Disclaimer: Mutant Enemy and Joss Whedon own all. I just enjoy playing with their creations.
 
Thank you, thank you, thank you to all my encouraging reviewers!
 
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Chapter 8
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Willow had ended up spending the night in LAX, as Giles’ connecting flight from New York to LA had been seriously delayed by bad weather on the East Coast. He had finally disembarked early in the morning, to be greeted by an extremely disheveled and tired Willow. “Hey, Giles. Nice of you to finally get here,” she said, giving him a brief hug in greeting.
 
“Hello, Willow. Believe me, I was considering getting out of the airplane and walking. Would have been faster I think.”
 
“We should get moving. We’ve got a long drive, and we don’t have a lot of time.” Willow led the way, pausing only briefly at a pay phone to let Xander know they were on their way.
 
Giles had followed Willow to her car and soon they were on the freeway heading toward Sunnydale. “What do you think we should do, Giles?” Willow asked once they were underway. “I don’t know if we’re going to get there in time to talk to Buffy beforehand.”
 
Giles took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He was jet-lagged, haggard, and suddenly not at all sure what he was doing here. Buffy hadn’t wanted him around when she came back. That still stung, and although he was inclined to chalk it up to the trauma of being resurrected, a nagging little corner of his mind conceded her point. He had fled back to England like a coward, unable to face her sister’s grief, too exhausted to lead the Scoobies anymore. He had just wanted to be away from the streets where he had walked with her, from the Magic Box where they had trained and researched, and from the house where she had once lived. When she returned, she had been devastated to find that her Watcher, the closest thing she had left to a parent, had bailed on them all, and she had yet to forgive him for it. “I’m not sure what we should do,” he answered Willow after a long pause. “Have you heard anything more about how this came about?”
 
Willow shook her head. “They’ve been living together since Buffy came back. But they only invited Tara and Dawn to come with them today.”
 
“And Tara hasn’t confided in you?”
 
“N..no,” said Willow. “Tara and I are spending some time apart right now. We’ve been trying to patch things up, but it’s slow going.”
 
Giles looked sharply at Willow. He hadn’t heard this, and wondered what could have happened to cause a rift between the two witches. “May I inquire what happened between you?”
 
“I’d rather not talk about it right now,” said Willow shortly, and Giles dropped the subject.
 
“I guess we’ll have to attempt to talk to Buffy and try to understand why she would take such a radical step out of nowhere,” Giles decided.
 
“Could it be a spell, or some sort of thrall?” Willow wondered.
 
“I’ve no idea,” Giles sighed. “Spike has never shown any signs of having thrall abilities. Have you been casting any spells lately?”
 
Willow bit back a sharp remark, reminding herself that Giles didn’t know the whole story. “I haven’t cast any spells for several weeks now. I’m trying to get away from overusing magic.”
 
Giles looked searchingly at the witch, who was steadfastly focusing on the road. He had an inkling that the magic use had gotten her in trouble once too often. “Well then, we’re all in the dark,” he responded. “We’ll just have to wait until we get there.” With that they both lapsed into silence for the rest of the ride.
 
When they arrived in Sunnydale they went straight to Xander’s, who was pacing in front of the building impatiently looking for them. “G-man! About time you showed up. It’s already eleven o’clock,” he said as he got into the car.
 
“Xander, how many times have I asked you not to call me that?” Giles said in a long-suffering tone. Willow headed toward City Hall, tapping her fingers impatiently on the steering wheel at every red light.
 
“So what do we do?” Xander said. “Should we pull Buffy out of there? Should we be thinking stakes or what?”
 
“Xander, I would like to request that you remain calm,” Giles admonished. “We will gain nothing by charging in there without knowing the whole story. We will also be in a public building, and do not want to make a scene. You must control yourself and be patient.”
 
“Giles is right,” Willow said. “We need to give Buffy a chance to explain what is going on.”
 
