Buffy walked in from the mall with Dawn. They'd finally found something that they could agree on. A little lace, lots of illusion, in a rich deep rose. Dawn came in the door, looked around and headed for the kitchen. Buffy did the same. By the time Buffy had reached the door, Dawn had the box open in front of Cordelia and they were discussing the various merits of Buffy and her gift.

Willow looked up at Buffy, eyes sparkling. "Tara called."

Buffy grinned at her excitement. "Really? Anything you can tell?" she teased.

Willow chuckled. "She and Anya were at the florist. Had to meet with them again. Having trouble pulling off the nightshade."

Buffy slammed down into a chair, with a bemused look on her face. "Ah, for the days of roses and stephanotis. Or even baby's breath."

Willow chuckled. "She just may have to make do. Or rent it from a hothouse or something. Anyway, they went by Willie's."

Cordelia looked up from her review of Buffy and Dawn's gift for Anya's shower. "Anything happening yet?"

Willow looked mischievous. "Just girls, girls, girls. In screen print t-shirts. That are really tight and really cropped. That say 'Xander's Toy.'"

Buffy rubbed her face with her palm. "Oh, God. Spike." She groaned. "Doesn't he remember Anya was a vengeance demon? Who keeps up with her old acquaintances? Who are still in the biz? I don't even like to think about what's going to happen there tonight. Any belly dancers yet?"

Cordelia stared. "We brought her from L.A., remember, Buffy?"

"I know that. I just meant .. Never mind."

"Tara seemed pretty whoo-whoo about Spike," Willow continued. Cordy and Buffy looked up in surprise. "No, no. Not like that. Jeez, you guys, Tara's gay. I'm gay. But there's a certain amount of appreciation . well, just 'cause we don't bed em don't mean we don't look." She said admonishingly.

"She just said that the Spike that's over at Willie's isn't like any Spike she ever remembers. She's really impressed. And not just with all those girls either. Food, two bars, bandstand. And she says he's got on new boots!"

Willow's face changed to a pout. "Aww… I just can't believe we're not going. I mean, Oz's band and Spike .. And just the whole party, party thingy. Angel and Xand and the guys from L.A. I haven't even met Gunn yet, but Fred said he's really neat . . I don't see why we can't go. Sure we'd be out of place, but I could try to butch up some before tonight."

Cordelia made a slightly rude noise. "You want to go to a bachelor party? With naked dancers and bimbo servers and ."

"Yeah," Willow said setting her chin as she faced down Cordelia. "I want to go. Xander's been my friend forever and the guys are going to have this decadent party and we're not."

Buffy looked up and said helpfully, "We've got a male stripper."

Willow looked at her sadly. "I just want to see Spike's party." She brightened. "You know, 'cause when Spike does anything he goes all out." Buffy blushed as she thought about all the different ways he could go all out and full out and on top and. Buffy felt her skin redden and picked up the thread of the conversation. "Oh, well." Willow continued with a sigh. "What did you get for Anya? I love what I got her but it's a surprise and I really don't want anybody to know what it is yet. Gimme, Cordy."

Buffy tuned everyone in the room out as she thought about everything she'd heard about the party. She had to admit she was pretty curious herself. But there was no way she would give Spike the satisfaction of knowing that.

Oh, and that party planner, that Anne, would be there, too. Just love to get a look at her and see what all the fuss was about. Bet she really wasn't really so all that. Anya was just blinded by her . professionalism. Buffy snorted out loud. Then, looked around to see if anyone noticed. But Dawn was rambling on about the things at Frederick's that Buffy had put her foot down about and Cordy was rambling about this cute little lingerie boutique in L.A., and Willow was off in her own little world.

Buffy had a quick flashback of the night before. And got all flushy just thinking about it. One thing about it, he sure could make a girl flushy and hot. Those hands . And it had been such a long time. She shivered a little and looked around guiltily to see if anyone had noticed. Nope.

Buffy had actually begun wondering if Spike's attention was wandering in another direction. Doing this party, meeting all those people (one in particular instantly came to mind). And he certainly hadn't been big on the contact lately. Innuendo, well, of course. But that sort of thing was like breathing for Spike. Or would have been if he'd still breathed.

Hello! Buffy thought derisively. Vampire slayer! Now that was exciting. Meeting dashing demons and certain blond vampires who certainly knew how to make a girl . Buffy felt a flush coming on and decided to go upstairs and try to get a nap in her mom's . Willow's room.

"Sure would like to see that party in full swing ." were the last words Buffy heard as she left the kitchen.


********

It was finally dusk. Buffy smoothed her clothes and took a last look in the mirror. She heard a motorcycle outside and headed down, taking the steps two at a time. She hoped her plan worked. Hated to think she'd wriggled into this thing for nothing.

Angel looked up disinterestedly as she hurtled down the stairs and out the door. Cordelia looked at Angel and raised an eyebrow.

"That Buffy … the one who flew by here just now … looked amazingly like the Buffy I used to know."

Angel's eyes darkened a little. He opened his mouth to speak. Then he shrugged. It was just too much trouble to get worked up over it. He didn't even bother to look out the window. He looked back down at the patrol maps, trying to get a handle on tomorrow night.

Cordelia looked a little put out at his lack of emotion. "Well, it makes things easier, doesn't it? For us, I mean, right?" she said meaningfully.

"He's an idiot," said Angel dismissively. "Always was. Does dangerous things. Always did." Angel looked up and held up his forefinger and thumb, curved toward each other. "See that? That's how close he's been to being dusted. At least two dozen times I can name. Six of those times, Buffy almost had him herself."

Cordelia leaned forward. "And you never wondered about that?"

"Huh?" Angel looked at Cordy.

"Well," she said warming her to subject. "I remember when Giles told us about him. He kills Slayers. That's what he does. Or did. Goes after them and kills them. Some Super-Duper Vampire Slayer Slayer."

"I remember. I was in China with him. I know what he's capable of."

"So all of a sudden he can't kill this one? You know, Buffy?"

"Cordelia, Buffy is really good. The best I've ever seen."

"Then why can't she kill him? It's not like she hasn't had the chance. Angel, she's even killed you. But never did she come close to killing him."

"She came close!"

Cordelia folded her arms. "Right," she breathed out slowly. "But she didn't finish the job, did she?


*******


Outside, Buffy was standing on the porch. Spike came up the steps. "Hey, Buffy. Waitin' for me?" He looked her up and down appreciatively.

She pretended she didn't notice. "Hey. How's the party coming along?"

"S'good. No snafus yet. Proper planning, you know."

"Right." She looked down. "New pants?"

"Yeah."

"Boots?"

"Yes," he said precisely, in a tone that forestalled further comments on his wardrobe. He turned the conversation to hers. "You're dressed to kill. Or be killed." He observed.

Buffy looked down, a little embarrassed. "I've worn skirts before on patrol."

Spike pointed at her skirt, a teasing expression in his eyes. "Short tight ones like that? Think I would 'a remembered, luv. Fact is, if you'd ever worn anything like that in the old days when you and me were mixing it up, I think you could 'a dusted me pretty easy. Of course, now I've seen the whole package, but even then, a little . "

She looked up at him and her chin hardened at the amused glint in his eye. "Maybe I should go change."

He laughed, eyes sparkling. "Not on my account, pet! Please."

Buffy started to say something mean (she hadn't thought of exactly what yet) when Angel came out the front door and brushed by them and down toward the motorcycle.

"William, if you're ready ." he said over his shoulder, not looking back.

Spike rolled his eyes. "'William.' Guess I'd better get 'mother' to his destination. He gets so impatient if you don't accord him the proper amount of respect."

Buffy bit her lip to keep from laughing. Spike looked at her, looked back over his shoulder, leaned over and brushed her cheek with his lips. "Be careful tonight. I mean it." he said intensely, looking deeply into her eyes before she had a chance to get mad. "I won't be there to watch your back."

Buffy saw that he was serious, so she didn't dust him. So far, so good. She smiled reassuringly. "I know. It'll be fine. Scoobie Girls Nite Out."

Spike grabbed her shoulders and shook her lightly, so that she'd pay attention. "The 'Scoobies' haven't done a patrol since you came back. That's months ago now. Makes me a bit nervous."

"I've got the maps. We'll go over them." She turned big eyes on him, all innocence. "Do you want me to check in with you when we're done?" she asked sweetly. Trap open.

"Yeah," he said relieved. Trap closed. "That'd be good."

"Uh." Buffy crooked her finger out to indicate Angel on the motorcycle. "He looks cranky."

Spike looked over his shoulder. Looked back at Buffy. "Constipated." He said raising an eyebrow.

Buffy spluttered. Spike stepped back and looked down to make sure she'd missed his shirt. "He looks like that when he's constipated. You bints think it's 'cause he's so deep." He shook his head. "Soddin' irregularity, that's all. Keeps you turned inward."

"You're crazy, you know that?"

Spike didn't pretend to misunderstand where that outburst came from. "For that little nothin' of a kiss? He didn't even see it. Too busy lustin' after my bike. Wasn't me kissed you like that anyway. That was 'William.'"

She nodded, smiling a little. " 'William' seems like he's a gentleman."

"Oh, yeah. He's a total wanker. Almost as pathetic as that waste of space sitting on my motorcycle." Spike turned to walk down to Angel, who was now crawling all over the big 'bike.

"I'll drive," Angel called out.

"I don't bloody think so!" Spike boomed back at him. Angel settled back.

Spike sat down on the seat and looked back over his shoulder at Angel.

"I saw that," Angel complained, as he nodded his head toward Buffy, still on the porch.

Spike smirked. "Good." And he peeled off on the motorcycle.


***********


"Willow," Buffy called out gleefully in satisfaction. "Got you a widdle present. Invitation to the bachelor party!" Cordelia jumped up. "What?"

Willow came flying in from the kitchen. "We're going to the party? Really?"

"Not precisely going-going, but we'll be able to peek."

Willow looked at her curiously. "How? I mean, how'd you pull it off?"

"Hard work and a wardrobe modification. Had to remind the ex-Big Bad that I'm a real girl. Hope it doesn't come back to haunt me. Now Spike's all worried about us 'gals' running the patrol without his perfect male self to back us up." she said sarcastically. "We're to 'check in.' I'm sure he won't be able to hear his cell phone with all the noise."

Willow walked in grinning. "Of course not. Why, the call may not ever even show up on his caller i.d.!"

Buffy's grin got bigger, as she nodded her head up and down. "Probably won't!"

Buffy walked over to the table and indicated some rolled up pieces of paper. "O-kay. Spike put together some patrol charts for us tonight. Places and the best times to be there based on activity for that area." She looked up. "Willow, call Tara and Anya. See if they can come on over here or meet us at the shop." Buffy started up the steps to her room. "We'll pick up weapons there."

"Sure," said Willow. She watched Buffy go up in puzzlement. "Where are you going?"

"To change. You don't think I'm wearing this little bitty skirt out on patrol, do you?" She called back down.

*******

Anya hung up the phone and went to the bathroom door, pushing it open.

"Ahn." Xander pulled his t-shirt down over his knees. "Honey, please?"

"Your 'Xander' t-shirt is on the bed, along with clean jeans, underwear, socks and shoes. You might want to take a jacket." She pulled the door shut. He could be so helpless.

"I'm headed to Buffy's." she continued, in a voice shrill enough to carry through the door. "We're going to the Magic Box and then patrol. You just go do that bachelor party thing."

She stalked back and stuck her head in the bathroom. "Make sure you do it really well. I don't want us to have to have another one of these at any time in our future," she said sternly, as she waved her hand in the air.

*********


"Is that every plot in Sunnydale? How can you read writing that small? What do those little lines mean? And those gray places? What do those mean? Seems awfully complicated for something we used to just …do." Cordelia sniffed in disdain, wrinkling her nose. "Spike can certainly be anal, can't he?" Willow's head swung around to the Slayer, who was weighing down the edges of the
pages.

Buffy looked up quickly, eyes glittering. "Funny. And I was just thinking what a nice change it was. You know, someone on the team who goes out on patrol night in and night out. Doesn't just pop in when there's an apocalypse coming down, give out some cryptic warnings and disappear again. You know, 'cause if that was the deal … with Giles gone, we'd really be handicapped now. As in maimed and dead?"

Willow's eyes went wide as she looked for Cordelia's reaction.

Cordy tapped her foot, folding her arms on her chest. "What do you mean by that?" she asked dangerously.

Buffy's face smoothed out. "Nothing. Just a thought I had. While I was going over these maps. Maps that even Wesley could use and do a real patrol."

"Hey!" Cordy sputtered, "Wes could … well, maybe not when he was in Sunnydale … but now that he's in L.A., he's a valuable member of the team!"

"Buffy!" Willow leapt into the stony silence. "Let's see those mappy thingies. Oh, wow. You and Spike came up with this last night?" she said, nodding big nods at Buffy to confirm it.

