Chapter 2
Spike entered the apartment, taking off his duster and hanging it on the coat rack. He walked over to the refrigerator, grabbed a beer and then he heard it.
Oh shit.
Fiona Apple was playing in the other room. He leaned against the refrigerator, closed his eyes, his jaw clenching with the sudden tension that was tearing through him. He took a sip of his beer, removed it from his lips and immediately replaced it, taking a longer drag on the bottle. He began to pace along the kitchen floor, thoughts and questions flooding his brain.
The sodding Sullen Girl is playing. This can't be good. I can't just go in there. I can't stroll in with a "Hi, pet" and pretend nothing's wrong. And I can't exactly start off with what's wrong because that could get me into trouble for not knowing what I've done. Suck it up, Spike. You're not helping her by pacing in the bleeding kitchen.
He listened for another minute, realizing that it was on the last song of the CD, which made him even angrier because that was just something he should not know. He breathed a sigh of relief and began to walk down the small hall to the living room when he heard another song start.
"I'm killing whoever invented the shuffle option," Spike muttered to himself as he rounded the corner and saw Buffy sitting on the couch, nodding her head to the music and looking at photographs. She looked up briefly and looked back down again, not even acknowledging his presence. Fuck. 'm in some deep shit, huh? I haven't even done anything...have I? Then he realized. Damn tuxedo. Bain of my bloody existence you are. "Luv? I was thinking tomorrow we could go to the tux place and pick out whatever it is that you want me to wear." He sat next to her on the couch, picked up a couple of the black and white photos she had shot and looked at them, waiting for her to answer.
"That was the plan regardless," Buffy answered, still not looking at him. "Do you like this one?" She handed him a picture of the two of them from around five years before. "Mom wants a board of photos that sort of chronicle the relationship for the wedding shower. I like this one. Yeah?"
He smiled, remembering that day at the beach. He nodded his head. "So you're not mad, then? About the tux thing last night?"
"Nope."
"Than what's with the Apple chit." Spike nodded his head to the stereo and Buffy rolled her eyes in response. "Well, it usually doesn't bode well for me, luv, when you're playing the girly depressing piano rock stuff." She gave a small laugh and went back to studying the pictures. He saw one from the one and only other time he had ever worn a tux. Her senior prom. "This one, ducks?"
She smiled and took it from him. "See? You wore a tux then, you survived just fine."
"Honestly, luv, I wore the tux because I thought it would increase my chances of getting in your pants than if I 'ad worn the jeans and t-shirt bit."
"And see how well that turned out?" She gave him a sexy smile, licking her lips slowly and biting her lower lip. She knew what drove him crazy. He groaned softly and she smiled again. "You're too easy, you know."
"I certainly am your slut," he said, smiling. "In fact, how 'bout I throw these photos on the floor and slut you up nice and proper like?" He didn't wait for her answer and pushed them off the couch, moving over to where she was sitting. She laughed as he leaned forward, kissing her passionately. She felt instantly light-headed from the contact and knew that nice and slow were not in the cards for her tonight. After what seemed like forever, Spike removed his lips, both of them catching their breath. As soon as he had, he leaned back but Buffy ducked her head away.
"Spike...this is great but I can think of something better," she said in her sultry voice.
"Right, bedroom it is, then." He put his arms around her waist, lifting her off the couch and she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck.
"No, here would be fine but that's not what I'm talking about, honey." He looked at her confused, the look slowly turning back to desire as she moved her hips against him. She kissed him on the nose, put her hands on the sides of his face, making sure he was looking her in the eyes. "We really need to do something about this."
"Eh, yeah, pet, that's why I'm heading to the bedroom."
"No, silly, the wedding. You remember that little thing we have in a little less than 3 months?" Spike inwardly groaned but nodded his head. "We really have to discuss the cake situation and the most important thing is picking out the invitations which is what we're doing tonight so put me down so..." She began to have trouble keeping track of her thoughts as he began to slowly kiss her neck, lightly biting here and there. "So...we...can...do...that. Spike, I'm not...ooh...kidding."
He growled in defiance of what she was saying and headed to the bedroom anyway. Buffy began laughing, knowing full well that she could pick the invitations after they were finished.
A lot of sex and then invitations, she thought as he threw her on bed and began unbuttoning her jeans, sliding them down her legs. I'll definitely get him to sit down with the invites after this. For sure. All thoughts then left her mind as he started to kiss her stomach, working his way back up to her mouth.
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Wearing his Clash t-shirt, Buffy climbed back into bed with the book of wedding invites. Spike put out his cigarette and sighed. Buffy shot him a look that clearly said don't start and opened the book with flourish, making sure she made a big production of it just to drive him even more insane.
"Luv...invites? Not really my cuppa tea."
"What is your cup of tea in regards to this wedding? There are four things you have to do. Four! The first and most important, show up, the second get a tux, the third help me with the invites and the fourth pick out a cake. Now do you want my list of things that I need to do? I guarantee you don't and you certainly don't want me to start complaining about them because you'd rather live in ignorance when it comes to this whole thing and if you didn't want to do it, then you shouldn't have asked!"
Spike stared at her, having no idea where her outburst came from. "You alright, pet? You seem a bit...on edge and you'd think after what we just finished doing-"
"Christ on crutches!" Spike couldn't help it, he laughed out loud. "Now it's funny? I'm so glad you are taking this as seriously as you are. It really gives me the warm and fuzzies."
