Author's Note: This picks up a few weeks from the last chapter. (But hey, look at me, not taking a year to post an update! Whoo!)
Author's Second Note: The music of Tom Petty's You Belong Among the Wildflowers is used in this piece. He wrote it, I'm just loving it. Listen to it if you'd like some atmosphere.
Part VII
"That's marvelous news." Giles kisses her cheeks and shakes my hand. "Well! Well, we must do something special. To celebrate!"
I'm in awe. Everyone looks happy. Everyone is hugging in the back of the Magic Box as Buffy shows them my name on the mortgage and my driver's license, and explains what such legal largesse means for our future.
"Spike and I are getting married."
The silence is absolute— then absolutely deafening, a cacophony of screams and exclamations bursting from all sides.
I turn to Anya, the one I expect to be gushing and jumping the most. She loves weddings. She loves planning. She loves spending other people's money and I was hoping she might help me with the ins and outs of buying Buffy a ring. I know how to. I know what I want to get her. I want to get her a rock that I lift out of the British Museum or the Smithsonian, something you might need a forklift to shift.
Because she's mine and she said so. If she wanted to brand me, I'd let her. Might be a bit of fun, but she wouldn't think so. I'll settle for my eventual wedding band.
Which brings us back to Anya, the most recently celebrated bride.
She is the only one who doesn't look happy.
"What's up?" I mutter, slipping away from the circle of shrieking, hugging people.
"I think I'm going to be sick," she hisses.
I frown. That's a bit harsh. "Thought you didn't object to interspecies marriage," I protest, faintly wounded.
"Well, I—" she gives Xander a desperate look, but he doesn't see it. He's talking earnestly with Willow about whether or not he would wear a bridesman's dress if it was required. She didn't wear a suit when she was his best woman. Buffy planned to have Dawn be her maid of honor anyway and if Rupes will walk her down the aisle, then I suppose the carpenter is my best man. He's grown on me.
And Anya always liked me. I thought. "Well what?" I challenge, trying to stay relaxed. Buffy wants this. No one else matters. Only… well, they've all grown on me, haven't they? I didn't expect them all to be this joyful, but I can't help but like it. It's a bit jarring to find Demon Gal is the lone hold out.
"Xander said I'm not allowed to say anything."
"How the hell did he even know?" I demand in an undertone, pulling her further away.
"Know?"
"About the papers and the unofficial engagement!"
Her cloudy face clears, then darkens again. "Not about that!" she hisses impatiently.
"What then?" I shake her, probably rougher than I should.
The tight, tense face changes abruptly, and I bless my vampire reflexes.
"Honey!" Xander leaves Willow's side.
Willow blinks at the pile of vomit between Anya and me. She mutters something and snaps her fingers. The floor is springtime fresh. Anya is not.
"What in the world? Anya, are you ill?" Giles hurries over.
Anya glares at her husband. He sighs heavily. "You can tell."
"Buffy will be mad at me."
"Huh? What? No, I won't. What's happening?" Buffy hands me back all of my freshly created documents and leans against me.
"I know how important weddings and engagements are!" Anya protests, burping miserably.
"Honey, just spill your guts. I mean, tell."
"Congratulations, everyone. You're about to be aunts, uncles, and grandpas." Anya pats her stomach with a wan smile.
Buffy rips herself away from my side so fast my skin practically burns. She's hugging Anya gently and Xander fiercely. She's hugging everyone, whispering over and over again, "A baby? A baby!"
She looks so happy. Awed. Wistful?
Shit. Am I in trouble?
She falls off of me, legs spasming, full of my love and my heat, my words burning in her ear, my bruises and love bites across her skin.
Never much thought about it, but no matter how often we make love, how hard we take one another, there's never going to be a baby of ours.
"I'm sorry." It catches me off guard, whispered in the dark before I can stop it.
"No apologies needed. The bed didn't even break this time." She laughs softly. "You have to admit, Xan did an amazing job reinforcing the bed frame."
Xander. Mr. Average. Well, Mr. Average but quite useful after all. He's a good fighter. He's loyal (to a fault, the git). He's got swimmers that swim.
"You're not actually jealous that they 'stole our thunder', are you? Anya wanted to tell everyone the second she took a pregnancy test and Xander was trying to get her to wait until she was further along." Buffy rolls over and kisses my neck, playfully nipping my ear.
Mm. Princess wants a second round. My cock rises at once, happy to oblige.
I roll over, on top this time. I love the sight of her riding on me, but I also love the sight of her under me, especially when she's happy and feeling playful. She is, I can tell. Joyful, the way she smirks at me and cups her breasts, her heel rubbing along my spine as we twine up.
"I'm not jealous. I'm just… sorry. I can't give you that."