"Right" said Cordelia loftily. "Like it took you all night to *talk* about it. Angel may be all 'Oh-Buffy-wouldn't,' but I saw you two with your little secret language this morning, and we all know how he feels about you. Dru was pretty forthcoming with Angel…"

"Hey! Back down a little, Cordy." Willow didn't like the look on Buffy's face.

"Willow, this isn't about you. Buffy isn't being honest. In fact, nobody's being honest and I'm pretty sick of tiptoeing around just because ."

Dawn came down the stairs, looking from reddened face to reddened face. "What's up?" she quipped. She really had wanted to hear more, but Cordelia was making her mad. Nobody could fuss at her big sis that way but her. Hence, the perfectly timed interuption. Cordelia's mouth closed and tightened into a straight line. Just then, Anya walked in from the kitchen. Must have come in the back door.

"Nothing," Buffy answered Dawn, lowering her head and gathering up the charts. "Nothing is going on. Hey, Anya." she said weakly. "Was Tara coming right now?" she asked Willow, in a
clipped voice.

"Oh. No. She'll meet us at the Magic Box. Told her I'd catch her up on everything then."

"Okay. Weapon time. Dawn, where's Fred?"

"Upstairs with Connor. Duh."

"Help her out tonight, okay? Don't know how late we'll be."

"Kay." The four women filed out the door, Buffy clutching the rolls of paper. "See you later?" Dawn called after them. She ran to the window and grinned, looking out. Just because she couldn't listen to it didn't mean she didn't want Cordelia to have at it.

Boy, this was fun.

*******

Angel whistled in appreciation as he and Spike walked in the bar. Spike looked up at him in surprise and grinned.

"This is some spread," Angel commented, looking around.

Spike looked around himself, but he was a little bemused at Angel's whole change of attitude. Funny how well the two of them got along once the women in their lives were out of sight.

"You looking at the food or the bints?" Spike teased.

Angel looked at Spike suspiciously. "Where did you get the money for this? This was not cheap. Those girls are not cheap. This food was not cheap. When we had the open house at the Hyperion, it almost broke us. And we had Lorne helping out, calling in all kinds of favors."

"The girls are mostly students. Do a lot of parties for the woman who's helping me with this. And the food … well, everything really … was negotiated for turnkey cost. Anne keeps what she saved. It was expensive," Spike admitted. "Especially bringin' Oz and his boys back in here and keeping them in food and beer." He shrugged. "But I don't plan on having one of these once a week, y'know. Not even if the whelp and demon-girl don't take."

"Spike," Angel said proddingly, "the money?"

Spike thought fleetingly about telling him to 'sod off.' But instead he grinned and his eyes sparkled.

"Been uh, playing a few games of cards. High stakes stuff. Against some gentlemen with questionable morals. Rather redemptive really, in a sense. For me, at least. Robin Hood, without the stealing. Well, not precisely Robin Hood, unless you look at Harris as the 'poor.' Which I do.

"Anyway, I prevent these 'gentlemen' from reinvesting their ill-gotten gains by relieving said gentlemen of their money. Quite civily, of course. They are very polite 'gentlemen,' after all. Dangerous, but polite." Spike loved the look of surprise on Angel's face. "Didja think I was lootin' liquor stores or something?"

The surprise on Angel's face returned to a look of suspicion. "You're cheating at cards to pay for a bachelor party for someone you loathe?"

"'Loathe' is a strong word. Harris has his good points, I guess. Haven't seen many of them lately, though. As to cheating, well, somehow it didn't seem … fitting." Spike suddenly looked as puzzled as Angel. "Guess it would feel like knicking a gift. Anyway, I needed to get out of that kitten poker trap. This is much better. And it's a more widely accepted form of currency." He chuckled.

Angel shook his head. "Thinking about how your mind works makes my head hurt. I need a drink."

"Me, too. C'mon." Spike led Angel to the bar and motioned to the man stocking the liquor. "Bourbon." He looked at Angel. "Right?"

Angel shrugged. "Yeah, sure."

When the bottle was handed to him, he motioned for two shot glasses, which then appeared on the bar. Spike poured two healthy shots and handed one to Angel. "Here's to parties on the Hellmouth." He drank, as did Angel.

Spike looked around, mentally ticking off the progress in the preparations since he'd left to pick up Angel. Angel noticed him doing it. Noticed a lot of things. Like the satisfaction he felt emanating from Spike. Angel sighed. "Look at you. Who would have ever thought it?"

Spike turned to Angel. "What?"

Angel chuckled. "You were so … useless … when you were turned. Then you just got nuts."

Spike raised an eyebrow. "Oh, and you were the 'sanity' poster child? Those weeks you'd spend stalking some young girl or young man, terrorizing her and her family, until you made your move?"

Angel bristled slightly at that, then sighed. "Well, the gypsies took care of that."

"*And* the Wiccan. You just gotta love Red, even when she's deep endin' it, like right now."

Angel was curious. "Just what's up with that? Haven't had a quiet moment to ask anyone much of anything. I'd ask Willow, but ."

"Suffice it to say that old Red is having to come up with new coping strategies for her lack of self-image," Spike said. Oprah was definitely good for something besides the book reviews. "Like she wasn't worthwhile without the spells. Never understood it myself. One night, when I first got 'chipped,' I was huntin' up the Slayer for a … talk and found the Wiccan instead. Gave her a choice, dead or undead. But the chip started hummin' and I couldn't do a thing."

Spike shook his head. "It was horrible. A bit like not being able to … well, you know." Angel nodded. "Well, Red gets it into her head that it's because she's not … attractive enough." Spike snorted. "And you know how cute she is. Little turned up nose and great big eyes. And that hair! Hell, I'd have turned her, kept her around. Now *she* would have been an interestin' little vamp…Wicked!" Spike's eyes took on a far away look. He shook his head and looked at Angel. "Women! They make everything more than it is."

"Speaking of which, what's the deal with Buf ."

Spike interrupted him. "There's Oz. I'm needin' a word with him. Have another drink." Spike said as he hastily got up. "Or six."

*******
"I don't know what you're in such a snit about," Cordelia complained loudly. "Your boyfriend called *us*."

Buffy whipped around in the middle of the sidewalk. "What 'boyfriend?'" Buffy sputtered, looking over her shoulder at Anya, who was looking way too interested. "And you and Angel are an 'us' now?" She rushed on, grasping at anything to get off the boyfriend thing.

Cordelia stopped dead. "First, on the boyfriend topic? Get a clue, Buffy. Any fool can see there's something going on here, whether you want to admit to it or not. We all know you've got a thing for the undead. And second, 'us' is Angel Investigations. We're a unit! A family. Something you 'Scoobies' ought to know all about. "

Willow made a choking noise that faintly resembled a chuckle, cut off in mid-chuck by the looks Buffy and Cordelia swung in her direction.

"Walking here. Stubbed my toe," Willow said lamely in explanation.

Buffy turned back to Cordelia with a look in her eyes like frozen sea water. "Spike and I slay together. He backs me up. I don't see where …"

"Backs you up? That's a new one. Mind if I use it sometime?" Cordelia looked at Buffy appraisingly. "I just bet he does back you up. Up against tables, walls. Or is it you who's doing the backing? You were always pretty forward. A take-what-you-want type. Don't think I don't remember how you threw yourself at Angel."

Buffy looked back at Anya, very conscious that this wasn't a private conversation. That was one thing she had forgotten about Cordelia. She'd say anything, anywhere, in front of anyone. She thanked God one more time that Giles was nowhere around right now. Buffy didn't see the big change that Willow had been harping about. She seemed just as obnoxious as ever.

Buffy turned her back on Cordelia and headed to the Magic Box and the sanity that was Tara. Then, she turned back to her.

"You know, Cordelia, you're just as rude as you ever were. Don't why everyone in L.A. didn't just relocate when you moved in the neighborhood. We're stuck with each other tonight, so let's just make the best of it. Best of it being if you'd just shut up." Buffy turned back to continue on her way, very aware that her little rejoiner was lame. But Cordelia could take the snarkiness right out of you. Buffy secretly hoped that something on the patrol tonight would take some snarkiness out of Cordelia.


******


Angel watched Spike with Oz and the rest of the band, as he nursed his third boubon. He had reached behind the bar and gotten an old-fashioned glass and had given up the shot glass. Too much trouble to keep raising the bottle to pour those little drinks.

He swirled the liquor around in the glass, musing. He didn't drink very often. Didn't like the reminder of being alive that the false warmth of the alcohol gave him. Unlike Spike, he thought. Who drank in large amounts and often. Another difference between the two of them.

He remembered going to see the two of them in New York once, during the seventies. He'd followed them, found out where they were living, looked inside. And was shocked when he realized that they'd basically set up housekeeping. Basement apartment in the East Village. Dru's collection of dolls on shelves, furniture, knick-knacks, queen size bed.

He shook his head at the memory. Lots of brocades in deep rich colors. Dru rocking over in a corner clutching Miss Edith to her breast, while Spike carried on a 'normal' conversation. Talking to her about his plans for the night, what she would be doing. If she would like to get out with him for a little while. It had put a knife through his soul to see him. To see her. And know that he himself was the reason for this sick parody of 'normal' life. Then, Dru had sensed him and he had run.

A normal life .

Spike appeared at his shoulder, smiling. "S'goin' great!" He rubbed his hands together. "You're gonna love it, Peaches. Just love it." Spike reached for the shot glass and bottle, expression changing to curiosity. And maybe a little concern. "What?"

"A normal life." Angel said still looking at his drink.

Spike sat down, trying hard to misunderstand where Angel was going with this. "Well, this is as close as it gets, right? For us, anyway."

"This is the reason I left."

"Think you're startin' the conversation in the middle, mate. Have another drink."

"Buffy. I left so she could have a normal life."

Spike's eyes glinted dangerously. "Angel, we are not having this conversation right now." Spike's eyes changed imperceptibly. "But hell, since you already started it without me, I'll play. Okay, normal life. Buffy. Let's see."

"Normal life?" Spike spat out. "Good God, you imbecile, she's a vampire slayer!" Spike's eyes hardened. "How could her life ever be normal?"

"She might have beaten the odds." Angel murmured, looking back at the glass.

"She already has," Spike hissed. "She's alive, isn't she? Don't think you can feed me pablum like that baby of yours, me hangin' on your every word of wisdom. You may be family, but you're bloody stupid if you believe that Buffy can have a normal life."

Angel turned his eyes from the glass on the bar to Spike.

"We," Spike continued, as he swung his forefinger from his chest to Angel's, "are what she knows. Us and the night and the crawly things that go bump in it. Real things happen for her in the dark. Her life happens in the dark. Where we live."

Angel sighed. "Spike, that's not true. Buffy is like the light of the …"

Spike let out an impatient breath. "Sun? Buffy is a candle. I've seen that light go out. She's a flickering candle that stands between safety and danger. She's everything we aren't … and everything we are. She's a Slayer. A killer. Just.Like.Us."

Angel tried to interrupt, but he really wasn't certain how to argue this.

"Look, you left her. I won't. You didn't have the balls for this, but I do. And it wouldn't matter if I left anyway. She's got the taste for it. Like all slayers do, and I know a lot more about slayers than you do. Most slayers just don't get the chance to find out what she knows. It's kill or be killed, usually. But Buffy is different. She knows. And she'd just find another one if I left anyway. One who probably won't be on a leash like you and I are."

Spike shook his head and looked down at the bar, smiling ruefully. "No, I'll just stay on until it kills one of us. And the way things are going, it'll probably be me. So, cheers." Spike looked Angel in the eye, smiling recklessly, and lifted the glass to his lips, slugging down the bourbon.

Angel looked at Spike sadly. "You were always an idiot. You're in love with her."

"That's not what's important, mate. That's not the thing. I understand her. Something you never did."

Construction buddies in tow, Xander unsteadily swung into Willie's. It looked like they had already started the party. Smirking, Spike watched Xander's eyes widen as he looked around the bar and all the lovely, yummy things in it. Including the food. Anne had done an excellent job, he thought in satisfaction.

"Hi. Look, he's got on our t-shirt!" One of the girls called out to the others. Xander looked up to see a fresh-faced blonde pushing her way up to him, wearing a yellow t-shirt that was emblazoned with the legend, 'Xander's Toy.'

"Uh, yeah." Xander looked down at his shirt which simply said 'Xander' and back up to the girl. His eyes stopped dead center in the middle of her breasts. He looked down quickly. When Spike had brought Anya her shirt, Xander hadn't thought about how they would look plastered tightly all over anyone else's tight little body.

"Ohh, it's him!" One of the other girls exclaimed.

"We wondered when you were coming," said a soft, gleeful little voice.

"Xander? You want a beer? Anything?" The curly-haired redhead to his right gave him a pixie-ish look that was unmistakable.

Suddenly the area around Xander was all giggles peppered with sweet and sexy looks. The Hooter's-like servers tried to make him as welcome as possible. Xander looked slightly embarrassed, while his blue-collar buddies looked a little miffed at where all the attention was going.

