just ‘Buffy and William’."

"That works."

"Well, I’m not just the most gorgeous hunk of man-flesh that ever walked the earth, you know."

Chapter 1.06

"Dawn." The slayer yanked open drawers pulling out and sliding on some lacy white briefs. She pulled Spike’s shirt off over her head, but before he had time to appreciate the view she threw it in his face.

"And she’s off… What’s the problem, love? I kinda thought being in your own bedroom might save you from the quick dress and run scenario."

"Get your clothes on, you stupid vamp. I might be leaving but you’re coming with me. Dawn’s lunch-break finishes in an hour and she can’t leave school grounds. So if we want to make sure she’s the first person we tell, you’re going to have to drive into the school parking lot."

"Can’t we just wait till she comes home and tell her then?"

"I’ll be at work and you’re seeing Anya before then. You think she’s not going to ask you why you’re grinning like the Cheshire cat?"

"Nah, Anya wouldn’t read Lewis Carroll. Harris only just managed to stop her walking out of the Matrix, but point taken. Though I did hope you might just phone in sick for work and hand in your notice at the same time." Spike pulled his shirt over his head and headed for the bathroom to retrieve his boots and socks.

"If it was still Manny the manager I would, but Lorraine’s always been decent. The least I can do is work my notice which I’ll hand in tonight."

"That’s my girl. Now tell me your bank details."

"You what?"

"If you’re leaving work, then you’re going to need money coming in from somewhere else. I’ll get the lawyers to arrange a weekly allowance until we get married and then they can just transfer half the assets into your name. I would do it now, but if we wait till we’re married then the transfer should be tax exempt or it would be in England."

"You’re starting to sound like Anya."

"Hush, pet. Be nice. I was planning on asking her if she still had her wedding organiser with all the stuff about florists and dress shops and suit hire, but if you want to slog through the Yellow Pages and find all of them yourself…"

Spike pushed his now fully attired wife-to-be out of the room.

She commented as they left, "Giles is going to think this is a practical joke, you know?"

"Yeah, right up until he gets the plane tickets to get his bum over here and give you away… Hmph, bet your vicar won’t let me have Clem for best man. Guess I’m going to have to ask Angel."

"Pfft. And I’ll have Dru and Harmony for bridesmaids… You said he’d probably beat you black and blue just for touching me and then you want to ask him to be best man."

"Hell, pet. If we’re getting married he can’t say I’m taking advantage of you. And he knows I wouldn’t go as far as getting’ married if it was just me trying to soften you up for the kill. As far as Angel goes, I’ve probably dramatically increased my chances of not getting’ staked if he wins the fight, not that he will." He paused ready to open the front door.

"How are we doing this, pet? Are you sticking with me all the way, meeting me at the car or meeting me at the school?"

Buffy picked up the bag of things to be returned to The Magic Box and threw Spike a blanket she had found in the basement the previous day.

"Staying with you all the way."

"Sewers it is…"

The black DeSoto pulled up in the school parking lot.

"It’s not my fault you decided to wear heels. You were the one who said you would come through the sewers. I offered to meet you at the car."

"It’s still your fault for having a stupid bloody sunlight allergy."

Spike smirked. "That’s at least the second time today you’ve said bloody."

"Well, if it is, that’s your bloody fault as well."

"Go fetch the Niblet and remember to keep your left hand in your pocket till you get back to the car."

"Yes, dear." Buffy stuck her left hand in her jeans pocket and stalked off in search of her little sister, wishing yet again that the Mayor had skipped her graduation. That way she’d know where she was going.

The two Summers women climbed into the old car.

"So what’s the big emergency that brings you out the bedroom, then?" Dawn asked nonchalantly.

Buffy looked nervously at Spike who immediately frowned. "You told her already."

"Didn’t."

"Did."

"Didn’t."

"Did."

"Didn’t"

"Definitely did, or Bit would have interrupted by now to find out what we were talking about. And you would have gone straight to the showing and the squealing and giggling and bouncing instead of looking guilty and people would have thought there was something different going on in this car from what there is."

Buffy pulled her hand from her pocket and held it out in front of Dawn. Spike lit up a cigarette.

"Oh my God. It’s gorgeous, Buffy. That must have cost you a fortune, Spike."

Spike grunted. "Bet first time she saw it she went, "OhmyGod OhmyGod OhmyGod OhmyGod OhmyGod."" Spike did a better impersonation of Dawn’s high pitched shrieking than any male past puberty and still in possession of his testicles should be able to do. "And I bet you did the bouncy, giggly thing that bloke’s like to watch… except when it’s like their little sister, so I would have just had to watch Buffy."

