By Invitation Only
She saw the plain white envelope with the single word, “Buffy”, lying on the little table in the alcove by the door. She recognized his script, and opened it carefully. Inside was a single sheet of vellum.
The Evil Bloodsucking Fiend
requests the honour of your presence
Buffy Anne Summers
in his crypt
tonight
8 pm.
Dress Formal
“Apparently,” she said to herself, “I do need an engraved invitation.”
She felt odd, wearing a gown for which she had paid far more than she could afford, trucking though the cemetery after dark, hoping for once not to need to slay. Though she could probably put a vampire’s eye out with her heels. They made little divots in the grass as she walked.
She cautiously pulled open the crypt door. She was used to his predilection for candles, but wasn’t prepared for the warm light that infused the upper chamber. They were everywhere, tall ones, thick ones, squat ones; candles of every shade. They cast a soft beauty over the statues and stone. Instead of a place of death, it seemed enchanted. “Spike?” she called.
“Down here, love,” came the answering cry.
She carefully climbed down the ladder to the lower chamber, silently cursing her heels. In his bedchamber was a little table, covered with a white cloth, a single taper burning next to a vase with a red rose. He stepped out of the shadows. A tiny gasp escaped her as she took in the black tuxedo. He was so incredibly handsome. He gestured for her to sit at the table, and pulled out the chair for her. “My gentleman,” she said.
He placed a plate of pasta in front of her, and poured a glass of red wine. He sat across from her and watched her eat. “This is great,” she said between mouthfuls. “Did you make this?” He nodded and pointed to a hotplate sitting in the corner. “Wow, I didn’t know you could cook.” He raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Aren’t you going to eat something?” He shook his head. “Aren’t you going to talk?”
“I love you,” was all he replied, sinking back into silence as she finished her meal.
She wiped her mouth with her napkin. “This is really beautiful. You trying to seduce me? Because you know full well all this isn’t necessary.” He shook his head again. He led her to the bed and she sat on the edge. “I thought you said you weren’t trying to…Spike, what are you doing down there? You aren’t…are you?”
Propped on one knee, he looked into her eyes. “Marry me?”
“You’re insane,” she laughed, not condescending, but shocked. “How can we…why would you?”
“Do you love me?” he asked.
“You know I do.”
He took her hand in his. “Marry me.”
“But this is crazy. It is crazy, right?” She looked at him, at his slow, steady, loving stare. His eyes didn’t waver. “Yes.”