Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, I just use ‘em. Buffy, Spike et al. are the property of a very, very lucky ME.

Author’s Note: My muse for this story has been my own pregnancy. Although Buffy’s experiences are an amalgam of all my friends’ pregnancies, I still base most of how she feels on my own sentiments. There are a number of unbelievably good Spuffy baby stories out there (*cough* Kallysten *cough*), and I thought I’d add my own take on things to the mix. And thanks to Melissa for her amazing beta duties!

1. Alone

“What?”

She was incredulous yet her voice retained a calm, tentative quality such as one would use with a frightened animal. Every fibre of her being screamed out that this wasn’t happening, that this was only a bad dream. How had Ebeneezer Scrooge worded it? ‘A bit of undigested beef’--something like that, anyway.

Great. Her world was falling apart before her and all she could think of was a Christmas movie. She was certifiable, if anything.

“This is a joke, right? This is the part where you smile, cuff me on the shoulder and say ‘gotcha’ and we both laugh it off. Right?”

Her counterpart, a tall, muscular brunette, shifted from foot to foot. This wasn’t easy for him, but he had to stick to his guns. He tried a placating voice--that sometimes worked with women, no? “Look, Buffy, it’s nothing personal. You’ve got to believe me when I tell you that I still love you. I really do, it’s just that.. well...” Words eluded him. How could he say this without sounding like an asshole?

Hands clenched into fists , the young woman barely restrained the anger that flowed through her. “Still love me huh, Riley? Well you’ve got a really quirky way of showing it.”

Oh, this wasn’t working. Of course, dealing with... what they were dealing with, there was no way for them to both come out of this unscathed. Hands up in the air in a pose of surrender, the young man pleaded. “Ok, I understand this might be hard on you,” he paused, wincing at the guttural sound that came from the back of his girlfriend’s (ex-girlfriend’s?) throat. “But think of what it’s like for me. I’m not ready for this, I’m too young--you’re too young--to actually go through with this.” He barked out a laugh. “I mean think about it! Your school, your social life, your slaying...” He leaned back against the side of his jeep, arms crossed in front of his chest.

Buffy screamed and threw her hands up in frustration. “Think about it?! What the hell do you think I’ve been doing for the past two weeks? Writing poetry?” She covered her abdomen with the palm of her left hand, and lowered her voice. “This baby, this life that’s now growing inside of me--that’s all I think about. Do you think I haven’t spent hours thinking of what this means? School, I can handle--I can always go back. Friends, well--they love me enough to stand by me.” She smiled inwardly at the pain that crossed Riley’s face at her admonishment. “And the Slayer part? Think of it, Riley. What are the chances of any Slayer living long enough to have a child? I didn’t even think it was physically possible.”

She paused, trying to reign in her emotions. Sniffling, she continued. “This baby, to me, is a miracle. It’s another rude gesture, on my behalf, in the face of fate. It’s me, thumbing my nose at the powers that be. And you expect me to... to get rid of it? To kill it?!”

The young man sighed and led his head drop. They were obviously at an impasse--him not ready, not willing to undertake the life-altering responsibility that is raising a child, and her wanting nothing else. “Buffy, you know as well as I do that I can’t make you do anything. Just like you can’t make me do anything. You want to keep the baby, go ahead. Take full responsibility for raising it, caring for it--that’s your prerogative. As for me, well, I’ve accepted the army’s offer to go down to South America. This is a great opportunity for my career, and I just can’t turn it down.”

This wasn’t happening. His was leaving her, and their child, for his career? “Well, good for your career, Riley. You go play GI Joe in the jungle and I’ll stay here and play grown-up with the family that you’re leaving behind.”

“Now that’s just not fair, Buffy...”

“Not fair?! What’s not fair is you getting your girlfriend--the woman you profess to love--pregnant, then ditching her for your career. Tell me how fair that is, will you?” By now, she couldn’t help the tears that streamed down her cheeks. She felt as if a part of her were being twisted and tortured. Pulling her gaze away from his, she rooted through her pockets for a tissue, glad she always had a few on her.

Both stood there, bodies tense, emotions flaring. Neither wanting to back down from their position, not wanting to admit that the other could be right in their stance. A long while passed before Riley spoke up.

“Well, I’d better be going. The plane leaves tomorrow for Belize. I’ve got packing to do...” He kept his eyes on Buffy, not knowing how to leave. Did he just hop in the jeep and drive away, or did he give her a hug? Maybe he should just shake her hand--no, that would be very, very not right... The brunette was torn--he really did love Buffy, but he wasn’t ready to fill the role of father and husband.

