author: devylish

title: PDA's (1/1)

rating: Ummm, PG-13 to an R.

relationships: B/Oth then B/S

notes: Set approximately three - four years in the future. Buffy's getting married in the morning

spoilers: General season 6.

distribution: Take it... it's yours... use it in good health, but please let me know where you're putting it.

disclaimer: Don't own BTVS or Ats characters They are owned by JW and crew... Also do not own the song When We Dance -- that belongs to Sting. Please don't sue me... I'm already poor.



When David had asked her to marry him four months ago, it hadn't taken Buffy long to answer him. 10 seconds to be exact. 7.5 seconds to think, and 2.5 seconds to answer. "Yes, David. I'll marry you."

She'd said yes because she loved him. Oh, not an all consuming, rip your insides apart kind of love. She'd *been there, done that* one too many times in the past. She really wasn't looking to 'do it again'. No, this time it was a calm, quiet, friendly sort of love; but love nonetheless.

His face had beamed with a self-assured grin, and he'd leaned across the restaurant table and kissed her quickly on the lips. A big deal for David as he normally disapproved of public displays of affection. She had smiled happily back at him, holding out her left hand as he fished into his pants pocket for little box containing the two-carat gold and diamond engagement ring.

She was content -- content with knowing that David was pleased. Peaceful, steady, conventional David.

Wanting to make David happy had been the second reason for Buffy to say yes to his proposal. The final reason... the main reason... the only one she wouldn't admit to -- not even to herself -- was that David had asked her to marry him on the eve of her twenty sixth birthday. Ten years as a Slayer. Ten years of dedicating her life to 'the cause'. Ten years wondering if she'd ever make it past her twenty-fifth birthday. And now, on the eve of achieving that goal, David was offering her the opportunity to achieve another goal. That of having a normal life.

The culmination of years of fighting, killing, and dying had left her longing for peace, and quiet, and normalcy. And then David had asked her to marry him. To become his wife. To be normal with him. During his proposal he'd even stated that he felt he could continue to overlook her odd occupation.... How could she resist?

So now, four months later, she stood in the center of her friends at her own wedding rehearsal. She watched Willow play *Buffy the bride* and stand beside David before the officiate. As the clergywoman clipped through an abbreviated version of tomorrow's ceremony Buffy made herself take deep calming breaths. Something within her was jangling, trying to make her run. But she couldn't, she wouldn't, not now. Not when she was so close to reaching this goal.

A few minutes later Buffy heard the clergywoman chirp that the bride and groom could now kiss, and she watched as Willow turned back toward Tara and winked. Then throwing a gamine grin in Buffy's direction, Willow stood on tip-toe and pecked David on the cheek. Leading a blushing David back to his intended Willow playfully teased him.

'Geez, Buffy! If he blushes that much from a kiss on the cheek what does he look like when you kiss him elsewhere?"

Buffy hid a smile behind her hand as David turned an even deeper shade of red. Her smile quickly turned to a sigh, however, when she saw David straighten his back and coolly lead her away from her friends. Public displays of affection -- soooo not David's thing.

As he led her out of the sanctuary and into the foyer she prepared herself for another quiet tirade against her friends.



He looked at her and shook his head disapprovingly. "Buffy. I just don't understand why you insist on maintaining relationships with," he looked back into the sanctuary where Willow and Tara had their arms around one another, Anya and Xander were playfully bickering with one another, and Dawn was whispering in her boyfriend's ear. Perceptibly shuddering he gazed back down at Buffy and placed his hand on her elbow to lead her to the parking lot. He hissed, "I don't understand why you insist upon associating with people who can not control themselves."

She groaned quietly and steeled herself to try, once again, to explain to David the bond that she shared with the infamous Scoobs. "David, Willow and the rest --."

Before she could finish her sentence David somewhat disdainfully interjected "Buffy, I've heard it all before. You really need to move beyond them, and the habit you have of associating with them. Tell you what, snookums, I'll introduce you to my friends at the rehearsal dinner this evening -- you'll make some wonderful new acquaintances. And then when we get back from Kennebunkport in a few weeks, you can have a little get together with some of those ladies." He opened the car door for her adding, "You'll see Buffy, with my help you'll have better, more appropriate friends in no time." And he closed the door on any response she might have had.

* * *

Buffy gazed around the huge dining hall. It was the largest, and most expensive, hall in Sunnydale. And it was largely filled with David's family and friends. Other than Scoobs, Giles and Ophelia, Lorne, Faith and Wesley, Gunn and Fred, Angel and Cordelia (along with their son Connor), Buffy didn't recognize a face in the two hundred plus seated hall.

