¤

April

¤

“Hello,” she answered the phone.

“Hi.”

She had an instant smile on her face, sitting down on the bed in the room she had once more claimed at Giles’ house.

“Hi,” she said. “How are you? I called two days ago...”

“Angel told me. Sorry I missed you.”

“It’s okay.”

“I just wanted to call back, incase there was anything... I mean, any reason for you calling.”

“No,” she shook her head. “No reason.”

She didn’t know what to say and she felt like an idiot.

“How’s everything?” she tried, thinking it too commonplace a thing to ask, but now it was said.

“Good. Everything’s good.”

“I’m going to Vienna. First week in May.”

“For the Gemini seminar?”

“You’ve heard about it?”

“Angel’s going.”

“I know.”

“’Course you do. He didn’t tell me you were, though.”

“Did you ask?”

“No.”

She smiled again.

“Helps to ask,” she minded. “But you’re not coming?”

“We’ve had some trouble with our sources getting their heads chopped off for the past few months. Someone needs to stay behind, make sure the looking-into-it department uses their extra large eye.”

“Oh.”

“Is that disappointment I hear?”

Her smile was reborn, in the Broadway version.

“Maybe a little.”

“We’ll have to have another haphazard, completely unplanned run-in soon, then.”

She giggled.

“You’re stupid, you know that.”

“Only when you so graciously point it out to me,” he replied, humor in his voice. “Oh. Gotta go. Duty calls.”

“Take care.”

“You too.”

¤

“Did you pack your dress?”

“You may think I’ve gotten kicked in the head one too many times,” Buffy said as Willow stopped by her side, “but I’ve still got enough brain cells left to not go to a wedding without a dress to wear.”

“I just meant that it’s a long way back incase you forget it,” Willow smiled. “You look very pretty,” she added and Buffy returned her smile, then did a double-take, frowning.

“What?” she asked at Willow’s expression.

“Did you use that expensive shampoo?”

Buffy’s frown deepened.

“The one I gave you last Christma-...” Willow tried to elaborate.

“I know which one you mean,” Buffy snapped, closing her suitcase. “And yes, I took a shower. I refuse to sit on an airplane for seven hours and not at least feel good about myself during the first part of it.”

Willow eyed her.

“And you’re wearing that perfume,” she noted. “And your nice-pants.”

“There’s nothing ‘that’ about my perfume and there’s nothing special about these pants. Why don’t you just say what you’re thinking?”

Willow raised her eyebrows and Buffy brought her suitcase off the bed, pulling the handle out and walking to the door.

“He won’t be there,” Willow said, and Buffy paused long enough to confirm what Willow so easily had deduced from her spruced up appearance. “You think Angel would bring him to Xander’s wedding? You think Spike would come?”

“He came to the last one.”

“Yeah, would you want him to do it in the same fashion this time?”

Buffy grew quiet at that.

“And Xander doesn’t want him there,” Willow added.

“But he’s not the same as he was. They should bury the hatchet. There shouldn’t even be a hatchet to bury. The hatchet is underneath ten thousand tons of rock and dirt in another part of the world. They can’t see the hatchet!”

“Buffy.”

She sighed.

“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered. “But I really don’t see why they couldn’t just get along.”

“You mean why they can’t get along so you can get it on with the bleached blonde vampire,” Willow corrected, looking innocent at Buffy’s glare. “What? If you’re not gonna be honest about it, you need someone to speak the truth.”

“Oh, do shut up,” Buffy grumbled, walking on ahead.

¤

“Xander,” Buffy smiled, her hands on his chest as she took a good look at him. “No, nothing’s different.”

He smiled back, embracing her.

“But now he’s all growed up,” Dawn teased, giving him a peck on the cheek.

“Yeah, can you believe that he went through with it,” Jackie smiled, coming up to join them.

“Please, stop,” Xander muttered, Buffy smirking.

“Getting old?”

“Getting annoying.”

“We’ll stop,” Willow promised and he looked at her with a gaze warming considerably before hugging her tight for the third time. “Hey, don’t, or I know you’ll start crying like a little baby.”

“That’s true,” Xander nodded with a bashful look at his wife, who merely patted his arm gently.

“Oh,” she then said, placing a hand on her ever protruding belly. “I think we’ve got another slayer on our hands. You should feel how she kicks.”

She stated the last with a look at Buffy.

“He,” Xander said.

“Ever heard of a male slayer?” Jackie wondered.

“He won’t be a slayer,” Xander said with a reproachful expression. “He’ll be a soccer player,” he then proclaimed, already full of pride.

“Maybe he’ll be a Watcher,” Giles said, stopping by them, a glass of champagne in one hand. “We have to be able to kick, in case you never noticed.”

Buffy smiled, sliding one arm to hook it with his and he met her gaze, returning her smile.

“I noticed,” she said.

Isabel walked across the lawn, taking Jackie’s hand and kissing her cheek before hugging Xander.

“Beautiful ceremony,” she complimented. “And this place is amazing.”

“Thank you,” Jackie smiled. “My parents found it for us.”

The garden truly was amazing, and decorated with ivory white which was reflected in everything, from the ribbons to the candles, it gave the impression of wanting to set a fresh start for the happy couple.