“Fine.” Buffy was glad he’d broken the silence. Had it been lift up to her, they’d still be silently staring at each other two Sundays from then. “I hope your career takes you to where you want to go.” I hope you get eaten by an alligator, if there are any in Belize... “Just promise me one thing ok, Riley?”

Relieved, the young man let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Maybe she was going to take this better than he’d expected. “For you, Buffy, anything.”

Plastering a fake grin on her face, she leaned in slightly. “Promise me that you’ll never set foot in Sunnydale again. Because, God forbid, if you do I’m going to rip your guts out through your asshole and strangle you with them.”

Riley’s face paled and his mouth fell open at her threat. Maybe she wasn’t taking it so well after all... Resigned to their splitting on a bad note, he opened the jeep’s door and got in. Turning the ignition, he drove away with one thought on his mind. There simply wasn’t a reply fitting enough to what she’d said to him.

As she watched the jeep drive away, driven by the normal guy she was supposed to have and get married to--picket fence and all, after Angel had left her, Buffy crumpled to the ground. She felt like her heart had shattered, like her life was ending. She was only 19, yet she’d been through the grief of losing the love of her life--twice. She knew she was too young to have this baby, she was totally unprepared for it and its needs, but she also knew that this baby was special. Sure, all mothers-to-be think their babies are special--and they are--but to Buffy, this baby meant that she was more than just a Slayer. She was also a woman. And no amount of heartbreak could change that feeling.

“Honey, are you sure?” Joyce Summers cast a worried glance at her only daughter. “Because you usually eat a breakfast that would make Denny’s jealous.”

For the past week, the thought alone of eating before 10am had made Buffy nauseous. She was yet to experience the dreaded morning sickness, but that didn’t mean that her cast-iron stomach was up to par. Offering her mother what she hoped was a comforting smile, she tried to ease her worries. “Maybe I’m just coming down with something.” Yeah, a nine-month virus... “I’ll just make myself a peanut butter sandwich and bring it with me to school. I’ll eat it when I’m in class.”

Not reassured in the least--Joyce hadn’t known Buffy to get sick since their move to Sunnydale four years ago--Buffy’s mother knew that if her daughter was not well, there had to be something seriously wrong with her daughter. But, as the patient mother she was, she decided to ease off for the moment, hoping that her child eventually came to her in confidence. Hands flat against the island counter’s cool white surface, she watched Buffy putter around, making her lunch.

Joyce’s eyebrow shot up as she watched the young woman put together the peanut butter sandwich, a banana, an apple, a granola bar, a cup of soup pouch and half a sleeve of crackers. Something’s definitely up. Maybe I should make it a point to be here more often on mornings...

***

“Buffy!”

The Slayer turned around, scanning Sunnydale U’s main concourse for a shock of red hair. Sure enough, her best friend Willow pulled herself from the mass of students to catch up with the small blonde.

“Hey, Willow.” Buffy tried to hide the pain she was feeling--she believed she’d somehow managed to hide everything from her mother that morning, so maybe the act would snag her friends as well. With false enthusiasm and a wide grin, she hugged the other woman.

Something was off. Willow’s best friend spidey-sense was tingling and she vowed to get to the bottom of whatever it was. “Your class doesn’t start till 10:30, right?”

Uh-oh. “Um, that’s right.” Willow was a creature of habit. This wasn’t in their Tuesday routine, and Buffy was worried. A Willow routine about-face could have damning implications...

“Good. Neither does mine. That gives us a little time to ourselves. You know, best friend bonding and all that.” Smiling brightly, she grabbed Buffy by the shirt sleeve and began to pull her towards an exit. “Why don’t we go find a nice bench and catch up?”

Buffy frowned at the redhead’s strange suggestion. Definitely of the bad... “Catch up? Wills, we were both here yesterday.”

Darn, think fast! “Oh! I know that! It’s just that... you know, lots of things can happen between school and... school. Important things.” She aimed her patented resolve face at the blonde walking beside her. “Things you might only feel comfortable sharing with a best friend...” Hint, hint. Come on, Buffy.

As they sat down on a bench far removed from any student clusters, Buffy thought to herself: How does she always see through me? Even her mom hadn’t suspected anything. Well, there was that raised eyebrow when she was assembling the food-for-an-army... Great. She had to be the worst actress ever. Anyway, it wasn’t like she was going to be able to hide this particular secret for very long.

Tears pooled in her eyes, unbidden but not unwanted. She’d shed too many tears in the past fortnight to hold a grudge against them--shedding them seemed to be the only way she’d kept her sanity. A cracking voice whispered “Oh, Willow” before the young woman broke down, seeking refuge in the arms of her very concerned best friend.

