Chapter Thirty-Six
“Stop fidgeting,” Buffy ordered. Spike scowled at her, but dropped his hand from fiddling with the buttons on his shirt.
“You sure it was alright to leave Dawn and Connor alone? I mean, I remember what WE were doing at that age.” Buffy rolled her eyes and prayed to God for patience. They were standing outside of Giles’ apartment, waiting to be let in. Spike had whined that this was HIS father’s house, why did they have to knock? All it had taken was one raised, golden brow to remind him of THAT night. He’d blushed the same color as his shirt, mumbled ‘Right, then”, and knocked.
“They’ll be fine. Besides, I’ve arranged for Willow and Cordelia to make random visits throughout the night.” That earned her a chuckle.
“Dawn’s going to be pissed.”
“I know,” Buffy said, just as the door swung open. Giles appeared on the other side, wearing a pair of casual tan slacks and a light sweater, looking every bit as nervous as Spike.
“Will, Buffy. Come in.” He stepped aside and ushered them in, shutting the door quietly before turning back around. “Let me take your coats.”
“Thank you. Oh, we brought some wine.” Spike held up the bottle, relinquishing it to his father when he reached for it.
“Thank you. Buffy, your coat.” She smiled and shrugged out of it, thinking it was cute how when the two Gileses were nervous, they fell back into their British manners. Spike and Giles both thought it was ridiculous how cordial they were being with each other, but couldn’t seem to stop. “I’ll just put these in the spare bedroom. Anya’s in the kitchen,” he said as he walked away. Spike looked around the place that had been his home, calling himself a git for feeling out of place.
“Buffy, William. Hello. I’m glad you made it.” Anya came out of the kitchen, smiling warmly at them and wiping her hands on a dish towel. Buffy smiled warmly at her and took her hand.
“Thanks for having us.” Anya just waved it away, then turned to Spike.
“Hello, William. Or would you prefer me to call you Spike?” she asked, studying him with her blue eyes.
“Will’s fine,” he mumbled, giving her a tight smile.
“Okay, Will. So, would you like a glass of wine, or anything else? Dinner’s still going to be a few minutes.”
“Anya, dear. They brought a bottle of wine,” Rupert told her when he returned to the room.
“Wonderful. Why don’t you go open it and let it breathe for a minute,” she instructed, smiling again. “Why don’t we have a seat?” Spike moved stiffly around the coffee table, not liking the feel of being a guest in his father’s home. Buffy sat next to him, smoothing down the hem of her white, denim skirt, before taking his hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. The silk of her turquoise blouse brushed against his arm, sending a thrill up his skin. He smiled over at her, telling himself that thinking sexual thoughts while in the presence of his father’s girlfriend was not a good idea.
“So, Anya, how are things at the gallery? I’m afraid I leave way too much in Giles’ hands.” Buffy asked the older woman, after she settled herself in the chair across from them.
“Great, actually. We just got in a new shipment of Egyptian artifacts. Some really beautiful pottery and dishes,” she replied excitedly. “You know, you really shouldn’t have to work with the money the gallery is generating,” she said bluntly. Buffy merely shrugged a shoulder.
“I know. I guess I just need something to do with my days. And really, after paying everybody, and the new acquisitions, it’s not as much as it seems. But, I let Giles and Cordelia worry about that.”
“You’re not interested in art?”
“Not really. Not the way my mother was, or Dawn is. I’m afraid that a picture of fruit, is just a picture of fruit to me,” Buffy said with a laugh.
“Here you are, darling,” Rupert said when he returned to the room, carrying a small tray with four glasses of deep, red wine. Buffy felt Spike tense at the endearment, and gently squeezed his hand again.
“Is Dawn interested in taking over when she’s out of college?” Anya asked, accepting a glass from Giles.
“No, I don’t think right after. I know she wants to spend some time studying in New York. She’s really very good. She did a complete charcoal sketch of Spike and it’s gorgeous.”
“Look at her model,” Spike said with a gleam in his eyes. Buffy snorted.
“Modest much?”
“Will has never been accused of being humble.”
“Hey, that’s not true. Just know I’m good looking. After all, look at the donor of my genes.” He waved a hand towards his father. Rupert flushed at the compliment.
“Yes, and Rosemary was beautiful. You didn’t have much choice but to be good looking.” Spike stared at Anya, his blue eyes wide. He was a little surprised that she would mention his mother. Anya stared straight back at him, her gaze never wavering from his.
“Yes, she was,” he finally answered, dropping his gaze to the floor.
