Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Any recognizable characters/locations from the series, belong to Joss Whedon. Author's Note: DON'T SHOOT! I know it's been ages, but I've very busy and have honestly been having problems writing this story. I am going to finish it, it just might take longer than I'd like. I have no beta for this story, so please point out any errors you might find. I want to thank anyone who continues to read/review/follow this story even after such a long time between updates.

"Mmm...foamy!"

Xander watched Buffy chug her third beer. "Tough week, Buff?"

"Believe me when I say 'uh-huh'!"

This wedding planning business was a lot more stressful than she had originally thought. There was still so much to decide on. The band, for instance. The gang had congregated to the Bronze to listen to the popular local band called "Shy". Buffy especially was happy to have a night out. Lately, all her time was spent working or deciding on wedding stuff. At least, this decision involved cold beer and dancing.

Dawn came back from the restroom with Anya.

"I don't know if they're who you want to play at the wedding," Dawn critiqued. "Their music's no fun to dance to."

"Plus, the singer is very ostentatious," Anya said. "As the bride, you'll want all eyes on you. That's half the fun."

"Judging eyes closely watching me all day long? Oh yeah, oodles of fun."

Willow and Tara came back from the bar with another pitcher of beer. Buffy merrily refilled her glass while Willow and Xander shared a concerned look. Buffy and alcohol didn't always mix well. They could remember a certain freshman party that ended with Buffy, who was not a fun drunk, getting into a drunken fist fight with her roommate Kathy.

"Buff, you want to take it easy there?" Xander suggested.

"I'm good," she said, proceeding to take another long swig. "I am feeling better than good tonight! I'm ready for some partying—witness the fun that is me!"

"Sure, fun now, but tomorrow you'll be having barfy feelings if you're not careful."

Buffy shrugged. "I don't want to waste tonight. I've been so busy with wedding stuff. If I have to talk to my mum about the frigging guest list one more time, my head's going to spin around and explode!"

Anya leant closer to Tara. "She does mean figuratively, right?" she asked.

Tara nodded.

"So make Spike help," Dawn said, rolling her eyes.

Xander, who'd just taken a sip from his beer, started coughing and spluttering. Anya thumped him on the back unhelpfully.

"I can't do that," Buffy said, once Xander was okay. "He's got enough on his plate as it is."

"And meanwhile you're at the buffet table, serving yourself a mountain of mashed potatoes," Dawn said.

Willow took a peanut from the small bowl on the table in front of them. "But you're mom's helping, right? I mean, you're the bride. You should be dieting, not gorging yourself."

Anya looked at Tara. "Figurative again?"

"Yeah...I-I think."

Buffy frowned. "Can we please drop this analogy? And yes, she's helping...or trying to, anyway."

Dawn groaned. "Not again with the Faith thing!"

Buffy shook her head. "I wish. No, I've swallowed that bitter pill. She wants to invite Dad."

The entire group fell silent, and nobody dared to meet her eye. Hank Summers was a dangerous topic of conversation regarding the Summers' women.

"I'm guessing you said 'no'," Willow finally said.

"If only my mom would leave it there, but she keeps insisting." Buffy downed the rest of her beer.

"So, let her invite him," Dawn said, shrugging.

Buffy gave the younger girl a hard look. "I don't want him there."

"He probably won't come, anyway. I mean he's missed every other milestone, why not this one?"

Buffy paused to think, tucking her hair behind her ears. "I guess."

"And if you do it'll get mom to stop talking about it."

Buffy eyes widened thoughtfully. "In that case, hand me an envelope."

"Pacifying the fam," Xander said. "Always a good idea, especially if they're freaks like mine are."

Dawn smirked and raised her hand for a high five. "Maid of honour scores with the logic! Up top!"

Willow and Buffy simultaneously looked down at the table. Dawn's smirk fell from her face seeing their guilty expressions.

"Come on, guys. Don't leave me hanging."

"Oh, it's awkward," Xander muttered. "It's awkward."

"Gets worse every time you open your mouth," Dawn said, putting her hand down. "What's going on?"

"Dawnie—"

"Well, Buffy thought that—"

"It's just that—"

"See, we've been—"

"Willow is Buffy's maid of honour," Anya said, cutting through the hemming and hawing.

"What? But I called dibs!" Dawn reminded.

Tara put a comforting hand on Dawn's back. "Dawnie, this is a big job and I'm sure Buffy just thought—" Tara started to say, but Dawn interrupted her indignantly.

"I called it! Is nothing sacred?"

"I'm sorry! I just thought that it's a big responsibility and Willow's really organized and...responsible. But—oh!—you still get to be a bridesmaid!" Buffy said in a rush.

Willow went back to munching on peanuts quietly, too guilty to look at anyone.

Dawn stood up and grabbed her coat. "Fine," she snapped. "Clearly, I don't matter, so I'll just leave."

"Dawn, don't be like that!" Buffy called out as her younger sister stormed off. She sighed and made to chase after her, but Tara stopped her.

