Adult-FanFiction.org : Buffy

Violently Happy	By : marksandspence Category: BtVS Crossovers > Misc - Het - Male/Female Views: 3216 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Part1a
- 2-Part1b
- 3-Part1c
- 4-Part1d
- 5-Part1e
- 6-Part2a
- 7-Part2b
- 8-Part3a
- 9-Part3b
- 10-Part3c
- 11-Part4a
- 12-Part4b
- 13-Part4c
- 14-Part4d
- 15-Part5a
- 16-Part5b
- 17-Part5c
- 18-Part5d
- 19-Part5e
- 20-Part5f
- 21-Part5g
- 22-Part5h
- 23-Part6a
- 24-Part6b
- 25-Part6c
- 26-Part6d
- 27-Part6e
- 28-p.s. Flight of Fancy
- 11
- 12
- 13
Scene 3
Miranda’s shop. A couple of days later. Early afternoon. Miranda has just opened the shop and is on her way in with a cup of coffee and some sort of Danish in a bag. After a few minutes, Giles pops in from next door. They are alone in the shop.
Giles: “Just thought I’d pop in to see how you were feeling.”
Miranda: “Things are pretty good. Still a bit hormonal, but I guess that’s to be expected. And a touch of morning sickness.”
Giles: “Eight weeks is a bit early for morning sickness, isn’t it?”
Miranda: “I have a suspicion that things may be moving along rather quickly [She pulls her blousy shirt up to reveal a small, but noticeable start of a belly]—who knows what’s normal for someone like me, right? How goes the researching?”
Giles: “Nothing concrete, I’m afraid. I did find a reference to a text that may be of use. I don’t currently have it in my collection, but I talked to someone in LA who I think will be able to locate a copy.”
Miranda: “Used book dealer?”
Giles: “Not quite. An ex-watcher, actually—you met him when you were there before, he...” [She doesn’t let him finish.]
Miranda: [horrified] “Not Wesley.”
Giles: “Yes. Thankfully, he’s quite sure he knows where to get a copy.”
Miranda: “You didn’t tell him why you were interested in that particular book, by chance?”
Giles: “No, well, of course I didn’t use your name, but I wanted to get his input on other potential leads so I described the particulars of the situation.”
Miranda: [relief] “Oh, thank God.”
Giles: [apologetically] “At the time, I hadn’t realized the two of you had met—I’m afraid he was able to guess who I was talking about.”
Miranda is obviously freaking out at the news. She’s inhaling deeply and bends over, putting her hands on her thighs. It’s not that she WANTS to show so much emotion, but she can’t help it.
Giles: “Are you feeling sick? Can I get you something?”
Miranda: [more upset than angry] “It’s not bloody morning sickness. Dammit. How could you Giles? I thought I was quite clear on the matter.”
Giles: “I don’t see why you’re so upset—it’s not as if he keeps in touch with anyone up here. I didn’t see the harm and we had quite a useful conversation.”
Miranda: [She’s very flushed and sort of talking to herself under her breath] “fuck. Fuck. Ok. Maybe he won’t say anything. Maybe he’ll just sit in his little office buried under a pile of books and no one will ask what he’s doing and he’ll just merrily research away. I mean, why would he tell anyone, right?”
Giles: “Well...”
Miranda: [eye's widening] “Well what?”
Giles: “Well, he mentioned that to get the book, he’d have to visit a rather unpleasant sort of dealer—Not something our Wesley is likely to do alone.”
Miranda: [more emotional reactions and cursing to self] “When is sundown these days?”
Giles: “About 6pm, about. Why?”
Miranda: [to herself] “Ok. Ok. I have until 9 (??) or thereabouts to talk to Spike. Right. I can do that.”
Giles: “I still don’t see...”
Miranda: “Yes, well, remember the ‘not relevant’ third party we discussed a couple of days ago in this little development we have?”
Giles: [He’s suddenly putting it all together] You don’t want Angel to know you’re pregnant. It’s not relevant because they’re both vampires. Oh, good lord. Good lord. [now it’s Giles who is looking rather upset] Does Buffy know? Does Spike know? [Miranda gives him a look; a ‘hell no’ kind of look] Good lord.”
Miranda: “THAT’S what I’m saying. [noticing that Giles has gone a bit pale] Are you alright? I’m sorry—it’s not your fault. Of course it’s all my doing and I’ll deal with it. I just wish it didn’t have to be today of all days.”
