Valentine's Day

For once, Spike woke up before Buffy. They had to leave early, but that didn't mean there wasn't a little time for loving first. They got right to it as soon as he'd fed and watered his bride-to-be, having brought her breakfast in bed.

"I want to remember every part of today," she told him, catching her breath, "So good already."

"About to get better, luv," he said, laying a gift on her lap.

Overcome with excitement, Buffy could barely open it quickly enough.

"That's y'r first present," he told her.

"There are more?" she asked, finally breaking through the last bit of stubborn tape with all of her slayer strength to reveal a silver box containing an antique necklace, with a blue pendent that matched her fiancé's eyes, and new silver bracelet to match.

"Necklace was me mum's," he explained, while undoing the clasp and placing it around her neck. "And the bracelet is Red's. Consider it something borrowed. As for your other gift… I, uh. Well, I'm taking your last name."

"You, what?" said Buffy, a little overcome with thoughts and emotions to form coherent sentences.

Spike chuckled. "May not be a traditional present, but you'll thank me later. Not having to go around calling yourself Mrs Pratt for the rest of your life is a definite advantage."

He was about to go on to add, 'Today's really me joining your family, than the other way round, anyway,' but Buffy cut him off by kissing him so forcefully he almost forgot his first name.

Several minutes later he had to pull away, and Buffy whimpered at the loss of his caress.

"Sorry, sweets. Much as I'd love to fit in another shag, we've gotta hit the road soon, and you haven't finished packing yet."

"Oh," she said, with a pout, before asking, "We have time for sex if we really do get hitched naked?"

Spike just smirked in reply, before pulling her out of bed and guiding her towards the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later, when they both were clean, Buffy asked for the hundredth time, "How am I supposed to know what to pack if I don't know where we're going?"

"Pack light. And wear leather," he told her. "It'll be best to travel in."

"Great," she muttered, "Now I have even less idea."

Taking pity on her, Spike finally caved.

"S'pose there's no point in keeping a secret much longer," he said, with a sigh. "I've hired us a motorbike."

"Huh?" was all Buffy could say, as he handed her a map.

"That's the route – marked out."

"We're… going to Scotland?" she asked.

He nodded, "Gretna Green, to be exact. It's were all the young lovebirds used to run away to, to elope."

She smiled then, "Sounds romantic. How long's this gonna take us?"

"Seven hours, or there abouts, including a stop for lunch somewhere in the Lake District. Why we've gotta get a move on. Having ourselves an evening ceremony, just before the sun sets."

Buffy was slack jawed. She had to use every ounce of her will power to stop herself from jumping on him and making love to him right there – to use her body to express love her words could never adequately capture.

"That's so…" she said. "You're so! You're amazing!"

In relief, Spike blew out the breath he'd been holding. His heart was hammering; stricken by the sudden fear that this was all a dream and that she'd come to her senses and reject him at the last minute.

"If I kiss you right now you'll have to pry me off with a crowbar, and we'll miss the whole soddin' ceremony," he said, earnestly.

"Was just thinking that," she agreed, wishing they could fast forward the day, but still wanting to savor it too. "I love you. So much."

"So much," he repeated, then he shook his head- to try and think straight again. "Go, get y'r leathers on. I'll be in the kitchen, trying to control myself."

With a soft chuckle she obeyed.

The ride throughout England was amazing. Buffy never knew the countryside opened out like that. It was like something out of a movie.

Their lunch was rushed, as the couple were still fighting their blood screaming inside them to join together in the most primal, physical sense. They had to keep moving. Had to keep focused on their task.

Buffy hated deadlines, even if they were for good things.

All of the apocalypses she'd faced and she still couldn't control the itch of waiting for it all to go down. 'That's what it feels like', she mused while gripping her lover tightly round the waist as they sped over hills and through valleys. 'You spend months researching and planning, but in the end it all comes down to a few minutes, when everything changes; when all that time pays off. My life is like one long lesson in delayed gratification.'

She gripped tighter.

Then, finally, they were there.

Gretna was a tiny village. Not what she expected at all. Though, she hadn't really known what to expect.

Spike pulled off his helmet and pointed to an immaculately cared for lawn.

"Right there, luv," he said. "Under the shadow of that oak. That's the spot."

She was giddy. Full of nervous energy.

"How do we get there?" she asked, and then pointed to her outfit when all she got in return was a confused look. "I'm assuming you've arranged somewhere I can get ready?"