“Will, I know that you don’t know quite what to think of this. Me. Just know, I’m not here to try to replace your mother. You’re a grown man. You don’t need mothering. I’m in love with your father. So, I hope to be your friend.” Spike’s eyes shot back to her, then over to his father. Rupert look flustered at her blunt words, but not angry. He glanced over at Buffy and saw that amused glint in her eye. He felt his own lips quirk in response, and he brought his eyes back to hers. She just returned his gaze, waiting.
“Well, now that we have that settled, what’s for dinner?”
~*~*~
“So, Will looks over at his mother and says, ‘Mum, if the man is the one that determines the sex of the baby, why don’t they have them?’ And he was only six,” Giles said proudly. Spike rolled his eyes, and glared at Buffy when she chuckled.
“What?” she asked, sipping her wine. “I’ve wondered that myself.” They were sitting around the table, finishing off their wine, after eating a wonderfully prepared roast with new potatoes and green beans almondine.
“I’ve come to the conclusion that if men had to have babies, the human race would have died out millennias ago,” Anya added, sharing a snicker with Buffy. The two Giles men looked offended, which only prompted the women to laugh harder.
“Yeah, and if women had to change the oil in their cars, there’d be no cars left on the roads, due to all the engine blocks that have seized up,” Spike snarked. Buffy patted his hand, which had him shooting her another glare. “Are you ready, luv?” he asked, giving her a false smile. She snorted and drained her glass.
“Yes, my dear,” she replied in a sickly sweet voice. “Anya, thanks so much. It was delicious.”
“Thank you. You will come again?” she asked them as they rose and started towards the door.
“Absolutely.” Spike took their coats from his father and helped Buffy slip hers on.
“You’ll be coming over for Thanksgiving? Right?” Buffy said, looking at the couple expectantly.
“Better not try to get out of it. She’s determined,” Spike told them, resting his hands on her shoulders.
“We’d love to,” Anya answered, not even looking at Rupert. “Just tell me what you want us to bring.”
“I’ll call,” Buffy agreed.
“Come on, pet. We have a couple of teenagers to interrupt. Goodnight, Dad. Anya.”
“Goodnight. Thanks again,” Buffy said, following Spike out into the night. “See, that wasn’t that bad,” she said after the door closed.
“No, it wasn’t. She seems to be a nice woman,” he admitted grudgingly. She giggled as he opened the door for her so she could slide inside.
“Admit it. They’re sweet together,” she persisted when he got into the driver’s side.
“I suppose.” She rolled her eyes, and leaned back into the seat, feeling sleepy from the wine, good food, and company.
“Rest your eyes, luv. I’ll wake you when we get home.” She smiled, and did just that, her mind drifting lazily. It didn’t seem odd to her that she didn’t correct him about his place being home. She supposed she needed to sit down with Dawn and discuss what to do with their mother’s house. She thought that the teen seemed content to stay at Spike’s, but she didn’t want to assume anything. Of course, that was IF Spike wanted them to stay. He hadn’t acted like he wanted them to leave. In fact, he did everything possible to make sure they thought of his place as theirs. She just didn’t want to assume anything.
Sighing a little, she shifted to get more comfortable. She gave a silent laugh when she remembered just how adamantly she had objected to moving in there in the first place. The reporters had gotten worse, camping out in their bushes and assaulting them when they tried to leave for work and school. The final straw had been when one had been caught on the roof of the house, peering in at Dawn. Spike had put his foot down and told them they were staying with him. The look on his face told her not to argue. She’d had to take her vacation days when they started stalking her at work.
Now that things had settled down, she could go back to the house. But she didn’t want to. And she was pretty sure that Dawn didn’t want to. So, she guessed that all she had to do was have the talk, and make it official.
“We’re here,” he said, bringing the car to a stop and nudging her gently. He smiled when she opened her sleepy eyes.
“Home sweet home,” she murmured, stretching. She didn’t see his smile brighten at that.
“Yeah,” was all he said, before getting out to open her door. Once she was out of the car, he took her hand, and they walked inside together.
~*~*~
Mark walked through the door of his apartment and threw his keys on the table. He rubbed the heel of his hands over his tired eyes, moving to sink down onto the couch. He sighed deeply, feeling fatigue settling into his bones. He couldn’t remember a time when he had been this tired. Mentally and physically. The past few months were kicking his ass.
To top it off, he’d royally pissed Wanda off when he told her they weren’t coming down for the holidays. He’d just had too much to do. Between auditioning new drummers, dealing with the record company, and dealing with the continued backlash from Johnny’s death, he just didn’t feel like putting up with the somber attitude that would permeate his family’s home. He knew that Buffy was planning on cooking, and he thought that they would go there. It wasn’t like Willow’s parents were going to do anything with them. They’d made it pretty clear how they felt about him. And Crystal had only made it worse.