Giles: [not actually listening—it’s obvious to us that they are upset for very different reasons] “Good lord. This could be BAD. This could be very very bad. [to himself] Funny, Wesley didn’t mention anything.”
Miranda: “Just don’t say anything to anyone. I’ll take care of it.” [She’s practically pushing him out the door.]
Giles: “But...”
Miranda: “I will deal with it in my own way. Promise you won’t say ANYTHING. I’ll see you later.”
Giles: “But...[reluctant]...alright. [beat] Be smart about this.”
[Author's note: At this point, I think Giles would call Wesley and just ask about Angel’s behavior without actually saying why he’s asking. Wes would tell him that Angel has been acting fairly normal, but things have been rather stressful (this is the time when the stuff with Wolfram and Hart and Darla is just starting). Giles’s soul-less Angel fears are alleviated, hence he keeps his promise not to tell anyone what he knows.]
**
A few hours later (~7pm). Miranda’s house (outside). We see Angel lurking outside the front door—he’s thinking about/rehearsing what he should say. He finally gives up and just steps up to the door and rings the bell. The door opens. It’s Spike. Both he and Angel look a bit surprised.
Angel: “Uh, Spike”
Spike: “P…Angel. To what do we owe the pleasure—[looking around, mocking] is there evil afoot?” [He wants to be more snarky, but he obviously restrains himself. He’s in a good mood.]
Angel: [stalling while he thinks of an excuse for why he’s there] “What’s with the powder?” [Spike is wearing a black t-shirt and black pants, both of which appear to be covered in a hefty splattering of white powder.]
Spike: “Flour. [thinking of something] I’ll invite you in if you have ANY IDEA how to make a cake.”
Angel: “A cake?”
Spike: “It’s Miranda’s birthday. I’m having a bit of a knees-up for her tonight. Thought I’d make a cake, but I can’t seem to remember how it goes...made a bit of a mess.”
Angel: “Sorry. No idea. Besides, you can’t invite me in.”
Spike: “Oh right.” [The way he says it, we get the impression that he COULD if he wanted, but isn’t going to correct Angel]
Angel: “Speaking of Miranda, is she home?”
Spike: “Nah. Still at the shop. Why? She expecting you?”
Angel: “No. Uh, I just need to talk to her about a thing. An antique, actually. It’s kind of a visual thing. So I brought it here to, uh, show her.” [smiles, proud of himself for this *brilliant* ruse. ahem.]
Spike: “You can probably catch her if you head there now—you have the address?”
Angel: [a bit thrown by Spike’s helpfulness] “I can find it.” [He turns to go, but Spike stops him.]
Spike: [uncomfortable] “Listen. Uh. She said you took good care of her. Did what I asked. So. [Spike’s way of kinda-sorta saying ‘thanks’] [pause] You could probably stop by—during the party—for a minute, if you wanted.”
Angel just kind of makes a ‘maybe’ face and then takes off. He’s not quite how to react to non-sarcastic!Spike.
Scene 4
Meanwhile...At Miranda’s shop. Anya is watching the front. Miranda is working out in the basement—she still has an over-abundance of energy. There are weapons of all types strewn across the mats and hung on the walls. She is in the middle of the floor and is practicing with two long swords. She moves them in what looks like a highly choreographed pattern—starting slowly and working up to faster and faster speeds. Just as she is at the highest speed, requiring the most concentration to maintain, Anya comes strolling into the room, leading Angel, talking a mile a minute about the sales they’ve had today. Miranda immediately loses her concentration—she loses her grip on the swords and they go flying across the room. In a rather impressive save, Miranda takes a dive to prevent the one that is heading straight down into the floor from hitting the ground (which might have ruined the blade). She’s lying on the floor, sweaty and out of breath.
Miranda: “Anya, I do believe I specifically requested no interruptions. [shaking her head] I can see the entry now in the Watcher’s Immortal Chronicle ‘Distracted Immortal beheads self in tragic training accident’”
Anya: “So in that scenario, would I inherit the shop?”
Miranda: [laughs at this] “Go keep an eye on the register, would you Anya?” [Anya heads upstairs]
Angel: “That couldn’t actually happen, could it?”
Miranda: “Absolutely. And leave it to me to be the first. ”
Angel: [looking around] “What’s with the arsenal?”