"Oh, right. Yeah," he scratched his head and looked around. "There." He then pointed to a cottage. "Got us a guesthouse. I'll check us in. Get myself ready then head off to meet the minister while you get y'r frock on. Will meet you back at the door at 4.30, ready to lead you down the aisle. Er… garden path."

Buffy laughed. "This is some adventure we're having."

"Ain't it just," he agreed, opening the door to the guesthouse for her.

"Surname?" the receptionist asked.

"Pod," the ex-vampire responded, as the Slayer looked at him, confused.

As he waited for the key he kept his eye on her, wondering if it would sink in. Minutes later, when it evidently had not, he leaned in and whispered in her ear, "What name did I say we'd be listed under, if we had a daytime ceremony… in the park, under the trees?"

"Ohhh," she said, laughing again, "Big pile of dust, eh? Knew you were worrying unnecessarily."

"Uh huh," he said, "Didn't know prophecy was one of the Slayer's gifts. If you hadda told me we were gonna end up here it coulda saved me a whole lotta time."

"Maybe I like the scenic route," she quipped, before asking earnestly, "Worth the wait?"

"Damn straight!" he replied, a little too loudly.

The receptionist just looked at them at shook his head.

As promised, Spike arrived back at the front door to the guesthouse at 4.30, to meet his bride.

She showed up twenty minutes later, to find her groom in a panic.

The tirade of, 'Bloody hell, what kept you? I nearly had a bleedin' heart attack!' that he was about to unleash vanished from his mind, along with all other words, when he finally saw her.

Buffy was dressed in a champagne colored, floor length gown, not dissimilar in style to the infamous one she wore to take out the Master. This one had a short red train, though, to match Spike's dress shirt.

Her hair was long and flowing, in waves, and she wore the jewelry Spike had given her.

He gulped at the sight, and she shyly ducked her head.

"Sorry I'm late."

Finally finding his voice, he said, "Never be sorry, Beautiful," before laying a kiss on her forehead and linking her arm through his. "Ready?"

She nodded, and they proceeded towards the minister.

"Miss Summers," he greeted her, "Lovely to meet you. My, aren't you a vision?"

Buffy blushed, and pride welled in Spike's chest.

He'd outdone himself. Found the most breathtaking woman he'd ever come across, and somehow convinced her to unite her soul with his. It barely seemed real.

"I've been informed you have written your own vows. Who would like to go first?"

Buffy almost swore as she remembered she'd left hers inside, where she'd still been tweaking them until the last minute.

Misreading her sudden panic, Spike felt fear wash over him. 'Not real. Not real. Too good to be true. She's gonna back out.'

The look in his eyes – one she'd seen before. One she'd caused before, on purpose – gave Buffy what she needed to speak her heart and mind.

She grasped his hand, tightly, and uttered his name like it was sacred.

"William. You're my equal. Always have been, always will."

"No, Buffy," he began to argue. "Don't deserve you. Beneath you, remember? But it's okay."

He wanted to get on his knees and plead with her, promise to always remain less than her if she would simply let him stay by her side.

"You can't interrupt," said the minister, quite flabbergasted. "It's not the done thing!"

"Shut up," both Buffy and Spike told him in unison, not even glancing in his direction.

Buffy was annoyed with herself. "You look here," she told her groom, firmly. "You are not beneath me. Never were. I only said that because you scared me."

He looked guilty then.

"No. No, not like that," she carried on. "You tried to kiss me, and I felt something. Something I had been resisting for a very long time."

His face was now shocked. She'd never admitted that out loud to him before, though he'd often suspected it.

"You're feelings were always so raw, and mine needed to be guarded. I was scared to let myself react to you the way I wanted, so I did the opposite."

Suddenly Buffy found herself crying, "I pushed you away, Spike. And I'm sorry."

"Hey, hey, luv. None of that," he whispered, brushing away her tears.

"Spike, I love you!" she shouted at him, then a thought came to her, and she lowered her voice again. "I love you more than I ever loved Angel. I've never told you that, have I?"

He shook his head, in disbelief. "Really, luv?"

"Oh God, yes!" she said, shouting again, then looked at the minister. "Sorry."

He was completely stunned by the proceedings, and by the fact the groom seemed to have a rather odd nickname. Whoever Angel was he couldn't even begin to guess.

Buffy continued, "I want to marry you, Spike. I have no reservations, at all. I trust you completely. Even if you were to lose your soul tomorrow I still want my life to be with you. Forever. Till long after final death do we part!"

By this stage the minister had convinced himself he was on some kind of hidden camera television show. Although, looking about him, he couldn't spot a presenter waiting in any nearby buses.

