Chapter 3
Buffy woke to the smell of coffee, bacon and something else she couldn't quite put her finger on. She stretched and instantly noticed that Spike was not next to her. She looked at the alarm clock on the bedside table and shot out of bed. How could he let me sleep until 10:30? I have too many things to do today. She quietly made her way down the hall to the kitchen and smiled when she heard Spike singing as he prepared breakfast. The Who? Might not be a bad day after all. She cautiously looked around the wall to see him pouring coffee into her mug and placing in on a tray. He planned breakfast in bed? Buffy instantly felt like mush and smiled again. He started to turn around and she had to contain the squeak that would have given her away. She quickly got back in the bed and feigned sleeping.
"Buffy?" he called when he entered the bedroom. "Luv, I know you're awake. After all these years, can just kind of sense you when you're sneaking around behind me..."
Try as she might not to, she smiled slowly and opened one eye to see that fantastic smirk that got her from the get-go. "Breakfast in bed? Who are you? Where's Spike?"
Spike opened in his mouth in shock and snorted. "I've made you breakfast in bed before, ducks. How quickly you forget."
"You mean nine years ago? The morning after we slept together? Sure, that was great. Totally got me hooked right in. Thought I'd always be getting food delivered to me in bed...but that ended straight away."
"Look, I know I missed the breakfast yesterday with your mum and not to bring up what is a sore subject, I was a bit of a cad last night..."
"So this is breakfast bribery?"
"See, you making it sound all sordid and what not. I'm just trying to make amends."
"You brought me in from the couch, you were instantly forgiven. Maybe we should be getting a new couch? You could be spending a lot of time out there in the future."
"Is that how it's going to be, then? And here I am busting my cute little ass in the kitchen, trying to make up for the bad invitation session last night..."
"Spike," Buffy interrupted, taking his hand. "Shut up. It's forgiven, all is right with our world. And did you call your own ass cute?"
"You can't deny that, pet. Is nothing but the truth."
"Amen, brother love. Tray, please? I am famished." Along with the coffee, orange juice, and bacon, he had made her his famous cheese omelet. "Ooh, the omelet? You must've been feeling really bad."
"I did use the word cad."
"Honey, you do realize that a lot of the time when you use that British slang, I just nod like I understand what you're saying but in fact..." Buffy made a motion with her hand flying over her head.
"You're not used to it yet?"
"Nope, guess you'll just have to stick around and keep teaching me." She flashed him a smile that made him want to toss the tray and ravish her instantly. Instead he watched her shove a big piece of omelet into her mouth, munching away, smile still plastered on her face. "Mmmm....orgasmic."
"You know you're not funny, sweets. You're bordering on just plain mean now, ya know." The phone rang breaking them out of what they both knew would turn into having to clean a breakfast off the wall in an hour.
"Hello?" Buffy asked, mouth still filled with omelet.
"Buffy? It's Angel."
"Oh, hey, Angel. How's it going?" She swallowed and took a drink of her orange juice. "Darla doing alright?"
"Yeah, I'm slowly getting the hang of this pregnancy thing. Hot, cold. Sour, sweet. Crunchy, soft...it's been interesting to say the least."
"Well, if there's anything that we can do for you, just ask." Spike rolled his eyes at her and shook his head, popping a piece of bacon in his mouth. "So what's up? Did you want me or Spike?"
"Spike, actually. It's about that case he went on yesterday."
"Oh, well, it's Sunday, you know? Supposedly God even rested on this day."
"I just need to ask him something quickly and then I'll be done with it. But I can talk to you first."
"Don't do it just to do it, Angel."
"I'm not!" he said a little too adamantly. He chuckled softly and asked, "Why is this suddenly weird?"
"I was just wondering the same thing. Let's just chalk it up to equal parts stress for both of us. Sound good?"
"Sounds great. How is the wedding coming along? Ready to pull every bleached follicle out of his head yet?"
"That feeling comes and goes. I did want to ask you if you had a chance to look into that thing for me?"
"I was actually working on that-"
"It's not what you gave Spike, is it?"
"No, Buffy...I know this is a secret. I'm not deficient." Buffy tried not to laugh as she didn't want to hurt his feelings but she could just hear her mom in her head after he said that. "With the Darla thing, I've been a little distracted. But I did get a lead from Giles."
"Really? He always said he didn't know anything."