Buffy sighed and then mused, *I've been doing a lot of sighing lately.*

She smoothed the palms of her hands against the black silk of her skirt. David hadn't said anything about the 'appropriateness' of her outfit, but she was certain that he was miffed. Looking down she reflected that she had probably worn the sexy outfit on purpose as she was still somewhat 'miffed' with David and his ridicule of her friends. The top she wore was a sleeveless, delicately beaded black corset. Its' bodice marked and defined the swell of her breasts and the indentation of her waist. The short, straight cut black skirt accentuated her toned, shapely, legs, caressing the middle of her stocking clad thighs. And on her feet were a sexy pair of strappy leather heels. Decidedly non-Slayer heels.

Buffy gathered her courage and decided to brave the wrath (only it was never really wrath, more like cold disappointment) of David and looked for him in the sea of people dancing and milling around in the hall. Locating him standing on the opposite side of the room chatting with a pretty, young brunette, Buffy determined to get her apology to him over with.

Threading her way around the edge of the room she smiled and greeted the various strangers who made apathetic eye contact with her. As she walked past the large glass balcony doors Buffy felt a familiar surge of electricity run through her. And suddenly she was no longer in the hall, she was standing on the balcony in the moonlight. Standing face to face with Spike.

Spike had left Sunnydale one year after Buffy had been pulled out of heaven; pulled out of heaven and back in to the loving arms of her friends... and Spike. At the end of that year had left. He left because she had asked him to. When her 'feelings' for Spike, her secret lover for nearly that whole year, had become too much for her to handle or define she had played her Ace and asked Spike to leave. 'If you love me Spike, then leave me! Leave here! Please, please just go!' He'd looked at her and reiterated his mantra to her: 'I told you I'd never leave you Slayer. Not like the others.'

She might as well have put a stake through his heart with the next words she had whispered: 'The others left me when I didn't want them to go. I need you to leave Spike. You have to go... you're killing me.' When he reached forward she had let him touch her cheek, she had even leaned into his caress, but her eyes had pled with him to leave her.

And so he had left.

*That was -- how many years ago?* She tried to calculate as she looked into his moonlit eyes. *Too many.*

"Spike!" His name slipped out of her lips like a prayer.


They were silent. Each looking at the other. Attempting to note any changes, any emotions. Attempting to memorize every detail of the other half of the masterpiece that was 'them'.

Buffy didn't know if it was seconds, or minutes, or hours that flew by, but she slowly felt herself catch up with the rest of the world. Sounds of clinking glass, gentle bon amie, and humming strands of music filtered around her.

"Heard you were getting married, pet."

"How did you find out?"

"I have my sources." He smirked. "Dawn's a good little correspondent."

Buffy shook her head, surprised by her failure to realize that just because Spike had agreed to leave her, it had not meant that he'd stop caring for and being a part of Dawn's life.

Spike cocked his head to the side and then let a seductive smile creep across his face. Holding out his hand to her he quietly asked "Can an old... *friend* have a dance with the bride-to be?"

She silently acquiesced. Placing her hand in his she let him draw her into his arms.

Sliding her hands across his shoulders she wrapped her arms around his neck. At the same time she felt him graze his hands against her waist, gently resting them on her lower back.

She breathed him in -- leather, cigarettes and whiskey -- as she rested her head against his chest. She hadn't realized just how much she liked his scent. How much she'd missed it.

Music and moonlight drifted trough and around them.

If he loved you

Like I love you
I would walk away in shame
I'd move town
I'd change my name

"The bloke doesn't love you Slayer. Not like," he paused and tilted her head up off of his chest until her eyes were captured by his. "Not like I do." It wasn't a point up for debate. It was just a statement. An observation of fact.

When he watches you
When he counts to buy your soul
On your hand his golden rings
Like he owns a bird that sings

Dropping his hand from her chin, he skimmed down her arm until his fingers were able to intertwine with hers. Lifting their bound hands he looked at the luminous ring on her petite finger. "Nibblet's worried about this aristocrat of yours. Says he treats you, and her, and the rest of them like a bit of dirt."

When we dance
Angels will run and hide their wings

Kissing the tips of her fingers one by one, Spike gently spun her around and then brought her back into his arms.

The priest has said my soul's salvation
Is in the balance of the angels
And underneath the wheels of passion
I keep the faith in my fashion

"I saw the little interchange between you and him at the chapel today." He answered her silent question by sheepishly adding, "I was hiding in the bushes. -- Anyways, I can tell. He wants to change you Slayer. Make you less than you are, so that you fit into his rich, pretty little world." Spike traced a leisurely pattern with his blackened fingernails: down her neck and slowly, over her collar bone, and then down her chest. He momentarily paused his hand over her heart.