“Sorry,” said Xander. “I’m just concerned. The more I think about her becoming Mrs. Deadboy, the more my brain refuses to believe it. It just seems so wrong.”
 
“Let’s just remember that Buffy has had a rather traumatic experience, being pulled out of Heaven, and that this may have clouded her judgment. She needs our understanding, not our condemnation.” Giles said firmly. Admonished, Xander attempted to keep a lid on his temper.
 
They pulled up in front of City Hall and got out, rushing into the building. They searched the directory for the marriage license office and scrambled into the elevator. Upon reaching the office, Giles said to the secretary, “We’re looking for a couple that is getting married today. Buffy Summers is the name of the bride.”
 
The secretary smiled. “Oh yes, they’re a handsome couple. They should be done shortly. Are you relatives?”
 
“No. but we are close friends,” said Giles.
 
“Well they should be out any moment now. Why don’t you have a seat?” The secretary moved into another room to make some photocopies.
 
The three of them looked at each other, unable to come up with a reason to go bursting in on the ceremony. Not wanting to make a scene, they sat down to wait.
 
After a few minutes they heard voices approaching a door next to the secretary’s desk. The door opened on the radiant couple. Spike was in a suit, which caused Xander’s jaw to drop to the floor. Buffy was beautiful in her wedding dress, the red roses a bright splash of color against the white. They were looking deep into each other’s eyes, laughing and smiling, oblivious to anything except each other.
 
Giles stood up and said, “Buffy?”
 
Buffy and Spike stopped, and their joyous demeanor turned off like a switch. Buffy’s face drained of color and became a mask of apprehension. Spike felt his mate’s panic and pulled her close, a low rumble starting deep in his chest. “Giles,” Buffy said in a flat voice. She couldn’t make her tongue work any further, and she burrowed firmly into Spike’s side.
 
Giles found his heart breaking at the change in his surrogate daughter. She hadn’t looked that happy in years. It tore at him to see that light drain out of her eyes, and to know that it was a reaction to his arrival.
 
“What are you guys doing here?” demanded Dawn.
 
Xander at least had the decency to blush slightly. “I, um, heard you telling Anya at the Magic Box. I thought Giles and Willow should know.” Tara gave Willow a look that conveyed disappointment at their need to interfere with Spike and Buffy’s day.
 
Giles finally found his tongue. “Buffy, I just… I needed to see you. This is such a big step and I wanted to know…”
 
Spike interrupted. “Pardon me, but you are upsetting my wife on our wedding day,” he growled. “I’ll thank you to bugger off so that we can go and celebrate.”
 
“Spike, it’s alright,” said Buffy in a quiet voice. She faced Giles and took a deep breath. “I love him, Giles. We’re married and we’re…mated. If you aren’t here to congratulate us, we have no business with each other.” That’s my girl. Don’t let them bully you, Spike thought with pride.
 
Giles’ eyes widened as he noticed the mark on her neck. “Mated? As in a mating claim?” he asked in shock.
 
“Yes,” Buffy said, her voice growing stronger with Spike’s silent encouragement. “We’ve been mated for a couple months now. And we’ve kept Sunnydale safe, and we’ve taken care of Dawn, and we’ve been very, very happy. So please, just let us be. That’s all I want. Just let us be.”
 
Xander looked confused, and Willow found herself looking at the ground, ashamed at having so obviously upset Buffy on her wedding day. But Giles looked floored at this revelation. “Buffy, I… do you know what you’ve done?”
 
“Yes. I’ve joined myself to a good man. Now please let me by.” With that she took Spike’s arm again and led him past the three interlopers, followed by an indignant Dawn and a quiet, saddened Tara. As Tara passed Willow the red haired witch touched her arm. “We were just worried about her, that’s all,” she said, pleading for understanding.
 
“Willow, you’re still not listening, to me or to Buffy. That needs to change.” Tara bit her lip and followed the others out the door.
 