Xander turned around in confusion, not quite sure where to look, because his eyes were being drawn to the same place every time. Or at least the same spot on the t-shirts.

"Uh, excuse me. Yeah. Hi," he tried smiling and being cool, but this reminded him way too much of Amy's Valentine spell back when he was with Cordelia. Bad memory.

Seeing Spike at the bar, he slowly made his way in that direction. He paused for a moment, sneaking a peak at the bandstand and the live band crawling all over it. Almost like he was afraid to look.

His eyes widened as he recognized Devon, who had made it in late last night. Then, Oz's head popped up from behind a large amp. Xander almost choked on the draught of beer he had just guzzled down.

Devon spoke to Oz, nodding in the direction of the slow-moving group of gawkers. Oz turned as if looking for someone and put his hand up in acknowledgement when he saw Xander. A word to Devon and Oz was off the stage, walking up to the guest of honor.

Angel raised his eyebrows in congratulations as he turned back to Spike, who had a wicked grin tugging on one side of his mouth. "Xander didn't know?"

Spike ducked his head and ran a hand through his hair. "Wasn't sure `til just now if he knew or not. Demon girl's not real discreet. I did ask him if it'd be okay. Way back. Didn't ever tell him for sure that they were comin.' Expected him to ask. He didn`t."

"He probably thought he wouldn't come," Angel explained. Seeing Xander smile a lop-sided smile and throw his arms around Oz in a bear hug, Angel snorted. Once. "Never thought I'd see that. After Oz and Cordy catching him and Willow kissing at the Factory."

"What? The night I `borrowed' the Wiccan? And the whelp? Nobody tells me anything!"

"Yeah," Angel affirmed. "That night." Angel turned hard eyes on Spike. "Cordelia got badly hurt that night. Didn't know that either, did you? She's still got the scar. Puncture wound."

Spike's eyes shifted slightly.

His point made, Angel relaxed. "No vitals, but she curses your name all through swimsuit season every year." He chuckled a little. "Which in California pretty much ensures you a place in her thoughts most of the time."

"Hmm. Didn't know." Spike's expression was unreadable. "Lucky the whelp and the wolf are feelin' all forgivin' and all. Of each other, I mean. Don`t really care how they feel about me of course."

"Right," Angel sighed.

*******

Tara looked at Willow questioningly. Willow shook her head almost imperceptibly and motioned for Tara to move closer to the door and away from the training room where Buffy was loading weapons, a snarky but quiet Cordelia watching closely. Tara slipped off in the direction Willow had indicated, as Willow followed.

"What is going on with those two?" Tara whispered.

"They came out with their fists up." Willow said worriedly. "I'm not sure but I think I'm getting a jealous-y kind of vibe. I just don't get who's jealous of who. Or for what? Cause Buffy's not ." Willow stopped talking. Almost said too much.

Tara looked puzzled. "Well, why wouldn't Buffy be a little jealous? I don't know what Spike was thinking when he invited them here. Seeing Cordelia with Connor must be hard on Buffy. It could be Buffy helping to raise him, you know, if things were different."

"Oh, I don't think Buffy's jealous because she's not playing Mommie. She's barely looked at the baby. Or Angel. Seems like it's more on Cordelia's side anyway. Which is silly." Willow stopped again and slowly realization dawned, as she remembered how defensive Cordelia had been about Buffy's snide `Angel' comments during the map cat fight.

Willow looked at Tara. Tara looked at Willow, taking a moment to think about what was unsaid. Their mouths were matching o's. Tara put her hand over her mouth, giggled, then looked at Willow apologetically. "I'm sorry, it's just."

Shaking her head, Willow sighed. "Hope nobody gets killed tonight. Buffy's already off her game over this whole bachelor party thing."

"Spike mentioned that Buffy wasn't being … very supportive. You'd think she'd want Xander to have a nice night."

"I don't think it's Xander's party that's bothering Buffy. I think it's Spike." Now that wasn't saying anymore than everyone already knew.


*******
"Think this must be it. Live band. Lights." Peered in. "Lots of pretty girls in skimpy tees and shorts. My kind of place."

"I think I might be of some help on the patrol. This seems ."

"Oh, no, my friend, you are going inside and you are gonna have you some fun!"

The tall blonde standing between the two men blew out an impatient breath. "I need to get in, gentlemen." She stated bluntly as she looked from side to side. "You two can iron out your differences after I`m gone. I don't get paid for standing outside," she said as she pulled the coat closer around her rather full breasts. She looked levelly into Wesley`s eyes. "Maybe this isn't your `cuppa' tea, sweetie, but it's my bread and butter. And I don't want the bread to get soggy."

"Aww, Laura," Gunn said in a wheedling voice. "I need a little help getting my buddy here inside. Any assistance you can give . "

Giving Gunn an appraising look, she nodded. Then she turned to Wesley. "Wesley, this is just a party. A chance for a poor future bridegroom and his friends to blow off some steam. Nothing that's gonna change your life is going to happen here." She smiled wickedly. "Unless you want it to." Wes looked slightly shocked. She rolled her eyes. "Obviously not."

The door to Willie's swung open and a large dark figure stood in silhouette . "Hi, guys. `Bout time you got here. I was starting to worry." Angel looked at Wes and admitted to himself that Wesley looked like he was `born to run' … away. "Got an old friend of yours in here that's just dying to see you." And Angel nceremoniously dragged Wesley, protesting in a choked voice, through the door and into the bar.

With a twinkle in her eye, Laura looked at Gunn. Pretty much eye to eye. Gunn moved back a half-step. "After you, my lady." He said, twinkling right back.

"You're a pretty thing, aren't you, Mr. Gunn?" And the beautiful dancer smiled and winked once. "Let's see if I can heat things up in here. Show `em how we do it in L.A."

*******

Anne lightly touched Laura's arm and inclined her head to a small office to the right of the door. "Got a dressing room all ready for you. You've got a couple of hours to kill."

"That's fine. I like to have time to prepare. Feel my audience. From behind closed doors, of course."

Anne smiled. "What if I prepare you some dinner? Plenty out there."

"Carrots, veggies. Some dip if you've got it. I eat light before I perform. But I'll be looking forward to pigging out after. `Carbs'" she said pointedly to the younger woman, "are what a girl needs when she's depleted."

"There's plenty for later. I'll make sure of it. Something to drink?"

"Water with lemon. And a hefty bourbon just before I go out. Just to loosen things up."

Anne nodded. She felt a light touch on her arm and turned. "Oh. Laura, this is Spike. He's the one who's responsible for you being here."

Spike looked the dancer up and down appraisingly. "Well, for once, the Poofter didn't exaggerate. You are one bloody good-looking woman. Harris is damn lucky I got rooked into this."

Laura relaxed at the rather frank gaze being directed at her and acknowledged the compliment. "Thank you. This looks like quite a party," she laughed, "from what little I've seen."

"Plenty of time for that later, pet. Stay after?"

The dancer started to demur, but … what the hell? Good-looking host. And that Gunn was a cute guy. She thought there might be some fun to be had here. And so far, they all seemed nice. Then again, they usually were.

"I don't usually stick around after. But in this case ."

Spike, getting his way, cut back on the intense look a little. "Stay. Don't want classy ladies leavin' early." Spike turned to Anne as Laura closed the office door. "Anne, a word?"

"Of course."

"Very good, all the way `round. Thank you for doing … well, your job, I guess." He looked back toward the stage, indicating the food, girls . "Couldn't have pulled it off without you." Smiling, he walked away.

At the sincere compliment, Anne smiled, too. Such a strange man. But so charming. And sweet. Especially when everything was going his way. She had made sure that it would.

Anne wondered if he was happy in his real world job. He was good at this. The planning, the ideas. She wished she could offer him a job. Work with him again.

She shook her head. Silly. His real job was probably a lot more interesting than this.

*******

Oz was taking a short break. He didn't really need one, but Devon had insisted. So Oz set his guitar down on the stand and headed off the stage toward Spike at the bar. On his way there, one of the servers stopped him.

"Didn't you go to Sunnydale High?" She asked.

Oz turned his full attention to the short blonde. What he saw first were her freckles. And amazing green eyes. "Yeah."

"I was a sophomore when you were a senior." She said, with a tell-tale flush creeping up her face. "I snuck into the Bronze to see you play a couple of times. You sound good tonight. Even better than you did then."

"Thanks." Oz turned to go.

"Uh," and her pretty, freckled face turned a fiery red, making her eyes jump out. "Are you gonna be in town for a few days?"

Oz looked at the girl, a little surprised. "Yeah. Playing the Bronze tomorrow night."

"Oh." And she looked down at her feet. Looked up. "Maybe … I'll see you there?"

"Yeah, okay."

The girl started off. Then she turned back. "My name is Dori. Well, really Dorothy."

Oz smiled. "Dorothy?" he echoed.

"Dori." She said firmly.

"Dorothy, I'm Oz."

The girl giggled. "I know. Sounds kind of silly, doesn't it?"

He laughed. "It does." He looked a little closer at the girl. "The Bronze?"

Self-consciously running her fingers through her hair, she smiled.

*******

Walking behind Buffy, Cordelia thought about high school and other nights like this. The tombstones seemed like as much a part of her life right now as her apartment in L.A.

Cordelia liked to think that she had matured a lot since joining Angel's group. She`d helped people and made a place for herself there. With Angel and his son. She was so happy there, she never even thought of coming back to Sunnydale even for a visit.

Obviously, that was a good thing. Because ever since she'd walked in the door of Buffy's house, a shrill aggressive stranger had taken over her body. She didn't like this Cordelia. She didn't want to be this Cordelia. And every word that came out of her mouth sounded just like her.

"Buffy, we need to talk." There, that was better. More like the new Cordelia.

"Talk?" Buffy shot back over her shoulder. "We're on patrol. Not out for coffee somewhere. Or `doing' lunch. Cordelia swallowed a really tacky retort. She was in control. She couldn't do anything about Buffy, but she could certainly take responsibility for herself.

Buffy ran her fingers through her hair as she looked down at the dust still clinging to the gravestone. One less vamp to worry about, but the whole patrol had been a semi-disaster. Nobody was dead, but in retrospect it was hard to believe.

Despite Willow's and Tara's attempts to be responsible and look out for bads, they still seemed a lot more caught up in spending time with each other than the denizens of the cemetery. Buffy was glad they were getting along so well, but gee!

Cordelia had been sulking with such singlemindedness that Buffy was sure her own head would explode from the bad vibes.

And Anya was like a small kid on a car trip. `Is it time yet? Are we done? Can we go check on Xander now?' Gah!

Buffy was thoroughly miffed when she decided that she'd rather be patrolling with Spike any night of the week than do it with the `new' Scoobies. Did that make her a bad person? A bad friend?

Well, Buffy admitted to herself, she missed Spike. Missed the comfort of knowing he had her back. It was so easy to patrol with Spike. Well, most of the time.

She trudged on, wishing this was over and she was at home, lying in a hot bath. Or that Spike was here with her right now, even if he had that damn cell phone plugged into his ear. Or wishing she were home and in a hot tub and Spike .

Whoops! Almost missed that one, Buffy berated herself as she took off running, stake upraised, after the long-haired girl in the long blue dress.

"You really …" Buffy huffed, "should have … done … the whole … preplanning thing … so that your mother … didn't dress…you for your …Oops ... Another fashion victim at rest." Buffy finished in
satisfaction.

Willow and Tara came loping up as the dust settled, Anya right behind. Buffy looked beyond them to find Cordelia stalking toward her, chin up and face set in a no nonsense `time to talk` look.

"Cordy!" Buffy saw another vamp in a black funeral suit rise behind the brunette.

Too late. Cordelia was swung around by an acne-scarred teen vamp with bad hair. More victims, Buffy thought, as she raced toward Cordelia, stake up.

"Hey!" Cordelia stared into the fledgling vampires face. "I'm trying to have a conversation here. " Cordelia took in the hair, the sudden uncertainty in the scarred, undead face.

She decided this was a good time to get back to the more mature Cordelia. "I understand that you're trying to take unlife where you find it, but other people live in the world. Interrupting important conversations when two people are trying to communicate is a bad thing."

Warming to her subject and hoping that Buffy was listening, she continued. "You know, you don't have to be the victim here. You can take charge of your new unlife. I have a friend I'll introduce you to a friend who can help you how to build an alternate vampire unlifestyle."

Buffy had come to a stop directly behind the boy, stake raised, and became fascinated by Cordelia`s self-help politically-correct speech. She'd seen her stop another vampire dead in his tracks the night of the prom, just with that obnoxious mouth of hers. This was completely different but the results were absolutely the same. Unbelievable. She didn't even need a stake.

The new vampire twitched with discomfort and broke away from the woman`s level eyes and voice to go. Anywhere .

Buffy's eyes went wide as the dust floated toward the ground.

He'd dusted himself, just to get away from Cordelia.

