Spike leaned back and glowered at his wedding guests. Partly hidden by the colourful swathes of fabric decorating the tent, he was indulging in a massive sulk at the position he was in. In one hand he clutched a cup of heavily spiced wine, while the other went reflexively to the ornamental dagger strapped to his thigh. Surrounded by inebriated humans, he was imagining their shrieks of mirth turning into something infinitely more bloody as he pictured himself striding among their dancing bodies. A graceful slash here, a well placed jab there and it would be over in minutes. Destroy the head of the Hydra and the body would follow. Unfortunately, the word of an Aurelian was set in stone and he could no more kill these ‘guests’ than he could hope to lie again between Droosilla’s bewitching thighs. No, from now on all he had to look forward to was a dutiful rut with the fragile little earthling. He’d have to hold himself back from hurting the girl ...too much. He smiled nastily.

A ball covered in tiny mirrors revolved slowly in the ceiling, sending fragments of reflected light across the assembled group and a crackly, incomprehensible voice interrupted each song. He wouldn’t admit it but some of the music was pretty good. A few bars played of the next song and a collective squeal had the sweating humans back up on the dance floor.

“Oooh, I love this one,” gushed a rather well made blonde as she raced past, clutching the hand of one of his bewildered men. “Hey, little sister, what have you done?” ....“It’s a nice day to start again, it’s a nice day for a white wedding.” Sounded a bit sinister for a wedding song but still, not bad. Sweeping his eyes around the room he eventually spotted her. Huddled in a far corner she was a picture of misery, absently scratching at the back of her hand. She had no idea.

A large sandy haired man was making his way towards her; he looked hesitant as he towered over the seated girl. His wife. Without pausing to think about it Spike made his way through the throng of bodies until he was by her side.

“Would you honour me with a dance ...wife.” Reaching down he grabbed the glaring girl by the hand and carefully pulled her to her feet. Giving the interloper a glare - which was returned in full - he gave a gentle tug on her hand. For a split second she was completely immovable. Spike had the strange sensation of pulling at a boulder, but before he could test the feeling she moved towards him.

“It’s okay, Riley.” She gave the dim creature a shy smile and turned to Spike. Her eyes said everything. They were burning, and not with affection. Spike just prevented himself from taking a step back, choosing instead to lean forward and growl in her ear.

“I don’t like this any more than you do, but it seems that we’re stuck with each other. So let’s just get this damned farce over with, then we can hate each other as much as you like.”

A pause and a nod from her, and the two saviours of this particular universe made their way to the centre of the dance floor.

***

As the last drunken stragglers made their way to their respective shelters, Buffy and Spike grew increasingly nervous. Until this moment they had been able to put on a united front before their well-wishers. Spike had even managed not to break down when Droo had said her goodbyes. Stroking his cheek, she had given him a peck on the nose. Her eyes were sad as they met his.

“Be kind to her, Spike. She’ll make you a worthy mate someday, and you’ll thank me for what I’ve done.”

Spike couldn’t imagine any scenario where he would ever be grateful for finding himself in this position, but years of obedience to his dark lady stilled his tongue. Instead, he just nodded abruptly.

“I’m sure you did what you thought was right. I guess my gratitude will have to wait a little while longer.”

Anjell stepped forward to give his miserable surrogate brother a firm hug.

“Droosilla’s never wrong, Spike. Trust her in this.”

“Want to swap?”

“You could do worse, Spike,” he said, glancing over to the little blonde standing with her head down before Giles and Ethan Rayne. They didn’t need their enhanced hearing to know that she was getting advice about doing her duty. They also knew that her loyalties would always lie with her human kin and, despite Droo’s reassurances, this would always make her dangerous.

Aware of being studied, Buffy straightened up and looked towards the two males. With a look of determination, she approached her husband.

Spike gave a stiff little bow and held out his crooked arm. She rested her hand on it and, without so much as a backward glance, they stepped out into the night together.

***

Their new accommodation had been erected in another small clearing not far away. Softly illuminated by the twin full moons that seemed to fill the sky, it would have taken Buffy’s breath away under any other circumstances. A smallish structure of hides and silk was lit from within by a small silent Earth generator next to it. Leading the way to the entrance was a line of glowing torches embedded along a pathway of springy cropped grass. Trees rustled in the warm night breeze, revealing silver flashes of water beyond them. An Eden already stained with blood. Still, there was a freshness and life to this little planet that made Buffy instinctively want to call it home.