"Sorry, Buffy, truly...but c'mon...Christ on crutches? Where'd that come from?"
"It came from a place of total aggravation in regards to you and your total apathy in regards to this!" Buffy held up the invitation book and shook it. "We are supposed to be doing this together and yet you seemingly want nothing to do with it."
"Together? Last night, it was all 'bout your special day, remember that?"
"Oh, please, I was trying to make a point about the tux. I wasn't saying that your help was not needed with all this." She shook her head in annoyance. "Good thing I have such good bridesmaids or I'd be knee deep in this shit." Buffy tossed the book to the foot of the bed in disgust and flopped down next to Spike.
"So...we're not looking at the invites, then?" Buffy groaned and got out of the bed, walking into the living room. Two minutes later, Spike heard Fiona Apple playing again.
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Buffy fell back on the couch, beer in hand and looking over the pile of photos that were still on the floor. She bent over, picking them up and putting them back on the couch. She began to hum along to the music, taking the occasional sip of her beer. She sorted through the photos, running her hand over them, shuffling them about. She came across the one Spike had picked up earlier. The one from her senior prom. Willow had picked up her camera and took the picture of them dancing, neither one aware that it had even happened. She couldn't help but smile as she thought about how that night had come about. The sadness surrounding the situation and the relief that Spike had found her when he had...
Flashback
Buffy felt something brushing against her hands that were covering her tear-soaked face. She wearily looked between her fingers, seeing a handkerchief being fluttered at her. She removed her hands from her face and looked at the hand again, her eyes traveling up to see one of the most, no scratch that, the most beautiful man she has ever come across looking at her with great concern. Her shaky hand took the handkerchief and she gave him a brief smile.
"You're Buffy, right?" She looked at him in shock. How could possibly know that? Should I be nervous? Is he an axe-murdering circus freak? "I didn't officially meet you last week...I was in the library...with Rupert?"
"Oh...right." Buffy sniffed and wondered if she should use the handkerchief to blow her nose. It seemed rude to do so because who would want that back? "I'm sorry...you're who?"
"Spike. You alright?"
"Bad day. Your name is really Spike?" She giggled softly and he felt a lot of tension flow out of him that she was no longer crying.
"William, but I don't look too favorably on those who call me that," he answered, smirking. "Want to talk about it?"
"With you?"
"No one else here, luv, so yeah."
"My boyfriend and I broke up. So...tears, sadness, breathing being an issue at times."
"Ah, I see. Poof?"
"Excuse me?" Buffy asked, bewildered.
"Is he a poof?"
"I'm fairly certain I have no idea what you mean by that but I'm going to say...no."
Spike laughed and said, "Does he bugger other blokes?"
"Oh my god, no!" Buffy broke out in a huge grin then looked shyly at him. "You do mean does he have sex with other men, right?"
"Yeah, that's what I meant."
"Why would you even ask something like that?"
"Figure something's a bit not right if he's breaking it off with the likes of you."
Buffy looked down at the ground, blushing instantly. "Uh, thanks?" Deciding to instantly change the subject she asked, "You know Giles? You don't really look like the librarian type."
"Didn't you know all British people know one another?" She looked him, trying to figure if he was pulling her leg. "I'm kidding, luv. Rupes used to run the library that I went to growing up."
"I thought he worked in an orphanage."
"That'd be the one."
"Oh, I'm sorry," Buffy said, feeling very stupid.
"You put me there?" Buffy shook her head no. "Nothing to be sorry for then, is there? Do you mind if I...?" He gestured to the bench Buffy was sitting on. She nodded, moving over a bit so they weren't sitting too close together. "So you and the poof...why'd you end?"
"He's not a poof." Buffy smiled which he returned. Great face, great eyes, great smile...not good. "It's a long story."
"I've got nowhere to go."
"I do. Class...you know what that is?"
"Yeah, went to it until I graduated two years ago. Orphan, not stupid, luv."
"Oh, I didn't mean...I thought that you were...I mean, I don't know what I mean anymore."
"S'alright. Not actually offended. Well, if you gotta go, you gotta go. Don't wanna be late for class, right?"
"It's not like that's never happened." Buffy sighed and wiped her eyes with the handkerchief. "Do you, uh...do you want this back? I could wash it and then give it to Giles to give to you."
"Why don't you give it to me tomorrow night?"
"What's tomorrow night?"
"That's when I'll meet you at that poncey club you've got 'ere in this town."
"The Bronze? It's not poncey...Can you not speak British or whatever until I get used to it because I get confused enough with English."
"You plan on getting used to the way I speak, then?" Buffy blushed yet again and shook her head. This is so embarrassing, she thought. "I figure tomorrow...give you enough time to wash that properly." He shot her the slyest grin she'd ever seen and she felt her stomach do a flip-flop. He stood and reached out his hand to help her up. She took it, gave him a small smile and ran off in the direction of the school entrance.
End Flashback
Spike stood over Buffy and watched her sleeping. The picture of them at her prom lying on her chest, beer bottle dangling from her fingers. God, I love this woman. And here I am calling Angel a poof... He carefully took the bottle from her fingers, placing it on the coffee table and did the same with the photograph. Trying not wake her, he slid his arms under her body and lifted her slowly.
"Spike?" she asked, sleepily.
"Shh, I gotcha, baby. We're going to bed now." He brushed his lips against her forehead.
"Good, bed with Spike is good." She yawned and buried her head into the crook of his shoulder, deeply inhaling that wonderful scent of him.