Chapter Twelve:     Back in Black.

It was such a small thing to carry such dreadful finality.  Just two words.

Mr Harris was being his usual obnoxious self at the rehearsal dinner.  He made a long speech about the virtues of his wife; Buffy could see from Xander's white, tense, face that his son was expecting him to end it with some vicious put-down.  Except that Mr Harris met Spike's icy gaze and lost his nerve.  He ended with some lame remark about not being worthy of her; Mrs Harris beamed happily at him and said, "Oh, Tony, that was sweet.  I wish you were always this nice to me."

Halfrek looked a question at D'Hoffryn and received a nod of approval.  She glanced at Buffy, grinned triumphantly, and said it.  "Wish granted."

It took a few seconds for the implications to sink in, and then Buffy felt a cold chill run along her spine.  That was it.  There was no longer any possibility of cancelling out the wish.  Even smashing the pendant wouldn't achieve anything now except to affect the relationship between Xander's parents.  Spike was permanently human and stuck with the restrictions on his behaviour that he resented so much.

As if Operation Win Back Spike wasn't going to be enough of a struggle.  She watched him with Tarantula, saw him treating her with elaborate courtesy and open affection.  Ordinary girl, yeah, but that seemed to be quite enough for Human Spike.  What did Buffy have to offer that Tarantula hadn't, other than the ability to beat Spike to a pulp in an alley?

Buffy walked home afterwards with Dawn, Willow, and Tara.

"D'Hoffryn seemed to be enjoying himself," Willow remarked.

"Too right, sport.  Stone the bleeding crows," Tara chuckled.  "Tie me kangaroo down by the billabong."

Dawn almost fell over laughing.  Buffy gazed blankly at the witches.  "What are you talking about?"

Willow looked surprised.  "D'Hoffryn being Australian.  You know." "Can I just say 'huh'?" Buffy responded.  "Thought he was from this demon zone, Arashmastan or something.  Don't tell me it's a suburb of Sydney or whatever."

"Where were you while the rest of us were in the Bison Lodge?  Body there, mind somewhere else?  Weren't you paying attention to anything other than Spike?" Willow shook her head.  "Xander's folks thought D'Hoffryn was a stage magician.  Asked if he played Vegas.  D'Hoffryn said no, he did most of his work Down Under, meaning like the Lower Planes, 'cept they thought he meant Australia and so he played up to it.  I was expecting him to start playing the didgeridoo any moment.  Who'd have thought the Lord of Vengeance Demons would have such a sense of humour?"

"And the bit about Anya in the spangled tights," Tara smiled.  "Didn't you hear her talking about sawing men in half?"

"Heard a bit, but kinda tuned her out," Buffy confessed.  "Thought she was just talking about her time as a Vengeance Demon."

"She was," Dawn chipped in.  "The Harris clan thought she meant on stage.  'Cept Xander.  I don't think he knew whether to laugh or cry for a while, but in the end he went for laugh.  I thought this was going to be, like, totally boring, but it was fun.  I had a really good time."

"Yeah, well, all right for some," Buffy muttered.  "It wasn't your purse Mr Harris threw up in."

"It fits!" Xander exclaimed triumphantly.

"And so you shall marry the Princess," Spike proclaimed, gesturing with an invisible wand.

"Yeah, sure will," the bridegroom grinned.  "I was worried, you know.  I know I've been putting on weight since I booked the tux.  Was scared I wasn't going to be able to fasten the cummerbund, and the whole world would see the place where my pants meet my shirt, and I'd die of embarrassment.  But it fits just like it did when I tried it on.  This last week I've been eating a lot less, seems to have done me good."

"And you burned off a lot of calories the night before last," Spike reminded him, with a wicked little smile.  "Hope you've eaten a lot of things rich in zinc since then. Oysters, strawberries, rhino horn, M'Fashnik testicles, y'know."

"Shush!" Xander urged him, blushing.  "Nothing gets back to Ahn, remember, whatever she said about my last night of freedom."  He fidgeted with a buttonhole. "Hey, Spike, sorry I didn't ask you to be Best Man.  You're pretty much doing the job anyway.  Should have made it official.  Willow's acting more like another bridesmaid."

