Faith lifted the lighter to the cigarette between her lips and took a deep inhale, blowing the smoke into the air. She was leaning against the wall outside the hall where Hank had decided to throw the rehearsal dinner. After ten more minutes of staring into her chicken for fear of making eye contact with Wesley, Faith had fled saying she needed to go to the ladies' room. Now she stood watching cars go by, getting her nicotine fix and feeling like slime. What she was doing--avoiding Wesley at all costs--was cowardly and sleazy. She was treating him like a one night stand, like she had treated Xander. Worse even, because she already owed Wesley so much.
"Those things'll kill you." An accented voice said behind her and Faith turned, a smirk on her lips.
"Hey. Shouldn't you be in there with your blushing bride?"
Spike shrugged, "Are you kidding me?" He lit up his own cigarette, "It's getting to be suffocating in there."
"You don't breath."
"Funny, Number Two. Very funny." He said, taking a drag off his cigarette and leaning back on the wall, one leg bent. "So. I know why I'm out here. Why are you?"
"Suffocation." She replied, tossing down the butt and stomping it out, "I would just hi the road, but I promised Willow I'd stay."
"You too? I only have fifteen minutes or so left till the witch lets us go." Spike sighed, "Till then, why don't you tell me what's suffocating you besides Cordelia's perfume?"
Faith smirked, but looked away, "Wesley."
"The other Watcher?"
"Yeah. I'm avoiding him."
"Because...?"
"Long, long story." She said, "I screwed up. Let's leave it at that."
"Fine with me." Spike looked at her for a moment, one eyebrow raised, "I like you, Number Two, we're a lot alike."
"Stop calling me that. How are we alike?"
"We're both killers, for one." Faith winced, but Spike continued, "And whether it's prison or a chip, both of us had to change fast. And now, here we are. Both like a bunch of white hats. Sad, but good I guess."
The Slayer looked at him, "You're going through with this wedding, right?"
"Yeah, looks like it."
"Because, Spike?"
"What?"
Faith stepped closer to him and grabbed his chin so he was forced to look at her, "Despite the history and the bullshit, despite the fact that I will always be "number two" next to Buffy, I love her like a sister because she's taken me in these past few weeks. Plus there's that whole slayer bond thing. So if you screw this up. If you hurt her, or her kid, you can be damn sure you'll meet my fist, then my stake. Got me?"
"Uh huh." He squeaked, then cleared his throat, returning to his normal voice, "I mean...yeah. I got you."
2003
Spike winced as Buffy cleaned the small cut on his forehead, "Bloody Hell." He murmured, and she blew softly on the wound to ease the sting.
"Big baby." She said absently, applying an antiseptic then bandaging the cut, "So...you're cleaner, you're patched up. Are we ready to talk?"
"No." He replied, taking one of her hands, "Can we just go to bed?"
"If you want. But I want to talk, Spike."
"We can. In the morning." He pleaded with his eyes and Buffy smiled, kissing him softly before backing away.
"Let me go tell everyone goodnight, I'll be right back up." She said.
Spike nodded and waited until she was gone to leave the bathroom and head back into the nursery to watch his daughter sleep.