Prologue

The bride smiled under her veil, her eyes wide and brimming with tears as she looked past the throng of people and stared at the man she would marry. For his part, the groom had gotten through the morning with flying colors if you didn’t count losing a shoe, losing his suit jacket, and not finding either until ten minutes before the ceremony. He reached a hand out, gently helping her up the steps, then nodded at the man who had escorted her down the aisle to give her away.

Some people had balked at a nighttime wedding, saying that California weddings on the beach were meant to be enjoyed in the sunlight, but the bride and groom understood that their guest list contained certain ‘special needs’. A big white tent had been pitched near the waters edge and the entire event had been planned to avoid a full moon, since at least three of the guests were werewolves. The front area of the tent was an explosion of color as every type of tropical flower had been arranged around the altar. The bride herself carried a colorful bouquet that was almost as big as she was.

The vows were unique and had been written by the bride and groom, with lots of help from their closest friends. Anyone who knew their story had trouble reigning in the emotion as the groom said, “I feel like I’ve waited a million lifetimes for this moment. I feel like any life before this one was a dream, that I did not become the man I was meant to be until you taught me how. For that, I will love you until the day I die and for that you will have to keep my heart secure. It isn’t mine anymore.”

Spike glanced around the groom and smiled at Buffy, who was holding her bouquet and the big arrangement that Christine, the bride, had carried up the aisle. He winked at her, just like he said he would, when Miles, the groom, spoke the lines that Spike had actually written for him. Buffy would have known without the acknowledgement from Spike. Her eyes brimmed with tears as she mouthed the words “I love you” with an easy smile.

Their eye contact was broken by the priest asking for the rings. Spike leaned down, whispering to the little ring bearer who held up the pillow that contained the two rings with a big, cheesy grin. Buffy sniffled a little, all the while telling herself not to cry, that she had run out of waterproof mascara, but as the deal was sealed with a kiss and the priest announced Mr. and Mrs. Miles Porter to the room, she was smiling through tears.

Spike offered her his arm as they fell in step behind their friends. “You cry at weddings, love?”

“Shut up,” she replied, wiping her cheek with the handkerchief he had pulled from his pocket for her. “It was beautiful.”

“I meant every word of it.”

“Why didn’t he write his own vows?”

“Because he’s been working non-stop with you every night.”

Buffy glanced over at him. “Was he mad?”

“I think he was glad to have the diversion. He’s been a nervous wreck.”

“I don’t know what I’ll do without him for two weeks.”

“Davies will fill in for him.”

“Yes, but Davies isn’t Miles. I adore Miles.”

“Miles adores you, too. So does Christine.”

“How weird is it that we’re doing all this normal stuff together? Movie night with Miles and Christine. Dinner night with Colin and Dawn. It’s like we can forget sometimes that we’re who we are.”

“I’m fine with who we are, baby. Who else could survive our sex life?”

They reached the flowered archway at the mouth of the tent and stopped for photographs. They smiled, posed, laughed, and hammed it up for the camera before they set off down the path to the second tent which had been set up for the reception. The rest of the night passed in a happy blur for Buffy. She laughed until her sides hurt when the band announced that the Best Man had requested a special song and dance with the Maid of Honor and began playing a cheesy version of ‘Wind Beneath My Wings’. The minute Spike took her into his arms, however, it became the most romantic dance she’d ever had and the kiss he gave her left her breathless.

A while later, she slipped her shoes off and stepped into the cool ocean water, hissing a little as the salt seeped into the blisters that had formed on both of her feet. “Ow.”

Spike, who had removed his shoes as well and was helping her hold her dress up, had to smile at the irony. “You know, it seems like only yesterday we were in this very same spot with you trying to fight me and me drowning you to teach you a lesson.”

“My how far we’ve come. The last time you tried to kill me was with sex last night. I’d call that a change for the better.” Buffy wiggled her toes and groaned in relief. “That’s it. I’m over strappy heels.”

Spike caught her arm and pulled her toward him. “Life is good, innit?”