Miranda: “Oh, just the usual, I gather, for Sunnydale—an apparently insurmountable Big Bad has all of us in a tizzy.”
Angel: “Sounds about right.” [He helps her up. She mops her face with the towel and catches her breath.]
Miranda: “How about a proper greeting, then? [She kisses him on the cheek in traditional ‘greeting’ style] Lovely to see you, Angel. You’re early—didn’t expect you for at least another couple of hours.”
Angel: “But you knew I’d come.”
Miranda: “Who knew that Watchers were such chatty Kathy’s?”
Angel: “Were you going to tell me?”
Miranda: “Let’s not start here. Can we step back a moment? Come with me upstairs—I’ll give you the tour.”
Angel agrees and they head up to the main part of the shop. She has Anya give him a tour, while she changes her clothes. When she’s done, she sends Anya home and turns over the ‘closed’ sign in the doorway. Anya says that she and Xander will be coming to the party and they’ll be bringing a present. She leaves.
Miranda: “I’m sorry I never called. I meant to. Spike and I patched things up and then things just got kind of crazy. I tried writing you a letter [she walks over to a drawer behind the counter and pulls out a few different sets of paper]—I’m better with written words than I am on the phone. Still, they never quite came out right, so I never sent any of them.”
Angel: [a little surprised] “What did you want to say?”
Miranda: [She looks at one of the versions of the letter in her hand and then puts it down and looks up] “I don’t want there to be any awkwardness between us because of what happened. I like you, Angel. I think we could be friends—and before you go thinking that I’m blowing you off in a terribly generic way, know that there are not many people in this world that I would say that about. There are things we have in common—things I don’t think most people would understand. And we’ve got time. [looking back at the letter on the table] Of course, being a girl, it appears to have taken me five pages to say just that in this version of the letter.” [frowning at it]
Angel: [thinking about it] “I think the awkwardness lasted maybe 30 seconds and I’m over it. What about you?”
Miranda: “I’m good.”
Angel: “And to be fair, I didn’t call you either.”
Miranda: [Knowing it’s not exactly the same thing, but playing along] “That’s absolutely right.”
Angel: “No hard feelings?”
Miranda: [warm smile] “None.”
Angel: [changing the subject] “Were you going to tell me? I mean, the timing seems about right.”
Miranda: [heavy sigh] “And here we are again. Yes. Yes, of course I would have told you. But it’s not real. I wanted to wait until I knew what it was before I told you anything. I haven’t even told Spike, for godsake. He thinks I’ve had the flu.”
Angel: “I’m guessing Spike doesn’t know what happened in LA.”
Miranda: “He knows I was with someone, but he doesn’t know it was you. I ask that we keep it that way for now—until we know more.”
Angel: “So you think the pregnancy is an apparition?”
Miranda: “I don’t know. Probably. [pause] Honestly, I’m afraid to let myself believe it. [leaning in close] This is something I’ve wanted more than anything for as long as I can remember. Believing even for a second that it could be real, that it might actually happen is so overwhelming—so thrilling—that it’s dangerous. I have to contain it.”
She fishes for the ultrasound picture and shows him.
Miranda: “But to see it. To feel it. [her eyes are now wide with excitement] It transcends anything I could have imagined—beyond words. Does every woman feel this way?”
But just then, the door opens and in walks Buffy.
Buffy: [before she notices Angel] “Feel this way about what?”
Miranda: “Feel this way about...Birthdays. Another year older—why is THAT cause for celebration?”
Buffy: [seeing Angel—completely thrown] “Angel. What....what are you doing here?”
Angel: “Uh. I had to show Miranda something. Something, you know, that she had to see with her eyes—so I brought it here.”
Miranda: [going with it] “Yes, they came across an artifact that they thought might be connected to...uh...Immortals like myself. Of course, it could be dangerous, so they couldn’t send it in the mail and uh, Wesley needed to know about it right away.”
Angel: “or else it might fall into the wrong hands and be used for...evil (?)” [He’s SUCH a bad liar]
Buffy: “So you took a picture of it and brought the picture? Someone needs to learn how to use the internet.” [seeing the ultrasound picture and not getting what it is]
Angel: “No, well, I do have the actual artifact with me, but it’s locked in the trunk of my car for safety.”
Miranda: “And based on this picture, I think I may have some idea what it is, but I need to check something that I have in storage, which I can’t get to until tomorrow.” [Angel gives Miranda a puzzled look]
Buffy: “So you’re staying overnight? Why didn’t you call me?”
