Torrid Immortality

Title: Telling Information

Authors: Amber Kupy and Daquiri Seffib

Email: amber_daquiri@hotmail.com

Rating: R

Summary: Buffy and Spike at Xander and Anya’s wedding, in our happier universe.

Spoilers: Up until ‘Older and Far Away’

Pairing: B/S

Disclaimer: We don't own the characters, we're just borrowing them.

Thanks to our partners in crime. We are literally nothing without you.
Also, thanks to our beta readers for your help.

This part is for H. Who I believe expressed a desire to see Spike stand up for himself. :-)

We love feedback! Tell us what you think at amber_daquiri@hotmail.com

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Buffy had seen him, of courlounlounging around the edges of the wedding festivities. Smoking outside, earlier. In back, at the ceremony. Just a little while ago, he'd been haunting the bar. She wasn't sure where he was now, and it was gnawing at the back of her mind.
Actually, it was the first time he'd been out of her sight all night. Not that she was watching him or anything. Anyway, he had walked out on her.
'Yeah, but only after you had been such a bitch,' a small voice sneered. The voice had been getting louder and louder over the past 8 days, 11 hours, 42 minutes and 35 seconds, give or take.
She wondered if he'd gone home. There was no reason why he shouldn't have. He was free to come and go as he liked. He'd paid his respects to Anya and Xander, and getting drunk with the Happy Meals probably wasn't a good idea for him anyway, chip or no chip.
She squished down the voice in the back of her head, resolving to put him out of her mind. Her resolve lasted a good 18 seconds, until she saw him making his way back to the bar. The way he moved through the crowd, with a catlike mixture of easy strength and supple grace, she would have know him anywhere - even without his distinctive white-blond hair.