"Well, from what I can gather from Anya, he didn't want Spike to be disappointed which sort of leads me to asking, are you sure you want to do this? Are you sure he wants this?"
"Yes, I'm sure but I don't really feel like talking about that other aspect right now."
"Well, Wes is currently working on the lead. He said he'll call as soon as he gets anything. He's hoping he'll sort through it by this afternoon. Is Spike still there?"
"Yeah and he's looking at me funny."
"Am not." He leaned in and nuzzled his mouth against her neck and she suddenly felt his tongue glide up her neck. She contained the moan that she could feel in her chest. She yanked herself away, shaking her head. "It's not so funny when the tables are turned, is it, pet?"
"Angel, I'll talk to you about that later, okay? Here talk to Spike. My breakfast is getting cold." She handed the phone to Spike and gave him a dirty look.
"What you want, Yoda? I have my woman to tend to and we both know this bloke does not work on Sunday," Spike said as soon as he put the phone to his ear. Buffy moved the tray to her side and kneeled on the bed, picking up the tray again and crawling to the other side of the bed and putting the tray on the floor. Spike took the opportunity to smack her rear hard as she bent over and yelped in both surprise and pain. "What's that? No, I didn't find one bloody thing. What kind of assignment was that? Yeah, well, it was a shit assignment. Nothing to be found." He was barely paying attention to any explanation Angel was giving him. He was too busy watching Buffy rub the spot where he smacked her. He sat up a little and adjusted his pants, sitting on the bed again. "Yeah...no, I doubt it. And since when do we do divorce cases? Thought we didn't get into the sordid side of it all..." He watched as Buffy slowly turned around, that look he knew all too well in her eye. Hell yeah, it's pay back time. He got an evil look on his face as he realized he was still talking to Angel. He suddenly didn't want to get off the phone.
Buffy made her way across the bed again, pushing him against the headboard, running her hand down is chest in what was one of the most painful strokes of his young life. She licked his stomach, tracing his muscles with her tongue and she giggled softly when the muscles twitched. She continued the torture until she reached spot they both wanted her to reach. She looked up, her eyes clouded with lust and met his, not surprised to see the same look in his.
"Ohhhh..." Spike moaned, instantly forgetting that he's talking to Angel. "Uh, what?...Ohhhh...sorry, Buffy's giving me a...uh, massage...Gotta go, talk to you later about this." Without waiting for Angel's response, he hung the phone and looked down at Buffy. "You're evil...pure evil, ya know that?"
"Mmm-hmm," she moaned and that was about it for Spike.
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"Pet, now don't take my head off for saying this 'cause I know you want this Mayberry sort of wedding...but if 'm gonna have to do this than I have to insist that my opinion is taken seriously. Don't do that thing where ya pretend to be listening."
"I do a thing?" Buffy asked, feigning ignorance.
"Ya know certainly well what ya do. I'm not saying we get black invitations but 'm not far off from begging that we don't get some bloody awful pastel and flower thing that would make me want to heave."
"Butterflies?" Spike shot her a look that showed his distaste for that idea. "Okay...no pastels, no flowers, no butterflies...I'm going to assume no rainbow-y type things, which I wouldn't want anyways. Spike, you do realize that we've pretty much cut out every kind of invitation there is."
"That book is bigger than the bloody bible...there's not one that we can decide on?"
"There was one I could decide on but you're all with the 'no flowers, pastels, butterflies'...it kind of had a combination of the three. And not one of these invitations don't have one of those things," Buffy told him, exasperated.
"Alright...I'll give ya flowers but no bleeding butterflies and now I'm begging', no pink. I won't marry you if you're picking pink."
"But pink is my signature color," Buffy teased in a horrible Southern accent. Spike looked at her like she had seven heads. "Steel Magnolias?" She noticed the blank expression on his face and shook her head. "We've been together for years and I've never made you watch Steel Magnolias? I'm obviously falling down on the job."
"I think I'm forever grateful that you have." Spike looked over at the coffee table and the pictures from the previous night. "Hmm...can't we make our own?"
"What do you mean? Like on the computer? I suppose it would save on money, but I did budget out for-"
"Not what I meant. Instead of some nancy boy design that we know I won't like and I don't want you to settle...why don't we design our own?"
Buffy contemplated his idea and a huge grin erupted on her face. "That is an incredible idea, Spike! In fact, that totally makes up for all previous non-committal participation for this event. So what were you thinking?"
"I have to actually come up with something? The idea wasn't enough?"