The three of them stared at the door as it closed. Xander finally said, “What does it mean, this mating claim thing?” he asked, turning to Giles.
 
Giles sighed deeply. “It is a vampire mating ritual. It forms a psychic link between them. They would be able to sense each other’s emotions, possibly read each other’s thoughts.”
 
Xander was outraged, “And you’re not going to put a stop to this? Who knows what sort of suggestions he could be giving her? He could be controlling her for any evil purpose he has a mind to!”
 
“Is there a problem?” The secretary had reentered the room and was puzzled by the raised voices. “Did you miss your friends?”
 
“Um, no, we just need to follow them,” stammered Giles. They quickly hustled out the door. As they walked down to the car, Giles explained further. “As far as I’ve read it’s not mind control. More like… a union of souls, although obviously Spike has none.”
 
“But why are you so upset?” wondered Willow.
 
“A mating claim cannot be broken,” said Giles. “If one member of the couple dies, the other usually dies soon after. They literally cannot exist without each other.”
 
Xander stopped and turned to Giles. “So let me get this straight. If we dust BleachBoy, Buffy will die?”
 
“I am not certain, since she is a human, but it is a distinct possibility.” Xander had no response to this pronouncement, and lapsed into broody silence as they reached the car. They climbed in, subdued. Willow asked, “Where to?”
 
Giles found that part of him wanted nothing more than to go to Buffy’s house and beg her forgiveness for his thoughtless past behavior. But it was clear that he was not wanted at present, and neither his Watcher training nor his British nature would permit him to bend that far just yet. “We should probably give them some space. I think I may need to stay here for a while. Willow, can we go to your house? I can arrange more long-term housing from there.” They rode the rest of the way to Willow’s house lost in their own individual thoughts.
 
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Buffy and Spike had made their way down to the side entrance, and waited while Tara brought the car as close as possible. You ok, love? Spike asked, rubbing her arms and looking into her eyes with concern.
 
I’ll be alright, she said, managing a faint smile. Just a little shaky. I really thought we had managed to get away without them ruining it.
 
Hey, we’re not going to let them ruin our day, he thought, kissing her forehead. I still have the most amazing wife in the world, and I won’t let those wankers upset her.
 
You’re a good man, William Pratt. I love you so much. She drew him into a kiss that would have lasted half the day if Tara hadn’t pulled up. Dawn held the umbrella so Spike could dash into the darkened car unscathed. Buffy followed him, slamming the door quickly as he started to steam slightly. “Thanks, Nibblet,” he said. “Sunlight allergy can be a bit of a chore some days.”
 
“Anytime, brother-in-law,” Dawn said, giving the vampire a grin. Spike returned the grin, then cuddled his bride close in the back seat. They shared a long kiss that went on until Tara teased, “Hey, impressionable teens in the car. Save it for your honeymoon.”
 
“Spoil sport,” pouted Buffy. She was calming down from the confrontation and reclaiming that perfect contentment that she had experienced as they made their vows. She kissed Spike demurely once more and then rested her head on his shoulder for the rest of the ride.
 
They sprinted together into the house, shaded by the umbrella and a blanket that Dawn provided. When they got in the door, laughing and tossing off the coverings, they stopped and looked around in wonder. Anya had brought in several vases of flowers, a large white banner that said ‘Congratulations Spike and Buffy’, and seemingly enough hors d’oeuvres to feed an army. Clem stood up from where he had been sitting on the couch and said “Spike! Congratulations man!”
 
“Clem?” said Spike, surprised. “What the devil are you doing here?”
 
“Your missus thought that you might need some male support,” said the floppy eared demon. He came over and shook Spike’s hand heartily.
 
“Thanks for coming, Clem,” said Buffy warmly. She gave him a peck on the cheek that had Clem blushing in embarrassment. Buffy turned to Anya and said, “This is amazing! How did you do all this so fast?”
 