Ok, maybe this was much, much worse than she’d imagined. Willow had assumed that her friend’s odd mood was founded in a fight with her mother, or with Giles, or maybe even having lost a fight against some unnamed demon the night before. Then, of course, there was Riley... But Buffy and Riley were so close--the perfect couple. Both good looking, both popular, both so in love with each other.

When the sobbing ebbed, the redhead tried to get the devastated girl’s attention. “Buffy?” She pulled a tissue out of her purse and presented it to her friend. “What’s wrong? You know you can tell me anything, don’t you?” With a sly smile, she added: “Remember? It’s rule #3 in the girlfriend’s handbook...”

As she lifted her head from Willow’s shoulder, Buffy realized two things. One, she was getting another of those killer headaches. Two, she should have told her best friend about this the minute she found out. Well, here goes--might as well be as blunt as possible. She took a deep breath. “Willow, I’m... I’m pregnant.” At the look the redhead gave her--a mix of surprise and compassion, but not an ounce of disappointment, Buffy fought back a new onslaught of tears.

“Oh my... Oh! Oh, Buffy... Pregnant? But how?” At the pointed look the blonde gave her, she stumbled. “Well, I know how, but what I mean is how--didn’t you use protection?”

Buffy blew her nose once again. God, I must look like shit. “That’s the thing, Wills. We never, you know, without protection. Not once.”

Willow’s rational mind stepped forward for just a moment. “Well, condoms are only something like 99.9% safe. The only way you’re 100% safe is by not doing anything.”

A self-deprecating laugh escaped the blonde. “Great. First I’m chosen as the Slayer, then I’m the 0.1% that condoms can’t protect. Maybe I should start buying lottery tickets or something.”

“What does Riley think of it? I mean, he must be happy, right?”

She hadn’t meant it. She really, really hadn’t, but Willow’s words seemed to have re-opened the floodgates.

The thought of her so-called love and of their fight the night before stung like a fresh wound. No longer able to hold back the tears, she leaned once again into her friend’s embrace. Next time she was in a church, Buffy vowed to give thanks for her friends. Between sobs, she managed to tell Willow what had happened: Riley’s insistence that they were both too young, his abortion suggestion, and his departure for Belize.

By the time Buffy had finished her tale, Willow’s face matched her hair. “Ooh! The big jerk! How dare he run away when you need him most.” A wicked smile formed on her lips. “If you want, I can try to find a spell, you know--something that’ll shrivel up his parts?”

Buffy couldn’t help but laugh at her friend’s suggestion. “That’s ok, Wills. I think the best thing I can do is plough through and come out strong. That way I can prove that I’m stronger than him. Although I might take you up on the spell dealie when I’m in labour...”

Her words may have been spoken lightly, but the blonde felt nothing short of fear at her near future. How would she be able to cope with everything? With Slaying, school, a baby--all by herself?

Almost as if she’d read her thoughts, Willow took Buffy in a big hug. “Don’t worry, Buffy. You’ll manage great. And you’re not alone. You’ve got your mom, Giles, and us Scoobies. We’ll be your network support group.”
“Thanks, Will.” Buffy stood up and stretched. Looking at her watch, she groaned. “Well, looks like it’s time to get to class.”

Somewhere inside of Willow, there was a rebel. He was eensy, he was teensy, he was rarely let out to play, but he was there nonetheless. Yes, they‘d have to skip classes... “Buffy, have you been to a doctor yet?”

Biting her lower lip, the Slayer had the sense to look sheepish. “Uh, no. I just did one of those home pregnancy kit thingies, but that’s it.”

Standing up and offering the crook of her arm, the redhead nodded towards one of the buildings. “Well, why don’t we do that right now, then? The doctor on campus is really nice--I saw her for a sore throat last month--and you really need to see someone. You’ve got the baby to think of now.”

Ooh, sneaky best friend, using the baby as a wild card! “That was low, Willow. But you’re right. It’s just that--well, you know how I feel about doctors. They give me the wiggins... But if you’re there with me, I think I can put my brave face on.” She accepted the redhead’s arm, and they made their way towards the doctor’s office.

Telling Willow had been the right thing to do, Buffy realized. Why she tried to keep all this to herself was beyond reckoning.

As they approached the doctor’s office, Buffy’s resolve began to wane. “You know, Willow, maybe this isn’t the best time for this. Maybe she’s really busy and she doesn’t have time and...” Her face scrunched up, trying to find reasons not to go into the dreaded medical office. “Oh! And I’m missing class. A very important class where I should be learning... things. Important things that will count towards tests!” She did an about face and began to walk briskly in the opposite direction.

