BTVS: White Wedding
Title: White Wedding
Fandom: BtVS
Character(s): Spike, Dawn
Length: 1,520 words
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't know you. You don't know me. Let's keep it that way.
Summary: Spike helps Dawn prepare for her wedding day.
Notes: written quite a while ago
White Wedding
“Now don’t you look pretty,” Spike said, fussing over Dawn’s wedding dress, hanging on the closet door. “Seems like yesterday you were just a little girl and now look at you: all grown up and getting married. C’mon, Luv, buck up. Happiest day of a woman’s life and all that rot.
“Here now, sit down. Let Spike fix your hair. Used to fix Dru’s hair all the time, all thick and curling around my fingers. She used to love it when I brushed it out for her. She’d sit in her chair in front of the vanity -- didn’t have a mirror of course -- and I’d brush out her hair and she’d play with Miss Edith’s. Ah, those were good days. Before we bloody well came here,” Spike added, a snarl coming to his lips. “But then again who knew it’d all work out like this, right? Some things just can’t be foreseen. Though you’d think some things would. Time catches up with all of us, doesn’t it?
“There now. That’s nice. Summers women always did look good with their hair up. Wish Joyce were here, she’d be so bloody proud of you. I am.” He placed a chaste kiss on her forehead. “Eh, but time flies when you’re doing hair, isn’t that right Luv? ‘Course it is. Let’s get that dress on you.
“Come on, come on, we haven’t got all evening. My moniker was The Bloody not The Patient. Help a bloke out, won’t you?”
Dawn gasped as a one of the scabs on her back opened.
Spike gently turned her around. “Nothing to worry about, Luv. Let me get a bandage for it, not that it’s bleeding much, and you’ll be right as rain.” He was gone and back quickly. “All right then, stand in front of the mirror and brace your hands on either side.”
She did as she was told.
“That’s my girl. Here we go. This may or may not sting.”
Dawn shivered as she felt Spike’s tongue flatten against the wound as it journeyed upward. The pain made her gouge the vanity’s wood surface. Tears ran over in her already watery eyes.
“Shh, Luv, shh. It’s all right. Almost over now. Just let me put the bandage on and we’ll get you into your pretty dress, okay? And then you get to walk down the aisle and be the prettiest bride the bloody Hellmouth has ever seen.”
“Yes, Spike,” she murmured, her voice thin with pain.
“See there, that wasn’t so bad, was it? ‘Course it weren’t. Wasn’t. Bloody hell, look at me stumbling over my words like a little boy. Next thing you know I’ll be crying my eyes out like some nonce.
“Okay, let’s try that dress thing again, shall we? Arms up. Good girl. And over. Careful of your hair now! We don’t want to be late for the big day, now do we? Your gonna be one of those anachronisms that’s actually on time for her bloody wedding. Yes you are, or my name’s not William the Effin’ Bloody. All right, so there’s not exactly any swears in my name, but, you know, flavor.
“Eesh, now I’m rambling like the Witch.
“No matter, we’re almost done. Here now, turn around and let Spike have a look.”
She did as she was told.
“You are lovely,” Spike said softly, genuinely impressed with his handiwork and Dawn’s beauty. “Most delicious bride I’ve ever seen and I’ve seen lots. Makes my undead heart want to beat, it does. C’mon, Luv, now that you’re all pretty it’s time to go downstairs, don’t you think?”
Dawn didn’t answer, but Spike didn’t seem to notice.
“I always wanted to get married at home. Course if I remember right, my house was destroyed in the Thirties. Or was that the next block over? Not that it matters. You’re getting married in your house and that’s good enough for me. Feels like home anyway. Oy, look at me, holding up the whole bloody thing. Let’s go. Gimme your arm, Dawn.” When she didn’t respond he walked over to her and placed her hand in the crook of his elbow.
Together they walked down the stairs. Spike took care to go slowly so Dawn wouldn’t trip. He even held her dress up. At the foot of the stairs he turned and drew the veil over her head. Dawn whimpered then.
