Chapter
2.06
Friday, May 17th, 2002
"Here, pet," Spike told Anya as he passed the
former demon a towel.
"I'm not finished yet, Spike." She indicated
the coffee cups that remained in the sink.
"Please, for chrissake, at some point today,
will one of you women just for once do something when I ask without
makin' a bloody great palaver about it?"
Anya snatched the towel, and dried off her hands.
"There's no need to snap at me just because you and Buffy have
had a fight."
"I'm sorry, pet. It's just been one of those
days and it's not half past seven, yet."
"So, what's so important that you had to interrupt
my washing up? It really won't look good if there are dirty dishes
lying around when Dawn's caseworker gets here."
"I'll give you a hand with them in a minute.
I just wanted to talk to you before them three fill all the boxes
we've got and head back down here."
"So talk."
"Well, it's like this, we've got this wedding
gift, and it's kind of a couple thing, for the night of the wedding,
but Buffy has different ideas about what we should be doing, so
basically, since it's non-refundable, and you an' Harris seem to
be the only other bona fide couple we know. I wondered if you
two might want it instead."
"What are we talking about?"
Spike pulled a thick cream coloured envelope
from the back pocket of his jeans.
Anya turned it over in her hands admiring the
quality of the writing paper and noting the lack of name or address
on the front before she slid a nail under the edge of the flap.
"Can I?" She hesitated to rip into the pristine
packaging.
"Go right ahead, love. No one else is going to
be opening it."
"So how do you know what's in it if you haven't
already opened it?"
"Covering letter."
Anya couldn't contain her curiosity any longer
and ripped into the envelope. The contract she found inside was
several pages thick, but the front page told her all she needed
to know. The remaining pages were just a series of schedules,
translating the plain English of the front page into the sort
of legalese that eliminated any loopholes. Her eyes lit up and
a massive smile appeared on her face.
"Are you sure you don't want this?" Anya asked.
"I'm sure Buffy doesn't an' I'm damned if I'm
goin' to spend our wedding night without her."
"But—"
"Look, she's made her opinion abundantly clear.
Now, do you and your considerably less appealing other half have
a use for it, or should I just use it for kindling the next time
we want a fire in the dining room?"
"Well, if it's going to waste. I mean, if you're
sure, but it just seems like this..." She peered at the almost indistinguishable
signature at the bottom of the contract. "This L. Hood seems to
have gone to an awful lot of trouble over everything. Take the
champagne they've ordered for you. I know you're a beer and bourbon
guy, but that is the good stuff and a very good year. You wouldn't
get much change out of three hundred dollars a bottle. And all
the other little extras..."
"I know what it says, pet. That's why I don't
want it to go to waste."
"Don't you think, maybe you should give it back
to this L. Hood, then?"
"Look, he won't be going anywhere near the place.
You can take it from me. Please, will you just take the damn thing?
I never want to see it or hear about it again. Okay?"
"You're really sure?"
The vampire pulled his lighter from his pocket
and flipped it open, turning the wheel against the flint to produce
a blue-yellow flame.
"Either you take it, or I set fire to it. You
choose."
Anya pulled the pages in towards her body in
a defensive gesture. "Alright, then, Mr Grumpy Pants, consider
it taken."
Spike flicked his lighter closed and returned
it to his pocket. "Right then, just stick it in your bag or your
coat or somewhere and don't mention it again. I'll get the
rest of these, if you want to go see how they're doing upstairs."
"You know, it won't get any better if you avoid
her?"
"Yeah, well, at least there's less chance of
makin' it worse."
"Tara?" Dawn stopped packing the contents of
the bookcase into one of the few strong boxes that they had. "Why
would Willow have books down the back of the bookcase so that
you would have to take all the other books off the shelf to get
at them?" Flicking through the pages of the book the teenager
gave a sigh of comprehension before continuing.
"It's okay, it's just early porn. Bondage and
stuff, and big groups."
