Okay.
I really wanted to put the Buffybot in this story, but after the little "Juice Bar" scene, I realized that I haven't actually seen an episode with the Buffybot, except for that one where she's torn apart by motorcycles. And when you think about it, that's not really a great basis for characterization. So she's in limbo right now. Just pretend ...something. The juice bar's underground, and no one knows where she is.
Also, to Rainyday88 and any other readers concerned that Dawn may get called as a Slayer: Not in my little world. Whatever the Honourable Mr. Whedon does with season seven, I still maintain that Dawn is a total brat that really should be sent to boarding school far away from Sunnydale. (Though I'm trying to push her toward teammemberdom) The fourth Slayer is probably going to hail from some Eastern Hemispheric place.
...I've said too much.
~Star Mouse
@ @ @
"Blood?"
"Unfortunately."
"Ugh! Was it awful?"
"At first. Now, not so much."
They sat in the foodcourt, conversing over plates of rice, surrounded by bulging plastic bags.
Marion sat back and shook her head, in disgust or disbelief, it was unclear. Either way, Birdie gestured with her fork at herself, her face.
"Did you really think I was a total innocent with all-- this?"
Marion flinched slightly. It was kind of an unspoken agreement not to discuss Birdie's slightly grotesque scars. "No, I just--. It's sad."
"Yeah, well. It's probably for the best. I'd rather be the person I am than --naive. Credulous. Weak." She spoke into her rice.
There it was again. That heartbreaking monotone. Marion leaned forward, laying a hand across Birdie's own.
"There are other ways to lose credulity," she said quietly. "Other ways to become strong."
Birdie looked up into her Watcher's eyes. "Marion, how is innocence lost?"
Marion's brows dipped a moment. "...I--"
"Experience. It's always experience that destroys innocence. My innocence had to die. I would never be able to do the things I do if I was still so sheltered."
"And the blood?"
Birdie snorted, breaking the intense mood, and stabbed at her hill of rice.
"That's one innocence I'd rather not have lost."
@ @ @
Buffy was researching. It didn't come easily to her. It was too much like studying.
But now she was on a mission.
If her friends were doing the 'for your own good...' bit again....
She flipped purposefully through the pages.
Until she realized she didn't have a clue what the text said. She wasn't even sure about the language, except that it wasn't French.
She shut the book in a frustrated slam. She coughed in the subsequent dust cloud, and there was a heart~wrenching moment when the demon in her leaped at that instant of weakness in the cough.
She scrambled for the Powerbar in her pocket. Had to stay on top of it, until she was sure...
There was a knock at the door. It sounded like the knocker was either really scared or really excited. Birdie and Marion at the mall, Dawn "studying at Janice's", Willow doing her own research back at the suped~up computer at her place, Giles at Rupert's. Spike...
She tried not to run to the door, but ended up in a kind of 'sixteen~year~old~girl' hop~skip. She managed to calm down before she swung the door open, greeting the doorstep with her usual semi~apathetic demeanor.
"Buffy! You have to see this. They're beautiful. Mine's better, but yours are still gorgeous. I had to change the florist order, but it was worth it. Come on, I have yours and Dawn's, and you really need to try them on right now, so I know what to take back to get fitted--"
Buffy moved aside, slightly stunned by Anya's running monologue. She had gotten an impression of garment bags...
"Anya, did you change your mind about the dresses?"
"Yes! I had to. That other one's crap. I hate it. This one, oh!, Well, you just have to see it."
The soon-to-be-married blonde flung two of the garment bags onto the couch, and pulled down the zipper of the other, exposing ivory-silk.
As the dress emerged, Buffy's breath caught despite herself. "Oh, Anya..."
"Mm!" Anya did a happy little wiggle, and held the dress aloft.
Buffy, completely distracted, reached out and fingered the coarse, but somehow incredibly soft skirt.
"Anya-- It's beautiful."
"Mm!" Anya let herself just stare at her pretty dress for a split second, then turned to Buffy. "Come on. We've got to try yours on."
@ @ @
Spike sat in front of the television in his crypt. But he wouldn't be able to tell you what was on.
He was too busy kicking himself for being such an utter, despicable ponce.
The Slayer would be the death of him yet. That was the idea, after all. But it was torture to be around her. The way she moved, the way she spoke, the way that the way she thought was reflected in everything she did. She was a constant reminder of how *sick* he was.
That Slayer, the one whose soul he so admired, was the same woman that had used him for months. The same one that had driven him to Africa, for the love of ...blood!