As Willow pivoted on place to follow her friend, she castigated herself. Should have known this was too easy. Sure, Buffy just letting herself be accompanied to the doctor’s office... Stupid Willow! Grabbing the blonde by the arm, she began to pull her back towards the doctor’s. “No. No classes, no important learning things, no excuses. We are going to walk into that office, you are going to sit your butt down in one of those ugly fuzzy chairs and I am going to sign you in.” A small dose of chastising, and a larger dose of resolve face. The young redhead knew just the right combination that would have anyone and everyone follow her every whim.

Some girls did it with a flutter of eyebrows, some with the swing of their hips, but Willow had her resolve face. Hey, whatever works, right?

Deep down inside, way beyond any mortal fear of doctors, Buffy knew her best friend was right. She had more than herself to think of now, and the baby needed her to seek medical guidance. She’d tried cutting out pop and snacks, and had begun to eat more fruit, but she was at a loss as to what else she needed to do to keep her little miracle healthy. “I’m sorry Willow. Just gave in to the wiggins there for a sec. I know you’re right and I really appreciate you using your resolve face on me. Just promise me that you’ll come in with me to see the doctor...”

Taking her friend’s hand in her own, Willow tried to comfort her. “Of course I will, Buffy. That’s why I’m going with you. I’ll protect you from the evil doctor. Kinda like a Prince Charming, but no so heavy on the Prince part of it...” Her brow creased in concentration as she pondered the whole Prince Charming applying to a young woman.

When they entered the doctor’s office, there were only two other students in the waiting room. One was a mousy looking girl with some sort of sore on her mouth and the other was a jock-type guy with his hand in a brace. Buffy sat down far away from both of them and started rooting through the magazines, seeing if she could find one that had been printed after she’d moved to Sunnydale. Settling on a Time magazine that was 4 months old, she sat back and tried to relax.

Willow sat down beside Buffy, taking the Reader’s Digest that was on top of the other magazines. She never could get enough of that Word Power page...

***

Buffy’s first instinct, when her name was called, was to run towards freedom. Before she could, though, she was caught in the firm grip of her best friend. No match for a Slayer, but more than enough of a match for a frightened young woman. Capitulating--she knew this was for her and the baby’s best interest--she allowed herself to be led to one of the examination rooms.

The small room had been painted mint green and had generic framed prints hung on its walls. In Buffy’s opinion, it was a poor attempt at giving it a homey atmosphere. All she could concentrate on were the torture implements strewn about the room. It didn’t matter that the blood pressure machine, or the small ear scope, or any of the other tools were harmless--to the Slayer, they all seemed like something Angelus would have used on her had she given him the chance.

When the door opened and the doctor walked in, Willow let out a breath of relief. Buffy’s paranoia was beginning to rub off on her. She’d never felt ill at ease in a doctor’s office until now. Her friend’s caginess, constant pacing and twitching were turning the redhead into a bag of nerves.

The doctor, a woman of East Indian descent, seemed to be in her late thirties. Her demeanour was friendly, yet professional. Looking at both girls, she broke the silence. “So, which one of you is Buffy?”

The Slayer cast a nervous glance at her friend before raising her hand. “That would be me. Buffy... is me...” Great, now you’re babbling. She’ll probably send me out for a psychiatric assessment.

The doctor smiled at the obviously nervous girl. “So, now that we’ve established without a doubt that you’re Buffy, how can I help you?”

“I think I’m pregnant.” She expected the doctor to gasp, or to chastise her, or at least drop her folder in surprise, but no such reaction came forth.

Instead, Dr. Mathews just nodded and wrote something down in the folder. “Ok, have you taken a test yet?”

This should have been embarrassing, talking about her pregnancy to a stranger, but the doctor’s calmness put Buffy at ease. “I did one of those at-home tests, and it came out positive. I bought the one with two testers in it and used them both.”

“And they both came out positive, right?”

“Yup.”

The doctor rose from her seat and walked over to a cupboard. She took out a new pregnancy test and handed it to the young blonde. “Do you think you’d be able to do the test again?”

Taking the test in her hand, Buffy nodded. “Sure. I, uh, kind of have to pee anyway. You know--nerves.”

“Well, there’s no reason to be nervous, Buffy. This is just a step in life, you’re just going through it earlier than most of your friends, that’s all. Now, when you go out the door, the bathroom is just at the end of the hallway on your left. When you’ve done the test, bring it back to this room and we’ll see what it has to tell us.”