Buffy reached over her sister's shoulder, having
re-entered the room silently, and pulled the book from her hands.
"Since when did bondage include pulling someone's heart out of
their body?"
"Is that what that is? Isn't that too low?"
"No, see you go in under the ribcage and then
reach up. It's way easier than carrying round rib spreaders all
the time. And you probably didn't need or want to know that."
Buffy passed the book to Tara. "So, is this just
gross or is it dangerous?"
Tara began to flip from page to page, skimming
the text and occasionally pausing to look at some of the illustrations
before she laid it on the floor.
"Well, there's only one good reason I can think
of for keeping a book like this, and that's the argument about
knowing your enemy. What that doesn't explain is why she'd hide
it... But it kind of figures. If she had the book with the summoning
in, then she was going to have others." The Wiccan looked disappointed
but resigned.
"So what do we do with it? Just pretend we didn't
see it? Pack it away with all the others? Or do we burn it or
something or give it to Giles or Wesley?"
"I'd give it to Giles," Anya offered from the
doorway as she arrived from downstairs. "He did pay for it, after
all... And probably most of her thaumaturgical collection."
"You mean you sold it to her and then billed
Giles? How long has that been going on?" Buffy asked amazed.
"Oh, since he went away that time and she conjured
up Olaf, trying to make that ball of sunshine of hers."
"So you're telling me Willow hasn't paid for
anything from The Magic Box—"
"Since Giles bought it, basically."
"But when we cleared everything out there were
hundreds of dollars worth of magic books alone."
"A couple of thousand, actually. Magic books
don't run cheap. It's kind of a specialised market."
"But isn't that sort of like she's been stealing
from him for years?"
"Well, that's what I said, but I detailed everything
for Giles in his profit share statements and he's never queried
anything. I assume he must be claiming it back from the Council,
but I don't know for certain. It could just be that the only numbers
he understands are the ones in the Dewey Decimal system."
"Wait a minute!" Dawn interrupted. "You're telling
me that I had to work to pay off all that junk I stole, and Willow's
been ripping you off ten times worse for years, and you've known
about it?"
"Well at first, when Giles got back from England,
he said it was okay. Anything she wanted that was to help Buffy
could come out of his share of the profits as goods for own use.
Then, once that was established, everything she wanted turned
out to be to help Buffy and the price tags just got gradually
bigger and bigger, but that quartz was excessive even for her.
If I had known where he was staying, I would have called Giles
to ask him about that one, but he hadn't booked anywhere when
he was at the shop."
"That is so unfair," Dawn protested.
"Yes," Buffy stopped her before she could say
too much. "But Willow at least technically had permission to take
things, whereas you didn't. Anya would have been within her rights
to have you prosecuted, so you were lucky."
"Guys?" Tara interrupted. "I think the point
is what we should do with these books."
"Well, I could go through them and the rest of
her magic stuff and put to one side the things that Giles paid
for and then he can decide what to do with them. I know personally
that I will feel much safer when these things are restored to
more responsible hands."
Buffy looked vaguely uncomfortable, but she didn't
see what other options she had. "Do it. We'll bring the other
boxes across from Spike's apartment later and you can check through
them."
"Does that mean we can have Kokopelli back, too?"
Dawn asked, receiving a nod from her sister in reply.
Anya began to sift through the box that Dawn
had just packed, removing several items that had escaped the earlier
magical clear out. She was still in the middle of doing this when
Tara had to make her excuses. "Look, I'm going to have to go and
get ready for class."
"Sure. You're meeting Wes back here?" Buffy asked.
"That's the plan."
"Well, I guess we'll see you later. Do you have
to go as well, Anya?"
"Oh no. I told Giles yesterday that I was taking
a day off. This will be the first time in months, well, except
for the two weddings, that I haven't had to work a six-day week.
Of course, I was thinking more along the lines of a manicure and
a facial, but they can wait."
Tara hovered in the doorway before she left.
"Willow used to keep all her magic stuff in the top couple of
drawers of the dresser. You might want to check there, but then
most of it should have been cleared out."