"It's not like that for you and me Slayer. It never has been. You're my salvation, and I'm yours. We're the two halves of heaven. Day and Night. O would never want to change you."

When we dance

Angels will run and hide their wings

When we dance
Angels will run and hide their wings

Dropping his arm around her waist, Spike smoothly dipped her. Holding her there, her back curved into the palm of his hand, he had to keep a tight rein on the fever that was building up within him. He was holding Buffy, his Slayer, again.

If I could break down these walls
And shout my name at heaven's gate
I'd take these hands
And I'd destroy the dark machineries of fate

"I know I'm not your bloody idea of the perfect mate. But Buffy, luv, you have to know, I'd move heaven and hell for you if asked. Christ! If I had another bleedin' soul I'd give it up -- for you. I was meant for you... A dark Knight in not so shiny armor." He smiled humourlessly.

[If] Cathedrals are broken
Heaven's no longer above
And hellfire's a promise away
I'd still be saying
I'm still in love

"I left because you asked me to, but I kept track of you, of what was happening here. I... I never stopped Buffy. Never stopped watching your back. Never stopped loving you." He bent his body and nuzzled at her neck as they swayed to the muted sounds of the party. The muted sounds of life.

He won't love you
Like I love you
He won't care for you this way
He'll mistreat you if you stay

Twisting her body so that her back was pressed against his chest and stomach he let his hands slowly roam up her belly, across her corseted waist until he was gently cupping her full breasts.

She drew a jagged breath. They were now both facing the revelers in the hall. The yellow glow of the lamps and candles barely illuminating their hidden forms. Spike continued to taste and savour the smooth, creaminess her neck and shoulders.

"Has he ever made you feel this way? Has he ever told you how much you taste like champagne, and cinnamon, and sweet apples?"

Come and live with me
We'll have children of our own
I would love you more than life
If you'll come and be my wife

"I know life with me would never be normal Buffy. There'd never be a sunlit day for us -- just moonlit nights. There'd never be anyway for you to ever be completely certain that I won't lose control. I can only give you my promise to spend every moment of our lives together attempting to prove to you that I love you."

I had a dream last night
I dreamt you were by my side
Walking with me baby
My heart was filled with pride

He swung her back around so that she faced him. Ending their rhythmic swaying, he kept his body pressed tightly, firmly, against hers. Tethering his crystal blue eyes to her desire-filled green ones, he leaned forward and kissed her on the nose. Her silly, little, perfectly imperfect nose. Dipping his head a bit more he captured her lips with his and using just the slightest bit of pressure he got her to part her lips in response. Delving into her mouth, he let his tongue tease and play with hers.

When we dance

Angels will run and hide their wings

Soon, Buffy and Spike were dueling again -- in the most sensual and graceful of manners.


Buffy looked at herself in the mirror and smiled. She was happy. She was twenty-six years young. She was in love. And she was getting married. She felt her stomach flip flop with anticipation.

Gazing at her reflection in the full length oval mirror she was pleased with what she saw. Wide, excited eyes. Flushed cheeks. Hair, at the last minute, done in an up-do -- to emphasize her neck.

Seeing a glint of light flash at her side, she looked down at the third finger of her left hand and beamed. A beautiful brushed platinum ring with a simple .5 carat diamond winked up at her.

Buffy smiled at the memory of Spike asking her to marry him last night... and she chuckled at the memory of him fainting when she'd said 'yes'. Actually it had been more like 'Yes! Yes!! YES!!!' But either way it had taken him a full 2 minutes to wake up out of his faint.

And then it had taken him a good (a very good) twenty minutes to show her just how happy he really was.

When she'd finally managed to disentangle herself from his lithe limbs and nimble hands, Buffy had tucked, straightened, and prodded her hair and clothing back into place. And then she had held her hand out to Spike, who still laid half undone on the cold patio floor, watching her. He'd reached out and let her help him up.

Tucking his shirt back into his pants, he'd zipped up his fly, and made a quick search and rescue of his leather duster, which was precariously hanging on the limb of a nearby tree. Looking at the Slayer uncertainly, he had grinned a Cheshire cat grin when he saw her once again holding out her hand to him. Grasping her right hand in his, he'd snaked his left arm around her waist and let her lead him into her wedding 'rehearsal dinner'.

One insult later - David to Buffy, one 'Grrrrh' face later - Spike to David, and one glass of champagne poured over a head later- Buffy to David, and Buffy was free of David and happily re-captured by Spike.

After David and his 190 or so guests had left Buffy's rehearsal dinner, Angel Investigations and the Scoobies had celebrated.

And Buffy had engaged in several public displays of affection.