Angel: “Uh, it was all kind of spur of the moment.”
Miranda: “He was just about to give you a call, actually. Right this very second. Good thing you stopped by.”
Buffy: [She’s so floored by seeing Angel that she doesn’t think to question the story] “So are you coming to Miranda’s party? The gangs all going to be there.”
Miranda: “Of course. You must come. We can talk more about the artifact later.”
He agrees to come to the party. Miranda says she has some shopping to do, but they can ride over to her house together if they don’t mind waiting. They head off. They arrive at the house a bit later, arms full of groceries (Miranda is planning to make scrumptious hors d’oeuvres.). Buffy and Angel will help unload, but then plan to go and spend a bit of time alone together and then pick up Dawn, etc., before the party starts. They walk into the kitchen—Miranda sees the mess and is initially annoyed.
She says to Spike “I give you one job—one task for tonight and you make a complete mess. I expected you to buy a cake, love, not make one—there are bakers in this town, for goodness sake. [Looking around] Blimey!” [Angel is taking some pleasure out of M’s chastising of Spike.]
Miranda: [softening] “Then again, it is outrageously adorable that you thought you could make me a cake and even had a go at it. [she saunters over to him] I’m starting to think there might not be anything sexier than a man covered in flour.”
They start smooching. Angel frowns and looks disgusted and he and Buffy quickly leave. On the way out, Buffy says “Believe it or not, you kinda get used to it after a while.”
Scene 5
A couple of hours later, Miranda’s house. People are starting to arrive—everyone shows up at once except for Giles. (everyone = Anya, Xander, Willow, Tara, Buffy Dawn and Angel) Most are standing in the area just inside the door. Miranda is greeting everyone. After a moment, Spike comes up from downstairs—he changed into something less covered in flour. Miranda is wearing a peasant top with a seam under the chest area—the blousy part extending down, conveniently covering her new paunch, which seems to have grown a bit even since this morning. Spike walks up behind her and just instinctively moves his hand around her back and cradles her left breast. Miranda starts to pull his hand away.
Miranda: “Spike!”
Spike: “What?”
Miranda: “You can’t fondle my breasts when we have guests over.”
Spike: [mock annoyed] “Who made that rule?”
Anya: [to Spike] “I didn’t know either. Apparently it applies to ass groping as well.”
Spike: “Why did we invite people over again? [seeing the wrapped packages] Oh right. Presents.”
Miranda: “You really didn’t need to bring presents! ooh, but don’t they look lovely. Let’s put them in the living room for later. I’ve got a bit more cooking to do.”
Flashes from the party as time goes on. Miranda keeps bringing out more food from the kitchen. One of the counters in the kitchen doesn’t have cabinets above it and it looks into the living room—she does most of the prep work there so she can chat with everyone while she’s working. Spike is in the kitchen with her, helping with this and that, but mostly avoiding being with everyone else. Miranda is chopping something with a big knife and when the doorbell rings—she inexplicably jumps at the sound and cuts her finger rather deeply.
Miranda:“Ouch. Dammit! I’m so jumpy lately.”
She shows the cut to Spike and then puts the bleeding finger in his mouth—he makes a ‘yummie’ sound as he sucks off the blood. Xander sees this and is very disgusted and makes a comment to Willow (Xander: “Did you see that? I’m all for swapping of bodily fluids, but THAT is just disturbing.”). A second passes and Spike frowns/looks confused and pulls the finger out to look at it—it’s already healed. Before he or Miranda have time to say anything, Giles comes through the door. He apologizes for being late. He’s worried that there might actually be something bad in the mix tonight—some sort of special alignment of the stars or some such thing. Hopefully, it’s nothing, but they should keep their eyes open for anything unusual. He then gets a drink and tries to act surprised at seeing Angel. It’s obvious he’s rather uncomfortable being ‘in the know’ about the pregnancy. When Miranda is free, he asks if she’s told Spike yet—she hasn’t—there just hasn’t been the time (it’s obvious there’s more to it than that, but he doesn’t feel it’s his place to press her on the matter). Time goes on and they’re all enjoying the food. Miranda brings out her last delicacy and then sits down in one of the comfy chairs in the living room. People are tasting various items on the table.
Tara: “This food is amazing. Are these artichokes?”