As his thoughts grew more violent, he stood, pivoting away from the set, and started pacing, muttering British epithets under his breath.
He was working up a really good string of obscenities, when--
"Should I be taking notes, or are you making these up as you go along?"
He turned. "Bit. Thought you'd be at that Jenny's place."
"Janice," Dawn corrected, wandering further into the room. "The sleep~over thing got canceled. I sort of forgot to mention that to Buffy."
"Slayer still doesn't want you hanging 'round here?"
Dawn cracked a half~smile that wrenched at his heart. When had his bit gotten so world~weary?
"Na. She'd want to tag along. And I wanted you alone for a while."
Spike relaxed. The worrying, cynical, adult look was gone, and bit was back to the happy face. He gestured at the television.
"There's probably something amusing on the telly, if you like," He cast around for further entertainment. "Or we could have a go at the games on the cell phones."
"Oo! Yay!"
@ @ @
The room was dark, except for a blue~tone light flickering from one corner. Perspective drifts, until we see Willow in front of her computer, staring intently at the screen. The light illuminates her face from the bottom, casting harsh shadows. Every now and then she squint~blinks to clear the blear from her eyes. There are several empty Coke cans beside her, unsqunched.
She straightened a bit, and spoke aloud, just to alleviate some of the silence.
"Ah! Here we are, Mr. Computer. Good work. Let's see, now. According to this, which should be accurate, we summoned one of these...."
She scrolled down and read the script.
"And we can kill it by--. Oh; shit." She read down. "Yeah, shit. Definitely. Why does this always happen?"
She looked back at the computer. This kind of behavior was absurd. How much pain could the universe ask one woman to take?
She closed the laptop with a determined click.
Well, this was one pain that she could protect Buffy from. No one had to know. She'd find another way.
@ @ @
For the sake of convenience, let's just skip a few days...
@ @ @
"Now, what are you not going to do?
Xander fidgeted and looked at the ceiling.
"Flee."
Willow finished tying his bowtie, realized it was crooked, and started again. "Good. And what are you going to say?"
Xander sighed. "Uh, 'Anya, I love you, I always will, and ..." aw, crap "...and... This really doesn't change anything about my commitment to you, but now we get to pay more taxes and not get nasty looks from our grandmotherly apartment manager."
He strained to see his own neck, and Willow's hands at it.
"That wasn't actually that bad. Maybe I should just say that."
Willow shrugged. "Yeah, Anya would probably think it was sweet. It's actually a lot like hers was going to be the first time, if you'd stuck around to hear it."
"Oh, goodie."
Willow tugged the tie ends again, and leaned back to examine her handiwork. Better.
She looked up at her best friend, her former crush, her forever brother. He looked so nervous in his tux, like he was standing on the brink of manhood. But it was the good kind of nervous. Not the 'fight or flight' kind he'd had last time. The 'gonna run any minute now' panic that had led to a room of confused guests. This was 'gee, I can't wait to see what's for dessert!' nervous. He was ready.
She smiled at him, and her vision got bleary when her eyes squinted.
"I love you, you know."
He smiled back, fully aware of what this day really meant. The end of an era. The official overriding of the ultimity of best~friendship. After this, there would always be someone he was supposed to love more.
Because wife is so much more final than girlfriend.
"Yeah, Will. I love you too."
He held his arms wide, and she stepped into the hug.
"Xander?"
"Yeah?"
"I really am happy for you, you know."
"Yeah. I'm happy for me, too."
@ @ @
"So, what are you going to say?"
Anya fluffed her hair. "Same as last time. Except this time for real. And the ceremony will be a little different, of course, with D'Hoffryn proceeding."
Buffy stopped smoothing Anya's dress and looked up the sheer ivory incline to the demon's face.
"D'Hoffryn? As in boss D'Hoffryn?"
"Mm~Hm." Anya half~turned, trying to see her back in the mirror.
Buffy blinked. "Oh. That's nice."
Anya nodded like a five~year~old. "Yes, it is. And it was Xander's idea."
Buffy smiled. Meeting in the middle. That's what they'd always missed. Looked like Xander was finally bridging the culture gap.
"Anya, you guys are going to be so happy."
Anya picked at the little beads sewn into the bodice.
"I know."
@ @ @
There was a knock at the open door. Willow turned.
"'Ey, Red. Mind scootin', for a bit? Got a few things to tell the Whelp."
"Oh, it's okay, I can just sta-"
"'S guy talk, Red. Shoo."
Willow looked back and forth between Xander and Spike.
"Oh! Um..."
Xander waved a hand, never taking his eyes off Spike.