Buffy gave her a reassuring smile. "We'll have
it all sorted before you get back."
"Anything to take downstairs, yet?" Spike asked
when he could no longer find anything downstairs to legitimately
occupy his time. The kitchen and living room were spotless, ready
for this afternoon's visit. He'd taken the dog out for a walk.
Though he knew that at some point soon a trip to the mall was
called for to pick up some puppy essentials, food in particular,
he couldn't stall any longer.
"There's a couple of boxes, but you'll have to
hold them underneath when you pick them up in case they give way."
Buffy's voice was tentative, unsure of what sort of response she
was going to get but the vampire kept his response neutral.
"Right. Guess I best take them one at a time,
then."
He stooped to pick up the first of the boxes
and found himself looking into Buffy's eyes as he straightened
up again. "I'll get the other one," the slayer said as she picked
it up.
Spike raised his eyes heavenward at the prospect
of the argument being renewed, but didn't make any further comment
as he headed downstairs, Buffy following on behind. With the boxes
deposited on the porch, Buffy reached out a hand to the vampire,
to prevent him going back in.
Her grip faltered as she became aware of the
enormous well of pain that the vampire seemed to be carrying round
with him, mixed with a streak of anger she was sure was aimed
at her. Her hesitation only lasted a fraction of a second.
"Tell me what's wrong... please."
Spike's mouth opened and then closed just as
decisively before he finally spoke. "It'll just wind up in another
fight. Leave it, pet."
"I can't leave it. I can feel what it's doing
to you. And you should be able to tell that not being right with
you makes me miserable."
"How the hell am I meant to feel?"
"I just don't get what I'm supposed to have done.
I'm the one who should be going round feeling sorry for myself,
not you."
"I am not feeling sorry for myself. Hurt?
Yeah. Betrayed? A bit. Mad? More than a bit, but nothing that
isn't natural when you find out you're engaged to somebody who
thinks you're some totally insensitive, incompetent, idiotic bastard
and you're too much love's bitch to even call her on it, because
you know that'll just start a whole new fight."
"I've never said that I thought you were insensitive...
or any of the rest."
"No, you just explained to me what our wedding
night should be like as if you were talking to a retarded three-year-old.
Aside from one word, that you seem to have an unreasonable fixation
on, have I ever given you any reason at all to think that I wanted
our wedding day to be anything other than the most perfect day
of your god damned life up until that point?"
"Well, no."
"Then, why the hell would you assume that I would
turn our wedding night into some bloody perverted circus act?"
"Because you seem to have a taste for perverted
circus acts." Buffy answered sounding considerably less sure of
herself than she had previously. "You're the one that mentioned
a trapeze."
"Not for the wedding night, I didn't, and for
your information the whole swing thing doesn't make that much
difference for blokes. It's the women who get the bloody benefit
so I really couldn't give a toss if you never find out."
"Now, I know that's not true. You get off more
on getting me off than you do on getting off yourself."
"Well, right now, this minute, it feels true."
Even as he finished speaking Buffy could feel the last of his
anger dissipate as if it had never been.
"I'm sorry." Buffy leant in to place a gentle
kiss on his lips.
"I'm sorry, too. I guess it was a stupid idea."
"Tell me about it." Buffy asked him, pulling
him down to sit the low wall that edged the porch.
"Not much point. Already gave it to demon bint."
Buffy's hand reached up to stroke his face. "Tell
me, anyway"
"What do you want to know?"
"Well, how about you start with where we leave
the reception and just tell me how you thought things might go."
"That would kind of depend on you, love."
"You start things off. I'll fill you in on what
I think as we go along."
"Well, were you planning on having a separate
going away outfit or are you still wearing your wedding dress?"
"Wedding dress. Definitely."
"Well in that case I would have to carry you
out to the car, so that you didn't get your pretty dress dirty.
