TITLE:
Darkest Before Dawn #50/50 "Ever After"
AUTHOR:
Nmissi
PART: 50/50
RATING:
R (For Series)
DISCLAIMER: I own Nothing and No one. Especially not Spike. If I did,
what makes you think I'd share him with you?
DISTRIBUTION: Anybody, just credit me and let me know where it's
going.
Feedback: Please. Nmissi@aol.com
SUMMARY: The way the world would work if I wrote the Buffyverse.
"I look stupid," the girl moaned,
flopping into an overstuffed chair. Beside her, Anya worked on Willow's hair,
ornately braiding it into a crown.
"You don't look stupid, Dawn. You
look like a Maid of Honor," she chastised.
Dawn rolled her eyes, and opened the
little pink purse that matched her froofy pink dress. She pulled out a pack of
cigarettes, and lit one.
"Dawn! What are you doing, where did
you get those?"
Willow's outrage caused her to jerk
her head, and Anya shoved her back in the chair with equal force.
"Quit moving or I won't be able to
do this," she said.
Dawn breathed out minty smoke and
gave Willow a shrug.
"I bought them. I'm sixteen now,
it's legal."
"You might be legal, but Dawn…You
know Buffy wouldn't like it." Willow was trying to understand, but it was
difficult.
"Dawn's just acting out. Right Dawn?
You're venting your displeasure with the changes in you life by smoking,
drinking, running around with boys, right?"
Anya smiled helpfully at the
teenager.
"I do watch television you know.
This sort of thing is very normal. Only be careful…I've noticed that girls who
don't grow out of this phase tend to wind up in trailer parks. With five kids.
And
food stamps," she added.
Willow winced, but whether it was
Anya's firm grip or her biting honesty that caused it was anyone's guess.
Dawn stubbed her ciggie out in an
ashtray.
"Don't worry. I'll probably grow out
of it."
As she stood up, black Doc Martens
peeked out from under the hem of her gown.
In another dressing room, Spike
pulled at his collar and growled at the groomsman.
"I should never have agreed to this.
Who ever heard of someone like me gettin' married in a sodding church? Who ever
heard of someone like me gettin' married?"
Xander fixed Spike's tie for the
tenth time that morning.
"Whoever heard of anybody like you
in the first place, Spike?"
"Yeah, well… This better be my last
bloody wedding. Next time I'm in a building like this, it'll be for my
funeral." He insisted.
Xander ignored him. Instead he did a
mental catalogue. Rings, Check. Car keys. Check. Speech for the reception.
Check. Money to pay the DJ. Check…
He was good to go.
Giles entered the room, and gave
Xander a look.
"I think I'll go see if the
organist's here yet," he commented. He didn't meet the groom's eyes, just
ducked out of the room.
Spike raised an eyebrow at Giles.
"So. You here to off me now,
watcher?"
The older man cringed a little at
that, but only for a second. Then he pulled his shoulders back, and held his
head high.
"No, Spike. I'm not here to kill
you."
His voice was resigned; weary.
"I only wish to speak with you for a
minute."
Languidly the groom draped himself
over a chair. He fumbled in his pockets for a moment, and pulled out a small
package of gum. Popping one in his mouth, he gestured at Giles.
"Go on then. Get it over with. Tear
into me at will. 'You're a waste of space, Spike. You're not good enough for my
girl, Spike. Why don't you go play in traffic, Spike.' Go on. I'm anxious to
hear if you've any newer material."
Giles pushed his glasses up onto the
bridge of his nose. His pride smarted. But he could do this; he would do this
for Buffy.
"Can we please dispense with this
attitude? There's no love lost between us, I know that. But I'm here to make
peace with you, Spike. For the sake of my girls, I want to-"
"You want to What, Rupert? Bury the
hatchet? I think you buried it in my back already, when you sicced the INS on
me."
"Yes, well. I'm- Sorry about that."
"And you tried to buy me off. Any
idea how insulting that was, mate?"
He sniggered.
"As if I'd take money to leave them.
What arrogance."
Giles bit his tongue, hard. He knew
Spike wouldn't make any of this easy for him.
"Spike, look. I'm not going to stand
here and listen to an index of my sins. I came here to make an honest apology.
I love Buffy, I love Dawn…I thought you were an unhealthy influence on them. It has become apparent that I may have
been incorrect in that assumption. But I will not stand idly by and be
berated-"
Suddenly Spike laughed, a
full-throated hearty exclamation of amusement. Giles looked on in horror,
wondering if he'd finally gone mad.
Spike rose, and clapped Giles on the
back.
"Oh, you should see your face,
Rupert. S'brilliant, simply brill."
He got hold of himself, chuckling
mildly now. Tears were in his eyes, and laugh lines around his mouth.
"It's okay, mate. No big deal. I
understand."
His eyes lit with a warm glow.
"Do you think I'd behave any
differently than you? Some drunken demonic snot sniffing around MY daughter?"
He snorted.
"I think you were rather reserved,
considering."
He softened his voice, and tried to
impress upon the other man his earnestness.
"But seriously, Giles. I love her. I
love them both. And I want you to know, I'll do everything in my power to keep
them both happy, and safe. I want to take care of them, all three of them,
Buffy, Dawn, the baby…"
There was wistfulness in his
tones, as he went on.
"I haven't been part of a family in
a long while. But I want to do right by them. I will do right by them. You have
my word."
Giles patted Spike's shoulder
awkwardly, and noticed that his eyes were watering.
It must be the humidity, he
reflected.
"Well now. Er… Um… Perhaps we should
see about getting you married then."
Buffy had escaped the chaos of the
dressing rooms, to lurk here in the rose garden outside the church. Carefully,
she picked her way through the paths, minding her dress and her shoes.
