Chapter Two

"Slay-er, I mean Buffy, what's the use in dragging me along to go dress shopping if you won't even model the gowns?" Spike asked tiredly. They'd been at the boutique for over an hour, and though Buffy had entered the changing room holding many gowns, she had yet to exit wearing any of them.

"You ready for me?" she asked playfully. The blond vampire heard the rustle of fabric and the door opened slightly. Buffy stuck her black boot-clad foot out teasingly. The door swung wider to reveal Buffy in the most hideous wedding gown that Spike had ever seen in his 127 years of existence. The sleeves puffed. The skirt was covered in lace, and it bulged at her rear end. To top it off, there was a large bow over the bodice.

He shuddered visibly. "Oi, luv, that's horrible. Next?"

Buffy shuffled back into the dressing room. A few minutes later she exited the changing room wearing a white dress with a black slash from right shoulder to left hip. Spike burst out laughing when he saw the monstrosity of a hat that she wore, complete with feathers.

"Third time's a charm, I hope," he wheezed, trying not to fall out of his chair.

Spike was still chuckling softly as Buffy exited the changing room the third time. His jaw dropped. Standing before him was the most elegant, beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes upon. "I... I..." His throat worked spasmodically as he tried not to sound like a blabbering moron, drool, and tried to keep his eyes from bulging out comically at the same time. "You look exquisite," he finally whispered. Way to go, bollock-brain. Why don't you sound even more like Peaches while you're at it?

Buffy turned for him, displaying the garment that had (miraculously) shut Spike up. The skirt, which brushed the floor, had many layers that swished when she moved. It tapered to a narrow waistline, then stayed snug as it traveled up her torso. The fabric ended just above her breasts in a square cut, then fell off the shoulders in a modified sundress style. It was held together by a row of tiny buttons that ran up Buffy's spine. She had tied her golden locks back in a slightly messy French twist, allowing a few strands to hang loosely around her face. A gauzy, simple veil with satin edging covered her face, held in place by a wreath of fake flowers.

The blond Slayer smiled at her near-drooling former mortal enemy. "You like?"

Spike, still unable to put syllables together intelligently, simply nodded.

Fifteen minutes later, after having paid for Buffy's gown, which they left in the shop to be picked up later, the unlikely pair was in the men's formalwear shop across the street.

Spike's first choice was immediately turned down. It was practically identical to the one which had been worn by Jim Carrey in "Dumb and Dumber". The second came complete with a lime-green cumberbund, which Buffy immediately wrinkled her nose at. Numbers three and four had coat-tails and a bright blue-colored waistcoat, respectably. Finally, on his fifth attempt, Spike rendered Buffy speechless. He exited the dressing room in black tuxedo pants and shiny formal shoes, a white button-down shirt with black button studs, an undone black bowtie, and a waistcoat that was the exact color of the silk shirt he constantly wore. His tux jacket, he held over his shoulder with one finger. He put on the indifferent stare of an accomplished male fashion model, then strutted about the store as if he had been working the runway for years.

Buffy insisted that he buy the tuxedo rather than renting it, and after melting a hole in her mother's credit card, they continued on to the bakery. "Now remember, Spike," Buffy said patronizingly as they walked through the sewer tunnels. "We want a nice, normal cake. With nice, normal colors and a nice, normal flavor."

Due to the darkness Buffy missed the slight hurt that flashed across Spike's handsome features. "You think so little of me that I would do that? Ruin our wedding?" He sighed. "Wouldn't do that to you, pet. After all, a bloke only gets the opportunity to get engaged to his former mortal enemy... well, in my case, twice. But that's beside the point."

For some inexplicable reason, Buffy suddenly felt the need to apologize to him. It was a strange feeling--she had never felt guilt over anything she had said to him before. "I'm sorry, Spike. I didn't mean anything by it."