Both women blushed.

"I don’t know why I bother. She could have come on her own… No better than a bleedin’ chauffeur… Bloody church wedding."

"Spike, I’m really sorry. I just couldn’t keep it in when I saw her. I had to tell her straight away."

Spike smirked back at her, his previous resentment apparently all for show. "If you’d made it back to the car without telling her, I’d have been disappointed at your lack of enthusiasm."

"What?" Buffy was confused by his about-face.

"This is your sister we’re talking about. If you’d made it back to the car without telling her, it would have been a pretty sure-fire sign you were regretting saying yes. I might even have been tempted to call it off."

"You manipulative bastard," accused the slayer.

"Thought I might as well live up to what you were accusin’ me of last week, pet."

"So," Dawn treated the pair to a smirk that ought to have earned Spike royalties. "Does this mean you’ll be asking Xander to be best man."

"Anyone noticed hell freezin’ over," Spike retorted. "Then, I think not. Maybe if Clem can’t do it Rupert could do both, d’you think?"

"Can I help plan everything?" Dawn wheedled.

"Ask Buffy."

"Can I, please? I can help pick the bridesmaid dresses and everything."

"The ulterior motive is revealed," announced Buffy. "Yes, you can help as long as you get all your homework done first and keep your grades up, otherwise we might economise by getting you, Will and Tara to wear the radioactive dresses from Arashmahar."

The conversation was rudely terminated by the bell for the end of lunch-hour.

"Do me a favour, pet. Have a look in the glove box there. Behind the parkin’ tickets and the log book, right at the back there should be a brown envelope with some money in."

Buffy found the rather scruffy item and before she could pass it over to him he astounded her by saying, "Get a couple of thousand out for me."

Lifting the flap of the envelope Buffy discovered a stack of brand new sequentially numbered hundred dollar bills. Counting off twenty of the bills she passed them to him, noting that there were probably five times that number remaining. Spike took the cash and stuffed it loose into his duster pocket.

"Why do you have thousands of dollars sitting in a car that’s probably only worth a couple of hundred?"

"I like to have some cash around for emergencies. The car’s more secure than the crypt and it’s handier if I need a fast getaway. And how many times do I have to tell you that my baby is not some heap of junk? She’s a classic.

You’re probably goin’ to need some of that once you start getting’ stuff for the weddin’. Leave a couple of grand in the envelope and you keep the rest."

"You’re saying, here you go have seven or eight thousand dollars?"

"Yeah, I mean as soon as you start orderin’ stuff and bookin’ places they’re going to want money aren’t they. I know what’s there won’t be enough for everything but I’ll get more if you let me know when you’re running out."

"You expect me to carry around thousands of dollar in cash. I don’t even draw more than a hundred out of the ATM at a time."

"Bloody hell." Spike slung the steering wheel round to the left and pulled an illegal U-turn before pulling up in front of Buffy’s bank.

"This is a "No parking" zone," Buffy pointed out.

"You better be quick, then."

His bride to be rolled her eyes and darted into the bank.

After ten minutes of chain-smoking, a quick glance in the rear view mirror showed an approaching traffic cop. Spike pulled out and began to drive round in circles. It was twenty minutes after that before he spotted Buffy half a block down from the bank, heading toward The Magic Box.

He pulled up next to her and waited for her to get in. He was unprepared for her onslaught when she did.

"You left."

"I didn’t bloody leave. I’ve been driving in circles round that bank for the last God knows how long. Which part of quick didn’t you understand?"

"It’s not my fault. I got this girl, Amber, who used to be in my French class, and she saw the ring and well… And then when I said the money was from my fiancé to go towards paying for the wedding she said I should open a separate account because it would make it simpler to keep track of it all. And then the manager recognised me and wanted to talk about the reward and I had to count it all before I could fill in the deposit slip and I kept losing track."

"Sequential bills, pet. Take away the little number from the big number, add one and stick a couple of zeros on the end. Hardly rocket-science. What did they say about the reward, then?"

"Apparently they got back just over ninety-seven thousand, so it means just over three thousand two hundred each, which I could get very excited about except you seem to treat it like spare change."

The car pulled into a shady alley at the rear of The Magic Box.

"Sounds like you’re getting all upset with me ‘cause I’m not skint. Hey, I could’ve just not bothered telling you I had any money and let you go even deeper in debt trying to pay for a wedding you couldn’t afford.

The money that was there is more than I would normally keep hanging around, but I started keepin’ some extra after you started workin’ in that dump, just in case you came to your senses and quit. The rest would normally last me a good six months but lately I’ve been getting through more booze than I normally do. And the only reason I just stuck two grand in my pocket is that I owe eighteen hundred of it to Anya for first and last on the flat she leased when she split up with Xander."

