Spoilers:
Story started just prior to As You Were and runs through
to the end of Hells Bells. From there on the story goes
AU, so Normal Again, Entropy etc. haven't happened and won't.
Disclaimer:
Buffy: So this
is it? This is the last time we have to spout this drivel
about being owned by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN and
Fox.
Lorne: Don't forget
about David Greenwalt Productions and CBS. They own all
us Angel people along with some of the others.
Buffy: But we haven't
mentioned them before, even when we've had people in the
story from AtS, so why now?
Lorne: I think
there was a slight oversight on the part of the person who
did our script.
Buffy: But you've
said it now. So does that mean we can go?
Lorne: Yeah, but
you don't look too happy about it.
Buffy: Well, when
we do this bit Spike normally turns up, but I haven't seen
him since I was giving him a hard time about getting a soul.
Lorne: Maybe you'll
just have to wait for next season, or the next story, to
find out where he is.
Buffy: But I don't
wanna wait to see him. I want him here now.
Spikette: Well
tough, 'cos your just going to have to wait like the rest
of us.
(She points to a sea of
young and not so young women hanging around the area)
Feedback: I'd really
like feedback, I get all insecure without it and start to
think no one's reading this crap I produce, so bring it
on at Tales@he-s-no-angel.net
Epilogue
September 2005.
Angel walked into the basement living room
and cast a worried look in the direction of his grandchilde
who was sprawled on the sofa, arms in a crucifix pose across
the cushions at the back, feet up on the coffee table, watching
his favourite soap. His red shirt was undone, his feet were
bare and he had a mug of blood in his left hand.
"Don't you think you should be getting ready?"
"It's not like there's a lot to do. I've
just got to put my suit on and put some gel in my hair.
Unlike some that only takes me a minute."
"And Buffy and Dawn won't have you running
round after everything the women forget."
"Maybe, but the weddings not till half an
hour after dusk. We put the marquee up last night. The florist's
been and done the flower arrangements when he brought the
bouquets and buttonholes. Clem's out back now, wiping the
dew off the seats and getting the carpet put down. Everything's
under control. You don't have to get all over-excited just
because you're best man."
"Shouldn't you go and see how the bride's
doing?"
"Took her up a snack and some Buck's Fizz
half an hour ago. She's still at the Medusa stage, all curlers
and face pack and dressing gown."
"That's not a very charitable description."
"Well, when you live with someone for three
years you get to see the bad side as well as the good. You
know fine well when she comes down those stairs she'll look
gorgeous."
Spike looked closely at the black trousers
and shirt that Angel was wearing. "Aren't you going to get
those all creased before it's time for you to be seen in
them?"
"Not if I don't sit down, I won't."
Spike nodded a greeting as Lorne descended
into the room. "Sorry, bro, but I can't find my cufflinks..."
"... And you're not allowed back in the room
you slept in last night to look for them. I'll go check."
"Are you three decent?" Spike called and
waited for an answer before entering the room where the
bride to be and the two women from LA were sitting in robes,
doing each other's nails.
Spike glanced quickly about the room and
then headed for the bathroom connecting that room and the
spare room that Dawn normally used when she stayed over.
"Lorne forgot his cufflinks," he said bouncing
said items on the palm of his hand as he left. "Anything
you girls want bringing up, pet?"
"No just send the rest of the girls straight
up when they get here."
"No problem."
"There you go, big guy."
"How come he gets "big guy" and I get "Great
Poofter" and we're both the same size and he wears eyeshadow..."
Spike raised an eyebrow and just met his
gaze straight on until Angel found something else to interest
himself. "I'll go check on Connor." The Great Poof headed
back upstairs.
"Yeah, better check he's got his cufflinks..."
Spike raised his eyes, "...and better let in the rest of
the women on your way up. I can hear them coming up the
path. Put them in Dawn's room. That way they've got two
of the biggest bedrooms and biggest bathroom.
D'you fancy a drink, Lorne? I've got some
decent single malt stashed away." He knocked back what was
left of his mug of blood and fetched two large glasses of
scotch. Spike raised his glass and proposed a toast. "To
matrimony. You seen any of the rest of the LA guys this
morning?"
"Gunn was still asleep when I shifted my
stuff into his room, I haven't seen any of the others but
they were up all night and only drove down this morning,
so I just left them."
Clem came toddling down the stairs to the
basement wearing a black frock coat, pants and black shirt
with a stand up collar, and a deep red cravat and waistcoat
in watered silk.
"Everything's ready up there."
Spike nodded at the bottle and the glasses
stacked in the drinks cabinet. "Help yourself."
The vampire looked over at a clock on the
wall. An hour and a half to go.
"I suppose when we finish this we'd better
get dressed."
"You better had," came a voice from the top
of the stairs, "or Buffy'll be down here chasing you. She
sent me down for more champagne and orange juice, but I
don't see why we're drinking that and you're drinking whisky."