"I'll make sure she gets home alright," she assured the gang. She leaned over and gave Willow a quick kiss before grabbing her coat and taking off after Dawn.

Buffy sighed dejectedly and looked at the now empty beer pitcher. She gave Xander a pathetic look. "I think more frosty libations are in order."

Spike hadn't attended Willy's poker night for a good long while now. He'd been too busy lately with his manuscript and with Buffy, but tonight he was glad he'd made the time to attend. He sat in the smoke filled backroom of Willy's bar with his friends, winning.

"Are you sure you're not cheating?" Willy asked, as Spike collected the chips he'd won.

Spike smirked. "What's the matter, don't you trust me?"

"Oh yeah, like you were one of my brothers!" Willy backpedalled.

"The one in prison or on parole?"

Spike downed the rest of his bourbon, and waited for the next round of cards to be dealt. He was glad to have a night to himself, away from his manuscript. Sometimes when he hit a wall in his writing, it was best to find a distraction. Typically, he would have preferred Buffy in something lacy, but poker with his mates was fun too. At least they weren't walking around, unable to talk about anything other than wedding stuff.

Well, most of them weren't.

"So have you picked a best man?" Clem asked for the umpteenth time.

Spike continued to ignore him. For tonight he didn't even want to think about the wedding. He needed to relax and unwind, get some relief from the constant anxiety he was toting around with him 24/7. He was pretty sure that was what was causing his writer's block.

Spike's mobile rang but he ignored it. Buffy was out with her mates and he was out with his. She'd tried earlier to convince him to join them, but he'd wanted a night to himself. They had to be able to go one evening without each other. But Spike's phone didn't stop ringing. Buffy continued to call again and again, and it was starting to distract him. Not in the good way. He wanted to turn it off and keep playing, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. There was a small nagging feeling that there could be some sort of emergency. So, the next time Buffy called, he answered if only to silence that worry.

"What is it, pet?" He tried to keep the annoyance out of his tone.

"Where are you?"

"I'm at Willy's poker game, you know that."

"Blow it off and come to the Bronze."

So, not an emergency then, Spike thought to himself. "I can't do that," he said.

"Willy's is a dive, and it's not like you ever win at poker anyway! Come to the Bronze. Everyone's here and I miss you."

Spike was very aware that all of his mates' eyes were on him. "...I miss you too, luv. But I'm in the middle of the game and I'm up almost two hundred."

"But the band's playing and I want you to dance with me."

Spike pinched the bridge of his nose. "Dance with one of your mates."

"Spiiiiike!" she whined drunkenly. "I want you to dance with me!"

"I can't."

"I can always drive over there and drag your ass out," she threatened "Xander, give me your keys"

"You can't drive, Buffy," Spike exclaimed. She was a terrible driver even when she was sober.

"Fine!" He could hear her pouting through the receiver. "But I want to go home."

Spike knew a lack of car wouldn't stop her. A liquored up Buffy had no coordination whatsoever, and he dreaded to think what could happen to her if she walked home. "You can't walk home alone. You're snookered, luv. How much have you had to drink?"

Buffy seemed to consider a moment. "Uh...I forget."

"I'm calling you a taxi."

"No!" she whined again.

Spike sighed, resignedly. "I'll be there in fifteen minutes. Don't go anywhere. Stay and dance, but do not have another drink! Do you understand? You're cut off."

"Did it hurt?" He could hear her snickering at her own lame joke through the receiver.

"I'm serious, Buffy." He hung up without saying goodbye and shoved his phone into the pockets of his denims. He stood up and pulled his leather duster on. "Deal me out. I've gotta go."

"No problem," Willy said.

"The little missus okay?" Clem asked.

Spike shook his head. "She's pie-eyed. I'll have to carry her home."

"Carry home the ball and chain? Good luck!" Willy joked while the guys all chuckled at Spike's expense.

He flipped them off and headed for the door.

"Maybe give some thought to that best man thing," Clem called after him. "I could give you my references!"

When Spike carried a passed out Buffy to bed that night, he was thoroughly pissed off. Why hadn't her mates cut her off? Hadn't Red been keeping an eye on her? She knew as well as anyone how unmanageable Buffy was under the influence. Then, to top off his night, Buffy's spastic dancing had landed him with a bloody lip.

God forbid he should want some time to himself, away from the Bronze and the Scooby gang. He did have friends before he met her, good friends believe it or not. He didn't appreciate being pulled away from them, just so Buffy could get her way. Practically everything else in their lives was how Buffy wanted it. Maybe he was taking tonight's events a little too personally, but he couldn't help but feel irritated.

Marriage is about compromise, Spike thought. Well, I'm doing that all the bloody time as it is!

Spike removed her ungodly high heeled shoes and tucked her in, glaring at her sleeping form as if she were awake to see his anger. He then marched into his office/her gym and pulled out the list from her top desk drawer. He grabbed the nearest pen and started adding self-involved and bossy to the cons column, not liking how long it was starting to get.

Sorry this took so long! Please feel free to share any comments or questions with me. Constructive criticism is always welcome.