“Angel was very sorry that he couldn’t come,” Isabel apologized. “He had to go on a last minute trip. He sends his love. And Spike told me to give you all his best.”

Buffy tried not to be too obvious in how she immediately was studying Xander for his reaction, and she thought she did a good job, keeping her smile on and merely cocking an eyebrow slightly.

“Tell them we regret they couldn’t come,” Jackie said.

“They?” Buffy asked before she could stop herself, her smile widening as everybody turned their heads to her. “Well, I just didn’t know that you’d want Spike to come. Xander?”

“I didn’t,” he said.

“But I did,” Jackie stated. “We can’t invite Angel and not invite him. It’d be rude.”

“And I’ve told you Spike wouldn’t have come if we’d paid him,” Xander shot. He blinked, then corrected himself with: “Actually, I think that’s the only way he would’ve.”

“I think you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Buffy said, wondering what was up with her mouth and the constant opening of it. Xander met her gaze questioningly. “He’s not like that,” she added, feeling suddenly indignant. “Not anymore.”

She glanced at the people in their little circle, then broke away from it with a silent:

“Excuse me.”

“She’s right,” she heard Isabel agree, but she didn’t stop to hear the response.

She walked through the party tent and out the opening on its other side, proceeding between the trees beyond it, which clustered protectively together before they allowed her the view she had desired – of a stretching slope, and a sun setting slowly behind the far away trees lining the horizon.

She walked a little farther, until the sounds of mingling guests and the music setting their soundtrack faded, and then she collected her dress beneath her as she sat down.

What am I doing? she wondered, a wave of frustration rising just as her cell-phone rang in the small pocketbook she carried.

She brought it out.

“Yeah?” she asked impatiently.

“Let me guess what you’re doing,” Spike’s voice was carried through the ether, through spaces unknown and straight into her, where it reverberated in exquisite slowness.

Only then did she actually realize how much she had hoped against hope to see him there. Her hold on the phone tightened.

“What am I doing?” she mumbled.

“You’re dancing with a striking young fellow, while drinking whatever fruity drink is served, barefooted, and having a piece of wedding cake in one hand. Whipped cream.” He sighed. “I wish I was there.”

She smiled a little.

“There are no striking young fellows here,” she said. “And there’s only champagne, and,” she took off her shoes, “uncomfortably high heels and the cake hasn’t showed itself yet, but I bet you there’s no whipped cream.”

“Alright, I take it back. I’m fine where I am.”

“So you’d only come here for the whipped cream?”

He was silent for a while, a new smile spreading on her face.

“No,” he said, and she could hear he was smiling too. “You sound bored.”

“I’m not bored,” she said. “I’m... alone, and I don’t like it.”

“What? Xander’s not trying to fix you up?”

“People change,” she said.

“I’ll try it then.”

“Try what?”

“Fix you up. Where are you? Near any striking older fellows?”

“You’re going to fix me up over the phone?”

“Tell me what they look like and I’ll tell you what to say.”

“That’s very icky of you, and if I wanted to I could do it perfectly by myself, and the only striking older fellows coming to this shindig failed to show.”

“Buffy, you shouldn’t be alone.”

“So why aren’t you here?” she whined.

“Well... I’m working,” he replied, and she could tell he was smiling again.

“Play hookie. You close by?”

“The Alps.”

“Great,” she muttered. “And the grass is itchy.”

“Grass?”

She looked at the darkening sky above her head.

“I’m on a slope.”

“You’re on a slope,” he repeated, incredulous.

“I’m lying on a slope. And you were right, I’m barefooted. Though I wouldn’t have been if you hadn’t mentioned it, so I guess it doesn’t count.”

“You’re lying on a slope? Away from the party, too, no doubt. No wonder you’re bloody alone, Slayer. Get up.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s Xander’s wedding.”

The soberness in that statement got to her where it aimed to and she sat up.

“God, you’re right,” she said, standing and grabbing the shoes in one hand before heading back to the party.

“You have a good time now, you hear?”

She smiled.

“I hear,” she said.

“Take care, pet.”

“You too.”

She closed the phone and barely registered that she was still smiling as she reentered the tent. She walked up to Willow who handed her a glass of champagne.

“Where’d you disappear to?” she asked. “Secret rendez vous in the bushes?”

“No,” Buffy said.

Willow smirked.

“You talked to him, didn’t you?”

“What?”

“Ah, don’t start denying it,” Willow merely answered.

¤

A few days later they had left America for England. Being back in Giles’ house was comforting, somehow. A place where she knew all the nooks and crannies.

“You seem jollier as of late,” Giles said, making Buffy meet his gaze where they sat in front of a crackling fire. “Is the cause anything in particular?”

She shrugged, smiling and avoiding having to answer.

“It’s good seeing you smile with your whole face,” he stated. “It stopped reaching your eyes for a while.”

“Guess I was working too much.”

“Perhaps,” he nodded, then got to his feet, grabbing one of the various books standing on the mantelpiece. “Good night,” he said, heading out of the room.

She watched him leave.

“Don’t say it,” she then murmured and Willow’s eyebrows rose.

“I wasn’t even thinking it,” she assured.