Buffy started laughing. And continued laughing so hard and became so weak with it that she found herself sitting on the ground. It had become impossible to stand. She looked up at Cordy, whose mouth had dropped open in shock. Buffy pointed at her, tried to speak and couldn't. Still laughing.

When Willow, Tara and Anya got to them, Buffy was laughing so hard that tears were rolling down her cheeks. She couldn't stop if she'd tried.

Cordelia was a little chagrined that Buffy was continuing to find it so funny, but realized she was laughing ruefully herself at the irony of it. She sat down next to Buffy.

Willow and Tara looked at each other. Anya shrugged. Then patted her foot on the ground, arms folded tightly.

"Can we go now?"

*******

Spike noticed Oz coming his way and went to meet him.

"Good party." Oz said, nodding.

"Yeah. Not bad." Spike commented, looking around at the servers serving and the consumers consuming. The blue-collar boys were loud and raucous. "Not really what I'm used to. I hope the entertainment's going to be … well, their taste." Spike smirked, thinking at how much Giles would have hated this until the scotch had kicked in.

"It's a good crowd. Loud."

Spike grinned wickedly. "Didn't know the whelp had this many friends. Have to tap another keg. Or six. May need a delivery."

"They're well on their way," Oz agreed. `About time? Think they're drunk enough?"

"I hope *I* am. Better get another drink. Doesn't last long with me. Vampire, you know." Spike made a decision. "Let's get on with it," Spike said, taking a deep breath. "I don't know how this is going to go."

Looking out at the sea of denim-clad, plaid-shirted wonders, Spike was dead certain that Xander had a lot more in common with Angel's boys than these blokes. Spike didn't actually know what he had expected, but this group was his worst nightmare.

Oz went back up on the stage to get ready for the next set. Spike headed to the bar and chugged down a tumbler of bourbon. He motioned Angel over. "I'm goin' up there on that stage to do the welcomin' speech and all that. Where's Harris?"

Angel looked around. Being appreciably taller than Spike had advantages. "Over there. He's with Gunn and Wesley. Whoo. He looks pretty wasted. He`s got his arm around Wes."

"Good. That's just the way I want him. Get him."

"Now?"

"Yeah, `fore I lose my nerve."

*******


"I don't know how it's going to end up, but I feel like we're sneaking around. " Cordelia explained. "I didn't while I was in L.A., but I do around here. Not that we're doing anything. It's just that this place brings out the worst in me. And there`s that whole `Buffy-Angel 4-ever'thing."

Buffy looked down at her hot chocolate. You just had to love the Espresso Pump. Plenty of marshmellows. She pushed the subsequent thought away. Bonding now.

Cordelia reached over and touched Buffy's arm. "You do understand that I really don't know how I feel about Angel. There's that whole sex thing that's really hard to deal with."

Buffy thought she should feel really weird about this whole conversation. She fidgeted, trying to spot Willow and Tara. Oh, somewhere in cyberspace. Anya was standing near the door, nearly apoplectic in her need to move on. Buffy took a deep breath.

"Look, Cordy, Angel left a long time ago. He's different and I'm different. Uh, it's natural that things are a little strange. I don't think Angel and I can ever be friends. Not really. I resent him leaving the way he did, even if it was the right thing to do. There was no discussion. Just a decision. His."

"I can't really forgive him for it. All I can do is accept it and get past it. Which I have. Still … this is like you're asking permission to date my ex."

Cordelia stared. "I *am* asking permission to date your ex. I don't know why. We've never been great friends, but I do have a certain amount of respect for you."

"If I give you my blessing, can we end this conversation?"

"Will you really be giving me your blessing or telling me it's okay to shut me up?"

"Both." Buffy looked up at Cordy and laughed. "Sorry. Old habits die hard. It's just that all this has come up at a bad time. I wasn't prepared to think about Angel, much less deal with him in a new relationship. Especially with … anyone I know." she finished lamely

Cordelia smiled sadly. "I understand."

Shaking her head, Buffy smiled ruefully. "No, you don't. Dealing with the one vampire means I have to deal with the other one. Something I'm not ready to do yet."

Eyes flashing in triumph, the brunette crowed, "I knew it! I just knew it. You and Spike have a thing!"

Buffy looked in panic at Anya. Still by the door. But now talking to the night manager of the Espresso Pump. She was chattering vibrantly. Money talk, obviously, by the flushed look on Anya's face. So they had some time.

"A thing?" Buffy echoed. (`What is this thing …`, she remembered him asking.) She considered her words to Cordelia carefully. "We have something." She admitted. "But I'm damned if I'll tell him that right now. He'll be picking out wedding bands. Probably with little pagan figures on `em." She looked at Cordelia. "He's a lot different than when you knew him. Still Spike, but his priorities are changing. He's definitely WIP." Buffy laughed. "But then so am I."

"Ah. Work In Progress." Cordy nodded. "So. Are you having sex with him?" She asked candidly. "Because even though I hate his undead guts, I do think he's kind of sexy, in a mysterious vampire hard-lean guy kind-of-way."

*******

Spike dragged Xander up on the stage and walked to the microphone. He looked out at the collection of Xander's co-workers and acquaintances, feeling a major moment of uncertainty. Very `William.` Then he remembered he was the Big Bad, not William, and he didn't give a bloody damn what any of them thought.

"Uh. Yeah." Spike's voice boomed out through the bar. He recoiled, gritting his teeth slightly. The sound tech winced and made an adjustment. He nodded. Spike leaned back into the mike. "I'm Spike." he said gingerly. Yeah, that was better.

Regaining a little of his confidence, he continued. "And this is Mr. Alexander Harris. Xander to most of you. The `whelp,' or Harris, to me." He winced inwardly. Couldn't he just leave? Walk off the stage and out of the bar, out of Sunnydale. He took a breath.

"Now Harris here is formalizin' his relationship with the old ball and chain in a coupla days. Why the whelp would put his head on the block, so to speak, I can't tell you. But I'm here to make sure that what he ends up remembering of t'night sticks with him through the `thick and thin' everyone talks about."

The faces were more attentive now and Spike was feeling a little better. He glanced at Xander, who was staring down at this own feet. Think you're embarrassed now? Payback`s a bitch, innit, Harris!

"Little somethin' about Harris here you may not know. Got some videos stashed away." The crowd laughed then began derisive cat-calls. Spike grinned at the crowd, shaking his head, as the audience whooped it up.

"Nah. Not those. Music videos. Seems that the whelp expresses a deep and abidin' love for country music, but secretly has a thing for the 80's."

Startled, Xander looked at Spike and then looked out at his buddies guiltily. He looked down in contrition. There were more whoops and a few good-natured boos.

"Yeah!" One loud female voice cut across the deeper voices of the men. Xander looked up and craned his neck, trying to see who it was. "Go, Xander!" Soon other female voices joined hers. "Yes!"

Spike smirked at Xander, then at the crowd. "Got a new play list, beginnin' now, for our retro friend." Spike said in satisfaction. Anne had done a fine job of priming the bints for his announcement. "Head banging is encouraged, but optional."

Spike looked back toward the door of the bar and nodded decisively. The room darkened and spotlights set off the stage. Closest they could get to concert lighting in this place.

Looking at Xander, Spike nodded toward the audience. "Go on, Harris," he encouraged. "Take your seat. Got a little surprise for you." Xander gratefully jumped down and out of the limelight.

"Peaches! A little help here? Of the liquid kind?"

Angel poured a tumbler full of bourbon and headed toward the stage, hoping he would be out of the light.

"Now," Spike said as he took the drink out of Angel's hand. "I'm kickin' this off. Because I'm bloody stupid I guess." He laughed. This lighting was much better. He couldn't see the crowd.

He put the glass to his lips and killed it. There was scattered applause and sounds of approval. Yeah, Spike reflected absently, getting drunk enough to forget our mostly pointless lives is something we all have in common. Maybe they weren't so different from him, after all.

Spike wiped his hand across his mouth and looked for a place to put his glass. A hand reached for it. Anne. Still taking care of him. He took a deep breath and looked at Oz, as he stepped back to the mike.

"Somethin' for the wedding, mate." He winked at Xander, or at least, where he thought Xander might be. He was glad he couldn't see out into the audience -- and a little sorry, too. The bourbon was going to his head.

Oz's guitar began the familiar chords. One thing about this song. It just screamed `eighties.' The guitar riff leapt out and the bass line followed. Spike closed in on the mike for the first line. There were squeals from the `Hooter's girls.'

`White Wedding.` Now how weird was this, with Spike the original Billy Idol lookalike anyway. Xander stared in shock, then looked around, fully prepared to see a lynch mob gathering. No such luck, he thought. His buddies were staring in fascination as Spike finished the first verse. Like you'd stare at a cobra with its hood spread. The guitar and bass line were mesmerizing, slightly rearranged to fit the band's sound. And Spike wasn't too bad, Xander admitted to himself.

Gunn elbowed Wes. "We gotta get this guy to Lorne. Get his aura read. There`s a lot goin` on in there."

It's a nice day to start again
It's a nice day for a white wedding
It's a nice day to start again

Spike finished the second chorus and Oz went into the lead break. Almost over, he thought. Then Devon could take over the rest of the play list. Spike could then relax until it came time for the dancer to come out. He had no idea how this was going over with the audience.

Almost in answer, a male voice yelled, "Yeah!" as Oz modulated into an even more wicked lead riff against the driving bass. Other voices followed with approving noises of their own.

So far so good. His favorite part, the middle-eight, was coming up. Then, the last bridge and he was done. He grabbed the mike.

There is nothin' fair in this world
There is nothin' safe in this world
And there's nothin' sure in this world
And there's nothin' pure in this world
Look for somethin' left in this world
Start again

Angel shook his head. Spike might be an idiot, but he sure knew how to throw a party. A few of the drunkest brave souls had grabbed a couple of servers and were dancing by the tables. The music was loud and the beat was primal. Angel made a mental note to ask Spike to plan the Hyperion Christmas Party next year.

Xander was up on drunken feet with two servers of his very own. Wesley's head alternated between the unearthly Billy Idol look-alike on stage (so that was William the Bloody!) and the impending bridegroom's 'dancing' antics. He felt a movement beside him and saw that Gunn was on his feet, pushing chairs out of his way to join in.

Too soon, the song ended. Devon stepped up to the mike quickly and Oz 'segued' into 'Mony, Mony.' which had a guarantee of keeping the dancers on their feet and converting the wallflowers into screaming teenagers.

********

Spike threw himself down on the bar stool and reached a full glass of bourbon. He grinned at Angel. "Thanks," he said recklessly as he killed another drink. "Needed that. That was a bloody stupid idea of mine."

"You did all right!" Angel yelled over the music. The crowd was chanting the lyrics to the chorus of `Mony, Mony.'

"No need to yell, mate. Vampire. Remember?" He saw Xander approaching and winced. "Now I'm in for it," he muttered.

"Spike!" Xander yelled, out of breath. "That was ." Xander searched for a word and finally gave up, mouth twisted in an apologetic grin.

"Have another beer, Harris. Or somethin' stronger." Xander grabbed the bourbon bottle and took a slug. Spike looked at him appraisingly. "Like your party, whelp?"

"Party's great! Girls are great! Not loving the idea of you giving the party, but … S'great! Thanks!"

Now Spike was certain that Harris was drunk. He'd never gotten a `thank you' before, even when he'd saved his life.

"Don't mention it," Spike growled. "Please. Devon will be doing `Like a Virgin' later. His contribution to your wedding celebration."

"That's my favorite Madonna song! But Spike, really … The eighties idea. I may never live it down, but …well, loving this."

Spike was only half-listening as he scanned the bar. He sensed. Suddenly, he stiffened.

Feeling the change in Spike, Angel turned, following his intent and frowning eyes to the front of the bar.

Five females, not wearing Xander t-shirts, were looking around them with wide eyes.

"Bloody hell," Spike muttered. "Think I've been played." He looked at Angel. "It's Buffy and the bints. Including yours."

"What?" Xander said blearily, looking toward the front of the bar. The bourbon had just hit. He started to rise off the stool. "Anya."

"Harris," Spike pushed Xander back on the stool. "Stay put. The girl `Scoobies' are here and, by the looks of it, they smell blood." He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and squinted at it.

"No call." He blew out an annoyed breath. "Been had. By the Slayer. Again." He leaned into Xander's face, hoping he would focus on him. "I'll try to do damage control, mate. Just stay here," Spike pleaded. He turned to Angel. "Peaches, you deal with yours. I'll deal with mine and the rest."

The crowd parted as Spike headed toward the Slayer. A few people pounded him on the back, or spoke an acknowledgment. He didn't slow his pace. He was looking at the little blonde head that was bobbing up periodically, trying to see over the taller heads of the construction workers.

He'd love to stay brassed-off. He really would. Have a bit of fire in his eyes when he called her on her "evil" plot to crash the bachelor party. Bite off some appropriately sharp words and see her defiant chin firm up in contrast to the uncertain look in her eyes. And he knew with frightening certainty exactly what he was going to see as she tried to brazen this little game out.