"Don't worry about it, mate.  Everything was already arranged, would only have screwed things up trying to make changes so close to the time.  Squeezing Tarantula in, and Harm, was enough of a hassle."

"There was an 'and partner' place for you all the time, so Tarantula wasn't a problem," Xander assured his friend.  "No, I mean I should have asked you in the first place."  Something Spike had said earlier suddenly registered on him and his eyes opened wide.  "M'Fashnik testicles?"

"Wow, look at you two," Willow greeted Xander and Spike.  "Formal wear really suits you.  Making me kinda rethink the gayness."  She smiled playfully, but then shot a nervous glance at Tara in case her remark had offended her lover.

Tara smiled back.  "Me too," she said equally playfully.  "William definitely looks good enough to eat.  Back in black."

He did indeed look good enough to eat, Buffy agreed.  Spike hadn't gone the tuxedo route.  He wore a slightly more casual suit in black, teamed with a black silk shirt and a white bow tie, and the effect was very James Bond.  Elegance, charm, and a hint of danger.

Whereas Buffy was wearing the bridesmaid's dress from Hell.  Okay, so were Willow and Tara, but they weren't trying to take the Chief Usher away from his girlfriend.  Tarantula was in a classic little black number, she'd cut back on the Goth Chick jewellery and lightened up on the makeup, and was looking like very formidable competition.  The emerald green monstrosity Buffy wore was an unfair handicap.  Like having to run the hundred metres in clown shoes.  Anya had taste, her makeover on Spike proved that, and her bridal gown was a classic.  What was with the sadism towards bridesmaids?

Oh well, at least Halfrek was labouring under the same handicap.  "Hello, William," the Vengeance Demon bridesmaid greeted Spike.

"Miss Underwood," Spike replied stiffly, and turned away to take up his duties greeting guests at the door.

Buffy turned to Halfrek.  "Thought your name was Addams?"

"I was using 'Underwood' when I met William," Halfrek explained.  "I changed after 'The Lord of the Rings' became popular.  'Underwood' makes me sound too much like a hobbit."

Willow chuckled and gave Halfrek an appreciative smile.  Buffy fumed.  It would be just too much if Halfrek started bonding with the other Scoobies.  "And 'Addams' doesn't make you sound like you should be married to Gomez?" she retorted.

"Oh, the Addams Family has quite a following in Arashma'har," Hallie replied, unruffled.  "Ah, I see D'Hoffryn has arrived."  She headed off to greet her boss, leaving Buffy feeling as if she'd come off worst in the exchange yet again.

Spike frowned.  The old man talking to Xander didn't seem to tally with anyone on the guest list.  He consulted briefly with Dawn and then made for the stranger.  He was intercepted on the way by Mr and Mrs Harris.

"William, are we really meant to be in the third row?" Xander's mother asked hesitantly.  "It's all right if we are, but Tony thinks it must be a mistake."

"It is a mistake, Mrs Harris," Spike assured her.  "It's Uncle Rory and partner who should be in the third row.  I'll get it sorted."

"I told you, Jessica," Mr Harris smiled affectionately at his wife.  "We're a big part of this thing.  Alexander wouldn't let you be overlooked."  He gave her a reassuring squeeze, and she beamed at him and gave him a squeeze in return.

Spike stopped dead in his tracks and stared in amazement.  The groom's parents looked at him with a faintly puzzled air, and he shook himself.  His open expression of surprise was bad manners.  If Tony Harris was being less of a prat than usual this was to be encouraged.  "I'll get Uncle Rory shifted and get you your proper place," he promised, and moved on towards the seating, losing sight of Xander, who was being ushered into a side room by the old man.

"I can prove I'm you.  Prove I'm from the future.  I have to warn you.  You mustn't do this."  The old man held out a glowing purple orb.  "Look into it.  You'll see what I've seen.  Feel what I've felt."

"Look, I'm not sure..." Xander began, but was cut off as a beam of purple light shot from the glass and seemed to suck him into the orb.