Buffy blinks, playfulness gone. "What? Sorry about not giving me a— Spike! That's why I'm so happy! It's them and not us! We can still babysit and love it and hug it and pinch its chubby little face and kiss its tiny little fingers and toes—" the wistful, wondering tone tugs at my silent heart— "and then we can give it back! I'm just getting used to the idea of being a wife! I'm not ready to be a mom!"
Well, that's good, but she said "I'm not ready," not "I don't want to be." I swallow hard. "But that's just it! When you're ready, I can't deliver."
"Oh. Well… I can borrow a cup of Xander." She laughs softly in the dark.
I pounce on her, growling, biting her neck softly, making her squeal. "Take that back!"
"Giles? He's smart and he's English, so that's at least more 'on brand.'"
"I'll get m' fangs out in a minute." She's teasing me, laughing so hard her belly twitches against mine, but I'm not laughing.
"Willy?"
"You're asking for a spanking, Missus."
"Oooh, Missus. Mrs. Spike Summers. I like it," she coos, completely aware of how naughty she's being.
It makes me smile, finally. The way she's teasing me about this— it means she's not worried. "You're horrible."
"You're wonderful. All I want. If I ever want to be a mom, you have to want to be a dad. And then? We'll find a way. But, um," she swallows, "I was kind of hoping we could just get Dawn and me through college and the next dozen apocalypses. And help with Baby Harris. Maybe Dawn's kids. And any more Baby Harrises. And maybe eventually any Baby Maclay-Rosenbergs."
I blink. "You're really not keen on doing this yourself?"
"I… I'm not against it. I'm not ready for it. I don't think Xander and Anya are ready for it. They'll need all the help they can get. I'm helpful. I think helping is our speed. I'd rather have a life of aunt and uncle-ing it than choose someone else. I want the kind of life that has you in it."
Her voice has gone all soft and sweet, all the naughtiness out of it, nothing left but the kind of passionate sincerity that could melt a lump of lead.
Fortunately, I seem to be made of stronger stuff. I cover that sweet smile with kisses and slide into her like I'll never leave.
Which is what she wants. Me. Always. "I love you. Always. And whatever you want, when you want it, I'll get it for you. I promise, Buffy."
"That's what I want. Just you."
You belong among the wildflowers
You belong in a boat out at sea
Sail away, kill off the hours
You belong somewhere you feel free
Run away, find you a lover
Go away somewhere all bright and new
I have seen no other
Who compares with you
It's a few weeks later when Demon Gal and I get a night off together. I swing by the store and leave Buffy to train with Giles. Tara and Dawn are doing homework. Willow and Xander are running the register and the front of the house. Very convivial.
Bloody strange.
I like it.
"I have a bag of wedding magazines for you and Buffy."
"No rush. Not sure we're going to have a big do. Might be in the backyard. Actually," I look at the sky nonchalantly, "I wanted your help with a delicate matter."
"What kind of delicate matter? If you have vampire sex problems, I can recommend a good warlock in Van Nuys who—"
"A ring!" I yelp. "Can you help me pick one Buffy would like? I want to get her the biggest ring I could swipe— I mean, afford. Don't know if she'd like that."
Anya considered. "I see what you mean. The Buffy that drools over the Neiman Marcus catalog would like a big, fancy ring to make the Cordelia Chases of the world green with envy."
"Yeah, but the Buffy who runs around tryin' to save the world and would rip the head off a cadaver demon on her way to study at the library might like something a bit more practical."
"She'd also like something purchased, Spike. Not stolen."
I groan. "That narrows it down a lot."
"Pawn shops have lots of interesting things, especially around here. I could probably pick up some stock for the Magic Box, too."
"I'm not lettin' you go down to the pawn shops in this town with a little nipper on board! Harris'll hang me, not that it'd do him any good."
"Awww. You'll be a great uncle."
"I hope so."
"And a wonderful husband." She leans over and pecks my cheek.
"You think that?"
"Everyone thinks that, especially Buffy."
Buffy thinks I'm worthy of being her husband. Her life partner. The father of her future children, if she's ever ready. If we're ever ready.
"You're thinking about theft, aren't you?"
"No."
"Sex?"
"No. Well, sort of."
"Baby-making sex?"
"You don't mess about, do you?"
"Bluntness has served me well as a mortal," Anya says comfortably. "What's wrong? Did I jumpstart Buffy's biological clock?"
"No! God, I hope not. She and I are thrilled about your bundle of joy, Ahn. Can't wait to nuzzle its chubby little cheeks and —"
"Nip my kid and I'll decapitate you with my new set of Cutco knives!"