Buffy looked up at him, cupping his cheek with her palm. “Life is perfect. We’re perfect. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Resting her head against his silent heart she closed her eyes. “I want to feel like this forever.”

He kissed her. “Forever isn’t long enough, baby, but it’ll do.”






~ 1 ~


Buffy took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and turned to face the monster that had been steadily increasing its size in the past few weeks. It was mammoth, dominating the small space that she liked to call hers. She crossed her arms and glared at it, daring it to make a move, but it didn’t. It sat, mocking her and she came close to growling when Harmony strolled into the office and added yet another folder to the pile that took up every conceivable surface of her desk.

“Are you ever going to finish these?” Harmony asked, indicating the monster that Buffy had been contemplating moments before. “I mean, this is why you have filing cabinets and if I can file then so can you.”

Buffy began to hum ‘Another One Bites The Dust’ and grinned when Harmony fled the room without another word. With a sigh, she sat down in the buttery leather chair behind her desk and took a deep breath. It wouldn’t be hard. After all, in the amount of time she had worked at Wolfram and Hart she had closed every case file on her desk. What remained was for her to read through the accounts of the cases, file the ones that were correct and to correct the inaccuracies and send them back out to reporting. Instead, she kept pushing them aside, rearranging and moving to the next case.

The bone deep exhaustion she felt manifested itself in a loud yawn and Buffy contemplated shoving the work wily nily into a drawer someplace and leaving on time for a change. It would be incredible to actually spend more than fifteen minutes with Spike that night. They lived together, slept in the same bed, but with the hours she kept their time was very limited. She had her own suspicions as to why, but hadn’t said anything yet. It was building, though. It had been far too long since they had been able to do anything except kiss goodnight and fall asleep.

Defeated, she opened the top most file and read through the account of the assassination of a Fergunga demon that had been preying on virgins in the valley. She read through the facts, which she had relayed to the Reporting Division herself and signed her name with satisfaction that it had been recorded correctly. Standing, she gave herself a pat on the back and then carried the file to the corner and stored it under ‘F’ for Fergunga.

“One down. One trillion to go.” She poked out her bottom lip as Harmony charged in, dropped another folder, and ran back out. “Damn it.”

“Bad day?” Spike poked his head into the room and smiled at the picture she made, leaning back against the wall with a lost look on her face. He surveyed the mountain of work and grinned. “This is actually something you have to do every single day, love.”

“Who has the time?” she snarled, slamming the ‘F’ file closed and stalking back to her desk, where she flopped into her seat. “Between the planning, the killing, the reporting, and the other things like eating and trying to sleep for about four hours a night that is.”

Spike frowned. It wasn’t the first time he had considered how exhausting her new role as the Head of Assassination had become. For months, she had thrived on the momentum, the fast pace of things, the Slaying and the deadlines. The rush in her veins felt like coming home to her and she enjoyed it immensely at first Now, however, he could see the physical toll it was taking on her. “Let me help.”

“Unless you can wave a magic wand --”

“Baby, you told me about most of these. I know what happened and I can check it just as well as you can.”

Buffy gave a contented sigh. “I love it when you call me that.”

Kissing her on the top of the head, he reached past her and grabbed a stack of files. “We’ll get it done.”

They worked together for the rest of the afternoon, pausing to eat lunch and make a few corrections in the reporting of her assassinations. Finally, Spike put his last file in the proper place and stretched. “Next time you’re on your own. This was my day off.”

She closed her remaining folder and propped her hand on her chin. “Can I ask you something?”

“Always.”

“Maybe it’s nothing, but-”

“What?” Spike asked her when she trailed off.

“Do you get the feeling that Angel is trying to purposely keep us apart?”

The thought had definitely crossed Spike’s mind and he had confronted Angel about it weeks before. When he heard Angel’s explanation, however, he realized that it was Buffy’s own fault. At Angel’s request, Spike had not said anything about it and agreed to let her work through it herself. He hadn’t known it would take quite so long, though. He shrugged, appearing nonchalant. “I don’t know. We’re busy.”