Spike had left the bar and retired to a table in the far corner some minutes ago. He wasn't sure why he was still at the reception, except that part of him was deriving a deep satisfaction from the way Buffy kept trying to pretend she wasn't looking at him.
But the corner wasn't safe either. One of Xander's cousins was earnestly trying to tell him how wonderful her daughter was. The daughter in question was currently a resident of the State.
Mumbling something about liking men, Spike decided that if he was going to stay, he was going to need a drink. Especially if he was going to continue to not watch the Slayer in her dress. Very revealing dress, all that golden skin, the way the pale purple silk hugged her body like she was poured into... Yes, he definitely needed Scotch.
From across the room, Buffy was definitely not watching him work his way back towards the bar. Just to piss her off, he added an extra swagger to his stride and leered at one of Anya's gorgeous demon friends. 'If she thinks I'm playing with her, then let's give her a show.'
However, the instant he caught the expression on Buffy's face he regretted his actions. She looked heartbroken. 'You wanker,' he told himself. 'You knew what her insecurities were long before you loved her, and now you've gone and proven her twisted logic correct.'
Unfortunately, the demoness had apparently missed the subtext between vampire and Slayer, because she took the smile as an invitation, and followed him to the bar. He cursed silently as she poured herself onto the stool next to him.
"Scotch, please," Spike told the bartender.
The demoness pouted at him, the effect slightly ruined by her gently waving tentacles. "Aren't you going to buy me a drink?" She slipped a small webbed hand over his thigh, and he groaned inwardly.
For once in his unlife, Spike didn't really feel up to making a scene. "Look, pet," he said, as diplomatically as possible. "You're probably a very wonderful person, but my heart belongs to another." He contemplated his Scotch before taking a large sip and continuing, "Truthfully, my heart is on some else's bedroom floor right now. But that's neither here nor there. I'm just not interested." He managed to shrug her wandering hand out of his lap.
The thundercloud of hurt rejection gathering behind the gorgeous purple eyes did not bode well for his desire for peace and quiet.
Right then, though, a vaguely familiar, slightly accented voice cut through from behind them. "Well I give her 6.6 for skankiness and 5.9 for the unoriginal pick up line."
"I'm going to have to agree with my fellow judge," a girl with short dark hair, streaked with blue and red agreed. "And I'm going to award 6.6 for the hand on thing in the trite category."
"Don't worry honey," added the first girl, whose long light brown hair was shot through with a single, broad, violently blond streak, "He's gay."
"Bloody hell," Spike exclaimed, choking on his Scotch. "I'm what?!" Then, glancing sideways at the confused demoness, added, "Oh, yeah... um... gay."
"Ah, that explains it," she said, knowingl"Not"Nothing before has been able to resist me." With a swish of her puce clad hips, the demoness sashayed off in the direction of an eight foot tall creature that looked remarkably like a cricket.
Seizing the opening, the two girls occupied the seats on either side of the blond vampire.
"Hey James," one called. The gorgeous man behind the bar looked up, gri, an, and sauntered over to where Spike was sitting, flanked by the two girls.
"Hi girls, how've ya been?" From further down the bar one of Xander's inebriated relatives demanded yet another drink. Spike watched in shock as the bartender flipped off the man, and told him he was cut off for the rest of the night.
"What can I get you guys?" the bartender asked, turning his attention back hem,hem, and the long-haired girl on his left rattled off something involving soda water, rum and peach schnapps. As she leaned forward on the bar, Spike couldn’t help noticing a large swirly dragon tattoo on her shoulder and neck, and he hoped it wasn’t the symbol of some demon death cult.
"Our friend here is paying," the short-haired girl added.
"Oy, I'm doing nothing of the sort! You lot don't look old enough to be here anyway. Bugger off." Spike drained his Scotch then set the glass down in front of the bartender indicating he wanted another.
The bartender glared at him. "I think you've had enough, too." He poured the girls' drinks with a flourish, and handed them over.
"Do I =know= you?" Spike asked, looking between the two of them with something between exasperation and utter confusion.
"Wow, someone is having a bitter party all by themselves. What's wrong blondie, feed off of a Parking Nazi?" The two girls giggled as the one with shorter hair held her glass up in salute.
"I'll give you 7.6 for the comments, but really you get 1.4 for effort - that didn't actually sound like you wanted us to leave." The girl with long hair took a sip of her drink and smiled at the bartender. "James, perfect as always." For a second, an Australian accent was plainly audible.
Recognition made its way through Spis mis mind. 'Oh, God, it's the two chits from the movie. I am =so= not drunk enough for this!' A wave of melancholy passed over the blond vampire as he realized that even his speech patterns had become corrupted by his Slayer.
"You're looking all lonely here," the long-haired girl continued. "And it just doesn't seem right. What happened to your enthusiastic girlfriend?"
Not allowing him the opportunity to answer, her short-haired Canadian friend added, "Just when you guys seemed like you'd figured it out, too... You sco scored so well."
"Except for the dismount," the first amended, causing the other to snort.
"Look, please, I'm not in the mood for this, please just leave me to drink in peace." Spike again looked at his empty glass. He'd only had two drinks, he reflected, and it just wasn’t fair. Glancing over at Buffy, he felt his world tilt. She was standing with her back to him, facing a tall man dressed in a tux. He was broad, with dark hair, dark poofy hair, and an open puppy-dog expression. Spike decided that he needed many, many more bottles of Scotch.
Spike shot a pleading look at the bartender, who shook his head and grinned. Picking up a white rag James began polishing the bar, staying close enough to make sure that 'his' girls didn't need a refill, and that the blonde man held his temper.