"Forgiven, luv. Besides, I was going to suggest we get a two-tiered cake with marble on the layer for the guests and raspberry on the top layer that we save for our anniversary... though I guess we really won't be needing that, since we'll probably end up getting an annulment or killing each other before the reception's over." He looked over at the wall of the tunnel. "Ah. Here we are." He quickly climbed the metal rungs of the ladder leading up to the street, his duster billowing around him.

Buffy paused for a moment, confused at where this new, sensitive Spike had come from, then shrugged and followed him out of the tunnel.

They walked into the small bakery, and Buffy rang the service bell. A man wearing a white apron approached the counter. "How may I help you?" he asked them. He glanced at Spike slightly disdainfully before turning his attention on the blond Slayer at his side.

"We'd like to look at your wedding cakes," Spike said, his North London accent falling away and an upper-crust British accent taking its place. Suddenly the baker's facial expression changed, as if he saw Spike in a whole new light.

"Certainly, Mr..." the baker began.

"Alexander. William Alexander," Spike replied politely.

The chubby baker motioned for Buffy and Spike to follow him into the back room, where a large, glass-doored cooler stood. It contained absolutely beautiful cakes in all shapes and sizes.

"Oh, Buffy luv, I do like this one," Spike said, pointing at a simple, two-tiered cake decorated with flowers. A blond, plastic couple stood grinning atop the baked wonder. "Don't you, pet?"

"Yes," she said, looking at him slightly incredulously. Spike merely winked at her, then turned back to the baker. "Is this one ordered?" he asked.

The rounded man smiled. "You're in luck, Mr. Alexander. This one is the last one that I have available."

"We'll take it. Can you have it delivered to 1630 Revello Drive by tomorrow evening?" Spike pulled out his wallet and handed the man a credit card.

The sun had set and Buffy and Spike were walking through the streets of Sunnydale, ever so often stopping to slay a fledgling. "How did you... back at the bakery..." Buffy began, unsure of herself.

"The accent?" Spike asked, chuckling. "The baker looked at me funny, luv. Had to let the poofter in me handle the situation." He grinned. "Never fear, Slayer, the Big Bad is here to stay."

Buffy snorted.

The cake had made its way over to Buffy's house in one piece, and was now in the back of her mother's Jeep, being driven to the small, gothic church that had been selected as the last-minute setting for the marriage ceremony. The crosses and holy water had been moved, at the request of the couple, to one of the back rooms. A large battle-axe had been placed so that it would be in reach of the warriors when the time came to do battle with a Tazigap. A broadsword lay next to it.

Buffy stood in her bedroom, in front of the full-length mirror. She wore nothing but the lacy white underwear she had purchased earlier that day--thigh-high stockings, a garter, and a thong. At least I'll feel sexy tonight when I curl up with my friend, Mr. Vibrator, she thought to herself. As she pulled on her dress, a soft knock sounded at her bedroom door. She quickly slipped her arms through the straps of the gown and opened the door a crack, then wider as she invited Willow into the room.

"Wow, Buffy, you look gorgeous," the redhead gushed.

"Wanna button me?" Buffy asked, turning so she faced away from her best friend. The narrow, tan expanse of her back was revealed by the back of the dress.

"No bra?" Willow asked, giggling. "Naughty."

If only Spike knew--stop, Buffy. You do not want Spike. He's... Spike, for god's sake! "I just hate strapless ones," the blond said.

Buffy sat on the edge of her bed and pulled on her shiny, white, chunky-heeled Mary-Janes. She walked over to her closet and pulled out the green trunk that still sat there, lifting out the false bottom and pulling out a small dagger. She tucked the sheath into her garter, then walked into her mother's room and sat at the vanity. She allowed Willow to do her makeup and hair, zoning in and out as she giggled and talked.

The sound of a car horn brought Buffy back to reality. Looking out the window, she realized that the limousine had arrived. The two women made their way down the stairs of the Summers home and out the door, climbing into the long, white limo, which would carry Buffy away to her new fate.

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R to NC-17