A muscle in his jaw started to twitch. But not with anger. She was still bobbing up and down, trying to see. He was finding it increasingly difficult to keep a straight face. And he was almost to her. Steady, steady. Hold onto ... what? Anger? Frankly, he was amused. And the Slayer looked absolutely adorable with that look of complete surprise on her face as she took it all in. The girls, the band, the food... He wished to just stand in the shadows for a while, gazing at her unguarded eyes and unguarded face.

Too late. As always, her face changed when she saw him. Her chin came up challengingly. Eyes a bit dangerous ...

Now wait just a bloody minute! Where did she get off looking at him with that knowing gleam in her eyes? How long had she been here? Did she see ... Going on the offensive looked like a good bet. He drew out the cell phone and waved it at her.

"Check in. Not crash in. You do know how to use a telephone, right, Slayer?"

Taken slightly aback, Buffy looked a little uncertain, but managed a save. She looked at him a little disgusted.

"You didn't give me your number."

Spike stared at her. Oh, this was going to be his fault? Not bloody likely!

"Red has it. Glinda has it. The Little Bit has it. The bride has it. Hell, I'd wager the bleedin' cheerleader has it! You couldn't ask one of them?"

"If you'd wanted me to have it, you'd have given it to me," she answered self-righteously.

Bloody hell, she was making it his fault! He felt like an idiot. It was that damned short skirt she'd been wearing, waitin' for him on the front porch like.... Remembering, he looked down to catch a quick look at her legs in that skirt. Which was ... where? Ah.

"Decided to go with pants?" he asked a little condescendingly.

She dismissively swept her eyes across him to focus on the server nearby.

"Girls," she said in a disgusted tone, ignoring his question completely.

"Yes, lots," he said agreeably. Now this was more like it. A spot of Buffy bitchiness to make his night complete.

"Oz?" she asked, indicating the stage.

"Well, yeah. What's wrong with that?" Spike was feeling a bit defensive now. But maybe she hadn't come in time to see him up on that stage. Looked like it was time to regroup and get back on the offensive. One of Harris' friends had noticed the Good Witch. Who was looking rather fetching as she swung her enormous eyes up at Willow. Ah, the big poof was moving that way.

Spike returned his attention to the big problem in the small package that seemed to be sizing him up for the kill. Oh, no, pretty Buffy, he thought sweetly. Not tonight!

"Getting an eyeful, Slayer? Well, you've had more than your fair share. Quite a bit more than a peep. And you've put Harris' wedded bliss in serious danger by lettin' demon girl in here." He pointedly looked behind her. "Is Sweet Bits around too? Since you seem to think anyone is welcome in this slave den?"

Buffy blew out a sanctimonious breath. "You said 'check in.' I finished patrol and I'm checking in. 'Watcher!'" she finished cuttingly. "Like I couldn't handle a simple patrol without you," she muttered under her breath.

"Hey!" Spike drew himself up. "Vampire," he reminded her unnecessarily. "I heard that! And the distasteful memory of that remark and the accompanying endearment will remind me to stop saving your pretty ass every time it needs it."

Buffy swung her head to the right and left to make sure no one had heard that rather intimate description of her anatomy. Okay, great. She didn't know where any of the girl Scoobs were. They had been swallowed by Spike's party.

"As if." Buffy's eyes glinted humorously with unveiled disdain in answer to Spike's remark. "Lately, it's been your ... ass ... in the wringer. And maybe next time I won't be so quick to ... uh...wring. Either." Buffy wondered what she had just said. She thought it might possibly be dirty.

Buffy felt a flush creep up her neck. Suddenly, he was wearing that self-satisfied smirk she'd dearly love to knock off his face and had several times in the recent past. And he was looking awfully good, with that shining hair and those shining eyes.

She shook herself mentally. Sure he looked good. But lately, she reminded herself, he was also really good at making her feel no more than fifteen years old. And he, on the other hand, was coming off as the patient Watcher-type.

Ewww. Which was kind of gross when you considered what her relationship had been with the evil undead lately. With the moaning and the groping and the touching and the kissing and ... things. Lots of different ... things.

"Wring?" He repeated questioningly. Buffy almost jumped as she was brought back from her impure thoughts. He still looked so ... well, what? Self-confident? So much more like the old Spike, maybe? That self-assured figure she remembered in the alley behind the Bronze, clapping as she'd dusted the vamp. She was reddening again, fresh flush over fading one. Her body would betray her next. And he'd know. He always knew. And then...

She looked around. He had done all this. Put this incredible decadent shindig together. What was Buffy even doing here, all off-balance, ready to kill him one minute and kiss him the next? She looked wildly to the left. Where was Willow anyway?

Ahh, Spike thought, he had her. Like a deer in headlights. That was good. Or that could be bad. He had a window of opportunity here. One to take advantage of quickly and decisively. He hoped Peaches was gathering all the other ducks together. He had to get Buffy out of Willie's now. He grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the door, muttering something inane.

"Spike?"

Spike's head swung around as he stopped at the sound of the familiar voice. He felt Buffy jerk her arm out of his grip. Oh, Christ. It was Anne, needing something, he'd wager. Inwardly, he was beginning to panic. There was a very narrow window for Off-Balance!Buffy! and he'd just missed it.

Anne dashed up to Spike, eyes smiling. "You were great up there! I told you not to be nervous. Everybody just loved it. You did 'jumpstart' things! The party has really kicked in!"

Buffy's eyes settled on Anne and her head full of long red hair. She absently ran her hand through her own, shorter hair.

Buffy looked suspiciously at Anne, then at Spike. Everybody just loved what? Buffy felt out of the loop and she didn't like it. And she didn't like this woman, either.

The redhead smiled down at the shorter woman and put out her right hand. "Hi, I'm Anne," she said with a small laugh. "The party planner."

Buffy shot a quick glance at Spike, and shook the woman's hand. "Hi. Uh, could you excuse us?" She looked behind her and saw the closed door of something that looked like an office. She grabbed Spike's arm and propelled him back through the door she opened with a smooth motion.

And saw a woman wearing nothing but a sequined thong sitting in a lotus position on the battered desk. Her eyes were closed, posture graceful, and her....

That was all Buffy took in, as she swung back through the door, Spike in tow, and pulled the door shut with a slam. Well, that was definitely a dose of cold water on the attraction that was 'Spike.' She turned on him with glitteringly eyes.

"What was that?" she asked, daring him to explain.

"Not quite sure. Was all so fast, pet. But I think Laura is meditating."

Flushing with embarrassment, Buffy looked down. Her mouth tightened into what Spike liked to think of as 'The Thin Red Line.' Which always meant that he was walking one.

"Okay, mister. Outside now!" A little desperately, Buffy pushed Spike toward the door. It miraculously opened, revealing more revelers, obviously out for an illegal California cigarette or two. The two men whooped and headed back into the thick.

Following Buffy outside, he congratulated himself on having gotten her there. Of course, a naked Los Angeles stripper in yoga position was not the way he would have chosen, but ... inwardly, he shrugged. Whatever worked. At least the Slayer was outside.

Of course. There was a nearby alley, and she had his arm, dragging him in that direction. Not that he was resisting. She stomped around the corner and turned to the vampire.

"Spike, that woman was naked."

"Well, not technically."

"I thought you didn't see anything." Buffy said accusingly.

"Well, it's not something you see everyday. The yoga and all. Bound to make a bit of an impression."

Buffy was ... angry? Shocked? She shook her head and focused on what she did know. Spike was a pig.

"You're a pig, Spike."

"Well, yeah. But it makes..."

"For a great bachelor party," Buffy finished, sarcastically. "Spike, that is the most disgusting, perverse thing I've ever experienced."

"What? Luv, I'm hurt. I thought *I* was."

Buffy swung a practiced fist toward Spike's face. Her mouth dropped open as his hand appeared and stopped the punch cold at nose level, her fist in his.

"No hitting, Slayer. It ceased to be foreplay a while back," Spike reminded her. "Right?" She nodded and he let go of her hand. "Now. Any problems on patrol?" he asked her calmly.

"Oh, no. We're not through talking about..."

"We are bloody well through talking about the party. Patrol?"

Buffy took a deep breath. He'd caught her fist in the air and solidly stopped it. She'd forgotten how fast he could move. Or maybe she'd just gotten sloppy. More training needed, obviously. Okay, patrol then. She opened her mouth to tell him about Cordelia's run in with the vamp.

"Wait." Spike waved her off. "You asked me to give Xander a party." Spike continued, trying to forestall any further argument. "It wasn't my choice, but the least I could do is make it a good one. Which I have. So." He stopped talking, hoping he'd made himself clear.

"There were," Buffy said in a calm and measured voice, "a lot of new vamps rising tonight. More than usual. Especially near your crypt." She grinned, as Spike's eyes widened slightly. "In fact, Cordelia..."

"Hmm. I have been neglectin' the place lately, I guess," Spike mused. "Well. Me and Peaches'll clean house tomorrow night. Do some light dusting."

One side of Buffy's mouth turned up in spite of herself. Well, he did have a sense of humor. A little twisted, but...well, her own sense of humor was a little dark, too. Didn't mean he could do stand-up comedy or anything...

Buffy realized Spike was patiently waiting for a sharp rejoiner. She wished she had one. But the image of that redhead telling Spike how...

"What was she talking about?"

Whiplash was an occupational hazard when you worked with the Slayer. "She who?"

"That...Anne."

"That Anne? As opposed to 'this' Anne?" he smiled at her.

He could make her melt with that smile. Better not let him know it though.

"Buffy Anne," she corrected sharply. "And I do mean that Anne. The party planner." That had sounded a little sharp, too. What had her so upset? Besides the overall existence of Spike in the first place.

Spike could tell by the look on her face that he wasn't going to get off the hook. "Speech. Host addressing the masses," he explained airily, omitting the rest. "Roasting the groom."

"Oh," she said, barely listening now. She was satisfied with his explanation and way too conscious of his new jeans and those silver tipped boots. "Well. I'd better find Willow and the others," she said, turning away from him. She heard Spike sigh in relief. Relief?

"Well, if the poof is doin' his job, all the kittens are in a basket on the doorstep by now," he quipped.

Buffy turned the corner to see Angel in deep conversation with Cordy, the others looking on.

"So you haven't checked on him since you went on patrol?" Angel whipped out his cell phone, turning it over and over in his hands, scowling. "The green button, right?"

Cordelia snatched the phone and looked at him witheringly. "Technology is so wasted on the undead." She looked up as Buffy and Spike approached. They were amused at the scene and not hiding it. And Buffy's color seemed a little high.

"Where have you two been?" Cordy asked suspiciously.

Spike didn't hesitate, as he locked onto Cordelia's eyes with a hard grin. "Fightin'." Shrugging, he commented, "S'what we do." He turned to Angel, smirking. "The Slayer met the Stripper."

Angel ducked his head to hide a smile.

"T'was a bit porn-ish," Spike continued. "But educational. The Slayer..."

"Spike, I am SO staking you when this party is over," Buffy warned.

"Maybe. Maybe *I'll* be staking you, luv. So you might want to watch your...back," he said suggestively.

As Buffy started to blush, she turned to Cordelia. "C'mon, we can be at the house before you can make the call. Give him his phone and let's go." She moved off hurriedly, the brunette following. Hearing Spike's low chuckle and feeling the accompanying shiver, Buffy picked up her pace.

Anya looked at Willow. "Was that sexual innuendo? It sounded like sexual innuendo to me." When Willow didn't respond, Anya moved to catch up with Buffy and Cordelia. "Didn't you think that sounded like sexual innuendo?" she asked, shrilly, trying to get their attention.

Grinning at Willow, Tara said admiringly, "Spike got her good!"

"You have no idea," Willow muttered as they walked away, leaving vampire and sire at the bar's entrance. She looked back and gave Spike a little wave.

"Well, I'm impressed. You handled her pretty well," Angel said in congratulations.

"Nah. She'll start thinking about it and get pissed. Diversion works for a little while, though. Give her a little somethin' to distract her and she's slower to strike." Spike was feeling a little distracted himself. At the moment, he was thinking about the night before and wishing he were back in her bed.

Angel snorted. "Yeah, well, good luck with that."

Spike's head whipped around to look at Angel.

"The distracting, I mean," he continued, catching Spike's confused look.

Eyes sparkling as he roared with laughter, Spike threw his arm up, almost getting it over Angel's shoulder. He laughed wickedly. "Well, we've all but tucked 'em in their beds. Let's get drunk. Again. Buffy crisis is always a soberin' experience."

"You're buying."

"I *am* buying, you bloody wanker!"

"That's what I said, you idiot. I brought the *stripper*!"

"That you did, Peaches. And a fine job you did, too. Very fine! You should have seen the Slayer's face! Let's roust our Laura out of her gilded cage. Soon as we're drunk!" Spike opened the door to Willy's and bowed, giving the right of first passage to Angel.

"You know, Spike, could be you drink too much."

"Slayer'd drive anybody to drink!"