Both girls stopped their good-natured ribbing when pain and sorrow etched over the features of the vampire between them. Turning his gaze away from where Buffy stood next to one of Xander's fellow Lego builders - they all had bodies hardened from heavy lifting, and minds as thick as cement - Spike eyed the bottle of Scotch just out of his reach. He missed Buffy turning to look at him, and the hurt and loneliness that stole over her face when she saw him with a woman on either side.
Neither girl missed a thing that passed between the two bottled blondes.
The girl on his left touched his shoulder gently. "Look," she said, all joking pushed aside, and her Australian accent coming through more strongly, "You want her. She wants you. You guys really need to figure this one out." She took a sip of her drink. "Before it's too late."
"Want is not the problem here," Spike muttered into his empty glass. The moment the words came out of his mouth, he regretted having spoken. These girls were too perceptive by half, he wasn't entirely sure they were human.
Laying her hand gently on his arm to get his attention, the girl to his right looked him in the eye, "You don't have to tell us, but sometimes it helps. Talking toeoneeone who doesn't know you from a hole in the ground."
Spike shook his head, but words tumbled out anyway. "She doesn't bloody well know what she wants. She wants everything. Half the time I can't tell if I'm--"
"If you're more to her than just something she wants?"
He laughed, without humour. "I was going to say, if I'm helping or hurting." The bartender set a mug in front of Spike. Surprised, he looked down to see that it was blood. "Thanks, mate."
"Why do you think you're hurting her?" The Canadian set her drink aside, as did her friend, both knowing they needed to be sober for this.
"She-- bloody hell, she said it straight out, once. But I should have seen..." trailing off, Spike took a sip of milk before continuing, "I love her. I've never felt anything like this before. And she, she..."
"She says she doesn't love you," the Australian finished for him.
"Yeah," he admitted. "Wait, no, she does. She keeps changing her bloody mind." He looked between the two girls, encouraged by their understanding expressions, "I think she's, I know she's ashamed of me. I know I'm not good enough for her, but it still hurts."
"She's ashamed because of what her friends would say if they knew she's with a vampire?" Spike nodded his head in answer to the Canadian's question. Then stopped suddenly.
"I'm not a vampire." Spike looked around to make sure no-one had heard the chit\ommeomment.
The bartender and the two girls looked at each other, then burst out laughing. "Buddy," said James, who had been blatantly listening in for the last few minutes, "If you're not a vamp, then you need to do something about your lack of reflection and go see a doctor, or maybe a psychiatrist, about the fact that you drink blood."
"You shouldn’t believe her when she says you’re not good enough for her," the Australian said, bringing them back to the c atc at hand. "Have a little faith. Everyone has issues. You've done things. She's done some things too. Some good, some bad. But the game is far from over. What matters is where you go from here."
"The important thing is to not give up." The Canadian looked over to where Buffy was talking to the brick-layer. Spike's eyes followed and he was happy to note that Buffy had her arms crossed and didn't seem to be paying any attention to what the boy was saying. Instead, she was looking over at him. Her face was impassive, but he could see longing and jealousy mingling together in her beautiful hazel eyes.
"She wants you. She’s jealous that we're here with you and she's not," the Canadian continued. Spike started to rise, intent on going over to her, but both girls grabbed his arms and kept him firmly in place. "Dude, just because she wants you doesn't mean it's the right time." When she was sure he wasn't going to leave, the dark-haired girl released him and continued, "You need her to come to you. From what we've heard and seen of you two, you do all the chasing in public and she only really acknowledges you when you're in private or away from her friends, yes?"
"Yeah," he mumbled reluctantly.
"So, wait. Trust us - she'll come. She's got it bad for you. And really, who can blame her?" The Australian girl smiled, pushing a strand of her bleached-blonde streak out of her eyes.
"Yeah, with those gorgeous blue eyes, wonderful cheek bones, washboard abs..." The Canadian's eyes glazed over, then she shook her head as if to clear it. "Damn, that was the out-loud voice again, wasn't it?"
The vampire cocked an eyebrow, his swaggering attitude reappearing, but subsided at the Australian girl's amused look. "Oh, get over yourself. You're =so= taken. No sane woman would get in her way."
Spike heard a chuckle, realizing with surprise that it was his own – she had made him smile for the first time in weeks. Both girls had made him feel unexpectedly better by listening to him and trying to help.
A thought occurred to him. "Wait, washboard abs? How do you--?"
The Canadian winked at him. "We'll be going now," she said. "Before we make her any angrier than it looks like she already is."
"Wait - who *are* you?" the vampire asked again, as the girls stood. They were grinning now.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" the Australian asked, and then pointed across the room to where Buffy was shoving her cup in the direction of the bricklayer, her eyes fixed firmly in Spike's direction.
"Well, I see our work here with you is done. James, when you get off, grab a couple bottles and come join us at our table." The Canadian threw down a couple of crisp twenties on the bar, to cover the bottles and tip.
The vamp saw Buffy push her way through the drunkenly dancing partygoers, leaving the overgrown puppy dog holding her cup and watching her with resigned disappointment as she made her way to the bar.
When he looked back, the girls had vanished as suddenly as they'd appeared, which was no mean feat in a party that wasn't actually all that large. Where they'd been standing, a cocktail napkin drifted gracefully to the floor.