"C'mon, Spike, we're actually onto something here...let's not get lazy now. I'm open to any and all suggestions at this point." Buffy paused for a moment. "Not black, though. No pink and no black."
"Can live with that, pet. Maybe a photo? Or maybe we could get your mum to whip something up? 'm not really one with the creative. 'm more with the chaos, y'know?"
"Oh, I know. I like the photo idea. Like for the front of the invite and then having the info on the inside? You pick the picture. I gotta make a phone call."
"Luv," Spike called after her but she just continued to walk to the bedroom. "Don't wanna pick the bloody picture. Won't pick the right one, ya know. Shouldn't really be leaving this up to me." Buffy continued to ignore him and closed the door to the bedroom. "Well, let's just see what we've got here." He grabbed a handful of pictures and began flipping through them. He smiled upon seeing the ever present prom photo and put that one to the side, along with pictures from Willow and Tara's wedding, a showing at Joyce's gallery and Dawn's high school graduation party.
Satisfied with his choices, he picked them up and walked down to the bedroom. Pausing before he entered, he heard Buffy still talking on the phone. He placed his ear on the door, feeling instantly guilty for eavesdropping but far too intrigued not to do so. He flinched a bit when he heard her say the name Angel and he suddenly felt jealous, although he knew he shouldn't. He didn't understand why she insisted on being friends with the man who broke her heart at one time as he wasn't friends with Drusilla or thank heavens, Harmony. She didn't feel the need to remain in contact with Riley so it always bothered him a bit that she did with Angel. Not that he would ever press the subject or even try to make her not to be because that would only spur her on more. He jumped a bit when he heard Buffy very clearly yell, "That's fantastic!" and couldn't help but wonder what Angel could possibly tell her that would be so fantastic. Deciding that standing at the door, begging to be caught snooping around wasn't the best of plans, he turned on his heel and made his way back to the living room.
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"Luv. Don't wanna pick the bloody picture. Won't pick the right one, ya know. Shouldn't really be leaving this up to me." Buffy heard him say as she made her way to their bedroom. She snickered to herself and closed the door. She picked up the cordless phone from where Spike had thrown it earlier that morning and quickly dialed Angel's home phone number. She searched around for a pad of paper and pen while waiting for Angel to pick up.
"Buffy?"
"Wow, that's creepy."
"Caller I.D.," Angel told her, a hint of laughter in his voice. "You calling about the name?"
"Yeah, we're finally about to pick out an invitation and I wanted to be able to say hey guess who you are..."
"Well, I'll ask again. Are sure he wants to know who he is?"
"Honestly, Angel, his parents aren't something that we spend a lot of time discussing. Sometimes on his birthday...which we're still not even sure if that's his actual birthday or not...but it's just not something we do. All I can say is I don't think he wants to use his generic name for the rest of his life. I don't think he wants to give me that name to have and he is dead set against taking my name or Giles'."
"Speaking of Giles, he told me the original place Spike was dropped off at before he was transferred to the orphanage for the older kids. I had Cordy contact them and they wouldn't tell her anything."
"That's not good. So the lead went nowhere? I thought you sounded a bit optimistic this morning, guess I read that completely wrong."
"Let me finish, Buffy. Since I couldn't go running over to England, I sent Wesley. He went to the place, gave them the probable date of abandonment, explained that he had only recently discovered that he had a half-brother on his mother's side and desperately wanted to find him. I think he may have even shed a few tears because before you can say real identity, the woman handed Wes ten folders with names and information on the male babies that had been brought in during the month of November."
"And? You know by dragging this out, you run the risk of me dragging you out, Angel."
"It's Young."
"What's young?" Buffy asked, thoroughly confused.
"His last name. Wes called a few hours after I got off the phone with you and told me that he narrowed it down to two boys named William who would fit a baby Spike's description-"
"Wait, how could he be so sure? I mean, what if there were others named William that didn't come in November? Or if there were other William's and Wes got the description wrong? Or-"
"Buffy, calm down. Wes is very good at these things. It's why I hired him. We know for certain that Spike was born in November. The day may be a few days off but according to the first orphanage's records, he was no more than a week old when he was dropped off. So from November, there were three boys named William. One did not fit Spike's description at all. Coloring was off...black head of hair, brown eyes, and he had a scar on his stomach from when he was born."
"Which Spike doesn't have."