After Buffy had left the room, Dr. Mathews turned to Willow. “It’s very good of you to come with her, you know. If she decides to go through with this, she’ll need all the support she can get.”

Willow smiled brightly at the doctor. “Oh, she’s already decided she wants to keep it. And Buffy’s got lots of friends who’ll be there to help her. She always takes care of us, so it’s no big taking care of her.”

The door opened at that moment, and Buffy walked in, test in hand. Smiling shyly, she handed it to the doctor. “Well, looks like three time’s lucky.”

After looking at the test’s result, Dr. Mathews disposed of it in a plastic container. “That was about as positive a result as we could get. So, Buffy, congratulations--you’re pregnant. Now I have a few questions for you--easy ones, don’t worry--before I send you over to the lab for your bloodwork.”

Forcing herself to ignore, for now, the bloodwork that was awaiting her, Buffy nodded. “Ask away. I’ll be answer girl.”

The doctor chuckled. This Buffy certainly was one of a kind. “Good. Now, do you remember what the date was for the first day of your last period?”

The young blonde pouted playfully. “I thought you said they were going to be easy questions.” Biting her lip, she closed her eyes, obviously in deep concentration. “Aha!” Her eyes shot open and she turned to Willow. “It was the day that we had that horrible French test! When was that?”

The redhead frowned. “Oh! It was April 18th. Because I thought it was Cordy’s birthday, but it’s April 20th and I’ve always got them mixed up.” She bounced in her seat, proud of her help in the matter.

The doctor walked over to a circular chart that hung on the door of one of the cabinets. “April 18h...” She turned the chart around until the arrow pointed to the right date. “And is your period regular? On a 28-day cycle?”

“Like clockwork.” Both girls laughed out loud, having answered the doctor in stereo.

“Well, then, that would bring your due date to January 23rd.” She turned away from the chart and took her seat. “Now, on to more serious matters. There’s a number of blood tests that have to be done, to check your blood type, check for sexually transmitted diseases, HIV...” She looked up at Buffy and saw that all colour had drained from her face. “Don’t worry, Buffy, they’re standard tests that every woman is requested to go through. Before I give you the lab form, though, I have a few questions I need to ask you.”

The blonde nodded silently, wondering what kind of questions the doctor would ask her. Smiling nervously, she asked “I won’t be graded on this, will I?”

“No, you don’t have to worry about that. They’re very straightforward questions and should be easy to answer. All I need you to do is to be completely honest with me. Now, do you smoke?”

“Ugh. A world of no.”

“Good. Do you drink?”

“Sometimes, when I go to the bronze, but I haven’t touched anything since I found out I was pregnant.”

“That’s a smart move. There are varying opinions on alcohol during pregnancy, but I still prefer to recommend abstinence. Do you take any drugs?”

Although she felt like laughing, Buffy knew that these questions were being seriously asked. Somewhere, out there, was a cocaine or a heroin addict who was pregnant. “No. Never.”

“Are you on any medications?”

“Well, in retrospect I could have profited from the pill... but no.” Feeling Willow’s hand on her own, the Slayer turned to her friend and smiled.

Dr. Mathews closed the folder and reached for a form on her desk and scribbled some notes on it. “Well, that’s enough of that for now. This is the requisition for bloodwork--just take it down to the technician who’s in the office. I’ll also recommend that you start taking a daily pre-natal pill if you haven’t yet begun to take some. They’ll give you an extra boost of all the vitamins and minerals that your body, and your baby, will need. I’ll also look into referring you to an obstetrician. Do you have a preference--do you prefer a woman, or does it matter?”

Glad to finally be free to stand, Buffy stretched. “Actually, I would prefer to see a woman if that’s ok.”

“Of course, many women feel more comfortable seeing a female OB. I believe that Doctor Russell is still accepting patients. I’ll get my assistant to give her office a call.” Standing up, the doctor offered her hand to both girls. “I’m glad you came to see me, Buffy. It shows a lot of maturity on your part. Carrying a child isn’t an easy task, although for some people, they say it’s the best time of their life. If you have any severe cramping, or spotting please come see me or one of my colleagues right away. If you’re really bleeding hard, or in severe pain, go to the hospital right away. Aside from that, minor cramps are normal--it’s just your uterus contracting to accommodate its new resident.”

As she and Willow left the doctor’s office, Buffy was lost in thought. She was glad to have heeded her best friend’s advice--although she hadn’t been given much of a choice, resolve face and all. Her mind was more at ease, and her body more relaxed now that she’d spoken to the doctor. She didn’t expect this to be a walk in the park, but she was no longer afraid of what lay ahead. Turning to the redhead, she enveloped her in a hug. “Thanks for everything, Will.”