Buffy appeared in front of him, eyes snapping with hurt. "What the hell was that, Spike?"
Immediately Spike felt ashamed, then shook himself. He had done nothing wrong. Besides, Buffy hadn't graced him with her presence since he had stormed out of her house that morning. Using the sewers to get home. So bugger her, he was done being her bitch. Well, at least for the next minute until he caved, as he was sure he would.
"You know, Buffy," he said seriously, "Not everything is all about you. Those were some friends of mine who stopped by for a quick chat. And now they're gone. If you want to make a scene, I suggest we go outside. If we start breaking the furniture in here, Anya's going to be bloody furious."
"If you're trying to make me jealous, it isn't working." Even as the words left her mouth Buffy knew she was lying, and worse, from the look in his penetrating blue eyes, she could tell that Spike knew she was lying, too.
"Listen, pet. I love you, I know it, you know it, hell I'm sure the bleeding Watcher's Council knows it, but I'm tired of you being such a bitch to me. And Luv? Next time you treat me like you did in your bedroom, I will bloody well bite you."
Buffy narrowed her eyes, then sighed, and looked away. "Maybe we should go outside."
"Love to, Slayer," Spike sneered. This felt good. This was what they needed - a knock down, drag out fight to clear the air. "Just try not to throw me at anything wooden and breakable."
"That's-- god, Spike, that's not what I meant." She looked up at him, eyes filled with an unreadable expression. "Look, do you want to go someplace quieter?"
After a moment, he nodded, and she looked at him with something like relief.
In an almost companionable silence, they headed for the door to the hallway.