Willow: “Did you try the puffy things? YUMMIE.”
Xander: “What are these sausage-y things here?”
Miranda: “Black pudding, actually. Something for the English folk.”
Giles: “Hope you don’t mind, but I already nipped a slice from the kitchen counter.”
Miranda: [concerned] “The ones on the blue plate?”
Giles: “I’m afraid I didn’t notice.”
Miranda:[uncomfortable face] “Those ones were actually, uh, made specifically for Spike—you’ll like these better.” [indicating the ones on the table on a yellow plate]
Giles: [suddenly looking a bit pale] “Oh, I see.”
Xander: “What gives?”
Willow: “Black equals blood.”
Giles: “Pigs blood, traditionally. But I suppose...”
Miranda: “Best not to think about it too much.”
Giles: “Right O”
Willow: “So where did you learn to cook like this?”
Miranda: “Now that is a rather interesting story...”
Dawn: “oooh, I love Miranda’s stories. There’s always like horses and carriages and fancy dresses and other old stuff.”
Miranda: [smiles at this] “Would you like the long or the short version?”
Tara: “It’s your birthday—you decide.”
Miranda: [devilish grin] “Hm. I’m quite in the mood for some storytelling. Alright, then. Let’s have it all, shall we? [she sits up in her chair and stops for a moment as she imagines the scene and decides where exactly to start]. Just over a hundred years ago, long before *most* of you were born [eye flick to Spike, although same applies to Angel], I was traveling west through Europe. My traveling companion and myself had just escaped from a rather dreadful [pause, how say it] confinement—the details of which I’d rather not discuss, as they were quite unpleasant. Suffice it to say that we had been taken some 10 months before and even though we were now free, there was an unspoken acknowledgement between us that the experience had left us somewhat...damaged. This feeling we shared meant that we were not in a terrible hurry to return to our previous lives—we weren’t ready. So we took our time, slowly making our way westward. She was Italian and from a rather small town. I had been living in Paris. Truthfully, one of the reasons why we had so many ‘unspoken’ understandings was because we didn’t actually speak the same language at all. My Italian was very limited and her English even worse. It didn’t matter much. In some ways, it was pleasant to be free of the demands of making conversation.”
Xander: “I’m right with you there. Talking—totally overrated.”
Buffy: “And this relates to cooking...??”
Miranda: “I’m getting there, hang on. [She takes a sip of wine from the glass that Spike just brought over—he’s now sitting on the arm of the chair she’s sitting in] One lovely spring afternoon, we had been given a ride between towns by a farmer who was hauling hay. We stopped for lunch at midday. The sun was warm and the wildflowers were blooming—we sat on a small hillside overlooking a tiny cottage while we ate our bread and cheese. God, it was beautiful—like a painting [she closes her eyes, reliving it]. The farmer had mentioned that he knew the owner of the farm we were on and that the tenant of the cottage had recently passed away—some old spinster. He said the family was looking for a new tenant and he’d be happy to find out the details during lunch if we were interested. We politely declined, saying we were on our way somewhere and were not intending to stop for more than a day or two. He had left us on the hillside to have lunch at the main house. Now I should say that over the course of our travels, we had been made many such offers, and the reason for this was not simply that there were an abundance of empty cottages or that we simply looked like reliable tenants. No, the reason we were treated with such hospitality and warmth had much more to do with my traveling companion, Isabella. You see, Isabella was beautiful. And before you all jump to the conclusion that I am being humble or intentionally self-deprecating, let me clarify. Isabella was perhaps the most beautiful woman I have ever seen—I was a troll next to her. [everyone laughs and there are a few protestations]. No, really, I kid you not—a troll. Perhaps I am being a tiny bit subjective, because she was such a lovely person as well, but...[convincing herself] no…I truly believe that she was objectively the most stunning creature I have come across in my now 140 years. If she had been aristocracy, she’s the kind of woman men fight wars over—I had never understood that concept before I met her.”
Xander: “Is it me, or did this story just get much more interesting?” [glare from Anya]
Dawn: “What did she look like?”
Miranda: [thinking about it] “I don’t know that I can do her justice in a verbal description—there was something almost luminescent about her.”
Xander: “Come on. You can’t just leave us hanging like that. Give it a go. Use actresses.”