Part 10 - The Brawl

"Age before beauty, mate."

Angel grinned at Spike's 'bow and scrape' as they headed back into Willie's after getting the girl Scoobs and Cordelia off and on their way back to Buffy's house and to Connor. The grin froze as he saw Spike's eyes narrow.

"Bloody hell," Spike muttered, certain something was wrong, but not knowing what. Angel moved inside.

Neither of them could see a problem at first, but both felt the palatable change in the party's atmosphere. The focal point seemed to be somewhere around the impromptu dance floor. As they moved, Angel noticed that the band sounded a little...'off.'

At the same time, Spike heard that the band was still playing, but barely. The bass faltered off beat. Devon sounded preoccupied and was barely carrying the tune. And Oz, still plugging along, was on point, his wolflike attributes obvious.

Spike noticed that Oz's attention was fixed on an area to his left.

"Bloody hell," he repeated, eyes following Oz's. Xander was quite drunk and nose-to-nose with one of the men that Spike and Buffy had noticed going inside. His ears picked up Harris' voice as he answered the much more massive and older man.

"Hey, Brills, back off! Understand? I've taken the job and I'm keeping it. And you weren't invited anyway. Keep your lazy ass away from me and the job!"

Harris was going to get his drunken ass kicked, Spike thought, a little amused. Always was more bark than bite. Black eye would go quite well with the black tie...

Spike rushed toward Xander, throwing himself between Xander and the on-coming punch. A punch that would have decked the not-so-future bridegroom. Even though he was off-balance, the punch didn't do much. He ignored the big construction worker after a hard look into his eyes and turned to Xander.

"What the hell is this? Harris, you're not gettin' marked up two days before your bleedin' wedding! The de...uh, bride'll be seeking some serious vengeance. You get that?"

"This isn't your problem." The big man growled out the words. Spike turned back around to face him.

"It bloody well is!"

"Spike, stay out of this. Brills thinks he's such a toughie, let him come on!"

Spike turned toward Xander. "Whelp, you don't ..." He never saw the second punch coming, which slammed into the side of his head. He staggered a bit, off-balance as he turned back to Brills.

"Here, what's this? I'm having a conversation here."

Angel stepped up a little closer as the man took a menacing step toward Spike. He looked confused but stupid. A lethal combination, Angel thought. Time to get Xander out of there.

The bigger man looked down at Spike. "Harris took my job. The job I was up for. I've got the seniority and I've got the balls to back it up. So get out of my way, little man. I'm coming through."

Spike sputtered, Xander forgotten. "Little man...? Little man?" He drew himself up to his full height.

Derisively, the big man in the big plaid shirt smiled. "It's none of your business. Little man."

"Now it's my business," Spike said as he visibly winced in anticipation. He slammed his fist into the man's stomach, punch pulled, to try to cut down on the searing pain that was coming any moment now.

As the man doubled over, he heard an anguished growl.

The pain in Spike's head was so blindingly intense that he never saw the next fist coming from the other man who had entered with Brills. Then suddenly, he was grabbed around the waist and pulled up and away. He opened eyes that danced with twinkling white lights to see Angel looking at him in concern.

"The chip?"

"Oh, yeah," he groaned. "Peaches, let go."

"But the chip!"

"Sod the bloody chip. Or get the whelp out of there yourself! Buffy'll never forgive me if he goes to his weddin' lookin' like a prize fighter!"

Angel looked over his shoulder at the beginnings of a drunken brawl. Some of Xander's friends from work had jumped into the fray, keeping the even angrier Brills away.

"Uh, oh. Bar fight."

"You bleedin' idiot! He'll get himself killed! Just in time for the weddin'!" Spike yelled, breaking away from Angel. Angel reached for him as he spun away but grabbed only air.

"Harris, here! Don't..." Spike roughly pushed his way through the thickening crowd of bodies, wincing with every shock the chip was giving him.

Then Xander had stepped out, moving toward Brills, who had recovered from the punch and was headed to meet the boy.

Spike flung himself in the air, turning to take another sledgehammer type punch. It connected, but it was high and glancing, barely noticeable if you'd fought the Slayer for four years. Or had sex with her. Spike turned to Xander in a rage.

"You bloody fool! Back off!"

Slam. Another blow, low to the small of the back. Kidney punch. Lovely.

If he could concentrate on avoiding the blows, he'd be fine. But trying to talk sense into Harris at the same time was getting him a bit of an ass kicking.

"Here!" Spike saw Oz coming up on his left, moving sleekly through the crowd. An empty beer keg smashed into two men on Spike's right. "Take him!"

With that Spike grabbed Xander and practically threw him to Oz. Xander staggered. Oz steadied him and disappeared into the crowd.

Angel had finally waded up back up beside him, having been appreciably slowed by the thirty-five odd construction workers who had gathered around the growing fight. Many more of them were now throwing indiscriminate punches - hitting Angel, Gunn, Wesley and each other. The blows Angel was receiving, even with Wesley and Gunn now flanking him, didn't hurt, but the constant barrage was as annoying as hell.

"Spike, this is a hell of a mess," he said calmly to the younger vampire.

Spike looked at Angel incredulously, completely bowled over by the understatement.

Suddenly, Xander's voice was heard over the melee. "Hell, yes, I took your job! It wasn't your job to have, you lazy bastard! Come on! Come and get me, you..."

Spike's jaw tightened as the crowd picked up its fighting pace. Obviously, the whelp's removal from the mob had done nothing to diffuse the situation, especially since removing him hadn't kept his soddin' mouth shut. Suddenly, Xander's voice cut off in mid-challenge. Spike took a feeble kick to the groin and stayed standing, just looking at the 'mess.'

Angel saw Spike narrow his now glittering eyes as he looked around at the escalating violence. Chairs were being smashed, bottles were breaking as tables were overturned.

Suddenly, Spike grinned a feral grin, took a deep breath, let out a wickedly joyous laugh and dived deep into the fray. As Angel blocked punches, he looked for the top of the white blond head. And he saw him, as well as heard him. Heard him utter a constant stream of pained invectives and oaths to punctuate every pulled blow he threw.

Then Angel was so busy himself, he stopped paying attention.

+++++++++++++

Dawn put her video tape on pause and looked up as Willow, Buffy and Cordelia arrived back at Casa Summers. Cordelia looked around and went upstairs to check on Connor and Fred.

"Now that was a party," pronounced Willow in satisfaction. She grinned at Buffy. "Did you get some of those little puffy thingies with cheese inside? Spicy, spicy hot!" she said appreciably.

Buffy stared at Willow. "You ate?"

"Well, I didn't have time to get much. But Tara and I made a couple of napkins. See?" Willow reached into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out a bulging napkin and unwrapped it.

Dawn came sidling over. "Hmm. Didn't travel very well, did it?"

"Well, it's party food, Dawnie. It's for eatin' there, not for travelin'." She reached in and picked up another strange pastry. "Real men don't eat quiche." She popped the pastry into Dawn's mouth like she was a baby bird. "But these were almost all gone. Must be a shortage of real men at the party."

Cordelia came back down the stairs just as Dawn plopped down, chewing the baby quiche. "Okay, so tell me. How was it?"

"Connor's fine," Cordelia said to all and no one. "Angel makes me so crazy when he acts like I'm not being a good ... whatever," she complained. "Fred's asleep. Again. I think she's faking. I think she's hiding out up there."

Willow laughed at Cordy as she sat down beside Dawn. "Okay, Dawnie, time for the big explaino. Didn't see much. Oz and the band sounded great. They were doing all this eighties stuff. Spike's idea. 'You spin me right round baby right roundy.' Of course we missed the best part. One time performance. Spike singing."

Buffy, who had entered a fugue state, brought herself back to the conversation.

Making a surprised sound, Cordelia put her hands on her hips in consternation. "Is that what they were talking about? Vampire up on stage singing? Is this L.A.?"

"Singing what?" Dawn asked, eyes sparkling. "Was it good?"

"Well, when Xander and I were little kids, I guess about five or six, we used to watch MTV at Xander's house. Mom would have had a stroke if she'd caught me watching anything but PBS. But we could go to Xander's or Jesse's and turn it up til our ears bled. And watch. That was the best part.

"Jesse loved Cindy Lauper. You know 'Girls Just Want to Have Fun?" Dawn looked clueless. " 'Time After Time?'" At Dawn's blank look, she shrugged. "Guess you had to be there. Anyways, Xander loved Madonna. Oh, yeah, he did. Used to go through the house singing 'Like a Virgin.' Now I always had a real thing for Billy Idol."

Willow stopped, got a thoughtful look on her face. "The videos were kinda dark, but they were kinda like magic, too." She grinned at Dawn, finally answering her question. "Spike sang 'White Wedding' with Oz's band. Got up on stage and did it. One of the girls was practically swoony over it." She shot a quick look at Buffy, as she looked down at the napkin and popped another unrecognizable mass in her mouth, then offered the napkin to Dawn. "We missed it. But just barely," she complained. "We were at the Espresso Pump just a little too long."

Cordelia laughed wryly. "Well, I'm glad. The thought of Spike up on stage swallowing a microphone gives me the willies."

"Buffy?" Willow looked at her friend innocently. "Did you meet Anne?" She saw Buffy's eyes harden. Just a ghost of a 'harden', but it was there. "I saw her heading over in Spike's direction, so I thought you might. Tara said she was 'statuesque.' Funny word, statuesque. Like a statue? She didn't look very stiff to me. All that red hair. Think I should let mine grow out?"

Buffy shrugged, trying to look unconcerned, and succeeding. "She's all right, I guess. It's that stripper that gave me the wiggins. She was sitting in Willie's office up on the desk doing yoga. Naked. I got out of there fast."

"I think she's nice," Cordelia said haughtily. Buffy stared at her in shock. "Well, she is," Cordelia insisted. "She's an artist. Well, she is." She said defensively. "You just have to bear in mind that she's the kind of artist who takes off her clothes for men for money. Then you get it." Buffy rolled her eyes. She didn't know if she liked this new politically correct Cordelia. Talk about the wiggins!

Willow grinned at Dawn. "Then, there was a little scene with one of the guys Xander works with. Comin' on to Tara. She had this funny look on her face. Like she couldn't believe it." Willow face got very wistful. "She looked so beautiful tonight. Did you see that new way she did her hair? With that little twist and all the spriggies falling around her face? Thought I might have to say something, cause Tara was getting all twitchy like she does when she feels uncomfortable, but then Angel showed up and the guy backed off the leeeeery looks."

"Where is Tara?" Dawn asked. "She didn't come back here?"

"She had some things to do at home. Buffy's staying at her apartment tonight." Willow looked envious. "I haven't even seen it yet." She sighed, then grinned wickedly. "Well, maybe I'll see it sooner or later. I'm all over the sooner." Willow smiled. "But the party was really cool. I would have never known it was Willie's."

"It's just ridiculous," Buffy burst out. "Spike's going around like he's the Big Party Bad. And Angel's right in there with him. Do the evil undead still have testosterone? Cause there were major doses flying around over there."

Willow grinned mischievously. "Oh, I think there's definitely testosterone revenants. Ghosts of testosterone past." She let out a huge sigh. "Wish we could have stayed. I'd've loved to see what happened next!"

+++++++++++++

Shaking his head, Angel picked Spike up off the floor. Idiot!

Wesley frowned. "Is he all right?"

Oz glanced up from the kneeling position he had taken by Xander's prone body. Oh. Wesley was asking about Spike. He returned to his perusal of the groom. No bruises. At least not that he could see.

"Is he?"

"How can you tell?" Gunn quipped. "Dead or unconscious look about the same in a vampire."

Angel looked up to see if any of the non-initiated had heard him. Anne was across the room, helping the others set up the tables again.

"Do you mind?" he said pointedly to Gunn, as he hauled Spike onto a nearby table that had survived the fight. "And there are ways to tell." He leaned over and put his mouth to Spike's ear.

"YOU ALL RIGHT?"

Spike jerked once and groaned long and low. His hands went involuntarily to his head. He turned on his side, pulling his knees up into a fetal position.

And promptly rolled off the table.

"Ow!" Spike sat up, head cradling his hands as he pulled his knees up to his chest. "Bloody hell." Waves of pain came and crested. He put his head between his knees. "Oh, Christ. I'm killin' Harris."

"Head hurts, huh." said Angel innocently. It was not a question.

"Go to hell!" Spike growled at the patronizing tone he heard in Angel's voice.

Angel looked over at Wesley. "He's fine. Just hungover."

"S'not a hangover. I can handle a bleedin' hangover. This ... now this is a migraine. Get me somethin', Peaches. Somethin' to deaden the pain."

"Oh, yeah, alcohol's just what you need," Angel said sarcastically as he headed toward the bar.

"Bugger off! You think havin' a soul is painful, try one of these." Spike raised his head to look around the now-empty room from his vantage point on the floor.

"Hey, who got Harris?" Spike asked, seeing Xander's sprawled body.