"We can go in here to talk, this is the room where we got ready before the wedding. No-one is here now." Taking out a key card, Buffy opened the door and preceded Spike into a room filled with white and pink roses. They stood in the middle of the room, alone for the first time since that fateful morning, neither quite sure what to say.
"So we're going to talk, then?" Spike asked cautiously, after a long moment.
"Yeah, I'm just not sure what I want to say now that I've got you here." It was a testament to how bad things had gotten when there was no joking or snide comment from the peroxide blonde a few feet away from her.
Grabbing the back of a chair he swung it around and sat down on it, pulling the pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket; looking around at the tiny room, he forced an unnecessary sigh and put them away again. He looked back up at the Slayer, who appeared to be as confused as he felt.
"So, what now?" he asked, bluntly. "We just keep fighting and shagging until it kills us both? Is that how this works?"
She smiled a very small smile. "I think I remember you saying something like that once, yeah."
They fell silent again, eyes roving over each other longingly.
It was more than sex, Buffy admitted to herself. God, she had missed him. A dozen times a day she thought, 'I'll tell Spike that,' or had start to make a comment about the idiocy of fledglings, only to remember that he didn't follow her on patrols any more. Or if he did, he stuck so far to the shadows and kept enough distance that she never sensed him.
Looking at her watch him, Spike felt his unbeating heart contract. This really hurt.
"Yeah, it does," she answered softly. Spike was unaware that he had spoken his thoughts out loud until the Slayer had answered.
"Spike, how do I fix this?" Standing in the middle of the small room, she suddenly looked tiny and alone. Her eyes as she looked down at him were suspiciously wet.
"Slayer, I'm not sure I want to fix this. It tears my heart out every time you leave. It destroys a little bit of me every time you deny what you feel for me. What I feel for you. I don't want to end up hating you and loving you at the same time." His voice was low, and rough with pain. "I don't know if it can be fixed, love. Maybe it would be better if I went away for a while, let you--"
Spike tumbled backwards out of his chair, his head making a dull thump against the carpet. The wreckage of the chair scattered around him.
"Bloody hell, Slayer! What the hell did you do that for?" Spike stood up, looking at her. She was furious.
With the grace and barely contained power of a jungle cat, the enraged blonde strode to where the vampire was standing next to the demolished chair.
"You. Are. Not. Leaving," she hissed.
Both hands in front of him in a placating gesture, Spike backed up a few steps. "Buffy, I just thought--" His retreat was stopped short by a low couch, but the small blond kept advancing, until she was mere inches from his face, her eyes blazing into his.
"Thought what, you'd decided what was best fo? M? Maybe leave me for my own good?" Her eyes flashed with fury and her breasts heaved angrily.
"Look Slayer, it's not all about you. I can't take this any more. One minute you're so hot you burn me to the core, the next you freeze me out of your life." His voice shook with emotion, and whether it was fury or heartbreak, neither of them would ever know.
"You can't leave," Buffy said in a small voice. "I'm not going to let you walk out on me again."
"Again? Again! When in the bloody hell have I ever walked out on you? It’s you, you're the one that does the leaving all the bleeding time! You never let me in, how can I leave again? I was just a convenience, remember?"
"For Christ's sake, Spike! You never listen to me when I lie to you. Why in the hell would you start listening to me now?" Buffy gave him a hard shove in the chest, and he tumbled back over the sofa, landing on the floor behind it.
Spike stared up at her, surprised. She had said a lot of things to him over the years, hard things mostly, but a few sweet things too. But for the first time ever, her words carried the fire of conviction. She also appeared close to crying.
All the anger drained out of him -- her tears were all it took. No matter how much he wished he could hang onto his anger, when she was hurting, Spike just wanted to wrap his arms around her and make it all better.
But, another part of him was realizing slowly, a lot of the hurt was something she was inflicting on herself. And she was using him to do it, which hurt =him= like hell.
"Buffy," he said, quietly. "I love you. I think you love me. But that's not enough, is it? You're going to have to make a decision. Do you want to =do= this, or not? No more, Pet. I'm not going to be your dirty little secret any more. It's too hard to love you in private and hate you in public. Trying not to touch you, hold you when I see you hurting." Spike started to stand, but his words seemed to take the strength out of Buffy's legs, and she slid to the floor beside him.
For a long moment, Buffy was silent, just looking at him, and something inside him threatened to shatter. It suddenly hit Buffy, she was going to lose him. There was only so much that even Spike was willing to take. She was not going to push another one away. Not when he was her equal, didn't put her on a pedestal. Not when he would not hide the truth from her, and if she let him, he would always be at her side.
The prospect of a life without him... like the past week, only forever... was suddenly huge and real before her, a bleak, dull expanse stretching on until the inevitable untimely end. And suddenly, she was in his arms, her head buried in his shoulder, crying as though her heart was going to break.
Spike's arms closed instinctively around her shuddering body, holding him close to her chest. The sobs that emanated from the small blond on his lap were strong to shake him as well.
No matter what he had said, no matter what she said, he knew that he could never have left her, because in the end he loved her more than he loved anything else. There was no pride, no arrogance, just her. And maybe, just maybe she had finally figured out that it was the same way for her. They were two halves of a whole, they fit perfectly -- that was why they could say, do, the things they did. From the first time he had seen her he had known that she was his match. And he hers.