Visions filled his mind.  Scenes from a grim, bitter, and depressing future life with Anya.  Out of work following an incapacitating back injury.  Two children, but one of them obviously not his.  No sex, no job, no love, no money, no fun, no hope, no joy, no light just the dark.  Buffy dead, nothing he could do to save her; living with a lover who became a stranger; friends had gone.  Turning into Dad, I think I'm turning into Dad, I really think so.  Bitter rows escalating eventually to abuse and violence.  His parents' marriage taken to extremes.  Everything he most dreaded.  Ending with him delivering a dreadful blow with a frying pan to Anya's defenceless head.

The vision ended, and once more he was standing in the side room facing his older self.

"I'm so sorry," the old man said.  "I didn't want to show you."

"What happened?" Xander gasped.  "What was that?"

"A glimpse of your future.  Harnessed by magic."

"Is she okay?" Xander asked anxiously.  "Is she okay?  What did I do?"

"Listen, I don't have long.  The spell that brought me back won't last.  But you can change things.  It doesn't have to go like this.  But you can't marry Anya.  You'll hurt her less today than you will later, believe me.  Sometimes, two people, all they bring each other is pain."

Spike finally tracked Xander down in the kitchen.  The groom was standing at the open back door, staring out at the torrential rain, his face a picture of misery.  He saw Spike and stepped out into the rain.

Spike jumped after him and pulled him back.  "What are you doing?  You'll get soaked, you daft nit," he scolded.  He saw the expression on Xander's face and his brow furrowed.  "What's up, mate?  You look like your cat just died."

"I can't marry Anya," Xander choked out.  "I saw the future.  It'll all go wrong.  Gonna end up hurting her."

"You what?"

"I had a visit from my future self," Xander began.  He gave Spike a potted run-down of what the old man had shown him.

Spike shook his head.  "Hang on a minute."  He poked his head back into the main room.  "If that old bloke is you, and he could only stay for a short time so he had to rush through the warning – then why is he still here?  Looking at where the bride's going to come out?  He's bloody gloating."  A grin spread over his face as he realised that he'd managed to swear.

"Gloating?" Xander breathed.  "You're right, that doesn't make sense.  Not me, then.  It's got to be Ethan Rayne."

"Who?  That bloke who turned Giles into a Fyarl demon, you mean?  Why would he want to screw up your wedding?"

"Don't know, but he loves messing with Giles, getting his business partner jilted would be right up his street," Xander said angrily.  "And he always stays to gloat."

"Okay, let's stuff the bastard," Spike said decisively.

"Yeah, let's do that," Xander agreed.

They left the kitchen and made for the old man.  "Hey, sunshine, let's see your invitation," Spike challenged him.

The man turned to face him, confusion evident on his face.  "I just needed to speak to Xander Harris, mister," he replied.  "I'll be going soon."

"You don't know who I am, do you?"  Spike turned to Xander.  "Still think that's your future self?"

"You're right, there's no way I'd speak to you like that," Xander agreed, his smile returning.  "You're not me," he addressed the old man confidently.  "I don't like lying gatecrashers trying to fuck with my wedding plans.  Out.  Now.  Or get thrown out with some bruises.  Probably a lot of bruises."

"I think not, human," the phoney Xander growled, his voice becoming deep and resonant.  His body began to swell and grow, bursting out of his clothes, and his skin turned grey.  Yellow spines grew from his head.  "Anyanka must pay for what she did to me.  Getting her left at the altar would have been ideal, but leaving her groom dead on the floor would work too."

"So, not Ethan Rayne, then."  Xander looked up at the huge demon, taken somewhat aback, and retreated a couple of paces.

The demon charged forward and lashed out with a clawed hand.  Spike blocked the blow before it could touch his friend, but was knocked aside in the process.  A follow-up blow got past Xander's attempt to parry and carved a gash along the young man's shoulder.

Anya came out into the main room just in time to see the fight start.  "Xander!" she cried out in horror.

"Anyanka!  I've waited a long time for this," the demon boomed gleefully.

Spike took advantage of its distraction to regain his feet and look for a weapon.  The cake knife, long and sharp, caught his eye first, but it occurred to him that Anya wouldn't appreciate cutting the cake with an instrument covered in demon blood, and so instead he snatched up a bottle of cheap wine.

"Who are you?" Anya asked, looking blank.