“It’s no big, Buffy. It’s what friends are for. I’ll be there whenever you need help, even if it’s something gross like holding your hair while you’re throwing up your breakfast.” Her nose wrinkled at that last thought. “But for now, how about this best friend treats her own best friend to a nice big strawberry milkshake? Mmm... full of calcium for the baby, and full of strawberry goodness for mommy!”

Hooking her arm through Willow’s, Buffy squealed. “I couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate, Wills!”

Buffy sat on the edge of the recliner, facing the two people who meant the most to her. Her hands were clammy, her stomach was doing flip-flops, and she was sure she might just be sick right there on the carpet. This wasn’t something she’d ever envisioned having to do, not until she was happily married, or at least still dating someone...

Neither Joyce Summers nor Rupert Giles knew why Buffy had asked to speak to them. They sat awkwardly on the couch, side by side, facing the young woman they both loved dearly. The fact that all colour had drained from her face, and that her hands were shaking, did nothing to ease their worry. They’d both seen her weather some frightening situations and never break a sweat. What could be so bad that she needed to speak to them together, as if they were both her parents, right away before she ‘totally wigged and chickened out’, as she’d told them?

Removing his glasses to wipe them, Giles broke the silence. “Well, Buffy... You, er, said that you had something to tell your mother and me. I have to admit that I’m more than a little worried, as is your mother, I’m sure.” He turned to Joyce for confirmation, relieved when she nodded.

Taking a deep breath--it was now or never--Buffy fidgeted. Should she pussy-foot around until they guessed? Should she just blurt it out run away to her room? No. She‘d always faced her problems head on, and now was no time to change. “Mom, Giles, I’m sure you’ve both noticed that some of my habits have been, well, peculiar recently.” She looked at both of them as they agreed that something had been amiss in her behaviour. “Well, there’s a reason for all these changes.” Fighting back the tears that threatened to spill, she cupped her face in her hands, trying to keep an even keel. “Oh God,” she said, sniffling and trying to even her breathing. “I have no idea how to tell you this. You’ve both had such high hopes for me, you’ve held me in high regards, and now... now I’m sitting here, having to tell you that I’m pregnant.”

“Oh, Buffy!”

“Good Lord!”

Joyce’s and Giles’ exclamations came at once. Joyce, however, was the first to speak. “Buffy, I thought you were more responsible than this. Didn’t you use any precautions?”

There was no holding the tears back anymore. Hurt by the disappointment on both of their faces, Buffy couldn’t return their gazes. Through sobs, she managed to reply. “You don’t understand, Mom, we did use protection--we never did... anything... without a condom. Not once--I was always strict on that. I don’t know how this happened, but it did and now I‘m pregnant.” Lifting her head, she gave them both a stern look. “And nothing anybody says will convince me not to keep it.” It was a warning of sorts--she really wasn’t up to the abortion speech. Not again, not after Riley...

“And Riley left. He left me, and he left the baby, when I told him. He... he’s in South America, somewhere. I feel so alone...” The thought of her ex-boyfriend, the father of her child, sent the young woman into a new wave of weeping. She was surprised to feel her Watcher’s strong arms surround her in consolation. This uncommonly open display of affection by the man she considered a father comforted the Slayer in ways she‘d never be able to express. Instead, she leaned into his tender caress and let all her pent-up emotions flow.

Leaving Buffy with her surrogate father, Joyce went to the kitchen to get her daughter a glass of water. She also used the task as an excuse to have a moment to herself. She was torn between feelings of disappointment and empathy. Why was Buffy having sex, if she wasn’t ready for the possible repercussions of what it could lead to? She knew she wasn’t ready for a baby, yet she took the risk anyway. The more she thought of it, though, the more it seemed like Buffy was ready for it--it was Joyce who wasn’t ready. Wasn’t ready to accept that her daughter was old enough to have sex, old enough to bear children. She also wasn’t ready to be a grandmother--she was only 43, after all!

Well, this was a defining moment in her relationship with Buffy. She could either walk in there and scold her, playing the part of the cruel, condescending bitch of a mother, or she could accept Buffy’s situation and offer to help her out in any way she could. Remembering her own situation, with her own mother--and the reasons for which they hadn’t spoken in over 15 years, Joyce knew that there was only one option.