Mom had always liked roses, she
mused, as she plucked one.
The thorn bit into her skin, beading
blood on the surface. She gazed into the droplet, thinking about her life.
There was a time she never thought
she'd see a day like this one.
She remembered the aftermath of that
first spell, when Willow had willed them married. She recalled disappointment
and despair.
Not because she loved Spike, because
when the spell wore off, she hadn't. But the terrible loss of that dream of
hope, it had affected her for months to come. It had propelled her into a
disastrous relationship with Riley. To go from such pure joy and hopefulness,
back to loneliness and desolation proved too much for her.
She'd had everything, for that one day.
A man she adored, who adored her, and a beautiful future ahead of them.
Only when she recovered from the
magic did she realize the future was a lie, a thing she'd never have.
Until these last months she'd
honestly thought such a day would never come. There would be no marriage, no
children….No future for her outside from her impending end, destined to come in
the heat of battle.
But hope was alive with in her now,
she was allowing herself to dream and to plan. She was the Slayer, yes, but she
was so much more than that. She was a sister, a daughter, and a friend. Soon
she would be a wife, and a mother.
Perhaps what let her forebears give
in so easily was the absence of those ties. Spike had tried to tell her as
much, once before. She was unlike any Slayer who had gone before her. Her fate
need not mirror theirs.
Together, she and Spike would create
their fate, they would map a future unlike any who had gone before them.
The blood on her finger had crusted,
and she swiped at it with a fingernail, revealing healed, healthy skin beneath.
She said a prayer to God, thanking
him for the gifts in her life. There were so many; Dawn. Spike. All of her
loved ones.
And the baby. The baby was the
greatest gift of all.
She only wished her mother could be
alive to see this day.
Yet she felt her presence all around her. Within her,
and surrounding her, giving her strength and comfort.
"Buffy?"
She looked over to see Giles standing at the edge of
the rosebushes.
"Buffy, they're waiting for you."
She gave him a radiant smile.
"Then let's go," she said.
"The wedding was just lovely,
Tara." Willow soaped the blonde hair
gently, as she smoothed the tangles. " Buffy's dress was perfect. All flowy and
filmy…not even a hint of lil baby belly peeking through."
Tenderly she rinsed the shampoo out,
and then rested Tara's head against her. The bathwater came nearly to her chin,
lying against Willow's breast.
Willow leaned over and pressed a
kiss against her love's forehead.
Looking into the empty, doll-like
eyes, she went on.
"They're going to England until the
baby comes. Spike has a house there; they're going to get Dawn a tutor and live
there for awhile. We're supposed to head over in March, if I can work things
out. Buffy wants me to be there when the baby is born."
Willow wrapped strong arms around
Tara's inert form. When the girl began mumbling, Willow pressed a kiss to the
side of her face.
"I've almost got the ritual worked
out now, honey. It won't be much longer."
On the side of the tub, a hand of
glory perched in a silver dish, with a beeswax candle burning in its palm.
"You've seen patient 1012, our Jane Doe from last month's
terrorist attack at the hospital." The doctor stated.
His young assistant nodded.
"Why such large doses of Thorazine,
sir?" he asked.
The older man smiled at him
indulgently. He'd been much the same as this idealistic youngster once himself.
He'd thought he could reason with the world's madmen. It was why he'd gone into
medicine to begin with.
Time and experience had made him a
wiser man.
"She tries to hurt herself,
otherwise. She's given to delusions of grandeur; she thinks she's God."
The young man swallowed
uncomfortably.
"It's a shame, sir. One so pretty as
that."
His mentor nodded.
"Yes. We have to keep her sedated,
for her own safety. Sometimes she screams for her brother, other times she
beats the nurses with the stumps of her arms."
"Stumps?" the young one questioned.
Again, the nod.
"Yes. She lost both her hands in the
attack. When she's most agitated, she slaps other people with the stumps.
Repeatedly. She'll do it until the wounds tear back open."
He sighed.
"She's had her stitches done
multiple times, but she always tears them before the healing is complete."
He shuddered.
"I've never seen psychosis so
pronounced, in response to a trauma. She's so deranged she doesn't even know
her own name."
"It's gorgeous, Spike. You- You own
this?" she asked.
He grinned at her.
"No, love. We do. Come inside."
Buffy moved out of the front
gardens, and into the house. It was a magnificent structure, three stories
high, built solidly of stone and cedar. All around it were spring roses, and
hedgerows.
Inside, he moved about like a little
kid, sweeping dustcovers off of furniture. His bride watched bemusedly, as he
uncovered each chair, each table, like a Christmas present.
"I can't believe its all here." He
breathed.
"What's all here?" she asked.
He gave her a brilliant smile.
"The furnishings, love. This house
has been sold numerous times, before I got it back. I had no idea so many of
our things would still be here!"
Her brow furrowed.
"You grew up here?" she asked.
He nodded, and tugged her hand,
dragging her up the stairs.
He paused on the second floor, and
opened the door on the nursery.
It didn't look quite the same, but
the layout was unaltered. A large room, in an L shape, with cupola windows that
had toy boxes set in their seats. Overhanging eaves on one side made the
ceiling clearance lower; he remembered playing with a train kept set up in that
corner.
This room held many happy memories
for him.
He pulled her inside.
"This was our room. The boys, I
mean. Mine and Stephen's," he amended.
He looked around, eyes misting
in remembrance.
She touched his arm gently.
"I think it'll make a perfect baby
nursery," she said.
He pulled her close to him, sharing
her warmth. The child between them had just begun to round her belly; its
firmness pressed against him, and he caressed her with his hand.
"Do you think you can be happy here,
Buffy?" he asked, in all seriousness.
She leaned in close, to lay her head
on his chest. His heart hammered against her cheek.
"Yes. I think we can."