“Shh, Pet, shh. It’s all right. Spike’s here, and look: you can see right through the veil. You’ll be able to see everything.” He ran a comforting hand down her back.
Dawn gasped as pain shot through her.
Spike smiled. “You’ll be fine.” He took her arm again and led her forward. “Wait!” They stopped suddenly. “Do I look all right. Times like these I miss having a reflection, I really do. It’ll have to do I suppose.” Fiddling in his pocket, Spike withdrew a small remote control. He pressed the power button. Strains of The Wedding March descended from the ceiling speakers. “Big moment’s arrived.” Spike could hardly keep the grin from splitting his face.
The living room was transformed. Folding chairs were set in rows, an open aisle between them leading to a waiting minister. The minister smiled toothily at them but none of the seated guests rose. “Rude pillocks,” Spike said but he was clearly pleased. “Ready to tie the knot?” He didn’t wait for an answer and started walking Dawn the aisle. If she seemed to be resisting, it hardly mattered in the face of his superior strength.
By the time they stood in front of the minister, Dawn was crying softly. Spike smiled at the minister. “Weeping for joy, she is.”
The minister nodded; his smile never wavered. “Dearly Beloved,” he began. Neither Spike nor Dawn heard him as he droned on. Neither noticed the parts that he skipped or changed. “Is there anyone here who knows of any reason why these two should not be joined in... matrimony please speak now or forever hold your peace.” Nothing could be heard besides Dawns soft crying. “Please face each other,” he murmured just loud enough for them to hear. Spike had to physically turn Dawn to him. He didn’t mind. “Do you,” the minister continued, “William the Bloody take Dawn Summers to be your lawfully wedded wife: to have and to hold, through sickness and health--” the minister smirked, “till, uh, undeath do you part?”
Spike’s grin was wide as he said, “I do.”
“Please place the ring on her finger.”
Dawn was rigid as Spike went for her hand. He tugged it forward, breaking two of her fingers. She cried out. Neither man seemed concerned. “Don’t worry about it, Dawn, Luv, it’ll be better tomorrow night.”
“Repeat after me: With this ring, I thee wed.”
He placed the ring on her broken finger. “With this ring, I thee wed.”
“And do you, Dawn Summers, take William the Bloody to be your lawfully wedded husband: to have and to hold, through, er, sickness and health till undeath do you part?”
There was silence save her pained hisses.
The minister’s smile grew wider. “Good enough.” He looked at Spike. “I don’t think the little lady’s up to putting the ring on your finger.”
Spike cuffed him. “You leave her alone. She’s had a tough time of it. Now bloody well get on with the service. We don’t have all night.”
“Y-yes. N-now, where were we? Oh, yes. Uh, I’ll act in proxy. Give me the ring.” He pushed it onto Spike’s finger. “Now, with this ring, I, er, she thee wed.
“Good then. Before these, er, witnesses--” The minister couldn’t help a snicker. Spike glared him back into proper sobriety. “--I now pronounce you demon and wife. You may kill the bride.”
“With pleasure,” he purred. Spike caught and held Dawn’s damaged hand. His true face emerged.
It wasn’t Dawn’s neck he saw as he drank her blood, or even her screams he heard: he stared into Buffy’s dead eyes and heard her dying scream -- heard all their dying screams. Xander had been first, Willow right behind and so trusting. Buffy was at Giles’ place -- the old man was visiting. Spike had meant to save her for last, but why look a demon gift-horse in the mouth? Giles wasn’t far behind, but he had been tougher than Spike thought. And Anya . . . Anya had been the toughest of the lot. But there she was propped up on her honey-bunny, dead like the rest. Everyone except Oz, but the pup wasn’t even on the continent as far as he knew.
He relaxed his death grip on Dawn. “But not you lovely,” he murmured, forcing his blood down her throat. “Never.”
“Um, Spike?”
“What?” he barked at the vampire minister.
“You ruined her dress.”
Spike looked it over. “So I have. No matter.” He hefted Dawn’s limp dead body into his arms. “Never did fancy white myself.” Hitting another button on his remote control, the exit march began.
“Least this way I won’t get rice in my hair.”