Pulling back slightly Buffy searched Spike's face, trying to see if it was too late, if she had succeeded in killing his love for her. "Please," she begged, "Please, I love you, don't leave. Don't leave." Once again the Slayer buried her head in the vampire’s chest, seeking comfort from the being she once sought to kill.
Tenderly, he stroked strands of hair from her tear-streaked face, murmuring comfort without words, rocking her gently. Though her sobs were lessening, her tears still soaked through his shirt, a nice shirt he had bought just for the Whelp's wedding.
All thoughts of the shirt flew from his head when Spike felt Buffy's warm tongue cress his neck, right where his pulse should have been.
She was kissing his skin softly, her touch full of the hunger of separation and the urgency of fear.
'He has to stay,' her thoughts were frantic and disjointed, 'I'll make him stay.' Her hands began roaming over his back, under the suit jacket he wore. The suit fit him perfectly -- Spike looked gorgeous in it, and Buffy had had a hard time keeping her eye off of him throughout the ceremony and party. As much as she loved the suit, though, the jacket had to go. Her hands skimmed up to his slim shoulders and pushed the jacket down his well-toned arms to the floor.
Part of him, the part that watched a lot more daytime shows on the telly than anyone really ought to, suggested that they should probably have a conversation instead of-- well, whatever it was she was asking from him.
Bringing his hand up the bleached blond gripped the Slayer’s arm, drawing her away from him gently.
"Buffy, luv, this is not the way. We're good at this part. We're bleeding spectacular at this part, but we need to talk. We need to figure this out before it destroys both of us."
She drew a deep breath and nodded slowly. "Okay. We'll talk." There was a long silence, which for once, he did nothing to fill. Nervous hazel eyes roamed over his face looking for clues, before coming to rest on his brilliant blue eyes, seeking her answers within their depth.
"What do we do now?" she asked softly. "How can I make this okay?"
Spike brought a hand up to her golden locks, idly fiddling with the pins that kept her hair up in a sleek French twist. Their eyes still searching each other, he sighed, and that sound frightened Buffy more then anything else. A sigh meant frustration, defeat.
"Please Spike, tell me what to do to make this better. I realized something over the past days. I need to be with you -- nothing else matters. Help me make this work." Her eyes pleaded with him, and her sincerity shone through.
"You need to stop hiding," he said seriously. "Hiding from yourself, hiding from your friends. If we're going to have a real shot here, you can't keep sneaking around with me behind the backs of the people who love you. It has to come out. You're never going to be comfortable with yourself or with me until it does."
"Wow, you go right for the big one, huh?" she said weakly. "I'm just-- I'm afraid of what they'll think of me..." But she had very slowly been coming to a similar conclusion. "Yes," she whispered, them with more force, "Yes you're right. I want to be able to be with you and not worry. I need to be able to look at you and know you know what I'm thinking, and not care that my friends catch us exchanging glances. I see what Willow and Tara had, what Xander and Anya have, and I want that."
"So -- we tell them, then?" Spike could not believe what he had heard, that she was willing to tell her little friends about them. Sure, her sister knew, but the rest of them...
"We'll tell them all, before Xander and Anya leave on their honeymoon, when we're all together." Plus it meant that there was a time when the recriminations and questions would have to end, since Xander and Anya had a plane to catch.
"Wanting to make sure we have a guaranteed end to the hysterics, eh luv?" Spike shot her his knowing smile.
"Yeah," she said, smiling, gaining confidence as the idea became more familiar. She slowly ran her hand up his shirt front, loosening his tie. It was deep blue with tiny red dots. Only Spike would be able to get a tie that looked normal until you thought about the fact that a vampire was wearing it.
"You know, Spike, it'll be several hours yet before Xander and Anya leave on their honeymoon and it's been 8 days, 9 hours, 35 minutes and 42 seconds -- give or take -- since we were alone together." While she had been talking, Buffy had brought her hand up to Spike's chest and had deftly undone all the buttons on his shirt. "We've talked. So," she murmured, smiling at him, "Now can we jump straight to the kissing?"
Spike smiled in spite of himself. God, she was beautiful. Especially when she was happy. Instead of answering with words, Spike dipped his head down and kissed Buffy's smiling lips. Laughter that was sheer joy bubbled out of her and flooded through him. It was as if he had been a flower in the parched earth and her laughter was the water he so desperately needed to stay alive.
Never breaking the kiss, she followed him down, devouring him hungrily. Her busy hands roamed over the expanse of perfect flesh exposed to her. God she missed the way he had felt beneath her fingers, like living marble, only so much better. A chuckle rocked her body and Buffy's cheeks went quite red as she realized that she had used the out loud voice.
Spike's hands searched her body feverishly for access to bare skin, unzipping the back of her dress and slipping beneath to caress her warm flesh. Light green silk pooled around the Slayer's waist as she sat up, straddling the vampire beneath her.
"God I've missed you so much, missed--" her words were cut off by a moan as a cool mouth latched onto her throbbing nipple. She ran her fingers through his short hair, pressing him close. His arm tightened around her waist, fingers gently caressing the bare skin of her lower back above the edge of the dress, and Slayer and vampire were lost to the world in each other’s embrace.