"Stewart Burns!" the demon proclaimed.  Anya still looked blank.  "You don't remember me?" the demon went on, his triumphant air being superseded by irritation. "Chicago.  South Side.  1914.  Philanderer.  You ruined my life.  Some hussy I'd been running around with summoned you, next thing I know I look like this and I'm being tortured in another dimension."

"Oh, yes, I'd forgotten," Anya replied.  "I punished you."

"And now I'm going to punish you," Burns roared.  "Might as well take it out on you directly rather than on your loser bridegroom."  He stepped forward, only to be brought crashing to the ground as Xander tackled him round the knees.

Spike jumped in and brought the bottle down hard on the demon's head.  Once, twice, and then a third time so hard that the bottle shattered.  Burns cried out in anger and pain and lashed backwards with a claw.  Spike jumped effortlessly over the blow and stabbed down with the jagged neck of the bottle.

Buffy arrived, glad of an opportunity to work off some of her own feelings, and kicked the demon solidly in the head.  The fight was effectively over from that point. Spike landed a kick of his own, bringing a croak of agony from the demon's lips, and then Buffy seized Burns by the head and wrenched hard.  Game over.

"Xander!  You're bleeding," Anya wailed as her bridegroom picked himself up.

"What's going on?" Tony Harris demanded.  "Who is this guy?"  A dozen other guests chimed in with variations on the same question.  "In fact, what is this guy?" Mr Harris added, taking another look at the monstrous form on the floor.

"A professional rival of mine, cobber," D'Hoffryn spoke up, "trying to muck things up on the sheila's wedding day, just to get back at us for having a better act.  I've seen better costumes on Paddington poofters in the Sydney Gay Parade.  Chuck the bloke in the dunny, mates."

Buffy and Spike took hold of the corpse and dragged it away into the kitchen.  "Think the guests'll go along with Crocodile D'Hoffryn's explanation, pet?" Spike wondered.

"This is Sunnydale, source of de Nile," Buffy replied.  "They'll go along."

"Yeah, I suppose if they'll swallow that accent they'll swallow pretty much anything," Spike grinned.  They carried the body out into the alley, threw it into a dumpster, and returned to the wedding only slightly damp and dishevelled.

Willow and Spike patched Xander up in a restroom.  He filled Willow in on the demon's plan, and the vision he had been given, while they worked.  "So, not a real future," he mused, "but still worrying.  I mean, suppose things really turn out like that?  Can I make a go of marriage?  Am I up to it?  I mean, look at my folks."

Willow pursed her lips and her brow wrinkled.  "I don't know, Xander, they seem pretty happy together at the moment, and they were all kissy last night.  Maybe when they used to make you go out and sleep in a tent in the garden it wasn't because they were fighting, might have been because they were boinking like bunnies."

"And that's an image I'm going to have to scrub out of my brain with wire wool," Xander winced.  "Quick, Xan-man, think of something to drive the image out."

"Willow's parents shagging like bunnies," Spike suggested impishly.

"Gack!  Not helping," Xander complained.

Willow whacked Spike on the shoulder.  "You're evil," she scolded.  "Only, not evil evil," she added, flustered, suddenly remembering that Spike had indeed been an evil vampire in the past.  "Just, you know, naughty.  What with the bringing up my parents boinking."

"You started it," Spike pointed out.  "Okay, Xander, image removal time.  Remember that black bird at the bachelor party?  With the white stockings?"

Xander reached out and put his hands over Willow's ears.  "Hey!  Not in front of the ladies!"

Willow pulled his hands away.  "Best Man here," she reminded him.  "Embarrassing the groom, sorta in the job description.  Don't worry, I won't tell Anya.  But enquiring minds want to know more."

"Don't you dare!" Xander appealed to Spike.  "You're my friend."

"Okay, mate, get out there and marry Anya, and the story about you, the black bird, the blonde with the big knockers, the banana and the chocolate sauce will never cross my lips."

"Yep, definitely glad I didn't make you the Best Man now," Xander grumbled insincerely, a big goofy grin on his face.

"So am I," Spike revealed.  "See, as Best Man, I'd have to dance with the Matron of Honour, and you know who that is?"

Willow suddenly looked aghast as she realised what was in store for her.  "Halfrek!" she exclaimed, horrified.  "Eww!  Quick, start talking about my mom and dad and chocolate sauce."