“I’ll never tell,” said Anya with a grin. “But now, let’s eat! Weddings call for libations!”
 
The six of them had a lovely afternoon. Buffy risked one small sip of champagne for the toast before quietly switching to soft drinks. Dawn played DJ, and at a signal from Spike put on ‘Wind Beneath My Wings’, which caused Buffy to fold her arms and shoot a dirty look at her husband. Spike smirked, and pulled her into his arms, guiding her expertly around the living room as the others laughed and encouraged them. When Tara brought out the cake, it was Spike’s turn to laugh out loud. Per Buffy’s instructions, Tara had found a cake topper consisting of a blond couple, to which she had added a few tiny drops of red nail polish dripping down from the lips of the groom. “That’s my girl,” he said, giving her a squeeze before they cut the cake.
 
When night finally fell, Clem and Anya finally decided it was time to go. They were thanked profusely and hugged repeatedly before the door finally closed. “So are you guys packed for your honeymoon?” asked Dawn with a slight leer.
 
“That’s enough of that, missy,” said Spike with mock sternness. “I’m the official man of the house now, so you better mind.”
 
“Yeah, as if,” said Dawn. “You know Buffy wears the pants around here.”
 
“Fine, then I’ll be the one to send you to your room,” said Buffy, frowning at her sister for a whole ten seconds before bursting into laughter. “Come on, Mr. Pratt. Let’s get our stuff together.”
 
They went to their room to change and grab a small duffel. They reemerged in their normal clothes - black leather for Spike and denim for Buffy. “You sure you two will be ok for a few days?” Buffy asked, concerned about leaving Dawn.
 
“We’ll be fine,” Tara said. “Remember, I’m the one who put the wards up. We’ll be perfectly safe, and if there is any problem we’ll call. Now get out of here!” She guided the newlyweds to the door. More hugs were exchanged and then finally, the couple climbed on Spike’s motorcycle and sped off into the night.
 
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Buffy nestled into Spike’s back as they sped along out of town. So where is this place? she asked, grateful again not to have to shout.
 
About two hours away, so let me know if you need to stop. Clem’s cousin told me about it. Little vacation cabin, just big enough for two.
 
Sounds nice, she thought, breathing in the smell of him and the leather of his coat and the night air. They stopped after an hour at a gas station since, as Buffy put it, “Some of us do still have a few vital body functions working.” They continued on, and just when Buffy was in danger of drifting off to sleep, lulled by the rumble of the motor and the solidness of her boyfriend – husband, she corrected herself – they turned onto a narrow, twisting road that headed up into the hills.
 
Spike parked the bike in front of a small log cabin. Buffy got off gratefully, having gotten a little stiff in the last half hour. Spike grabbed the duffel off the back and they went in, unlocking the door with a key that Spike fished out of the pocket of his jeans. They found the light switch and were instantly charmed by the little space. It was one big L-shaped room, with a fireplace on one wall, a small kitchen in another corner, and a ladder to a sleeping loft on one end. A door opened onto a largish bathroom with an enormous Jacuzzi tub. The fridge was stocked with blood and food, there was firewood neatly stacked next to the hearth, and the bed was made with a fluffy down comforter and numerous pillows. “It’s perfect,” Buffy sighed happily.
 
“I hoped you’d like it,” Spike said, pleased that Clem’s cousin had come through with the supplies.
 
“I’ll be right back,” Buffy said as she slipped into the bathroom. Spike took off his coat and pulled the shades down on the two windows. He pulled off his shoes and socks and sunk his toes into the soft faux fur rug in front of the fireplace. He knelt and built a fire, finding everything he needed close to hand. He stepped back to view his handiwork just as Buffy came out of the bathroom. He turned and gasped appreciatively at the sight.
 