As if I would. I sigh and move on. "Deal. I won't do that! I'm jus' thinking ahead. Buffy wants me and I want that. I wish I had the whole package. Vampire abilities and a side of human swimmers."
"'Swimmers' are cheap and easy to get, relatively speaking. Buffy can visit a sperm bank."
I wince.
"Oh, come on! Think of it as a prosthetic!"
"I don't want to think about it at all. But I'll do it, if that's what she wants."
We finish our errand, out to her little sedan to pick up magazines and put them in the back of the Jeep. "Which pawn shop would you hit up first? Know any of the owners?" I ask.
Anya doesn't answer. She's looking in the shop window, eyes fixed on Dawn and Tara. Dawn and Tara's heads are bent earnestly over something in a big book as they sit together. "You love Dawn like your own sister. Sister-slash-daughter. Don't deny it. I've had a millennia of watching family dynamics— usually bad ones. You and Buffy are raising her like your own kid."
"Point?" Dawn's a sister to me, not a baby. A baby is… different.
"You don't care that she's not made from your DNA. You care that she's part of your family, part of Buffy. Lots of couples adopt and have donor eggs and donor sperm, even surrogate mothers! Infertility is—"
"I'm not infertile, I'm just dead!"
"Same deal, Cupcake," Anya says with a shrug.
God, she's never called me a pastry before. I shut my mouth. Pregnant women seem particularly vulnerable, yet fierce, and who knows where that Cutco set is?
"Difficulties with making babies is NOT your private cross to bear. No pun intended with the cross part. It might suck, but you're not alone, okay? Also, there's no guarantee that a human guy would have swimmers that swim. What's Buffy going to do, leave you and start dating again? Every time she sees a cute guy, she asks him to prove he's fertile?" DEmon Gal winces this time. "We live near a college campus. The chances of this going into extremely gross territory are huge. Buffy's too smart to pass up a sure thing." She sighs contentedly as if the matter is closed.
You know, I think it might be. She's blunt and not the most orthodox of thinkers, but I feel better. She's right. Buffy wouldn't necessarily be better off in the baby department with someone else. I'm a sure thing.
I look up and Dawn is just lifting her head. She beams at me, eyes lit up.
God, I love that little girl. Not-so-little girl.
My little girl, my Bit.
Run away, find you a lover
Go away somewhere all bright and new
I have seen no other
Who compares with you
"You seem to be in an awesome mood. Can you put me down? Patrol is more effective if both of us are ready to attack."
"In a little bit." I swing Buffy easily in my arms, chin resting on her golden ponytail. "Hey, Luv. I'm all legally documented."
"I know."
"What do you think about adoption? OW!"
Have you ever tried to carry a bucking bronco in your arms? A surprised Slayer is similar. She lurches and springs out of my arms, elbowing me in the solar plexus as she jumps to the ground.
"WHAT?" Slayer is now facing me, eyes wide and mouth gaping.
"No?" I smile nervously, leaning back against a tombstone.
"Spike, is this about babies?"
"When you're ready—"
"I don't know if I'll ever be ready! If I am ready, it'll be like ten years from now! Or twenty. No, probably not twenty, but somewhere close to twenty. At which point, my eggs might be all dried out and we'll have to consider adoption anyway, so yeah. That's fine." Her exasperated shout fades to a simmer. Her hands search out mine and hold them gently. "Spike, I don't care if we have a baby, or how we have a baby. I just care that whatever I do, I do it with you, however we can make it work. Did that penetrate your thick skull?" She releases me with a little shake.
"Yes," I growl, but I'm not mad. Kinda flattered. I love when she's a bit bossy. It's no fun to piss off meek agreeable people. "We sound like old marrieds already. Thick skull. Bossy bint."
Buffy leans forward, chin to my sternum. "I want to sound like old marrieds as long as we still sound like long in loves. Is that a thing?"
Long in love. Yes. I will be in love with her until I dust, until this world ends, and then wherever my ashes end up, I know I'll never stop loving her. I could never hope that she'd love me back like that. "Long in love with you shall I ever be." Damn. Poetic bits slip out when she stares up at me adoringly for any length of time.
"Wow," she breathes out like I said something wonderful. "And ever shall I be— long in love with you. D-did that work?"
She's right, really. It is wonderful. "Perfectly, Pet."
Hi Reader Family! Sorry for the long bout between updates. Lots of real-life stuff has been happening. Hope everyone had a blessed, peaceful, happy holidays. It's been a rough year (again). I have uplifting, light-hearted fluffy love in the form of my small-town romance if anyone wants some "American Girls" style vibes!
It's called Searching Hearts: Finding Home by M. Culler. Free with Kindle Unlimited, cheap if not. Anyway, good moods and comforting, cuddly thoughts to all!