“That’s it? We’re busy?”

“We’ve got a job to do.”

“Well, I can’t keep doing it. I only see you for ten minutes here and there.”

“You just saw me for the entire day.”

“I need you the rest of the time, too.”

“And here I thought we’d be together at least a year before you’d put me on such a short leash.” He smiled when he saw that Buffy wasn’t sure how to take his comment. “Not that I mind. I’ll even help you pick out the chain.”

She grinned a little. “It just feels like my entire life has become Wolfram and Hart. I didn’t stay in Los Angeles just to work here. I stayed to be with you and I don’t feel like I am.”

“If you want to transfer jobs, pet, you can talk to Angel.”

“No. I don’t want to transfer. I actually like being paid to do what I was doing anyway. I just don’t have to like working twenty hours a day most of the time.”

“So talk to Angel.”

Buffy frowned. Since she had been at Wolfram and Hart her interaction with Angel had been limited to the occasional hello in the elevator or briefings in the conference room about new targets and threats. The ease with which they used to speak had been replaced with an all business approach that didn’t allow for small talk or idle chatter. The only time that she had seen him outside the office had been when she was patrolling and stopped for a coffee. He had been leaving a restaurant with Nina and Buffy quickly turned the other way to avoid *that* awkward encounter.

It had become commonplace to see Nina around the office, visiting Angel, bringing him blood, talking to Fred. Fred had actually been the one to introduce Buffy and Nina. It hadn’t been as strained as it could have been, but Buffy felt as though every pore on her face had been scrutinized and found lacking by the other woman. Buffy had made a habit of staying in her office as much as possible unless she had something pressing to do.

“What are you thinking?” Spike asked her.

Buffy jumped a little, startled as he wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her shoulder. “I don’t want to talk to Angel.”

“You want me to do it?”

“What would you say, Spike? I haven’t shagged the Slayer in over two weeks! We need to get off. Literally. I don’t think that will win us any points.”

Spike grinned and stated what was right in front of her eyes. “Or you could let the other people in this department pull some weight and stop doing it alone. They keep asking when you’ll let them do the job they were doing before you got here.”

Buffy suddenly felt very stupid. The department had been running fine for years without her. Of course there were other capable people and instead of utilizing them, she had done everything herself. It wasn’t possible to keep the blush from creeping into her cheeks. She was bitching about something that she had created.

As if reading her mind, Spike said, “You’re used to doing things yourself. Even with a million new Slayers running around, you still want in on every kill. You still quiz Giles and your friends about what’s happening and you ache to be a part of it. It’s no different here. You just have to let other people do their share.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Tell the most hard headed woman I’ve ever met how to do her job? Not aching to get staked, love.”

“Never stopped you before,” she snapped irritably, then checked her watch. “I have to go get ready. There’s a demon that-”

“Let Miles do it.” Spike pulled her to her feet and gave her a kiss. “Tonight belongs to me.”

“Mmmm, that sounds good.” Buffy hugged him, then giggled a little as he playfully nipped at her neck. “I’ll talk to Miles. You think he’ll do it on such short notice?”

Spike nodded. “He’s been begging us to tell you that he’s ready and willing to go out without you. The man’s been training more than you have.”

“He could have mentioned it to me.”

“Some things you have to learn for yourself. We had to wait for you to realize that you’re not alone anymore.” Spike grabbed her wrist and checked her watch for himself. “I have to go do a few things. I’ll see you back at the apartment in an hour. Okay?”

“Absolutely.”

Buffy watched him go, her heart swelling with love. It hadn’t been easy for the first couple of weeks, living with him and getting used to his quirks. They had argued over the stupidest things, found the most idiotic things hilarious, and had finally begun to understand what was happening between them. Spike had been right ... it wasn’t perfect, but it was real.