Miranda: “Uh. Hm. Coloration, she was a bit like Isabella Rossellini—not entirely olive skinned, as you might expect from a pure Italian. She had long, black, wavy hair. She was beautifully curvy—take Jennifer Lopez’s lower body, adding a few inches in height, attach Haley Berry’s torso and Angelina Jolie’s breasts. That’s about the best I can do using names you’d recognize. The point is, she was a goddess and everyone saw it. [Thinking of where she is and adding] Well, not literally a Goddess, of course. Now where was I?”
Xander: [a bit too quickly] “You and the hot chicka were having lunch on a hillside. Now, was there a blanket involved?”
Buffy: “Xander!”
Xander: “What? I’m just trying to get a mental picture.”
Miranda: “I do believe there was a blanket of some sort—the ground was rather damp.”
Tara: “So was she sitting or laying back on the blanket?” [surprised look from Buffy; conspiratory look from Xander] “I think it’s important to get the mood right.”
Willow: “Mood. Absolutely.”
Miranda: “Hm. Let’s see. We were both kneeling. She was leaning over a bit, resting on her arm. We had been sitting in silence for a while after we’d finished our lunch, just enjoying the sun and the view. Thinking back on it, I do remember vaguely noticing the slightest change in her demeanor. The next moment she said something in Italian “[to be filled in once I find someone who speaks Italian]”. I wasn’t sure I had heard her correctly—I thought she said something about staying there—in the cottage. I was confused by this, because we were, at that point, only a fortnight’s travel away at most from her village. We’d been feeling better and she had even indicated that she would be happy to be home. She saw the confusion on my face and repeated what she’d said. This time, she looked me straight in the eye—her voice contained a nervous tenderness that I’d never heard before from her. After she spoke, she appeared to hold her breath in anticipation of my response. I still didn’t understand her meaning—my Italian too weak to interpret subtleties. She took in a deep breath and then tried in English. She said “We stay here? In house? [pause as she reached for my hand] Together.” As she said this, she gently took my hand and put in on her neck, just below her cheek. I think she wanted me to feel her heart—it was beating very fast. She repeated a third time what she’d said in Italian, this time in a soft, seductive voice as she moved her face downwards slightly to nuzzle my hand. The next moment seemed to go on for hours—like I was frozen in time. I remember looking at her lips as she said the words and suddenly becoming aware of what she was suggesting. [aside: breaking out of the moment briefly to look around the room at everyone and say] You all probably think I was being terribly dense, but this was a different time and such things were not commonplace. [back to the moment] As her meaning sunk in, my mouth suddenly went dry and I felt a tightness in my chest. I’m sure I stopped breathing. Here was this goddess, this otherwordly creature asking me to stay with her—essentially proposing to me—and the look on her face as she waited for my response was unbelievable. She was nervous. As if I could have said anything other than ‘yes’. As if anyone would have had the power to not do anything she asked. I felt dizzy...intoxicated. I tried to say something but I couldn’t seem to speak. I remember thinking at that moment that I finally understood what it was like to be a man.”
Spike: [mildly offended] “What’s THAT supposed to mean?”
Miranda: “Up to that point, I’d always thought men were rather pathetic in their vulnerability to beauty—getting talked into doing the most ridiculous things only to get taken advantage of and their hearts broken. I’d done it myself—taken advantage. It was too easy. But then there I was, utterly and completely powerless—absolutely no will of my own.”
Willow: [suddenly really liking the story] “So what did you do?”
Miranda: “As I said, I couldn’t manage to get a word out, so instead of trying to articulate verbally, I simply leaned over and kissed her. Hoping all the time that I would like it, as I’d never kissed a woman before and frankly had never considered it.”
Tara: “And, uh, was it...?”
Miranda just smiles and takes another sip of wine. Everyone is conspicuously silent. Giles walks into the room—he’d been rummaging around the ‘hidden’ room, where the previous owner of the house had kept all her magic THINGS. He notices that no one is speaking.
Giles: “Something going on?”
Buffy: “Oh, Miranda was just telling us how she learned to cook.” [As she says this she suddenly makes a face, realizing that so far, they’ve learned nothing about how she learned to cook.]
Spike: [to Giles]. “Join the party, Geeves. Miranda has just managed to turn on everyone in the room except for Buffy, Anya and Dawn and I don’t think she’s done yet.”
Dawn: “I think it’s very romantic.”
Buffy: “So, uh, cooking?”
