Chapter 5.02
Friday, May 10th, 2002

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Okay... I suppose."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Your point?" he asked.

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

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

"And the apartment?"

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

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

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

"You're biased," Buffy reminded him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You're serious."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Okay, reverend-" Spike began.

"Ian, just Ian's fine."

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

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

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

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

"And the blood."

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

"And before that?"

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

"Why the change?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So why not a civil ceremony?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What of what?" Buffy asked.

"Church of England, love."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dawn came in the room dropping her back pack.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And that would be?" Spike asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Whatever," Buffy grumped.

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