She got her data together and called Miles and two other field agents into her office. After explaining how to kill the demon, what it used as a defense and where to find it, she gave them a list of weapons that they should carry and wished them luck. It was comical to watch all three giving high fives and bouncing in excitement. You would have thought that they had been given a million dollars. Buffy had not forgotten how the thrill of the hunt and kill felt. Granted, she had lost that for a while after Spike had ‘died’, but in the first few weeks she had taken over at Wolfram and Hart, that feeling had come back tenfold. It was exhilarating at times, stalking the demon, besting it, and earning the accolades of her co-workers. She found herself smiling at them, joining in their enthusiasm.

Miles hung back as the other two agents headed for the supply closet. He flashed a boyish smile, causing the dimples in his cheeks to wink at her. It was hard to believe he was approaching thirty considering his baby face, but the hard lines of his body were purely man and the women around the office didn’t mind talking about his attributes at length, even moreso after he had gotten married. He smiled and said, “I appreciate you giving me the chance to lead instead of follow. Even though I usually don’t mind following you around. It’s pretty neat to watch you in action. You’re amazing.”

“Are you kidding? You almost kick my ass every single time we spar. That’s amazing.”

“I think you let me.”

“Well, not completely.” When she had taken the position, Miles had been the first to welcome her, the first to pick her brain about past demons she had faced and the first to volunteer to partner her on their search and destroy missions. She had taken an instant liking to him and enjoyed his company when they were researching or lamenting the long hours over a bag of M&Ms. “But I wouldn’t let you do this tonight if I didn’t have faith.”

“Faith, my ass.” Miles sat down across from her, tilting his chair back as he studied her. “You have a date, right?”

“Shut up,” she said, grinning at him. “I earned it. Did you not just tell me last night that I needed a day off?”

“It’s a record or something. You bagged what ... three hundred? Four hundred? Just since you been here?”

“Just call you King of the Overstatement. Of course, it felt like a million when I had to file it all this afternoon.” Buffy opened her drawer and took out a jar of candy, taking out a Tootsie Roll and holding it out to him. “So, what’s the game plan?”

Miles unwrapped the candy and stuffed it in his mouth. “Kill it.”

“Can you get more elaborate-y?”

Chuckling, he said, “I did the research on the demon myself, Buff. To get more ‘elaborate-y’, this thing is too weak right now to head into the city. It’s sticking close to the cave and eating little forest creatures to build up its strength. We’re gonna let it feed, get tired, and take it out inside the cave while it’s contained.”

“Keep in mind that the more it feeds on animals the stronger it is. So if you get a chance in the woods ... while it’s feeding ... then nail it. It may come back to the cave and have more strength so fresh from the hunt.”

“You just finished telling me that you have faith in me.” Miles grabbed the candy dish from her with lightning speed, dug out another Tootsie Roll and winked at her. “So, what are you doing tonight?”

“Hopefully I’ll get plenty of sleep.”

“Yeah, right. You forget that I’m just down the hall. The walls are thin.”

“It’s not like you and Christine don’t do your fair share of keeping people awake.”

“Newlywed here.” Miles flashed his ring at her, then studied it himself, rubbing it as he often did when they patrolled.

“It’s nauseatingly cute,” Buffy assured him. “If anything happens tonight, I’ll have my cell on and I’ll-”

“You’ll turn your phone off, rest, relax, and have the perfect night.” He tossed the candy back and her and stood. “I’ll see you tomorrow, squirt.”

Buffy watched him go, smiling. As he reached for the knob, her smile faded and she said, “Maybe I should come with you.”

Miles stuck his tongue out at her. “Quit being a martyr. Go, be in love.”

“Be careful.”

“If I can’t, I’ll name it after you. Or on second thought, I wouldn’t do that to my kid.”

Buffy threw a piece of candy at him, but he had already shut the door. She sat at her desk for a while longer, watching as the sun began to set. Finally, she filed the remaining folder, straightened a photo of her mother that she kept on her desk, and took a deep breath. Maybe delegating the work wouldn’t be so bad. And maybe if she could stop worrying about the tasks she had delegated she would be able to enjoy the night.

*~*~*~