Oz looked at Spike. "I did. Started fighting me to get back in there. Had to deck him."

Angel walked past Oz with Spike's drink. "Bet you just hated that," he murmured.

Oz settled back on his heels, a small smile playing around the corner of his mouth.

"Not bruised up, is he?" Spike barked out.

"Not that I can see."

"Well, if you can't see it, doesn't matter, does it? Good job shuttin' him up. Wish it'd been me."

Standing up shakily, Spike groaned. He looked around the bar from his new and much worse vantage point and absently took the glass from Angel, draining it. He felt something catch at the side of his back and reached around to see what the damage was. His hand came away with a dart.

"Somebody started throwing darts," Angel explained unnecessarily, while indicating the now empty dartboard in the corner.

Spike shook his head and looked closely at the dart. Metal and plastic were good. He dropped it and glanced around at the wreck that used to be Willie's. "Well." He realized that everyone was gone except a few servers and Anne.

"Hullo, Anne. Fine mess and all that."

Anne walked toward him smiling. "Hi. Glad to see you back in the land of the living."

Gunn choked on his drink and started coughing. Angel pounded him on the back. Gunn gave Angel a dirty look, as he pulled himself back up off the table. He rubbed his chest with a grimace.

Spike grinned at Anne, popping open a cut on his lip. "Ow!" He reached up and felt his lip, running his tongue over the spot.

"Let's get you cleaned up." Anne giggled at his mumble. "Oh, and Angel?"

Angel head swung over to Anne questioningly.

"Could you please rescue Laura now? I think it's safe for her to come out."

Spike's mouth dropped open as he remembered the stripper in her makeshift dressing room in Willie's office. He snorted wryly. "Bloody stripper comes all the way from L.A., all expenses paid, to spend the bachelor party in her dressin' room." The wider grin made his whole face crack. "Ow."

Anne put her hand on his arm. "C'mon. Clean up time. You'd scare the dead with that face."

"Well, that's somethin' at least," Spike grumbled as Anne carefully pulled him toward the bar. "Bout all I could do right now."

+++++++++++++++

Buffy wondered what was going on at the party. That dancer had done her thing by now and she was quite certain, by the little she'd seen (which was more than she wanted to), that the crowd had been quite appreciative.

And it had become very obvious to her that Spike had really wanted to get rid of her. Something that Buffy was not really used to, especially not from Spike. Willow, yes. In fact, Buffy used to hang around sometimes with Willow and Tara to see if she could put a little crimp in things. Or stick around the magic shop after she could see that Anya and Xander wanted some alone time. So, so tired of being the fifth wheel.

"That was Anya," Dawn said as she came back in from the kitchen. "Xander's still not home and she's getting worried."

"It's barely one a.m.," Cordelia snarked. "She should be glad to get a night with him out of the house. I know I would!"

Dawn sat back down on the sofa, grabbing a bag of chips. "I think it's a wedding question. It's always a wedding question. They've been working on the seating arrangements for weeks! Xander's Uncle Rory seems to be a major cause of concern. And Anya wants to make certain her old boss is sitting with just the right people."

"Not looking forward to a repeato introduction to D'Hoffryn," Willow sighed. "But he is very polite. Very so not Uncle Rory. Ew!"

Willow saw Cordelia's disdainful look. "Hey! If you had Xander's family to deal with and that whole demon family of Anya's, you'd be a little nervy too." Willow defended Anya, something she wasn't big on doing, but still... "And they are all so here for it. Bringing gifts and everything. Wonder what the head vengeance demon gives one of his exes. Sooo glad it's Anya and not me!" Willow's eyes sparkled at the thought of wedding hell.

"Gee, Willow, a little compassion would be good here. Xander and Anya are uniting two worlds. Like Romeo and Juliet. Capulets and Montages."

"Montagues," Buffy said absently, correcting Dawn. She stood up. "Well, I could go check and make sure everything's okay."

"Check what? The baby's fine," said Cordelia a little defensively.

"Check Xander," Buffy explained. "Just make sure the Xan-man isn't unconscious somewhere with a bottle in his hand being preyed upon by harpies in tasteless t-shirts. I don't trust Spike where Xander is concerned."

"Aw, Buffy, he's fine. Don't check up on him," Willow reasoned. "This is his last big night."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Buffy mumbled as she grabbed her coat and headed out the door.

++++++++++++++++++

Oz had grabbed his acoustic and had pulled up a chair at the table with Gunn, Wesley and the now conscious Xander. He strummed down the strings of the guitar softly, creating a diminished counterpoint to the conversation.

"It's a nice promotion." Xander explained, much more sober than he had been two hours ago. "Means Anya and I could look at buying a house. Think about having a family. Later. Much later." His voice raised slightly. "Except some people want to interfere with that. Giving fertility goddesses as wedding gifts."

Spike grinned as Anne worked on a cut behind his ear. "Ow!" He raised his voice to carry to the table. "Figured you might need some help, mate. Once you've bought the cow, the milk can sour, you know."

"I so did not want to hear that, Spike." Xander punched at the air with his finger, punching home the words. "You're disgusting."

"When did you start channeling the Slayer, mate? Might have to do something about that. Watcher-Boy, you ever done an exorcism?"

"Look, I love Anya and she loves me."

"She might have had a few questions about that if she'd seen you tonight."

"No matter what, I can always count on Anya being there for me. That's what love's all about, Spike. Something you know nothing about."

Spike's mouth tightened.

"Oh," Anne squeaked. "Sorry. Did I hurt you?"

"S'nothin'," Spike muttered. "But you really don't have to do this. I'm a quick healer."

"Well, this one.... Oh. Look at that." Anne laughed nervously. "I guess you're right! That's ... well, really something," she said uncomfortably.

All at once, Oz's guitar rung out with a grouping of chords that sounded very familiar.

"Ah," Xander breathed. "Miss Tammy." He looked at Gunn. "You wouldn't know about Miss Tammy, I guess," he asked hopefully.

"Sometimes its hard to be a woman, givin' all your love to just one man," Gunn crooned in tune with Oz's chords.

Xander grinned in delight and joined in.

"You'll have bad times and he'll have good times, doin' things that you don't understand."

Angel, who was sitting at a table with Laura, got up and bowed, crooking a finger.

"You do realize I still expect to be paid for this," she said, getting up and being swept easily onto the dance floor. "Even though I didn't dance."

Angel grinned. "Looks like you're dancing to me."

"But if you love him you'll forgive him
Even though he's hard to understand
And if you love him
Oh, be proud of him
'Cause, after all, he's just a man."

Spike grinned, joining in loudly from the bar, not really singing, but yelling the lyrics as Wes stumbled along a little behind.

"Stand by your man
Give him two arms to cling to
And something warm to come to
When nights are cold and lonely

Stand by your man
And show the world you love him
Keep givin' all the love you can
Stand by your man."

Angel stopped dancing a moment, raising his voice with the others.

"Stand by your man."

"Spike?" Anne elbowed Spike as he took another swig out of bourbon. He had abandoned the glass and moved straight on to the bottle. His head hurt, dammit. And beltin' out that song hadn't helped. Anne nodded her head, and got up to meet the new arrival near the door.

Christ, she's back. Spike sighed.

"What the hell is this?"

"It's okay. Everything's fine," said Anne rushing up to Buffy. She gently took the shorter blonde's arm to guide her back to the door. "It looks worse than it is," she lied, laughing nervously.

Buffy looked down at Anne's hand on her arm, then back up into Anne's eyes. Anne's hand dropped to her side as her eyes widened.

Buffy turned back to the bar and looked around, really taking it in.

Angel had been dancing with the stripper, who was thankfully now wearing some kind of shiny robe that barely covered a multitude of sinfulness. Oz was sitting at a table, guitar in hand, with Xander, a bleary eyed Wesley and a big man who must be Gunn. And Spike was sitting at the bar, a bevy of bloody cloths and the remnants of a first aid kit around him. There was a second drink beside his at the bar.

Buffy's eyes narrowed as they settled on him.

"Hey, Slayer." Spike had decided to brazen this out. After all, they'd just had a spot of violence was all. "You missed all the fun. Had a bit of a..."

"Bar fight?" She finished sweetly. Anne slunk back and into the kitchen, away from the fire in Buffy's eyes. "Obviously a bar fight. Denizens of the night, right? I told you there were..."

"No," Angel spoke up, determined to take a little of that Slayer heat off of the battered vampire at the bar. "Well, demonish, yes. Demon construction workers from hell!"

Spike looked over at Angel appreciatively, equilibrium restored. "Good one, poof." He looked back at Buffy. "Yes, luv. T'was a whole passel of 'em. Big ones, too!"

"You've been fighting," Buffy said slowly, taking in his battered face.

Spike laughed wryly, healing cuts set back another hour or so. "Like a bloody milksop! A real wanker, matter o' fact. But yeah. Pulled my punches, but my head's still killin' me. Finally got some kind of rhythm goin'." Spike looked over at Angel. "Up for a bit of a beheading, Peaches? Put me out of your misery?"

Angel laughed as Buffy tapped her foot, arms folded tight across her chest. Gunn chuckled at the scene. "Maybe later, Spike. You may not need me."

Buffy looked around again, pointedly taking in the debris. Willie's was trashed. Completely and utterly wrecked!

Her eyes swung back to Spike. Hazel eyes narrowed at his smirky grin. Anne walked back up, eyes down, to the bar and started stashing the alcohol and unopened gauze back into the old rusty first aid kit. Buffy's eyes flashed.

"Spike," she asked softly, "can I see you outside?" She said it politely, but her posture as she spun on her heel and headed to the door proved her calm tone was deceptive. She stopped, hand on the door. "And Xander, you might want to call your fiancé. Oh, and Angel, your son is just fine." She opened the door and went out without turning to see if Spike was following her.

Spike sat for a moment, staring vacantly at the door. Was he really up for this? If his head didn't kill him, Buffy might. He sighed in a big way. Then he realized the room had gone totally silent. Looking around, he saw all eyes on him, waiting expectantly. He gave a non-repentant grin, shrugged sheepishly and eased his way carefully off the stool, heading toward the door. He heard a big 'oooooh,' as he stepped outside and Gunn dissolving into whooping laughter.

Gunn snorted as the door closed behind Spike. "I thought he was a tough guy! Could he be any more whipped?"

"Hey!" Angel said in Spike's defense. "This is Buffy Summers, okay? Still, it is sad to see the demise of the Big Bad. It was fun having him back."

Gunn laughed. "She's pretty pissed, all right." He looked at Wes. "Remind me if I ever have a girlfriend again to be sure and never give anybody a bachelor party. Looks real hard on a relationship."

Xander's grin died, as puzzlement slid over his face. He laughed, but nervously. "No, no. It's nothing like that. Buffy and Spike are just .... Well, Buffy and Spike are ... well, it's nothing like that."

Gunn raised an eyebrow at Xander. Even Wesley looked at Xander like he was crazy. Angel's face was carefully non-committal - a look Gunn knew all too well.

Xander couldn't let it go. He stumbled over some kind of explanation for the scene that had just played out. "I mean, Buffy and Spike?" He laughed again. "Why that would be..." His voice played out as he looked at Angel and all the pieces fell into place. Including some pieces he would never want to think about again.

"...Typical," he finished. "Oh, God." He buried his head in his hands and sunk into a depressed silence.

Oz, who had never really raised his head from his guitar, played the first bit of the chorus of 'Stand By Your Man,' drawing the last chord out to punctuate the silence.

Gunn threw back his head and laughed.

Part 11 - The End

Spike walked outside, carefully closing the door to Willie's. He waited calmly for the storm: the questions, accusations, and charges of stupidity.

"Who does that Party Nazi think she is?" Buffy asked angrily, pacing back and forth on the sidewalk.

Spike's eyes widened as his head snapped back imperceptibly. Whatever he might have imagined was coming, this was not it. "You mean Anne." It was not a question.

"She met me at the door like I was some party crasher!"

"Anne," he said very precisely and firmly, "is doing the job I pay her to do. Which, at the moment, consists of keeping what's left of the guest list intact."

"Oh? So I'm a party crasher?"

"Well, you're not on the guest list." Spike was using a reasoning tone, but inwardly he was getting a little angry. "Anne may have been a little over zealous, but..."

"She was rude."

Spike laughed, "I doubt it."

Ice in her voice, Buffy clipped off her next words. "So you're taking her side?"

Spike blinked, surprised. "Her side? She doesn't have a side. Until this party is over, she works for me." Spike's eyes narrowed. "What the hell is wrong with you? You haven't given a tinker's damn about this party since you foisted it off on me. At least she cares, even if I have to pay her handsomely for it!"

"Well, I don't like her. She's condescending. Did I say she was rude? She's too tall and I think her hair is a weave." Buffy stated angrily, chin up and eyes flashing.

