Start, part Seven. Ok, the few ones are gonna be on a shorter sides, and
updates probably a day or two apart. This was written by me a while ago,
and I've been working on it a long time, but now I'm about to the end of
the pre-written things. I'm typing as fast as I can though. Thanks so
much for the nice reviews. The thing about Dawn? She's special, just like
her sister. And I like her most of the time, so she's in the the majority
of my stories. Anyway, keep the reviews coming. Here we go.
Thanks.
Tequila Sunrise
The next day passed in a flurry of appointments, and schooling, and work, but that evening, the five sat down, uncomfortably in the living room. On a commercial break, however, Spike slid from the couch he was sitting on, to kneel at Buffy's feet.
She looked at him quizzically, while Angel glared, Druscilla looked horrified, and Dawn... Dawn grinned like a fool.
"Buffy," he said softly, looking deeply in her eyes, "Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife, in the eyes of these demons, your darling sister, and in the eyes of the Powers, who must know, as they look down from their lofty posts, that I love you. And also, so we can keep Dawn. Will you be my wife, in sickness and in health? With the little marshmallows, and without? And finally, Buffy, will you wear my ring in front of that dumbassed whelp?"
Buffy laughed, and slipped the ring he held up to her on her finger. It wasn't her mother's.
"Spike... Where did you get this ring?? Did you steal it?"
"No, pet... It was my Mum's... She... She'd like you. And I want you to wear it."
This had just taken on a more serious meaning, and they both knew it. It wasn't simply the Social workers. It wasn't simply the sex. It wasn't simply the baby. This was the Hellmouth. And nothing was simple. Ever. "All right." As she spoke the words, she realized that she wanted him. Wanted him beside her, holding her hand. To tell all the stupid details of her day. And she DEFINITELY wanted him beside her in a fight. This was feeling too comfortable.
Dawn, hating to ruin the moment, said softly, "Umm... What's Spike supposed to wear tomorrow? I mean... Come on." She mimicked Buffy. "This is my fiance, *Spike*. Oh? The nickname? Long story. Please don't mind the black nail polish, black shirt, jeans, shoes and bleached hair. It's a staple of the 80's??"
She had everyone grinning but Spike, who took immediate offense. "'Ey. My clothes. At least I don't dress like the Poof."
A glance at Angel's pressed slacks and cream sweater had Buffy nodding with Spike. "Do you have anything?"
"I'll be here in the morning... I guess... Maybe I can walk in without a blanket. Ya know." He glanced worriedly into the night. "Maybe."
Buffy took a deep breath. "Yeah..." Fingered the ring on her left hand. "Maybe."
Finally they all slept, Spike to his crypt, Angel and Dru to their basement. And the sisters, exhausted, fell asleep in their mother's room; needing the link, and needing eachother.
End, Part Seven. Short, I know. More today. It'll be longer. Joss owns all.
Tequila Sunrise
Thanks.
Tequila Sunrise
The next day passed in a flurry of appointments, and schooling, and work, but that evening, the five sat down, uncomfortably in the living room. On a commercial break, however, Spike slid from the couch he was sitting on, to kneel at Buffy's feet.
She looked at him quizzically, while Angel glared, Druscilla looked horrified, and Dawn... Dawn grinned like a fool.
"Buffy," he said softly, looking deeply in her eyes, "Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife, in the eyes of these demons, your darling sister, and in the eyes of the Powers, who must know, as they look down from their lofty posts, that I love you. And also, so we can keep Dawn. Will you be my wife, in sickness and in health? With the little marshmallows, and without? And finally, Buffy, will you wear my ring in front of that dumbassed whelp?"
Buffy laughed, and slipped the ring he held up to her on her finger. It wasn't her mother's.
"Spike... Where did you get this ring?? Did you steal it?"
"No, pet... It was my Mum's... She... She'd like you. And I want you to wear it."
This had just taken on a more serious meaning, and they both knew it. It wasn't simply the Social workers. It wasn't simply the sex. It wasn't simply the baby. This was the Hellmouth. And nothing was simple. Ever. "All right." As she spoke the words, she realized that she wanted him. Wanted him beside her, holding her hand. To tell all the stupid details of her day. And she DEFINITELY wanted him beside her in a fight. This was feeling too comfortable.
Dawn, hating to ruin the moment, said softly, "Umm... What's Spike supposed to wear tomorrow? I mean... Come on." She mimicked Buffy. "This is my fiance, *Spike*. Oh? The nickname? Long story. Please don't mind the black nail polish, black shirt, jeans, shoes and bleached hair. It's a staple of the 80's??"
She had everyone grinning but Spike, who took immediate offense. "'Ey. My clothes. At least I don't dress like the Poof."
A glance at Angel's pressed slacks and cream sweater had Buffy nodding with Spike. "Do you have anything?"
"I'll be here in the morning... I guess... Maybe I can walk in without a blanket. Ya know." He glanced worriedly into the night. "Maybe."
Buffy took a deep breath. "Yeah..." Fingered the ring on her left hand. "Maybe."
Finally they all slept, Spike to his crypt, Angel and Dru to their basement. And the sisters, exhausted, fell asleep in their mother's room; needing the link, and needing eachother.
End, Part Seven. Short, I know. More today. It'll be longer. Joss owns all.
Tequila Sunrise