An' then I guess the next bit depends on what you want to be doing
for the rest of the honeymoon. I guess if you want to fly somewhere
we'd get a limo, but if we're going to do the sort of touring
thing and take the car, then I suppose I'd be driving."
"Don't know yet. Assume you're driving, but I'll
be lying against you with your arm around me, like when we went
to the beach." She matched her movements to her words so that
she had to tilt her head back to see his face.
"Okay, so I'll ask you whether you want to take
the coast road or the freeway."
Buffy seemed to consider for a while. "Coast
road. We're in no hurry. We've got our whole lives together."
"So, two or three hours later we arrive in LA.
Are you going to be all sleepy?"
"Well, I would be normally, but this whole day's
just been unreal and I'm still buzzing."
"Okay, so we pull up in front of this building,
and I haven't actually been there so I'm kind of fuzzy on the
description, but it's sort of old, twenties, Art Deco, but well
kept up. Maybe a bit like Angel's place could be if they hadn't
kept the same wallpaper and carpets for fifty years. Now, we have
to ring a bell to get in. There's a sign on the front door. It
says they're closed for a private party, but we ignore it.
So, someone opens the door. It's the owner. She's
kind of attractive for an older woman and pretty glamorous, but
I couldn't care less because I've got all the woman I want right
beside me. There's a guy there as well, and as soon as he takes
our bags, I pick you up in my arms and I carry you upstairs when
the owner shows us to our room. I don't put you down until she
opens up the room for us and I've carried you across the threshold.
There's a big old-fashioned bed and it's got
rose petals all over it. Not red ones, but white because that's
for purity, and for all I'm not, the way I feel about you is.
There are a couple of bouquets of white roses in the room, too.
There's an ice bucket beside the bed with two
bottles of champagne waiting for us and a couple of crystal champagne
flutes.
There's some food laid out on the dresser, strawberries
and some other fruit, stuff that won't go off, if you just fancy
a snack. You can have almost anything you fancy though, because
the kitchens are fully staffed, all just waiting for you to call
and tell them what you want, just in case maybe you were too nervous
to eat properly through the day. And that's all good. At least
I'm hoping you think it's good."
"It sounds like heaven."
"But that's not what makes it special, because
all that you could get in a good hotel. What makes it really special
is the fact that the room's enchanted. Whether it's a matter of
perception or whether it really does, time seems to flow more
slowly when you're in this room. Every smile, every glance, every
kiss, every sip of the very fine champagne, it all seems to last
so much longer. It's the only place like it on the Western Seaboard
and for that one night, it's ours to share... or it would have been."
The vampire's voice was wistful and Buffy could see the tension
in his jaw as he gazed off into the distance, with his mind clearly
on what might have been.
Tears had welled up in Buffy's eyes as she listened
to this vampire that so many would say could know nothing about
love.
"I'm so sorry," she told him.
"Doesn't matter. Like I said, most of it you
can get at any decent hotel. If you're lucky you can even get
a sea-view as well."
"I don't want a sea-view. I want the perfect
night that my perfect husband-to-be planned for us." She reached
under the heavy sweater that she wore to protect against the early
morning chill and pulled a familiar envelope from where it was
tucked in the waistband of her jeans. "I want this. Exactly how
you planned it."
"So you'd already read it then? That's why you
came to make up?"
"No, I admit I got a hint as to just how extravagant
it was when Anya borrowed a calculator and went into the bathroom
and came out shaking, and started trying to give it back to me.
I don't know what the figure she came to was, but enough to send
her into shock at the idea of that you might really burn it."
"Guess I should have known if anyone was going
to know how much those compensation payments came to, it'd be
Anya. What with her former calling, I guess she'd be familiar
with those places."
"Compensation payments?"
"Loss of earnings for the girls, disruption to
trade for the house, after all it's not good for business to turn
people away and I'm informed Saturday nights are generally busy."
"Oh! ...Anyway, I didn't look. I wanted to hear
it from you. So, will you take me?"
"Anywhere you want to go, love. Anywhere you
want to go."
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