Spike's head was threatening to explode. What the hell? He was getting more and more frustrated by the second. "Did I ask you to sleep with her, Slayer?" he asked crudely. "Send her Christmas cards? Did I even ask you to ..." Spike stopped as he saw Buffy's fingers flexing, her body drawn up tight. This was crazy. They were having a fight about Anne? His mouth dropped open as realization dawned.

"Bloody hell, Buffy. Have you been drinkin' again? You're being ridiculous!"

"Me? Ridiculous? Oh, no. You're the one who's being ridiculous, Mr. Party God. You with your smarmy party planner!" she spat out.

Spike let out a ragged breath. He stared at Buffy as if she'd raised a stake and was about to plunge it in his chest. "You think I'm shaggin' her," he said slowly. "That's what this is all about. You're jealous."

"I am not."

He laughed unpleasantly. "Oh, yes, you are."

Buffy's mouth was set in a firm line, fists balled up at her side. "You're deranged. I don't care what you..."

"You know," he paced back and forth in front of her, punctuating his words with the opening and closing of fists that were down tight by his side, "if it was Dru had blown into town, and you were bitched off about that, I might be prepared to do a little grovelin'. Maybe. But this!"

"As for my being deranged, you're too right. To get the money to pay for this thing for your friend, I've spent many nights gambling for money with men who would've put a stake in me if they'd known I couldn't do a soddin' thing to stop them.

"I also got a royal ass-kickin' tonight takin' punches that were meant for the stupid whelp who's sittin' in there right now gettin' tanked on the booze I paid for. Then I managed to acquire the headache from hell tryin' to do something about it.

"And now you're throwin' another one of your temper tantrums. And this time it's over some woman I barely know! You saying all the time we don't have anything between us. And never mind that Harris doesn't have a scratch on him. That I saved his ass from his own cronies. Not a thought of that. No, you're just spoilin' for a fight. As usual."

She opened her mouth to protest. It was too much. He...

He closed the distance between them quickly, his eyes stabbing her with anger, hurt and disillusionment. "After last night? After last year? After everything, how could you think that I could ever want to be with anyone but you?"

She relaxed slightly and looked at him. His lip was swollen and there was a cut high on his cheekbone, but it seemed to be closing. And he did have that grimace she'd seen before when he'd pushed that chip in his head too far.

She was still angry for reasons she chose not to explore at the moment, but she was willing to listen to Spike's explanation. Then, she'd tell him how immature this whole party had been.

Too bad Spike wasn't going to oblige.

Buffy opened her mouth to speak. Spike made a slashing motion with his hand at his side, effectively cutting off whatever she was going to say.

"Tonight was important to me, Buffy. You knew that. And you've done your level best to ruin it from the get-go. 'Course bein' an undead evil thing, I'm not meant for anything 'cept waitin' on you, it seems."

"Well, I have what's left of a party in there and I'm by God going back in there now and get snot-slingin' drunk! And you are not stickin' around here to bollix it up. I don't care where you go, but it better not be within a hundred yards of this place until this party is canned. Even if it's three days from now!"

Spike headed toward the door, Buffy staring after him with tears of embarrassment welling up in her eyes. He turned back.

"This is beyond believin', Buffy." He shook his head angrily and continued inside, closing the door loudly and firmly behind him.

++++++++++++++++++

Angel was waiting by the door when Spike slammed back into the bar. There had been a very slim, but real, possibility that he might have been sweeping Spike up into a dustpan by now. He was not at all surprised by the tight look around the pale vampire's mouth. His heart sank a little at the evidence that his intuition had been right, but was instantly buoyed up by the thought of the two people, big and small, that were waiting for him at Buffy's house.

Spike's mouth was moving silently. Angel suspected that he was rehashing whatever he'd said to Buffy outside.

"Dunno why I try," he muttered. "Why I stay. Dunno anythin'."

Angel grinned inwardly, if a bit sadly. Maybe the others hadn't figured it out, but he had known exactly how the little scene outside was going to play out from the moment Buffy had squared off with the party planner by the door. He was perversely pleased to see that he still knew his Buffy.

Looking around the bar, Spike noticed everyone was making a point not to look at him. Even Harris, who was staring off into space and drinking steadily. What was his problem?

"You all right?"

Spike looked at Angel with frustration. "No."

"Ream you out over the fight?" Angel prodded him.

"No. She didn't. Not a bloody word about that. That," he said angrily, "would have made some sense. "That," he said loudly, "is what I expected." He shook his head. "Can't suss her out. Can't please her. Can't...anything. Nothing."

Angel allowed himself a slight grin. "So she let you have it over your private nurse?"

Spike stared at the older vampire in surprise. "Well. Yeah."

With a chuckle, Angel squired Spike back over to the bar. Sitting Spike on a stool, he reached over the bar to grab one of the surviving bottles of bourbon and poured Spike a drink.

"All right. Pretend I'm your friendly neighbor vampire bartender. Tell me your troubles."

Spike rubbed his hand over his face as he stretched his neck, trying to relieve the headache that had reasserted itself with a vengeance during his fight with Buffy.

"I can hardly think about it without wantin' to grab her and shake her til she sees sense."

"Oh, yeah, that would work," Angel commented sarcastically.

Spike considered a moment and decided he'd come clean, promise or not. After all, she hadn't exactly been playin' by the rules, had she? Hadn't been for weeks. He needed to talk to someone. And he thought Angel might understand better than anyone. "Listen, Peaches, you don't know everything 'bout me and Buffy, all right?"

"No? Try me."

"Look, if you're gonna stake me, you may as well go on and do it. 'Cause me and Buffy..." Spike stopped, unsure just how to proceed. Right now, Angel felt like a friend, not the competitor he'd always been. And he didn't really want to hurt him, oddly enough. Or selfishly enough, maybe.

"Buffy and me, we have.... Well, I wouldn't precisely call it a relationship." Spike reconsidered that statement. "Well, she wouldn't anyway."

"And?"

Spike shot Angel a look. "Well, I've loved Buffy for a long time. I was miserable while she was...gone." Angel nodded. He remembered the agonizing emptiness he'd felt at the thought of a world without Buffy Summers in it.

"And then she was back," Spike said quickly, glossing over the hellish nights he'd spent reproaching himself. "All's right with the world again. Except it wasn't. Not really. She was different.

"Thing is, she started talkin' to me about it, y'see. Seekin' me out. Really talkin' about the things that she felt. Things that she couldn't deal with. Things she couldn't tell anyone else. Almost became like...friends, you know? And I thought, 'yeah, this is all right.' Not ideal, but all right. You understand?"

Angel nodded.

"Well, the rules changed. Never mind how. They just did. Then, she finished changin' em. And then we were...well, not friends anymore. And that's when the trouble started."

"Not friends?"

"No, not friends. We were..." Spike looked down at the empty glass and swallowed, not sure quite how to say it delicately. Delicately? Oh, hell...

"Were." He had a flash of last night and Buffy moving under him. "Are. Shaggin' like bunnies."

Spike waited for the inevitable backhand to the head. It didn't come.

"Well," Angel said mildly. "That was a visual I could have done without."

Spike's eyes narrowed. What was this? A ploy to put him off guard?

Chuckling a little sadly, Angel picked up the bottle and poured himself a drink. Eyed it. "Well, Spike, it's not like I hadn't figured it out." He took a slug and looked Spike in the eye. "So?"

"Uh," Spike was so thrown it took him a second to recall what they'd been talking about. "Oh. Buffy. She thinks I'm shaggin' Anne." Suddenly, the revelation became anti-climactic.

"Yeah, well, Buffy's a jealous little thing." Angel didn't sound the least surprised. "When she saw Anne patching you up, I figured she'd put you though a wall. She showed some restraint at least," he chuckled, a bit hurt, but dealing with it.

"Buffy saw that? And that's what this is all about?" Spike shook his head.

"She'd been standing there long enough. She'd had plenty of time to take it all in." Angel grimaced. "Hope she doesn't say anything to Cordelia about my slow dancing with the stripper."

"Oh, she's far too busy bein' bitched off about Anne, believe me." Spike reassured him. "It's AllAboutBuffy at the moment."

Angel laughed a rueful laugh. "Thank the Powers for that! Cordy can be mean."

"What really brasses me off was that she'd even think somethin' like that," Spike complained. "Reminded me of Dru, it did. One step forward, two back."

"Well, William, she doesn't know you very well, does she?"

"That's what I told her. Sometimes I wonder why I'm still here. Didn't think things could get worse. But they always do."

Angel and Spike sat silently, absently gazing at the wall behind the bar. Angel made a decision and grinned, characteristically ducking his head as he did it.

Noticing, Spike said, "What, you poncy poof, is so bleedin' funny?"

"You should be flattered, I guess."

"Flattered? I don't think so, mate."

Angel couldn't believe he was encouraging this, but his earlier conversation with Spike had made him do some soul-searching. And soul-searching was one thing he couldn't very well escape. Buffy obviously had a taste for monsters who dwelt in the gray areas, just as Spike had pointed out. And Angel was very aware that Spike had always possessed more perceptiveness than he himself had.

Besides, Angel knew he couldn't go back and undo what had happened between him and Buffy. He was lucky she even tolerated him after what Angelus had put her through. He still had some heavy guilt issues and he suspected by her avoidance of him that she harbored some resentment. Probably a lot.

On the upside, Spike would never hurt her intentionally, even without the chip the government had put in his head. There was something a little comforting about being able to give your blessing to your ex-lover's new relationship. He would always love Buffy, but...

Angel made a decision. "She's jealous," Angel said quickly, before Spike had time to launch into another tirade. He watched Spike gear down and think about what Angel had just said. "So maybe there's more of a relationship than you think."

"Or maybe she doesn't love me, doesn't want me, will never love me, will never want me, but doesn't want anyone else to ever love me, want me, or have me, either," he countered. "Wants her pet vampire on a leash close by, leather collar and all. Bell, too."

"Maybe. But I think you ought to be celebrating instead of contemplating a sunrise funeral service."

Spike made a rude noise. "Not much chance of that, Peaches. No woman alive, dead or undead is going to make me go for a daytime stroll."

"Yeah, right," Angel said dryly, remembering Spike's near emotional collapse over Dru's leaving him. This looked like it could be even worse.

Staring at the wall behind the bar, Spike's mind began to churn. "Hmm. Jealous, is she?" He sat a little straighter on the stool. "Well, bloody hell, yes! She is jealous, isn't she?" He turned to Angel with a delighted smile. "A jealous Slayer. I like that," he said in satisfaction.

Angel rolled his eyes. You would, he thought. The three most dangerous words Angel had ever heard, 'A jealous Slayer,' and Spike was pleased. Maybe Spike should stop drinking so much and check into Prozac to deal with those mood swings.

++++++++++++++++++

Anya walked in slowly, dressed in flannel pj's and a rumpled robe, looking around her at the disaster that was Xander's bachelor party.

The girls were long since gone, except for Anne and a tall blonde woman, who was wearing a man's leather coat (not Spike's, Anya saw). Angel and the woman were slow dancing to the quiet. The clink of bottles and murmurs were the only sound.

The only thing left on the bandstand was the drum kit. Anya stood on tip-toe, but she didn't see Oz anywhere.

The one named Wesley, who used to be Faith's Watcher (and a poor job he'd done of it, too) had managed to stay semi-erect by leaning his head against the support column beside their table and hooking a foot in the chair rail. He snored disagreeably, but fairly quietly. Xander could take a few lessons in that, Anya thought.

Xander was singing the words of a song Anya had never heard before, while Gunn followed along behind. Then, Xander would forget the words and Gunn would recapture the thread and lead off, each of them running out of words periodically only to be reminded by the other. Her eyes softened as she looked at Xander's tousled hair and the bright spots of color on his cheeks.

She walked toward the table.

Xander looked up as she approached. "Hey, honey." Gunn stopped singing and looked at Anya questioningly. As Spike walked over to the table, Xander looked down at his hands.

Anya looked at Spike with a touch of embarrassment. "Is the party over? Because it's late and I can't go to sleep." She looked down. "I've gotten used to him being there when I go to bed at night and when I wake up in the morning. I'm tired. Can he leave now?"

Spike smiled. Anya's honesty was always disarming when she looked a bit lost. He nodded. "Party's over, love. And I'm returnin' him the way I got him."

Anya nodded gravely. "Thank you."

Her voice was louder now, pitched to take in everyone in the room, including Angel. "I came to get Xander. But I think I should be getting all of you, too, because the sun will be up in 47 minutes. I think we all want that cute little baby to still have a daddy tomorrow."

Spike smothered a grin. No one like her, demon or human. He shook his head.

"Hey!" Spike called out to Angel, trying to get his attention. Didn't work. Angel could very well be asleep on his feet. The way Angel danced, it was hard to tell.

"Hey." Spike stumbled toward Angel. He was ignored. "Hey." Angel slowly turned at looked at him. Spike held up three fingers, folding one down after the others for each word he spoke. "Daylight. Baby. Cheerleader."

Angel took Laura's hand and kissed it reverently. Then he reached over, put a hand lightly on Spike's shoulder and silently walked to the door and into the n