"Why do you owe money on Anya’s lease? Were you paying her rent? That’s a lot of rent. Willow only pays forty bucks a week."

"How the hell does your brain work, woman? Why would I have been paying demon-bint’s rent? It’s hardly like she can’t look after her own money. I’m subletting from her. All-inclusive. She’s not stuck with the lease on an empty apartment. I don’t have to pass a credit check or set up direct debits to a non-existent bank account to cover bills and it already has cable, and she’s taping Passions for me until I get moved in. Happy now?"

"Why didn’t you tell me before?" the slayer pouted.

"’Cause I was planning on surprising you and the Bit and making dinner for you there after I got settled."

Spike got out of the car and tried the back door of the shop. It was locked.

"Pet, do you think you could go round the front and open this door for me, save me going through the sewers again?"

He turned to see that Buffy was still sitting in the passenger seat of the car. He opened her door leaning over the top of it to speak to her.

"Okay, love, what’s up? Talk to me?"

"You. Everything. You’re all grumpy. My whole life is disintegrating in front of me. Practically nothing’s the same as it was yesterday morning, and even if some of it or all of it’s good, it’s just too much all at once and it’s all revolving round you and now if I’m wrong I’m not just screwing up my love-life I’m screwing up everything."

Spike was torn between trying to comfort Buffy and his own pain at her belief she might be making a mistake. He moved around the car door to crouch next to her seat, taking one of her hands in his. "Love, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to get upset. I know it’s a lot all at once. If you want… I don’t know what to say."

An awkward silence settled on the pair, and Spike began to wonder if this was going to turn into the cruellest of ‘morning after’s he and the slayer had ever shared. Finally, he tried to pry into the workings of the slayer’s brain.

"Okay, pet. Seems to me that the final straw was me telling you about the flat. So chances are there’s something about that you don’t like. Maybe you’d rather I stayed in the crypt?"

"Well, no… but, I mean it was kinda cool. I mean, it’s not far from the house and it’s right in the middle of my patrol routes and it was ours. Well, it was yours, but sometimes it felt like it was ours. It was… I felt safe there."

"Is that it? Buffy, I hate to tell you, but the place is trashed. Downstairs needs a lot of shoring up done before I’d let either you or Bit back in there. Then, we’d have to scrounge together some furniture that’s good enough to use but not so good that it would get nicked. You vetoed pinching electricity and I don’t think I could stand having a generator running all the time, between the noise and the fumes.

It isn’t exactly an address you can give to social services if they start asking questions about your new boyfriend. It’s definitely not an address I could have given to the cable-company or the electricity people. Living there just isn’t a feasible option any more. Taking over Anya’s apartment seemed to solve both our problems at once.

But that doesn’t mean we can’t fix the old place back up again a bit at a time. Keep the nasties from moving in. Call it our holiday home. It can still be our place…"

He could see her mood improving and decided to push his luck, running his tongue over his upper teeth " … somewhere private for those mid-patrol shags."

"Spike, you’re a pig."

"But you love me anyway, right?" His words were devoid of his normal confidence and she realised that she’d set him up and knocked him down so many times he just wasn’t able to take her words this morning at face value. She mentally kicked herself for hurting him again.

Getting out of the car, she wrapped her arms around the neck of the vampire, who had moved to let her out. She looked up into his eyes as she spoke. "I love you and I want to marry you. It’s just that you freaked me out with ten thousand different things at once. In my line of work surprises are generally a bad thing and today seems to have been full of them. No more surprises today. Okay?"

"I’ll do my best. Does this mean you’re ready to play nice with the capitalist demon?"

"We talkin’ ‘bout you or Anya?" Buffy joked looking up at him from beneath her lashes.

"Anya. But if you want I’ll find somewhere a bit more discreet to park the car or we could get to either your place or the crypt in under ten minutes." He tightened his arms around her body pulling her closer against him.

"You really should have been called Randy."

"Can you blame me? It’s been three and a half hours. We’ve been engaged for two of them and you were in such a rush to tell your sister we still haven’t had a celebratory shag. Bloody disgusting, that."

"This from the man who said yesterday he didn’t want me to get the idea it was all about sex, and was probably brought up in an age where pre-marital sex was a stoning offence."

"Hey, I think you’re still confusing me with Anya. In my day our exploits would just make you a fallen woman."

"And what would they make you?"

"A lucky bastard?"

"Pig." Buffy walked off around the corner of the building.

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