When she returned to the living room, she saw that Buffy was sitting on the couch next to Mr. Giles. It was odd knowing that this man, this librarian, was as important in her daughter’s life than she was. Joyce knew that over the last few years he had become a father figure to her, and the label seemed to fit him well. He had managed to calm the young woman down, and actually had her smiling. Handing the glass to her daughter, she took a seat in the recliner, across from the two others.

“Buffy, I’m sorry if my words earlier were harsh, but this totally came out of the blue. You have to understand that as your mother, it’s hard for me to accept that you’re old enough to have relations with young men, and even to have children. I know you’re a responsible young woman, and I’m really, really proud of you. I’ll stand by you, no matter what you decide to do with the baby.”

This was turning out much, much better than Buffy had anticipated. Her mom had only had a minor cow, and Giles had been more supportive than she imagined. All those scenarios of being thrown out of the house, of being cast away and unwanted had been needless worries. All the result of an overactive imagination coupled with the absolute worst news any young woman could deliver to her parents.

Wiping away the remnants of her tears, she reached over and took her mom’s hands in her own. “Thanks. To both of you. I want to keep this baby. It’s... it’s a miracle, really, for a Slayer to be pregnant. I realize it’s totally off the charts, but I really want to give this my best.” Turning to Giles, she gave him a tight grin. “I don’t know what this means with my patrolling, I mean I’m probably ok for now, but eventually...”

“No.” Giles’ voice cut her off. “As of this minute, I can’t allow you to put yourself, or your child, in danger. We’ll find a way of patrolling for you, even if...” His mouth pursed. “Even if we have to convince Spike to do it.”

“Spike?! Are you insane?”

“Buffy, he’s the only one who’s strong enough to replace you. The others and myself, we may have our hearts in the right place, but we saw a few summers ago how of little use we are when it comes to the actual physical aspects of your calling. I’m sure he can be convinced to assist us.”

“Honey, Spike’s not that bad once you get to know him.” Joyce felt like she had to speak up, to defend her hot cocoa buddy.

Buffy’s eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute. What do you mean he’s not that bad once you get to know him? How well do you know Spike, Mom?”

“First of all, don’t use that tone on me. Just because you’re going to be a mother yourself doesn’t mean that I stop being yours. Second of all, this is my house and I can invite whoever I want for a cup of cocoa. Especially someone who can listen as well as Spike can, or who enjoys Passions as much as he does.”

By now, Buffy was laughing. “Wait--no, this is too good. William the Bloody watches soaps? That’s too much! Giles, we’ll get him to work for us--all we have to do is threaten to put a notice up at Willy’s about this!”

Joyce was shocked that her daughter would stoop so low, not realizing that Spike would do the exact same thing had he the opportunity. “Buffy, no!”

Giles sighed. “Your mother’s right, Buffy. It wouldn’t be fair to her to use this knowledge against Spike. As strange as their, er, friendship is, we can‘t use it to our advantage. We’ll just have to convince him to work for us some other way.”

Buffy leaned back into the couch. “Yeah, either it’ll cost us too much money, or he’ll be expecting us to provide him with victims or something. I’m sure there’s a better way of doing this.”

“Well, I could talk to him about it next time he comes over for a visit...” Joyce knew this wouldn’t be a popular idea with Buffy, but perhaps Mr. Giles would recognize the leverage she could have with Spike. Although he’d never said it outright, the vampire respected her. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t convene at her home so often to ‘shoot the shit’, as he put it. Maybe she could use their friendship to convince the young man--well, not so young, really--to help them out.

The Slayer shot straight up out of her seat. “No, no, no--with a side order of no! Mom, you are not asking Spike to help me... help us. He’s a vampire. He’s evil, he’ll use this to his advantage and do something bad. No, we can’t trust him.” She sat back down, arms crossed in a ‘this conversation’s over’ gesture.

Joyce, however, was far from done. She couldn’t understand her daughter’s reluctance to see any good in the blonde vampire. “I’m sorry to pull out dirty laundry, Buffy, but Angel needed to be cursed with a soul in order not to be a danger to others. Spike has no such impediment, yet he doesn’t try to kill me. Why is that? Is his friendship with me part of some nefarious plan to kill us all?”

“Mom, that’s so not fair! Angel...”

“Yes it is fair, Buffy.” Giles couldn’t believe he was going to defend Spike, but they had no choice. They needed the arrogant vampire’s help, and Joyce was the only one who could get him to agree. Hell, maybe she could even get him to do it for free... “We need Spike--whether or not you’re willing to admit it, he’s the only individual who can match your prowess at slaying. It might take some convincing, but we have to at least try. If his friendship with your mother...”

