TITLE: "Invitation Only"
DISCLAIMER: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, 20th Century Fox, et al.
SETTING: Somewhere between "Gone" and "As You Were."
RATING: Call it a hard T.
Another day was quickly being lost in a sea of deviant sex and self-loathing angst as Buffy Summers and her reprogrammed undead lover inadvertently redecorated his crypt once again. Buffy had just started slamming Spike's head repeatedly against the walls while telling him what complete and utter filth she considered him, which was always a sign that he was performing admirably and something of a turn-on for him as well.
Suddenly, Spike came to a sudden stop and unexpectedly extracted himself just as proceedings were reaching their inevitable conclusion. His ears perked up in surprise and he began to dress himself as quickly as possible. "Someone's outside," he explained when he noticed Buffy's confused expression. He sniffed deep of the surrounding air. "Someone with a taste for Cool Ranch Doritos and generic beer. "
"Xander!" she realized instantly.
Before either one of them could react, the door began to open slowly with the standard creak.
Knowing she would never be able to dress in time or explain what she was doing naked in Spike's home, Buffy quickly dived for cover behind a convenient chair.
"Standard Dalek drill," Spike mused. "Haven't seen that in years."
"Oh good," Xander said smiling, as he walked through the door. "You're speaking insane Dadaist nonsense to yourself. I was afraid I'd caught you at a bad time."
"Are you here for anything specific?" Spike muttered, his thoughts still on all the positions he'd not yet been bent into today. "Because I've actually got a pretty full schedule just the now..."
"This won't take long," Xander insisted, thrusting his hand into his coat and making a reach for something.
Spike instinctively jumped back, expecting that once again one of Buffy's men had come here to jab something pointy into him...
...Only to be completely shocked by the flat, paper-y and almost completely un-stake-like results.
"What's this?" Spike asked, eying the frilly gilded object before him with cautious hostility.
"I thought you vampires would recognize an invitation when you saw one," Xander quipped back.
"Sorry," Spike replied. "I get surprisingly few wedding invitations for an evil killer vampire." He was still trying to dumbfounded as to how to react, but he wasn't about to let that stop him from getting some decent sarcasm in.
Xander shrugged. "Hey, it's hardly a typical wedding," he replied casually. "I mean, I've been caught making out with my Best Man."
"It's not like you shagged her, though," Spike said, shifting his eyes to the concealed Buffy.
"Well, there was some finger-action..." Xander admitted, then very quickly stopped himself. "Why am I telling you this?"
"I was wondering the exact same thing," Spike replied laconically. Maybe the thing to do was to RVSP that he was unavailable, then crash the thing.
"Spike, I'm not going to give you some big, stupid speech about how you fought with us this Summer. You wouldn't buy it anyway." Xander said, mercifully getting himself back on topic. "I hate vampires. All vampires. No special treatment for souls or chips or corrective surgery. When I see you, all I can see is the friends of mine that you've killed." He paused and took a moment to get himself back on track. "But this is my wedding. My entire family is going to be there, Anya's, too. So... if you think you're going to be the person in that room I least want there... than you've got some real ego problems."
With that Xander turned and left, setting the invitation softly on coffin as he did so.
For a moment Spike simply eyed it, unsure of exactly what to say. When Buffy emerged from her place of hiding, she found herself unable to meet his gaze.
They sat there, alone in his crypt, while neither one of them could find the strength to renew their previous activities.
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