Dawn came downstairs wearing a simple A-line dress with
a square cut top and skinny straps. The colour matched the
cravat and waistcoat that Clem was wearing.
"'Cos, Pet, Buck's Fizz is a girlie drink
that won't get you young ladies, especially your big sister,
too drunk. Whereas us big bad demons can drink single malt
and still be good to go, so when you go back up, tell the
rest of the guys that we're having a last drink before we
finish getting ready."
"Oh. One last message from Buffy to Lorne.
If you're not there waiting when Anya walks down that aisle,
she'll find you and I quote, kick your green ass all the
way back to Pylea."
Spike smirked. "I think that's my beloved's
way of wishing you good luck."
"She did say thank god Lorne helped Anya
pick the bridesmaid dresses this time."
"How's Tara doin'?" Spike asked.
"Fine. She's a bit nervous about performing
her first ceremony, but she's going to be fine. I still
can't believe you talked her into becoming a fully-fledged
Wiccan priestess, so that she could do your wedding."
"Well, who else would marry a pair of demons.
At least this way, even if it isn't street legal, it's official
as far as the Powers That Be are concerned," Lorne replied.
"I'll send the rest of the testosterone brigade
down to drink your whisky then, but you better finish that
drink, and get your suit on and come help keep Anya calm,
Mr. Vampire of the Bride."
A few minutes later the rest of the Los Angeles
contingent came downstairs in the shape of Angel, Connor,
Gunn and Wesley. Liberal measures of whisky were provided
to all, and Spike knew the inevitable question would come.
It was just a matter of who would be the one to ask. It
turned out to be Clem.
"So when do we get a bash like this for you
and the slayer?"
Spike shrugged. "I'll ask when I think she'll
say yes. It's not like we're even living together."
"Most of the time it seems like you might
as well be," commented Lorne. "Whenever I visit it seems
like the three of you are here, or none of you."
"Yeah, but it's not the same as being together
and not having anywhere else to go, as you're about to find
out. It's just a matter of giving her time. It's not like
I'm getting any older."
Soon after the guys had finished their whisky,
the first of the guests began to arrive and Clem, Connor,
Gunn and Wesley guided them to their seats.
Spike, as instructed, went to help with the
bride which for the most part meant sitting chatting with
the girls while Buffy sat on his lap.
Angel took the groom in hand, and this time
everything went off without a hitch. As opposed to the rest
of the men who wore mostly black with red high-lights, Lorne
wore a red suit with the same waistcoat as the rest of the
men an ivory shirt and a black cravat and handkerchief.
Anya wore a simple elegant ivory silk sheath dress. Tara
who was officiating at the ceremony wore a shimmery dress
in silver grey and the bridesmaids wore red. The closest
thing to a problem was when Xander and his wife had to leave
because their toddler wouldn't stop crying. It turned out
Spike had been all too right that night the two had fought.
Giles sent his apologies, but couldn't come
because Olivia was expecting their first child in a few
weeks and he didn't want to leave her. He promised as soon
as the child was old enough to fly that they would all come
over for a long visit.
At the end when the happy couple left for
their honeymoon Anya threw the bouquet as is traditional.
Spike was the only person who was surprised when Buffy caught
it. He decided it was a sign... a sign she'd had enough
of waiting.
The End.
This is just a quick note
from me to say thank you to all of you who took the time
to read this story, especially the ones who reviewed time
and time again (you know who you are), or at all. I hope
you all enjoyed this story, but I'm going to try to do better
with the next one anyway.
Other than that here's
the answer to some of the questions people have raised in
their reviews, starting in reverse chronological order,
or last first.
Yes, I have lots of time
on my hands at the moment. I'm not working at the moment
for health reasons and I kid myself that wasting entire
days writing Buffy stuff is therapeutic, when really I should
be getting off my butt and going to the gym like the doctor
told me to. Oops.
As to the bits about telling
if people are lying, I give all the credit to the person
who wrote the screenplay to the film "The Negotiator". If
you haven't seen it give it the once over.
How do I know about wet
leather tightening up when it dries? I think that goes back
to a childhood spent watching westerns with my dad. It was
portrayed as being a Native American torture thing, but
since those films are all notoriously inaccurate I wouldn't
like to bet on it. Leather does shrink when it dries out
though.
Can I resurrect Riley
and blow him up again? Not in this story but who knows what
might happen in whatever I write next. Riley's death certainly
seemed to be one of the more popular bits of this story.
Why did I wait fifteen
years to write anything? Actually, to be more accurate,
it's about eighteen years, or in 1984 when I took my last
English exam. From then till recently I'd never thought
about writing anything (other than cd reviews for a Goth
fanzine my friends produce). Then I ended up on Fanfiction,
more or less by accident, and I started thinking, maybe
if they can do it so can I. This was the result.
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