Miranda: “Right. So we talked to the farmer and he agreed to rent us the cottage. We didn’t have much money, so we helped out in the kitchen for the main house and supplemented our income by selling some baked goods in the town. Isabella was a fantastic cook. I was dreadful in the kitchen at first, but she taught me everything she knew. [laughing] We spent most of our time in the kitchen that year! [remembering fondly] Well, not ALL of our time. [snapping out of it] So THAT is how I learned to cook...and incidentally, when I learned to speak Italian.”
Willow: “How long were you two together?”
Miranda: “I guess we lived in that cottage about a year.”
Tara: [disappointed and empathetic about their ‘breakup’] “That’s not long—what happened?”
Miranda: “Oh, it was fine. We could have stayed there a bit longer, but events transpired to speed things up. The townsfolk were getting more suspicious of our relationship—we’d gotten rather lax about hiding our affection and in those days, people were not very open minded. And Isabella wanted desperately to have children. That very next summer, the young man she’d been engaged to, before she was taken, somehow managed to find us and still wanted to marry her. We both agreed that it was for the best and he arrived in August to take her back.”
Xander: “And when he arrived, did you...??”
Anya: “Xander! Even I know that is a totally inappropriate question.” [but then she kind of looks at Miranda, curious about the answer]
Spike: “I think that’s enough, love. You can give me the details later.”
Dawn: “What did you do after she left?”
Miranda: “I decided to head east. A story for another day, perhaps.”
Tara: “Did you ever see her again?”
Miranda: “No. By the time I returned to Europe, I decided to just let it pass. She did promise to name her first daughter after me and so I took much pleasure in envisioning a dark-haired, dark-skinned Miranda running about the Italian countryside.”
Angel: “You’re daughter’s name was Isabella.”
Miranda: [nodding] “Hm. Yes. I thought it only fair to have a pasty-skinned, freckled, Isabella in return.”
Buffy: “You don’t talk about her much—your daughter. What was she like?”
Miranda: [dismissive] “We weren’t very close. You think you can love a child that isn’t your own just as completely, but sometimes it just doesn’t work out that way. [changing the subject] Is it time for cake?” [W&T had arrived with a cake, after hearing from Buffy about the baking fiasco.]
At this, they bring out the cake. There is much joking about M’s age. She says that it’s funny that she’s actually only the third oldest person at the party (behind Anya and Angel). Miranda cuts a large piece for herself. Spike tries to take it away from her and jokingly makes a comment just to get a rise out of her.
Spike: “Maybe you should take it easy on the cake, love—you’re starting to get a bit thick in the middle.”
To which, she light-heartedly expresses due outrage. He then playfully pulls up her top to show off her little pudge.
Spike: “I like it—gives me something to grab.”
Then come the presents. [Author's note: I’m not in the mood to come up with clever gifts from everyone, so I’ll just skip to the important ones.] Willow and Tara say that when they were looking through the old witch’s stuff, they found what appears to be one mother of a protection spell for the house. Practically impenetrable, they think. After consulting with Giles and getting some things at the magic shop, they’ve figured out how to activate it (and turn it on and off as needed). They’ve also equipped it with an alarm, so that if anyone even tries to break in, they’ll be warned. They do the initial activation, which requires some chanting and such. From there, they tell Miranda how to turn it off and on again, which isn’t nearly so complicated. Somehow the spell seems to be tied to the house—they originally were hopeful that they could use it elsewhere (for Buffy’s house to protect Dawn, etc.), but they have not been able to get it to work anywhere but here at Miranda’s house. Now all the presents are open and Miranda is properly thanking everyone and looking things over. Spike had disappeared for a moment, but has now walked back into the room.
Spike: “One more, love.”
Miranda: “Is it yours?”
Spike: “Thought it proper to save the best for last.” [eye rolls all around, except for Miranda]
Miranda: “You’re awfully cocky. Sure it’s all right to open in mixed company? [to Anya who is sitting next to her] Lingerie is a rather fitting first birthday gift, don’t you think?”
Spike: [overhearing] “What d’you need lingerie for? Seems a bit of a waste when...” [notices that Dawn is listening and doesn’t say anymore. He pulls a small box out of his pocket and tosses it casually on the table. It’s thin and about 4X4 inches].
Miranda: [She’s obviously quite excited/nervous about what he’s gotten her. She actually did not expect to be opening it in public. She eyes the box and then looks up at Spike] “Shall I guess?”