'If I wasn't here, would anyone really miss me?'  The thought snuck unbidden into Buffy's mind and stayed there.  She was the fifth wheel on this vehicle.  A spare bridesmaid without a partner and with no particular duties.  Even Dawn had been given a job as a greeter; all Buffy did was trail round after Anya and look as decorative as was possible while wearing a dress that could have doubled as a hazard warning at a nuclear power station.  She had slain the demon; but Spike and Xander had been doing a pretty good job anyway, Spike would probably have finished it off with another couple of blows even if she'd stayed out of it.

Now the dancing had started, and she had a new role as Buffy the Wallflower.  Okay, partly self chosen.  Richard would have danced with her.  Problem being that she didn't want to dance with him; no point giving him false hopes.  For a minute she did think about it; make Spike jealous, there's a plan; except it was a plan that sucked.  He wouldn't be jealous, probably just be glad she was out of his hair, if he even noticed at all.  Everybody was big with the 'got to dance with Spike'. Willow, Dawn, Tara, and definitely Halfrek, only Spike avoided her just like he'd dodged Buffy.  He was really in demand.  Wasn't even getting to spend time with Tarantula, who was playing wallflower just like Buffy.

Ah.  Plan.  Buffy smiled evilly and headed for Richard.

Oh dear.  This was rather unfortunate.

Fighting off the unwanted attentions of Xander's Cousin Carol had been bad enough, but this ...

Giles fought off the impulse to remove and clean his glasses.  "Harmony, my dear, I'm flattered, but I do think this is somewhat inappropriate.  I'm forty-eight years old, and I was technically one of your teachers at High School."  He refrained from saying out loud another reason for his unease; 'I'm a Watcher and you're a vampire'.

"Not there any more and anyway, librarian not teacher, so what's the problem?  I'm over twenty-one.  Not like you'd be taking advantage of me.  C'mon, Rupert.  It is okay for me to call you Rupert, right?"  She pressed closer to him, backing him up against the wall, and her breasts made contact with his chest.

Giles could feel his body reacting.  She was extremely attractive, he had to admit.  His exploits at Xander's bachelor party had reawakened urges that had been lying dormant, and this slim young body was very tempting.  "I have no objections to dancing with you, Harmony," he said stiffly, "but anything more would be quite out of the question.  I'm much too old for you."

Harmony moved back slightly and ran her tongue over her lips.  "Hey, plenty of hot young chicks go for older guys.  Catherine Zeta-Jones and Michael Douglas. Calista Flockhart and Harrison Ford.  And those guys are way older than you and haven't got that British cool.  Not seeing the down side for you.  C'mon, start with a dance and see how it goes, okay?  Let's hit the floor."

"Very well, Harmony," he agreed.  She took his hand and led him away.  Giles felt rather as if he was her prey; although as he watched her buttocks moving in her tight skirt he began to feel a little like being a predator.

Buffy cast a glance at Tarantula and Richard and smirked to herself.  They were talking animatedly, smiling, obviously getting on very well.  'I love it when a plan comes together', she thought.  Spike hadn't noticed.  He was between Willow and Tara, talking just as animatedly.  Buffy felt a flash of annoyance; the Scoobies seemed to be almost closer to Spike than to her these days.  Still, it all helped her plan to work.  Except, if she headed over and joined in it might distract Spike, cause him to notice what was going on with his girlfriend, so she'd have to stay clear.  Find something else to do, someone else to talk to.

Dawn had found a boy pretty much her own age.  A demon, yeah, but seemed pretty harmless, human looking except for horns, and they didn't seem to be getting up to any mischief.  If she went over and joined them Dawn would be all with the 'you never let me have any fun' and the pouting and the Death Glare.  Best to stay clear.

Giles.  She could do some Giles bonding.  Huh?  Giles and Harmony, dancing, and hey, getting pretty close.  Her arms round his neck.  Shaking that ass.  Giles smiling, looking younger than he had for a while, in fact looking a bit like he had on Band Candy night.  Giles and Harmony?  Let me be blind too.  So not going to go near them.

Xander and Anya, bride and groom, mixing with everybody except when they were dancing with each other.  And hey, get too close to them and probably catch fire. Feeling hot, hot, hot.  So, not good options for keeping the Buffy busy and sane.