"It's okay, Will. Why don't you go check on Anya?"
Willow took the hint and left, shutting the door quietly behind her.
Spike watched Xander's slightly nervous movements.
"You alright there, Whelp?"
"Yeah. I'm fine. I really am." Xander ran a hand through his hair. "Last time? Not so good. But now I'm definitely seeing 'forever' as a ponderable thing."
Spike nodded slowly. "Yeah. Forever." He ran a hand through his own hair, unconsciously imitating Xander's gesture.
"Demon's a good girl, you know. She doesn't deserve to be hurt again."
Xander stilled.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "I know. I never meant to hurt her. It just sort of happened. And I don't plan on that kind of beating with an idiot stick any time soon." He smiled much smaller than he would have any other day.
"Any time in forever."
Spike nodded again. "Good. It's ...good. That you two resolved your issues."
Xander shrugged. "What can I say? Money~loving, bunny~fearing demon/construction worker. It was meant to be." He made a quick 'joke face,' but quickly switched to the less frequently seen 'now, seriously folks...' face.
"Spike, everything about this is perfect. Anya's perfect. All the stuff I pretend bugs me? Well, it bugs me, but I'm so glad it's there to bug me that I can barely think straight.
She's everything I didn't even know I liked until I got to like her. She's everything that I can't live without, now. It's like I'm addicted, and I'm about to be hooked up to a constant feed. I want this so bad. I want all of this-- the forgetting anniversaries, the getting old and pruney, the sitting in armchairs side by side and yelling back and forth, not totally hearing what the other one's saying.
I want to marry Anya and spend the rest of our lives getting to know her better. I want to spend the rest of my life worrying about her. I want to spend the rest of my life not hurting her."
Spike looked at the young man before him.
In 200 years, he'd seen a lot of youthful idealism die and rot. Newlyweds had always disgusted him. It was the way they never really believed that this would ever end for them. Had never believed that there were powers in the world that truly didn't care about their lives together. About their bright, wonderful futures.
He shuddered to think about how many of those futures he'd cut short.
But this was different. This was youth, and this was idealistic, but it was also tempered by a firm belief in the nasties in the world, in life.
It was hope smeared on determination.
These two had seen more than their share of death, of pain, of loss. And they knew how easily it could lash out at them. And they were risking everything anyway.
Just like true Scoobies.
Off Xander's slightly puzzled look, Spike shook himself, and managed a smile.
"That's good form, mate. Good form. You two-- well, I can't say you'll be fine, but if anyone can make it through life alive, it's you. Good luck, Xander."
Spike left before his image was tarnished forever.
@ @ @
Dawn's head beat along with the wedding march. Kind of a catchy tune, really. Dummdumdadum..
But there was something weird about it. She surrepiticiously checked the organ. Oh. It was probably the tentacly thing playing it. That would explain the extra notes.
Today was an 'alternate identity free' day, and the demon population was represented in full. Noticeably absent were troublesome, drunken, dysfunctional Harris relatives and friends from work. This was a day when the Scoobies could let their hair down about the real world.
Dawn stood at the end of the line of Marion, Birdie, Buffy, and Halfrek. Willow was lined up with Xander's guy friends, including Spike, Giles, and Clem. He'd had a little trouble thinking of close buddies to call on tux duty. Hence vampire and demon. Giles probably would have been in there anyway.
D'Hoffryn's service was ...different. A lot about smiting, in the event of future unfaithfulness or murder, and a lot of raving in latin. The members of the congregation versed in the language all seemed near tears, including... Her eyes narrowed... Spike. Yeah. Definitely moisture there.
She didn't even have to look over to know Buffy was crying rivers. She always did.
And then it was over. Anya was kissing Xander like there wasn't an audience of over one~hundred, and he was trying to pretend he cared that there was. And everyone was cheering and clicking and stomping and honking and making weird noises with their noses.
It was an utter freak show, worthy of any Scoobie event. The kind of thing that made the Osbournes look normal.
And she just couldn't stop smiling.
@ @ @
Hope you liked it. Far from over. Big stuff~ness going down next chapter. It's that stupid 'real~life' thing getting in the way again. I'll try to update soon, though. In all my free time, which, with band, extra classes, oh yeah, regular classes, competitions, and all my other junk, amounts to... Car rides, Sunday afternoons, and Wednesday between 4 and 6.
Don't give up on me yet! I'm also working on plottiness for my other serial, "Of Blondes that Bite and Stab." I should update that soon, too.
Thanks for reading.
~Star Mouse