She had let her golden hair down, and she wore a spaghetti strap red silk nightie that barely covered the matching red panties underneath. She set a candle on a small side table and lit it. It had been one of Dawn’s wedding gifts. It consisted of a red and a rose colored candle, twined around each other, with two wicks at the top. It was meant to clear away distracting thoughts and enhance romance. Buffy was skeptical about the magical properties, but she had appreciated the thought. Spike now moved to hit the light switch, leaving the room bathed in flickering firelight. He came to her, hardly daring to touch her, completely blown away by the idea that this gorgeous, strong, amazing woman was his. His wife, his mate, his lover. Buffy moved to touch him, sliding her hands up his chest to caress his face and pull him down for a kiss. He hesitated for the barest second, drinking in the sight of her, then their lips touched and he was lost in her.
 
Their coupling was by turns tender and wild, and they reveled in the fact that there was no teenager to wake up or come home and disturb them. They took each other again, and again, rolling on the fur rug, leaning on the couch while Spike took her from behind, all the while roaring and screaming each other’s names. It was nearly dawn when they finally wore each other out. Spike was sitting cross-legged on the floor, with Buffy riding him, hardly able to move from exhaustion. They came together with one last shudder, and Buffy collapsed panting onto his shoulder. He rested his head on hers for a long moment, then kissed her as they disentangled themselves. Buffy lay back on the rug, eyes half opened as she watched Spike get up and blow out the candle. She soon found herself cradled in his strong arms as he carried her up to the bed. Tired, she thought, nestling against him as they slid between the sheets. Same here. Love you so much, Mrs. Pratt.
 
Love you, William, she responded, and then she utterly passed out, with Spike following her a moment later.
 
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They woke sometime in the early afternoon. Buffy rolled over to look at the sleeping man beside her. Her eyes lingered on his wedding ring, on the hand that rested possessively on her abdomen. I’m married. I’m not even 21 yet, and I’m married. She wondered at the impossibility of that fact. The fact that she was a Slayer and had reached her twenties was pretty amazing. But to be a Slayer, still alive, and married? And not only married, but to William the Bloody, who also happened to be the father of the completely impossible child she carried? Could my life get any weirder?
 
If you’re going to talk to yourself all morning, at least think more quietly, came an intruding voice in her head. She looked up to see a pair of ice blue, bemused eyes on top of a familiar smirk.
 
What do you mean morning? Buffy shot back. It’s nearly one in the afternoon!
 
Morning is relative, Spike retorted. He stretched, planted a kiss on his wife’s lips, then sat up. ”I’m famished, pet, how about you?”
 
Buffy realized that it had been quite a while since she had eaten when her stomach growled in response. Laughing she said, “I think you’ve got at least two votes for breakfast, or brunch or whatever.”
 
They got up, fished their robes out of the duffle, and proceeded to feast on the blood, juice, coffee, and omelets that Spike whipped up. “How do you feel after nearly 24 hours of marriage?” Spike asked with a grin as they attacked the food.
 
“Like I ran a marathon,” Buffy said, sipping her decaf. “I think we broke some sort of world record last night.”
 
“You wear a man out, Slayer, make no mistake,” he said. “Met my match in you, love.”
 
“I’ve gotta say, nice to not worry about damaging my bed partner,” she said. Then she stifled a belch. “Ugh. Sorry. Seems like the kid doesn’t like omelets or something.”
 
“You’d think that would be counterproductive,” Spike mused. “I mean, what’s the bloody point of a process that prevents the mother from eating when she’s got a parasite to feed along with her own needs.”
 
“Believe me; I’m not really fond of the whole mechanism myself. And did you just call our child a parasite?” Buffy said indignantly.
 
“I meant it in the nicest possible way,” Spike said apologetically. “Besides, at this stage it’s not like we can make it out to be anything in particular one way or another. “
 
“True,” Buffy agreed. They worked on finishing the rest of their breakfast, with Buffy managing to eat about half of it before the heartburn got too bad. As they cleared up, Buffy said, “I would love to check out that enormous tub.”
 
“Want company, pet?” Spike purred.
 