In desperation she turned to D'Hoffryn and began asking him questions about the Vengeance Demon business.  Serious research, being a good Slayer, Giles would be impressed.  And if she could find out a way to get some changes made to the wish then, hey, bonus.

"Halfrek really excelled herself with this one," the Lord of Arashma'har said expansively, raising a brandy glass, swirling the liquid around, and savouring the aroma. "She had been slipping lately, her little number on your party was poorly researched and a little too derivative, but she redeemed herself handsomely when she gave you enough rope to hang yourself."

"Derivative?" Buffy frowned.  Something about the never-ending party had indeed seemed vaguely familiar.

"Luis Buñuel, 'The Exterminating Angel'.  Oh, I've nothing against my girls taking inspiration from human sources, but it doesn't have the same kudos as actually being the inspiration for works of art.  The collaboration between Anyanka and Halfrek that led to 'Battleship Potemkin' is the classic example."  D'Hoffryn sipped the brandy appreciatively.

Both the films named rang vague bells for Buffy; she'd heard them mentioned at College, but had not seen either of them.  Still, she knew they were highly regarded among the arty types she tended to avoid.  "I thought your demons were all for the evisceration and the exploding penises," she remarked.

"Oh, that's the day-to-day bread and butter stuff.  There's always a market for it, but it never wins any awards.  How many Oscars did 'The Texas Chainsaw Massacre' win?  None.  The real masterpieces are the subtle ones.  Like when a woman in Florida said 'I wish you'd just get lost' and Poine picked up on it.  A thousand books and films and TV shows followed.  A whole literature."  Buffy looked a question, and D'Hoffryn explained.  "The man was the flight commander for a certain group of Avenger bombers.  The Bermuda Triangle legend started with a wish.  Beautiful work."

Buffy was simultaneously appalled and fascinated.  Giles would be delighted when she reported her findings.  "So, where does what Halfrek did to me rate?  I mean, not seeing the big story here."

"I agree it's not shaking the foundations of the Earth, but it is delightful.  So little collateral damage; except to a Granok demon, and frankly they deserve everything they get.  They use their dimension-shifting abilities to hack into the network without paying, you know.  But I digress.  Yes, the wish has harmed almost no-one; if anything it has improved the lives of most of those around you.  Even William is coming to terms with the effects.  The only one who is really suffering is you.  Hoist with your own petard.  The reviews are excellent."  D'Hoffryn paused to light a large cigar and settled back comfortably in his chair.

"Look, I know you can fix this," Buffy pleaded, giving him her most winning smile.  "Like, you let Halfrek grant Xander's mother's wish, and nobody got hurt at all. You can be a nice guy.  Wipe out the bit where Spike got over me.  And the bit where I stopped him swearing and stuck a limit on his drinking, 'cause that was mean of me, and I'm sorry, okay?  I've learned my lesson.  Shouldn't change the one you love.  I wouldn't mind losing some of the good bits, as long as Angel's baby still comes out okay, you can take away the money and everything.  But I want my Spike back.  Please?"

D'Hoffryn leaned towards her and blew a cloud of fragrant smoke into her face.  "You have the wrong idea, Slayer.  I let Halfrek grant that trivial wish entirely for my own convenience.  The groom's parents' squabbling was annoying me.  The atmosphere is so much more pleasant and convivial with them being content with each other.  That's all.  Oh, yes, and it slammed the door on your last chance to wriggle out of the consequences of your greed.  Live with it.  Or work to mend things through your own actions."  He raised the brandy glass to his lips and sipped.  "I must say I'm impressed by your sly little piece of backstabbing tonight.  A good first step."

Buffy glanced guiltily over to where Richard and Tarantula were now dancing close together.  "I wasn't with the back-stabbing.  She was just left alone, with people she doesn't know, I was just doing a favour.  Not my fault if they get on well."

"And I'm really a professional magician from New South Wales," D'Hoffryn sneered.  "Keep up the good work and I might offer you a job yet."

"I don't want to hurt anybody," Buffy denied nervously.  "I just ... I wish Spike would fall in love with me again."

"I'm sure you do."  D'Hoffryn gave her a cold smile and took another sip of brandy.  "I haven't fallen for that one in two millennia.  Best of luck in your endeavours. Goodbye."