"Right. Wesley took the two remaining William's records and brought them to the Davies Orphanage, gave them the same story he gave the first place and soon enough we have a name and a birth certificate. By the way, his birthday is the fifteenth."
"That's fantastic!" Buffy screamed in excitement, mentally hoping that Spike didn't hear her. "Oh my god. William Young. Spike Young. Buffy Young..."
"Mr. and Mrs. William Young. I get it, Buffy," Angel said a bit more tersely than he meant to.
Buffy didn't notice at all. "I can't believe this. Really, Angel. All this time of looking, searching for anything...this is the most wonderful thing in the world. I can not thank you enough."
"One more thing, Buffy. As far as we can tell, Spike's parents are dead. We can't find anything on them besides their names. Martha and Patrick Young. Wes said he'd be happy to look into their records, if you want..."
"You know what? I'll let Spike decide that. All I wanted was to be able to give him his real name. Thanks again, Angel. I will probably say that a billion more times over the course of our lives and it will never be enough." She quickly said good bye and hung up. She stood in her bedroom for a moment and suddenly began to jump up and down in excitement. She finally stopped and breathed in and out, trying her best to regain some composure. She could not go back out there, grinning like a fool. He'd instantly know something was up and she didn't want to spoil the news. It was going to be hard enough not to run in there, jump on his lap and scream "Your name is Young!" at the top of her lungs. She wanted to do this right. It needed to be done a certain way. Making a decision, she took a few more calming breaths and went back into the living room.
"Hey, how'd the picture choosing go?" she asked as she flopped onto the couch, throwing her legs on his lap. He handed her the pictures. She barely looked at them and said, "Great. We'll just have to pick one."
"So who were talking to?"
"Oh, Mom. I wanted to tell her the new plan about the invites."
Why in the bleeding hell was she lying about talking to fucking Angel? "And what she think?"
"You know, great idea. Really original, yadda yadda. So, now that we have that figured out, we need to decide how we're going to word it. The names, you know. Like I would prefer that we have William..."
"That's fine," Spike answered her, his voice full of tension. She saw the muscles in his jaw line clenching and she couldn't help but wonder why. "People might not know who the hell is getting married with William Smith and Elizabeth Summers on the invite."
"Uh...why Elizabeth?"
"That's your name, isn't it?"
"No. We went over this two nights ago. My name is Buffy."
"It's not short for Elizabeth?" Buffy gave a small laugh and shook her head. "All this time..."
"And you didn't even know my real name. I'd be offended if I actually wanted to sit and think about it."
"Didn't mean to offend, luv. I just didn't think Buffy was a name someone would actually give someone."
"Ask my mother about it," Buffy said with a smile. "I think it may have had something to do with thirty-six hours of labor and lots of pain killers. Can't be certain, though." She took a deep breath and looked at him. He was staring straight ahead, jaw still clenching and for the life of her, she didn't know why he had his pissed off face on. "So the invites will say William Young and Buffy Summers, okay?"
"Sounds goo...wait, did you say Young?" Spike asked, eyebrows raised in confusion.
Buffy got off the couch, parted Spike's legs and kneeled in between them. She took his hands in hers and breathed in deeply, letting it out slowly. She knew he was waiting and none too patiently. "Okay, um...well, I kinda lied about who I was talking to..."
"'Kinda'? You did, pet. You said your mum and you were talking to Angel."
"You know what? I'm too happy right now to even confront you on how you knew I was talking to Angel. After you asked me to marry you and after that happy yes I'll marry you sex session we had, you said you wished that you could give me a proper last name. Not the name the orphanage gives the kids when the parents request not to have their name given. So I called up Angel and asked him to look for me."
"You did what?" Spike asked, eyes wide in shock.
"Please don't be mad. I wanted to give you something tangible. Something that I knew you needed even if you pretend like you don't. I know you're probably angry that I went to Angel of all people but he's good at what he does, at finding out information that doesn't want to be found." She looked at Spike, who was still staring at her in amazement. "Spike? Say something. Anything. Talk to me, yell at me for doing it but please say something."
She watched as his eyes welled up with tears, his hands squeezing hers so hard, she thought he was going to break them. He suddenly let go of her hands and grabbed her by the upper arms, dragging her body up to his, laying her against his chest. She could hear his heart beating so fast, could hear his breath hitching in his chest, could feel his shaky hands stroking her hair and she heard him very quietly say, "Thank you, Buffy. Thank you so much."