“Definitely,” Buffy said. She reached up and nibbled on his lip until he groaned, then broke off, grinned wickedly, and led the way to the bathroom. Spike followed, sporting a hard-on that his robe could barely conceal. Buffy started the water and added some bath oil that Dawn had included along with the candle – guaranteed to enhance your romantic feelings toward your partner. Buffy dropped her robe and slid into the tub with a deep, contented sigh. Spike dropped his robe as well, and stepped in. “Sit up a bit, love,” he said. When she did he knelt between her legs and pulled her hips toward him, entering her slowly. They settled into the tub, and Buffy luxuriated in the scent of the oil, the bubbling jets of water, and the hard length of Spike filling her.
 
Spike groaned in contentment. He had always loved hot baths. Although temperature made little difference to a vampire in terms of survival, it was sometimes nice to recapture the feeling of being warm. For once there was no contrast between the temperature of his skin and that of the woman beneath him. The only thing that betrayed his vampire nature was the lack of heartbeat. He felt alive, inside and out, and it was an incredible sensation. Love you. Never wanted to be human again after I was turned, but now I think it might not be so bad. To share this heat with you…
 
Don’t need you to be human, lover. Buffy groaned as he touched a particularly delicious spot deep inside her. Just need you to be mine. As the sensation built up she clutched him tighter, moving to meet him, and finally bit hard into his neck as she came. Mine. Be mine. Love you. Be mine, she chanted silently as his coppery blood touched her tongue and drew out her orgasm further.
 
Buffy, oh Buffy, fuck yes yours I’m yours, always. He vamped and roared, sinking into her neck as he thrust up into her, pulling in her essence as he spilled his.
 
They came down from the high and rearranged themselves. Spike drifted to the bottom, with Buffy on top of him, leaning her head back against his shoulder as his arms wrapped around her. They floated in the sea of bubbles and scented oils, basking in the afterglow and conversing.
 
“That was so incredible, honey,” Buffy sighed, stroking the hands that rested on her stomach.
 
“Need to please my lady,” Spike said, kissing her neck. A thought occurred to him. “We’re not gonna injure the little one with all this, are we?” he asked in a worried tone.
 
“No, he, or she, will be fine. I did some reading about that. Might be a little awkward toward the end, but as long as you’re not hurting me, you’re not hurting the baby.”
 
“Glad to hear that,” Spike said. After a few more minutes of basking he asked, “What do you think we should call him, or her?”
 
Buffy considered. “I do like the name William for a boy. And since we call you Spike all the time anyway it’s not like there will be confusion with two Williams in the house.”
 
“I suppose we could just christen him Spike junior,” joked the vampire, nibbling further at her neck.
 
“Well when he decides he hates his name, I’ll tell him you chose it so he knows which parent to stake,” Buffy retorted. “What if it’s a girl?”
 
Spike was quiet for a second. “Could we… Could we call her Emma?”
 
Buffy turned to look at him, wondering why he seemed so quiet. “Why Emma?”
 
“It was my younger sister’s name,” he said, closing his eyes at the memory. He hadn’t thought about her in so long that her face was fuzzy in his mind. “She died young. Influenza took her when she was eight years old. Broke my mother’s heart. Broke all our hearts. Sweet, pretty little thing she was, had the whole house wrapped around her finger. I had always thought to name a daughter after her. When I was alive and thinking of such things that is.”
 
“It’s a lovely name,” said Buffy, feeling the depths of emotion the name had conjured up in her mate. “Could her middle name be Joyce, after my mom?”
 
“Emma Joyce. Has a nice ring to it.” He smiled and kissed her neck again. “I rather hope it’s a girl. All beautiful and fierce like her mother.”
 
“I don’t know, another male in the house would balance things out a bit,” Buffy countered. “But I guess we have to just wait and see.” They relaxed once more into the blissful warmth, letting the conversation lapse into peaceful quiet.
 
TBC