[in]Fin[ite]
Fandom: BtVS
Character(s): Spike, Dawn
Length: 1,520 words
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't know you. You don't know me. Let's keep it that way.
Summary: Spike helps Dawn prepare for her wedding day.
Notes: written quite a while ago
White Wedding
“Now don’t you look pretty,” Spike said, fussing over Dawn’s wedding dress, hanging on the closet door. “Seems like yesterday you were just a little girl and now look at you: all grown up and getting married. C’mon, Luv, buck up. Happiest day of a woman’s life and all that rot.
“Here now, sit down. Let Spike fix your hair. Used to fix Dru’s hair all the time, all thick and curling around my fingers. She used to love it when I brushed it out for her. She’d sit in her chair in front of the vanity -- didn’t have a mirror of course -- and I’d brush out her hair and she’d play with Miss Edith’s. Ah, those were good days. Before we bloody well came here,” Spike added, a snarl coming to his lips. “But then again who knew it’d all work out like this, right? Some things just can’t be foreseen. Though you’d think some things would. Time catches up with all of us, doesn’t it?
“There now. That’s nice. Summers women always did look good with their hair up. Wish Joyce were here, she’d be so bloody proud of you. I am.” He placed a chaste kiss on her forehead. “Eh, but time flies when you’re doing hair, isn’t that right Luv? ‘Course it is. Let’s get that dress on you.
“Come on, come on, we haven’t got all evening. My moniker was The Bloody not The Patient. Help a bloke out, won’t you?”
Dawn gasped as a one of the scabs on her back opened.
Spike gently turned her around. “Nothing to worry about, Luv. Let me get a bandage for it, not that it’s bleeding much, and you’ll be right as rain.” He was gone and back quickly. “All right then, stand in front of the mirror and brace your hands on either side.”
She did as she was told.
“That’s my girl. Here we go. This may or may not sting.”
Dawn shivered as she felt Spike’s tongue flatten against the wound as it journeyed upward. The pain made her gouge the vanity’s wood surface. Tears ran over in her already watery eyes.
“Shh, Luv, shh. It’s all right. Almost over now. Just let me put the bandage on and we’ll get you into your pretty dress, okay? And then you get to walk down the aisle and be the prettiest bride the bloody Hellmouth has ever seen.”
“Yes, Spike,” she murmured, her voice thin with pain.
“See there, that wasn’t so bad, was it? ‘Course it weren’t. Wasn’t. Bloody hell, look at me stumbling over my words like a little boy. Next thing you know I’ll be crying my eyes out like some nonce.
“Okay, let’s try that dress thing again, shall we? Arms up. Good girl. And over. Careful of your hair now! We don’t want to be late for the big day, now do we? Your gonna be one of those anachronisms that’s actually on time for her bloody wedding. Yes you are, or my name’s not William the Effin’ Bloody. All right, so there’s not exactly any swears in my name, but, you know, flavor.
“Eesh, now I’m rambling like the Witch.
“No matter, we’re almost done. Here now, turn around and let Spike have a look.”
She did as she was told.
“You are lovely,” Spike said softly, genuinely impressed with his handiwork and Dawn’s beauty. “Most delicious bride I’ve ever seen and I’ve seen lots. Makes my undead heart want to beat, it does. C’mon, Luv, now that you’re all pretty it’s time to go downstairs, don’t you think?”
Dawn didn’t answer, but Spike didn’t seem to notice.
“I always wanted to get married at home. Course if I remember right, my house was destroyed in the Thirties. Or was that the next block over? Not that it matters. You’re getting married in your house and that’s good enough for me. Feels like home anyway. Oy, look at me, holding up the whole bloody thing. Let’s go. Gimme your arm, Dawn.” When she didn’t respond he walked over to her and placed her hand in the crook of his elbow.
Together they walked down the stairs. Spike took care to go slowly so Dawn wouldn’t trip. He even held her dress up. At the foot of the stairs he turned and drew the veil over her head. Dawn whimpered then.
“Shh, Pet, shh. It’s all right. Spike’s here, and look: you can see right through the veil. You’ll be able to see everything.” He ran a comforting hand down her back.