Spike looked around anxiously for Tarantula.  He'd kept getting caught up in conversations, time had flown past, and she must have been left alone far too long.  A lapse from good manners.  He hoped she'd found someone to talk to, hadn't been too bored.  Perhaps Buffy, who didn't seem to have been around the happy couple or Willow and Tara as much as he would have expected?  No, there was Buffy, dancing – with Halfrek?  That was unexpected.  Perhaps Giles?  No, Giles was dancing with Harmony.  Dirty dancing with Harmony.  So, the bint was acting on her fancy, then, and she seemed to be making some headway.  Perhaps Clem, always friendly and talkative.  No, here was Clem, heading towards him with a smile.  More conversation that would be hard to avoid without snubbing his friend, and he was particularly unwilling to do that in case Clem got the idea that Human Spike felt above being friendly with demons any more.  Ah, there was Tarantula, dancing with Richard.  Good, she wasn't stranded; he could have a bit of a natter with Clem with a clear conscience.  He'd get back to Tarantula a little later.

Buffy couldn't really remember how she'd ended up dancing with Halfrek.  Better than dancing alone like a total loser, she supposed.  Not as good as dancing with Faith had been.  Nowhere near matching her 'dances' with Spike, those fights that had made her burn with feelings she'd never been prepared to admit.  She should be really dancing with Spike.  'That's all we've ever done'.  But he'd avoided her.  So, here she was.  Dancing with the Vengeance Demon, drinking with her, and beginning to feel just a little giddy.  Watching what was going on around her.  Hey, the Plan was definitely coming together.  Richard and Tarantula were kissing. Yay, go me!

And now the DJ was playing 'Down Under' by 'Men at Work', and D'Hoffryn was being dragged onto the dance floor by Cousin Carol, and who was being hoist with his own petard now?  Things definitely looking up.

Hey, at last some men were taking notice of the spare bridesmaids.  Okay, just a couple of Xander's construction worker buddies who had been pretty damn annoying when she'd worked on the site that time, had lied about her and the demons, but at least they were men.  No harm in having a dance, let bygones be bygones.  'Do you come from a land down under?  Where women glow and men plunder?  Can't you hear, can't you hear the thunder?  You better run, you better take cover ...'

Spike strolled casually towards Tarantula and Richard, smiling happily, and suddenly stopped dead in his tracks.  The smile evaporated.

They were kissing.

They hadn't seen him, and they were kissing.

His friend and his girlfriend.  Ex girlfriend, now, he knew; the kiss was obviously more passionate than anything he'd shared with her.

Pain.  Hurt.  Betrayal.  Anger.  His hands clenched into tight fists.

Although, there hadn't really been any commitment between himself and Tarantula.  They'd been out together only a few times, had hardly kissed, he'd left herself to her own devices for an awfully long time at this party.  It wouldn't be fair to be angry at her.  Or at Richard.  It wasn't worth losing the friendship over.  Calm down, Spike, calm down.

A drink.  God, he needed a drink.  And a cigarette.

He headed for the bar, opened his mouth, and ordered ...

Pepsi.

He tried again.

Natural orange juice.

He gritted his teeth with frustration and settled for the soft drinks.

D'Hoffryn came to the bar beside him.  "Give me a tinny of the amber nectar, sport," he addressed the barman.  "I'm as dry as the Nullarbor Plain.  Strewth, that sheila's a bigger maneater than a salt-water croc."

The barman looked at him uncomprehendingly.

"A beer, ya drongo," D'Hoffryn translated.  Spike shot him an appealing glance.  "And another one for my mate," the Lord of Arashma'har added.

"Thanks." Spike gave a heartfelt sigh and raised the glass to his lips – and then put it down, untouched.

"I'm sorry," D'Hoffryn commiserated, dropping the Australian accent.  "The wish was very specific.  No more than two drinks in any one night, none whatsoever if you're going to be driving."

"And I came in the car," Spike remembered bitterly.  "Promised to give Dawn a lift home, Buffy too if she was leaving at the same time.  That's why I had to have soda for the toast."  He looked despairingly at the ruler of the Vengeance Demons.  "Can't you make an exception?  My girl's over there snogging my mate, tongues down each other's throats, and I really don't want to go and punch any faces in and spoil Anya's wedding do.  I need a drink.  And a smoke, but I just know a ciggie would taste like shit.  I'm screwed."