Her mother had called after the funeral, starting an argument of epic proportions with her only child. She had been convinced that it was somehow Mark’s fault that Crystal was unstable, making covert comments that he must have done something to encourage her attraction. The conversation had ended when Willow told her mother, in no uncertain terms, not to call again. They didn’t care about her growing up, they didn’t get that luxury now.
“Hey baby.” Willow’s soft voice brought him out of his thoughts, and he turned his head to see her walking towards him. The moonlight from the window bathed her pale skin and vibrant hair in a silvery sheen. She was wearing one of his tank tops, the material barely covering her small form. She walked around the couch and sat next to him, curling her body into his side. He draped his arm around her shoulder and held her close.
“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he murmured, brushing a kiss across the top of her head.
“You didn’t. I have a hard time sleeping when you’re not here,” she admitted.
“I know how you feel.”
“Hard day?” She raised her head to look at him in the dim light, feeling her heart clench from the exhaustion etched in his face.
“Yeah. Record company’s trying to force us to make a decision. They want us on the road,” he said with a scowl. She ran her hand over his stomach in a soothing motion, resting her cheek on his chest.
“You haven’t seen anybody that clicks?” He took a deep breath before answering.
“Yeah, actually. There’s this guy we saw yesterday. Name’s Jack. Graduated from fucking Julliard for Christ’s sake.” He said this with a chuckle. “Seems to be a good guy. Hyper as hell. Didn’t even blink when we told him he had to take a drug test.” Willow smiled.
“That’s good.” When they first started out, Mark, Johnny and Ralph had vowed not to become one of those bands that gets caught up in the sex, drugs, and rock and roll mentality. Sex, rock and roll, okay. Drugs bad. Of course, Johnny had been the only one who had run with the sex part. Mark had been with Willow since almost as soon as they had moved out here. Ralph had been dating Charlene since high school. So, when he and Ralph had decided to go on, they decided that they would implement a drug test. So far, it had thinned out the possibilities tremendously.
“He’s great, too. Freaking awesome.”
“But, he’s not Johnny.” She voiced the unsaid part of his sentence.
“Yeah,” he whispered, scrubbing a hand over his face. “How do you replace someone who’s irreplaceable?”
“I don’t know, baby. Maybe you should look at it another way. You’re not replacing Johnny. You’re honoring him by going on. Still living the dream in the band he helped create. So, you need the best person that will help you do that. And if Jack is it, then you should hire him. He’s the only one that you’ve actually mentioned to me by name. Not to mention where he went to school.” Mark ran his hand gently over her shoulder, listening to her soft words.
“I guess you’re right,” he conceded. “It’s just hard to say ‘you’re it. You’re who’s going to take over.'”
“I know. I wish I could do something to help.”
“You do. Everyday. The only thing that keeps me sane is knowing I can come home to you,” he told her, running his fingers through her hair. Tears swelled in her eyes at his words.
“I love you.” Her voice was barely a whisper, her throat tight with emotion. He tilted her chin up to kiss her, taking the time to be thorough.
“I love you, too.” He stared deep into her eyes, tracing a finger over her jaw. An idea he had been entertaining for a while sprang back to life. “Let’s get married,” he said suddenly. She blinked, and a slow smile spread across her mouth.
“What?”
“Let’s get married. Tonight. Why the hell are we waiting, anyway? Life’s too damn short to waste time.”
“Are you serious?” she breathed, her green eyes bright.
“I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life. Go get dressed. We’ll go to that place that married Cordy and Xander. Please, Willow. Will you be my wife?” She was struck speechless for a couple of seconds, before an excited squeal erupted from her throat. She threw herself into his lap and started to rain kisses over his face.
“Yes. Yes. Let’s do it.” She pressed her mouth against his, the salty taste of her tears lingering on their lips.
“Go, get dressed,” he urged, giving her the first real smile she’d seen in a while. After another kiss she bounced off his lap, and shot into the bedroom. Mark chuckled and propped his feet up on the coffee table to wait. He could almost see Johnny giving him the thumbs up, and telling ‘Bout damn time’.
“Ready,” Willow said, coming to a stop beside him. She’d thrown on the first thing she’d come across, which turned out to be a white dress. His brow quirked and he grinned. She giggled in return and did a short spin. “Let’s go.” She held out her hand, and gave him a tug. He rose fluidly to his feet, brushing his thumb over her cheek.
“Let’s go, baby.” With that, they moved in unison to the door, and outside. Their hearts were tripping in their chests at what they were getting ready to do. And it felt good.