Dawn gasped as pain shot through her.
Spike smiled. “You’ll be fine.” He took her arm again and led her forward. “Wait!” They stopped suddenly. “Do I look all right. Times like these I miss having a reflection, I really do. It’ll have to do I suppose.” Fiddling in his pocket, Spike withdrew a small remote control. He pressed the power button. Strains of The Wedding March descended from the ceiling speakers. “Big moment’s arrived.” Spike could hardly keep the grin from splitting his face.
The living room was transformed. Folding chairs were set in rows, an open aisle between them leading to a waiting minister. The minister smiled toothily at them but none of the seated guests rose. “Rude pillocks,” Spike said but he was clearly pleased. “Ready to tie the knot?” He didn’t wait for an answer and started walking Dawn the aisle. If she seemed to be resisting, it hardly mattered in the face of his superior strength.
By the time they stood in front of the minister, Dawn was crying softly. Spike smiled at the minister. “Weeping for joy, she is.”
The minister nodded; his smile never wavered. “Dearly Beloved,” he began. Neither Spike nor Dawn heard him as he droned on. Neither noticed the parts that he skipped or changed. “Is there anyone here who knows of any reason why these two should not be joined in... matrimony please speak now or forever hold your peace.” Nothing could be heard besides Dawns soft crying. “Please face each other,” he murmured just loud enough for them to hear. Spike had to physically turn Dawn to him. He didn’t mind. “Do you,” the minister continued, “William the Bloody take Dawn Summers to be your lawfully wedded wife: to have and to hold, through sickness and health--” the minister smirked, “till, uh, undeath do you part?”
Spike’s grin was wide as he said, “I do.”
“Please place the ring on her finger.”
Dawn was rigid as Spike went for her hand. He tugged it forward, breaking two of her fingers. She cried out. Neither man seemed concerned. “Don’t worry about it, Dawn, Luv, it’ll be better tomorrow night.”
“Repeat after me: With this ring, I thee wed.”
He placed the ring on her broken finger. “With this ring, I thee wed.”
“And do you, Dawn Summers, take William the Bloody to be your lawfully wedded husband: to have and to hold, through, er, sickness and health till undeath do you part?”
There was silence save her pained hisses.
The minister’s smile grew wider. “Good enough.” He looked at Spike. “I don’t think the little lady’s up to putting the ring on your finger.”
Spike cuffed him. “You leave her alone. She’s had a tough time of it. Now bloody well get on with the service. We don’t have all night.”
“Y-yes. N-now, where were we? Oh, yes. Uh, I’ll act in proxy. Give me the ring.” He pushed it onto Spike’s finger. “Now, with this ring, I, er, she thee wed.
“Good then. Before these, er, witnesses--” The minister couldn’t help a snicker. Spike glared him back into proper sobriety. “--I now pronounce you demon and wife. You may kill the bride.”
“With pleasure,” he purred. Spike caught and held Dawn’s damaged hand. His true face emerged.
It wasn’t Dawn’s neck he saw as he drank her blood, or even her screams he heard: he stared into Buffy’s dead eyes and heard her dying scream -- heard all their dying screams. Xander had been first, Willow right behind and so trusting. Buffy was at Giles’ place -- the old man was visiting. Spike had meant to save her for last, but why look a demon gift-horse in the mouth? Giles wasn’t far behind, but he had been tougher than Spike thought. And Anya . . . Anya had been the toughest of the lot. But there she was propped up on her honey-bunny, dead like the rest. Everyone except Oz, but the pup wasn’t even on the continent as far as he knew.
He relaxed his death grip on Dawn. “But not you lovely,” he murmured, forcing his blood down her throat. “Never.”
“Um, Spike?”
“What?” he barked at the vampire minister.
“You ruined her dress.”
Spike looked it over. “So I have. No matter.” He hefted Dawn’s limp dead body into his arms. “Never did fancy white myself.” Hitting another button on his remote control, the exit march began.
“Least this way I won’t get rice in my hair.”
[in]Fin[ite]