"I'm sorry," D'Hoffryn said again.  "I quite understand, but there isn't anything I can do.  Apart from offer our services with a vengeance wish."

"No, thanks," Spike sighed.  "It's not the end of the world.  I don't want anything bad to happen to them, I want to still be friends.  I just could do with a drink."  He picked up the orange juice and drained the glass in one gulp.  "A real drink."

"Are you sure?  A minor yeast infection, perhaps?  Just enough to cause unpleasant itching for a night or two."

Spike grinned, but shook his head.  "Tempting, but no thanks.  Think I'll just go and bitch at the bitch responsible for me not even being able to have a beer."

"I'll drink yours then, sport," D'Hoffryn said, reverting to Australian.  "Shame to waste it.  G'day."

When Spike found Buffy she was in a corner with Vince the construction worker.  He had her dress rucked up, his hand on her thigh, and he was attempting to unhook her bra with his other hand.  They were kissing.

Spike said nothing.  Just stood there.  Vince glanced up, saw him glaring, and hastily released Buffy, who opened her eyes to see Spike's disapproving expression.

"It's Spike!" she giggled.  "And he's wearing black."

"You're drunk," Spike said accusingly.

"Am not," Buffy replied.  "How much would wood a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck chuck wood wood.  See?  Plain as a, a, really plain thing.  Not drunk Buffy."  She giggled again.

"What business is it of yours, anyway?" Vince snarled at Spike.

"None," Spike admitted.  "Except that this is a terrible example for Buffy to be setting for her sister.  What on Earth do you think you're doing, Buffy, behaving like a drunken slut when the Nibblet's at the party?"

"Hey, don't talk like that to my girl," Vince warned, balling his fists.

"Don't call me your girl!" Buffy snapped.  "And stop pawing me."

"Pawing you?  You weren't exactly objecting.  What are you, a cock-tease?"

"Go away," Buffy told him.  "I want to talk to Spike."  She shoved Vince away, sending him flying fifteen feet across the room to land sprawling on the floor. "Oops!  Bad Buffy."

"You're a crazy psycho bitch!" Vince growled, picking himself up painfully.  "Should have remembered from the wreck you made of the site.  I'm out of here."

"All alone now," Buffy complained.  "Need someone to dance with.  Dance with me, Spike.  You know you want to dance."

"Not with you.  What the Hell are you playing at?  You obviously weren't interested in that bloke.  What was it, some lame attempt to make me jealous?"

"Did it work?" Buffy asked anxiously.

"Not a chance," he replied contemptuously.  "Pull yourself together.  I'm going to gather up Nibblet and take her home.  Whether you come or not is your own choice.  As long as you're not disgracing yourself in front of her I really don't care."

"Thanks again, Spike."  Xander shook his hand firmly.  "For everything.  Especially the party.  If you hadn't given me the chance to get rid of all the tension maybe I really would have run off after what that demon guy showed me.  I was wound up like a spring, ready to snap.  Might have done something stupid."

"Nah, you're too good and sensible a bloke for that," Spike assured him.  "You'd never have run out on your lady."

"Not if I was in my right mind, that's for sure," the newly wed young man agreed, with a fond glance at his bride.  "Anyway, thanks, and I'll see you in a couple of weeks."  Xander stepped back and Anya took his place.

"Goodbye, William."  She bent forward and kissed him warmly.  "Thanks for my party too.  I hope Xander didn't have so many orgasms at his that he won't be able to give me any tonight.  I was hoping to find something out when you did that appendix to the Best Man's speech, but you were disappointingly discreet."

"And I'm going to stay that way, too, so you'll have to stay disappointed," Spike said with a teasing smirk.  "See you in a fortnight.  Go forth and honeymoon."

To be continued ...

The characters in this story do not belong to me, but are being used for amusement only and all rights remain with Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, the writers of the original episodes, and the TV and production companies responsible for the original television programmes.  BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER ©2002 Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation.  All Rights Reserved. The Buffy the Vampire Slayer trademark is used without express permission from Fox.