Spike: [He’s leaning against the wall next to M, looking very confident and pleased with himself] “Suit yourself.”
Dawn: [impatient] “Just open it already!”
Everyone in the room is mildly curious. She picks up the box—it’s wrapped in just a small black ribbon tied in a bow. She flicks a look up to Spike. She pulls off the ribbon and then slowly removes the lid of the box. She looks at the contents and expresses a look of genuine surprise with a touch of confusion. She looks up at him, as if for an explanation.
Spike: “It’s the same stone.” [He’s excited to tell her about it—quite proud of himself.]
Miranda: [heartfelt] “Spike, it’s beautiful.”
She pulls a necklace out of the box. It’s a choker with a drop pendant—the pendant is cross, but fatter and of a different style than her old one. In the center is the ruby from her other necklace (which was originally the stone from her engagement ring). The chain is a rather thick lattice (maybe half an inch) with very detailed markings. Spike leans over and takes it from her and starts to put it on her neck.
Spike: “It’s platinum, which is much stronger than gold—s’what you had before (gold)—the bloke said it should hold up pretty well in a fight. The clasp has a double safety. Pendent should be different enough. Oh, and if you look close, the chain’s got little mini-crosses in—for a touch of added protection.”
[Angel thinks that Spike gives him a look at that moment, as if to indicate that she needs protection from him, but then realizes he’s just being paranoid. He whispers to Buffy. Angel: “So what happened to her old necklace?” Buffy:“I guess it kept breaking; oh, and there was this other thing about spies and Easter—I’ll tell you about it later”]
Miranda: [Once Spike has put the necklace on, she stands up to properly show it off. She’s tearing up a bit, but trying to hide it. She turns to Spike who gives her a little eyebrow flick.] “You think you’re pretty clever, don’t you?”
Spike: “Pretty clever.”
Miranda: “Let’s review, ladies, shall we? It’s beautiful, practical, has sentimental value and..." [looks to Anya]
Anya: “Expensive.”
Miranda: “How many boyfriend points does that add up to?”
Dawn: “Off the scale.”
Miranda: “Quite right.”
Xander: “Lucky bastard. He’s set for life—well, at least the next 2 years of birthdays, anniversaries and random holidays.”
Miranda: [beaming at Spike] “Have I mentioned lately that you may, in fact, BE the best boyfriend EVER?”
The men in the room respond with the male equivalent of the eye-roll; the women are rather transfixed.
Spike: “Now, love, you shouldn’t make the others feel too pathetic. [piercing look at Xander] They do try.”
Miranda: “We’re going to step into the kitchen for just a minute” [She walks in the direction of the kitchen, with Spike close behind, smirking proudly.]
Once they’re gone and it’s reasonably certain they’re out of ear shot...
Tara: “wow”
Willow: “I’m right there with the ‘wow’”
Xander: “Pull yourselves together, women. There’s a little too much non-disgust in the air.”
Angel: [has been wanting to say something all night, but hasn’t had the chance] “So is it just me, or does it seem really odd that Miranda and Spike are like, a couple? I mean, his last girlfriend was a total psychopath and Miranda appears to be...well, for lack of a better word, kind of normal.”
Xander: “Actually, his last girlfriend was a mindless bimbo. Still, point taken and agreed with. And you know, I don’t think ‘odd’ is actually a strong enough word to describe the situation.”
Angel: “Phew, Ok. I thought I was missing something.”
Willow: “No, it’s not exactly something we’re comfortable with—we’ve just learned to keep the disgust buried under a nice thin layer of denial mixed with polite non-discussion.”
Giles: [genuine concern] “It IS a bit worrisome. Miranda is actually quite a powerful woman and we still don’t understand entirely what she is and what her motives are.”
Buffy: [explaining—they’ve obviously discussed this] “It’s not that we don’t trust her. It’s just that the more in to Spike she becomes, the more likely it is that they’d stick together no matter what.”
Giles: “And if somehow we find ourselves in a conflict with Spike, which is actually quite likely based on his history, she’ll fight for him.”
Angel: “Huh. I just couldn’t figure out what she sees in him, but now that you mention it...”
Just then M&S come back into the room, smiling. Everyone stops talking. After a bit, the party resumes—they put on some music, etc.
Suddenly, the alarm sounds (from the protection spell).
- 11
- 12
- 13
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Violently Happy