Then the rain started.

Spike wasn't sure which streaks on his face were from his tears and which were from drips coming from the overhead tree.

"Bloody Scotland!" he exclaimed.

The minister shot him a most disapproving look, coupled with a shrug that implied, 'Well what did you expect?'

The ex-vampire turned back to his bride, to apologize for not having prepared for what really should have been inevitable, but was caught off guard when she just grinned at him.

"Luv?" he asked her; his voice shaky.

She continued to smile, and leaned in to kiss him, whispering, "I don't care about the rain."

He got caught so caught up in returning her kiss that the now slightly damp and more than slightly pissed off minister had to clear his throat several times to get the attention back on him.

"If we could wrap this up?" he said, "Haven't quite got to that part yet."

Spike smirked, refusing to apologize. "Right then, carry on."

"Oh, I…" he muttered. "I think it's your turn."

"Buffy," said Spike, while looking deeply into his bride's eyes, "I promise to love you for the rest of my entire existence, in whatever form that existence happens to take. I promise to protect you when you need it, and let you protect me when I need it, and not be a prat about it trying to act all manly."

That earned him a giggle.

"Knew I could get a grin," he continued. "This vow writing was harder than I thought. Promise to never make you do that again." – Buffy and the minister both gave a sigh of relief – "I promise to never make you do anything you don't want to do ever again, if you promise to be honest and tell me when you don't want it." – Buffy nodded her assent – "I promise to never let you forget how strong you how. How utterly amazing and beautiful and pure your soul and spirit are."

Buffy almost argued with him at that point, but was so teared up she couldn't say anything.

To conclude Spike said, "I want to promise you a million and one things, and I will. Anything you ask, for the rest of your life. I promise to try and always do my best for you, and I promise to stuff up too, because, well, I have no choice in that." He pointed to his chest, "Flawed being here. But most of all, what I want to promise right now, is to get out you outta this damned rain and back to the guesthouse where I can start acting on my promises. I love you, Buffy Anne Summers."

"That was beautiful," she whispered, before leaning in for a gentle yet deeply passionate kiss.

Spike picked her up, and the minister panicked.

"Sir, ah… William. Spike! You still need to sign the register!"

Pulling out of the kiss Spike rolled his eyes and muttered, "Bloody hell," under his breath before whispering in his wife's ear, "I will get you back in bed eventually. This day's been too damn long."

"I know what you mean," she replied, while blushing. "Go, lead the way. I wanna sign. Then photos."

Spike grimaced, "Photos? In the rain? With, uh…" he gulped, "No photographer?"

"You didn't book a photographer? Spike!" she shook her head and turned to the minister who had acquired an umbrella since the last time she looked at him, somehow, "That's it, don't wanna sign anymore."

He looked horror stricken, and Spike had to clap a hand to his shoulder, "She's joking, mate."

"You really are quite a pair!" he said, turning to walk the short distance to the church, "Follow me!"

They did, hand in hand.

Spike asked, while walking, "Are you a little bit mad about having no pics?"

"Nah," she answered, smiling, "Knew we couldn't afford a photographer. But we will get photos. Find a little gift shop, buy a disposable camera and do it ourselves. Be nicer that way anyway."

Spike shook his head. "Headed for sainthood you are," he said.

"Oh, yeah?" she replied, then lowered her voice to add, "Well, I was thinking maybe we could have an extra, intimate, little photo-shoot later too. But if I'm too saintly…"

He growled then, and the minister stopped walking to look at him in terror.

Spike ignored him, saying to Buffy, "You really are the perfect woman."

The resolve he'd been forcing himself to have all day, with being so close to her, to be able to look in her eyes and touch her but not fully enjoy her body was falling even more rapidly; was too far gone to care about the fact he had a raging hard-on in the house of God.

Luckily the paperwork side of things didn't take long, with Spike's deed pole papers for his name change already in place, simply requiring a signature.

They were headed out the door again when he turned on his heal to face the minister one last time.

"What now?" the man asked, utterly at the end of his tether.

The ex-vampire was in too much of a hurry to get annoyed by the snappy attitude. "Nearest gift shop? One that'll have cameras," was all he asked.

"Oh, umm…" replied the minister. "I don't know. This is a small place. There's no guarantee our shop will have any in stock. I'll lend you mine, it's in the vestry."

Spike nodded, "Quick as you can," before pulling Buffy into another heated kiss.

"I now pronounce us Man and Wife."

To be continued...