She knew that some humans became so dependant on life in space that they could not leave their ship for any length of time, becoming desperate to return to the safety of its cramped metal skin. Not her. She felt as though she was breathing for the first time, the heady rich oxygen expanded her lungs and she felt the curious sensation of something slowly unfurling inside her - sleepy still, but slowly wakening to the call of the wild. She wanted to run and run, wanted to understand the night and the creatures hidden in the undergrowth, wanted to dive into the water, soar above the tips of the trees, feel the dew on her bare legs from the lush grasses. Feel the warm, bloody kill slide wetly down her throat.

“Jesus.”

Staggering a little from the sudden vision she bumped into her silent companion before regaining her balance.

“You all right?”

“Yes, perfectly all right, thank you,” she snapped. She was anything but, but he was the last person she was going to talk to about these increasingly strange visions. She had a feeling that Droosilla would have been able to explain what was happening to her. A cold thought swept down her spine. Maybe the wedding ceremony had caused all this, maybe it was turning her into a monster…just like her new husband.

***

Bending his neck slightly to enter through the flap of the doorway, Spike looked around. He had to admit that a lot of effort had gone into preparing their new dwelling. About twenty paces from corner to corner, there was plenty of room for the two of them. To the left was an area for food preparation, carved wooden cupboards and a smooth surfaced table. Chopping boards and knives were neatly arranged, glass-stoppered jars filled with spices he recognised and a large metal-doored box that looked like storage of some sort. The smell of freshly cut wood coming from a door at the rear of the kitchen made him guess that someone had built a ground stove just outside.

In the main area where he was standing the floor was carpeted in rugs, mainly in deep crimson, dark greens and rich blues…lucky, fertile colours chosen specially for newlyweds. Large feather cushions were scattered in a rough semi-circle to define the sitting area with a low round table in front of them. A large shallow glass bowl rested on top of it containing bright pink flower heads floating in clear water, another blessing for a happy union. The generator outside was powering soft lighting to fill the space and he had to admit it was nice to be able to see without the ever present smell of burning torches. Hearing a sharp intake of breath he noticed that his new bride was staring anxiously at the area to the far right of their living quarters. He didn’t have to look behind the cloth partition to know that there would be a comfortable bed beyond it.

“Well, wife of mine, shall we get to it?”

“What?” the girl squeaked.

Spike suppressed a smile; this was almost going to be fun.

“Our sworn duty to unite our two races. I believe you call it shagging.”

“I certainly don’t call it that, besides I’m too tired tonight to ‘shag’. I’m going to sleep.” With that Buffy marched to the screen and hid behind it. Spike could hear her trying to control her breathing, her heart pounding as she took in the sleeping arrangements. At her gasp he knew that she’s spotted the ceremonial wrist cuffs attached to the headboard. The poor thing wouldn’t have a clue that they were traditionally worn by the husband on the wedding night.

Deciding to bide his time before confronting her further, Spike moved into the kitchen. As he suspected, the metal box contained fresh vegetables and packages of unnamed produce. Ignoring the delicious cold air on his skin, he correctly identified some containers of alcohol and settled himself onto one of the large cushions. This was going to be a long night.

***

Just as Buffy finally began to relax into the warm cocoon of bedding - after an hour of anxiously listening to Spike drinking and muttering to himself - the lights went out. Shortly after there was a faint swish as the curtain to the bedroom was disturbed, and she peeped through her lashes at his shadowy form. She was pretty sure that he was naked. Already at the far edge of the bed, she held her breath as the mattress dipped and he settled underneath the covers.

After a few moments she felt his body shift as he moved to lean over her.

“I know you’re awake.”

“Yes, and I’m still tired.”

“Are you a virgin?”

“What? No! That’s none of your business.”

“Then why the coy behaviour?”

“If it hasn’t escaped your notice, I don’t much like you.”

“Mutual, pet. But I know something you don’t. See those markings on your hands?” He gripped one of hers and pulled it out from under the covers. “They match mine, and they will continue to itch and then burn until it becomes unbearable. Do you want the whole world to know that you rejected your chosen mate?”

Sure enough she could clearly see the patterns on her hand. They glowed a faint red in the dark. “Then I’ll wash them off.”

“That won’t work, only a full consummation of our marriage will get rid of the binding marks, so you’d better get used to the idea.”

“Well, I’m not used to the idea yet, so get back to your side of the bed and go to sleep.”

With a dark chuckle, Spike moved away and turned his back on her. The bitch was going to pay for that. He carefully adjusted himself. One part of the ritual he’d failed to mention. The patterned markings tingled along his aroused cock, an extra magical incentive to thoroughly satisfy his new mistress.

Damn.

***