"Absolutely fascinating," said Giles, who was crouched down, peering at Spike through his glasses. "It's a shame we have to send him back so soon, it might be an opportunity to study the temporal disturbance here," he added.

"You're not studying anything about me, Gandalf," said Spike. He made a move to cross his arms, and let out a sigh of irritation as they pulled against the ropes.

Giles straightened up stiffly and took off his glasses, pulling out a handkerchief.

"On the other hand, best to get you on your way," he said curtly, memories of the old Spike drifting back to him.

To be fair, after almost a year in the countryside of England researching time magicks, Giles did sort of look the part of a wizened wizard. Or, a Grateful Dead fan. He now sported a long gray beard, longish gray hair and weathered hiking gear instead of a librarian's suit.

"I just can't believe you're here!" said Willow for about the seventh time. "Buffy is gonna flip!"

"Yes well, it's only for a few days," said Giles with a small smile. "But, I think we are on the precipice of discovering something vital. I might be able to come back for good in just a few months."

"Speaking of Buffy," said Xander. "Are we sure she's alright?" he leaned his head towards Spike, who in turn rolled his eyes.

"I told you," Spike said, clenching his jaw…

"Oh she's fine honey," said Dawn, slipping her arms around Xander. "I've been texting her all night to convince her that Annie and Joyce are having a sleepover at our place. They are gonna be so surprised," she added.

In the kitchen, Dawn and Xander's daughter, Joyce, and Willow's daughter, Frankie, were watching Annie as she leaned over the sink to clean green goo from her chest.

"That is seriously nasty," said Joyce.

"Yes, I'm aware," Annie told her cousin while trying to get a bandage on the wound before the oozing could start up again.

"I think it's kind of cool," Frankie said shyly.

"It is not cool," Joyce scolded. "Annie is a major bonehead."

"Yes, I have also been told that, many times," Annie said, struggling to get the bandage angle right.

She sighed in irritation, a little like the bleached-blonde vampire out in the living room.

Annie didn't want any more attention on her stupid mistake. She knew she wasn't the Slayer. It wasn't like she was trying to fight demons on her own, but if one shows up in gym class, you have to do something, right? And if it gets you a pass out of said gym class (just in time for the hair-frizz inducing swimming unit) due to your gnarly, gaping chest wound — well, it wasn't what she was aiming for, but it was a plus.

If only everyone but Coach Oaklee would forget about it. But, this green crap kept coming out and reminding people. When it came it also made her chest tight and her head kind of dizzy and sometimes she coughed up a little blood. Which was gross.

She didn't tell anyone though, because they were being weird enough as it is. Especially Dad, who thought it was too dangerous for her to go back to New Sunnydale High at all.

Annie pinched her eyes shut. Thinking of their fight after she snuck home from Bronze suddenly sort of made her want to cry right here in front of little Frankie and stupid Joyce. Dad had looked so...so...sad. She hated that.

"Hey, earth to Annie," Joyce said from across the kitchen.

"Hmm," Annie said, not particularly wanting to hear any more lectures from perfect, popular, college-scholarship Joyce. Things were much better when her cousin was back on campus.

Joyce was whispering now. "So what's the deal with Spike," she hissed. "Did he like, try to kill you?"

Frankie's eyes got so big behind her glasses that she almost looked like a cartoon.

"No!" said Annie.

How did she even hear about it?

"It was just one fight, he was upset that I…" she started before Joyce started that annoying stage whisper again.

"No, silly, not your Dad. I'm talking about Spike," she said motioning towards the living room. "How did you figure it out?"

"Oh," said Annie, frowning at the photo on the fridge of Spike holding her as a baby. "I could just tell."

"How?" asked Frankie.

"Would you know if your mom was, like, not really herself?" asked Annie, ruffling Frankie's bright red hair.

Frankie considered this for a minute. "Yeah, probably," she finally decided.

"Guys," called Dawn from the other room. "Where are those pizzas?"

They each grabbed a box and headed back to the living room. Parties on Buffy and Spike patrol nights always required extra pizza. Never knew how long it would take for them to get there.

"So," Spike was saying as they entered, "You never answered my question, pet."

He started intensely at Willow.

"Oh that," she laughed nervously as she searched for a book that was right behind her. "Really, it's a long, long story. Citizen Kane long."

"I quite fancy Citizen Kane," Spike said with a smirk, his gaze unwavering. "Orson Welles was a great chap," he continued. "Fun drunk, horrible poker player."

"What was the question?" asked Dawn with a mouthful of pizza.

"Um," Willow drew out the one-syllable word for just about as long as it could stretch.

"I want to know," said Spike, "How a vampire could have a daughter."

"Oh," said Dawn, looking down at her lap.

Xander, Willow and Giles also looked for random points across the room to focus their eyes on.

Annie felt like she was going to explode. She was so sick of people being delicate around her.

"Oh bloody hell, we should just tell him," she said, flopping down on the couch next to Xander. The motion caused a skinny-looking cat that had been sleeping on the arm of the couch to lazily yawn, stretch and jump down.