The door to the room suddenly burst open.

Buffy and Spike froze in shock and horror, hoping that the couch was enough to hide them from view. Instinctively, uselessly, Buffy hid her face against her vampire’s shoulder.
"Hey Buff, you in here?"
Xander's voice bounced jovially off the walls, dismay filling the lovers as his footsteps drew closer. "Buff, you-"
A girly scream filled the room as Xander rounded the couch.
Xander's scream propelled Buffy and Spike into a flurry of motion, clothing hastily righted as best it could be. Trying to hold her dress up over her chest while at the same time disentangling herself from Spike's shirt, the Slayer looked uncharacteristically panicked.
"Xand, you find her, because this is like the biggest surprise of the year, and Buffy iing ing to love it!" Willow's voice filtered in through the open door.
"Believe me, Will, when I say that there is no way our surprise is topping this." Transfixed, Xander watched as Spike gently zipped Buffy’s dress and righted most of her clothes, before starting to button up his own shirt.
"Come on, Xander -- the sooner we share the surprise, the sooner we can go and have newly wedded sex," urged Anya, who had just entered the room behind Willow and Tara.
"I think Buffy has that covered," Xander said weakly.
"It's not what it looks like!" Buffy exclaimed, instinctively stepping in front of Spike, who cleared his throat meaningfully. He slipped a possessive arm around her waist, eyeing the flabbergasted Scoobies defiantly.
"Really," Xander snapped back. "Because it looked like you were half naked on Spike, who was also half naked..." he trailed off, hoping that given enough time and alcohol, he would be able to erase the image from his brain.
"Look, I can explain," Buffy turned her head, meeting Spike’s piercing gaze, she nodded her head just once, acknowledging him and accepting that now was the time.
"That's good," Willow said carefully. "Because it really looks like you-- and Spike-- with the semi-naked..."
Buffy was powerfully aware of the coiled tension in the cool body pressing against her back. Spike tightened his arm around her waist, and the gesture was more comforting than she could have imagined.
"Actually," the Slayer amended, "I guess it is what it looks like. This isn't the way I wanted to tell you guys. Spike and I -- we're together now."
There were blank looks from Willow and Xander. But Anya looked like she had a pretty good idea what Buffy was explaining, and Dawn and Tara were grinning ear to ear.
"You know I always thought there was something funny going on." Anya smiled expansively at them. She was happy, and she wanted everyone else to be happy too.
"When were you going to share this earth-shattering piece of news?" Xander asked, trying not to sound hurt, and failing miserably.
"How, how long has this been going-- When did this happen? This isn’t a spell, is it?" Willow stammered disjointedly, in shock.
Again exchanging a look with Spike, Buffy took a deep breath. "No spell, Will. And, to answer your question, since the night before Dawn broke her arm." She paused, thinking about it. "Since Sweet. Since we met."
"Yeah," echoed the vampire, "We've been dancing since we met, but if you mean, when did we start dancing without our clothes on? The night before Niblet there got banged up."
"So, you guys... all this =time=?" Willow had not yet recovered the ability to form sentences. "Right under our noses? And we never knew... I should have known."
As she spoke, something peculiar crossed Xander's face. He looked upward, as if calculating, then went pale.
"Oh God. Oh God? Oh God!" Xander's voice rose several octaves, "The, the, the. Oh my god, the push ups. Oh dear God." He sat down heavily on the carpeted floor, among the roses, his head in his hands.
The others looked helplessly from Xander to Buffy and Spike. Just then, a new voice came from outside the door.
"Did you lot find her yet? I want to say my hellos before I keel over from this wretched jet lag."
Buffy stared uncomprehendingly towards the door as Giles entered.

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TBC…

THE CONTINUITY ERRORS WERE ON PURPOSE! FIND THEM GET A PRIZE! (ok, there’s no prize, but see if you can find it in this story and the up coming stories.)