Spike looked at her quizzically, almost laughing. The words he used so often sounded hilarious, but maybe a little adorable, in her Buffy-style American accent.

"I say it sometimes," Annie said, shrugging, as she caught his eye. "We have to wipe his mind anyway," she said to the group. "And it will keep him occupied until then."

Slowly, everyone began reluctantly nodding in agreement.

The cat circled Spike's chair a few times curiously before jumping into his lap.

"Hey," Spike said, looking down. "Off, you."

It ignored him and settled down on Spike's thighs.

"Well," said Willow, biting her lip. Where should we start?

xxxxxxxxxx

18 years before

"So, what do you say, Slayer? Should we blow this joint?"

Buffy nestled her head into Spike's chest and looked up at the moon. They were swaying slowly to the sounds of Dingoes Ate My Baby near the edge of the rooftop, away from the still-crowded dance floor.

"Doesn't seem like they'll miss us much," she said, glancing back at their guests for a moment before looking up at her new husband.

Her husband. Yep. That's what he was. This wildly annoying, wildy stupid, wildy smart, wildy loving, Victorian momma's boy, Punk Rock vampire with a soul guy. She resisted it for a long time. And sometimes she still wanted to punch him in the face. But she never felt more at home than here.

"Mhm," Spike said, and she felt his agreement rumble through his chest, through his tuxedo shirt. He still wore the leather jacket and combat boots, of course, but he had agreed to the shirt and pants.

Buffy looked up at him now and saw his gaze fall to a faint pink line just starting to bud at the horizon. They would have to go downstairs soon.

"Thank you," she said.

Spike looked down at her, amused.

"For what, love?"

"Everything, I guess," she said, running a finger across his bow tie. "This. It's perfect."

"Wish it could have been a little…"

"Shh," she said, bringing the finger to his lips. "I said it's perfect. I can't believe you got Oz to play Wind Beneath My Wings."

Spike snorted. "Anything for my lady," he said, pulling back to spin her around with one hand.

"You know I love you, right?" she said as he turned back to him, hazel eyes glowing like sunlight through a canopy of autumn leaves.

"It's getting more convincing, I'll give you that," he said with a growing grin. Then, softly, pulling her in, "I love you Buffy. Forever."

And they kissed.

Sometimes, Buffy felt like she and Spike had a whole kiss language. They could have complex mystical discussions with kisses. Or arguments. Or chats about the weather.

This one was just love.

Without words, they started making their way to the stairwell door, ducking behind the bar. Spike paused for a moment and grabbed a bottle of whiskey as they passed.

"Hey," hissed Buffy.

"What," said Spike. "I bloody paid for it."

She yanked it from him, shrugged, pulled out the nozzle and took a swig.

"That's my girl," said Spike, tugging her in close for another kiss and walking her to the stair door as they continued.

"Ow!"

They had only made it a few steps before smacking into another canoodling couple hiding behind the liquor bottles.

"Oh hey," said Andrew, straightening his tie. "Congrats on the wedding. You guys are like, real Han and Leia quality."

"I always knew you kids would make it," Lorne added with a wink.

Spike and Buffy stared for a moment to take it all in.

"Cheers," Spike said eventually, a surprised smile on his face. He held out the bottle. "Want a swig?"

Andrew and Lorne shook their heads and leaned into each other.

"Thanks guys," said Buffy, still, a bit in shock.

"Well, carry on then, we should give you two some privacy," said Spike as he dramatically scooped Buffy into his arms and continued towards the door.

"Put me down!" she protested.

"You could make me," said Spike, kissing her neck. "Anyway, it's tradition."

"Since when are you traditiona…" Buffy started before dissolving in giggles.

Then, as Spike lifted a leg to kick in the stairway door, a rustling sound came from behind them.

"Oh come on," said Spike, lowering the leg back down.

"We give many blessings to the Slayer and her Champion, on this, their nuptial day," said a strangely accented voice.

Spike turned slowly, Buffy still in his arms. In front of them was a small man in brown monk's robes, holding a package.

"For you," he said, kneeling before them and holding it out.

Buffy felt the hand that was not clutching a bottle of whiskey go out to take it, as though it wasn't even part of her body.

"Your journey is long, winding, collapsing," said the monk. "Be well, we have all our faith in you."

Then, he was gone.

"What they bloody hell was that?" said Spike, looking around him.

"No idea," said Buffy as she inspected the package. "Although…"

"What, love?"

"He was dressed kind of like those monks...the ones that sent Dawn."

"Oh bugger," sighed Spike.

"Maybe they just wanted to thank me," said Buffy. "You know, for stopping Glory and everything."

"A few years too late for that."

"Yeah," Buffy agreed. "But, not something to worry about tonight," she said, moving in for a kiss. "We've got business to attend to.

"Oh yeah? What is that, beauty?"

"You've got to make me a proper wife," she said.

With that, Spike let out a growl and carried her down to their apartment, where they...didn't think about the monk's gift.

At least for a little while.