“Please, call me Joyce.” It made her feel so old, being referred to as simply the ‘mother’, especially by someone of her own age. Someone well educated, well spoken and , yes, good-looking...

“Er, yes, of course. If his friendship with Joyce is any indication, Spike is the first vampire we’ve come across who seems to have the ability to control his demon. Perhaps we can use this to our advantage. Your moth... Joyce’s idea is the best option we have. If she can’t convince him, none of us will be able to--not with threats, not with stakes, not with violence. As strange as this sounds, cajoling may just be our best option.”

Buffy realized that her battle was lost. It would do her no good to expend any energy against her mother and Giles once they had their mind set on something. “Fine. But when he laughs in your face or if he asks for some ridiculous payment... I’ll say it now: I told you so.” With a huff, she left the house, slamming the door behind her.

“Oh dear. She’ll be truly unmanageable once her hormones kick in, won’t she?” The thought alone of a moodier Slayer frightened her watcher.

“You better believe it, Mr. Giles. She’ll be one heckuva handful.” Joyce turned to the man who remained seated on her couch. “Would you like something to drink?”

“A scotch, if you have any. And please...” Giles turned to Mrs. Summers--Joyce--and smiled. “...call me Rupert.”

He’d spent the better part of the evening poring through his books, but Giles couldn’t come up with a supernatural origin to Buffy’s child. As far as he could tell, this baby was 100% witchcraft and prophecy free. He slammed the last book closed and let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

Buffy as a mother. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. If it wasn’t for the Slayer aspect of her life, he would allow himself to sit back and watch her trudge through having and raising this child--offering her fatherly support, of course. But he’d still feel a secret glee at seeing her go through at least one-tenth of the stress that she had put him through since he’d been assigned as her Watcher.

But Buffy was a Slayer. Slayers weren’t meant to have children--they were destined to live short, dangerous lives. She was unique, of course, in having the support of her mother and friends--but that didn’t eliminate altogether the danger she faced in her calling. This was to be the biggest challenge ever for her--and for all those who cared about her. He knew that sooner or later, the child would become the ward of one of those who were close to her--there was no denying the fact that she wouldn‘t live to see her child graduate from preschool. They could cover her patrols during her pregnancy, but they couldn’t do it forever. Spike, if Joyce managed to convince him to help, would probably bow out after the child’s birth. Hell, they probably couldn’t afford to have him help much longer than that.

He hadn’t wanted to say it in front of Buffy, but things would have been much easier for everyone if Riley had stuck around. Although not as strong as the Slayer or Spike, he’d always been able to hold his own while on patrol. Pair him up with any of the Scoobies (well, maybe except for Xander...) and Buffy’s job would be completed to the best of their capabilities. But the pillock hadn’t stayed. The watcher’s hand tightened around the tumbler of scotch as he thought of his surrogate daughter’s pain over the separation. Whatever part of Ripper remained within him wanted to meet the young man just one last time...

His line of thought changed tracks, leading to one bleach blonde master vampire. Spike. William the Bloody. Now there was a name he’d read often enough in his studies at the Council. He and the others in the line of Aurelius had not only entire books devoted to them, but entire shelves of books. But Spike was different from the others in the sense that he seemed to have retained a spark of humanity. His cruelty and penchant for mayhem were renowned, but so was his devotion to Drusilla.

The Scoobies’ first insight into Spike’s uniqueness was in his offer to help Buffy fight Angelus in his plans to wake Acathla. What was it that Buffy said he’d mentioned? Something about liking this world, about ‘happy meals on legs’--whatever that meant. Of course, he’d had selfish reasons for not wanting the world to end, but hadn’t they all? Someone says ‘I’m going to destroy the world’, what’s the first thing you think of? Your neighbour’s aunt in Leeds? No--you think about your loved ones, your favourite restaurant, your favourite football team... He showed them that he was no different than them in that regard. And, true to his word, he followed through with the plan, hightailing it with Drusilla in tow when all was done.

Then he’d returned to Sunnydale the following year, kidnapping Willow and Xander. They all got to see Spike’s evil side that time--except when he was blubbering about losing his ‘dark princess’... A lovesick vampire. Willow said he’d cried on her shoulder, heartbroken. He’d even leaned into the awkward pats she’d given him on the shoulder.

But the kicker had been when he’d returned earlier this year, once again bereft of Drusilla. He’d started out with some lame story about almost being kidnapped by the army, but no one believed the tall tale. Why would the army bother with collecting demons anyway? And for some cosmically unexplainable reason, he’d remained in Sunnydale ever since, taking residency in a mausoleum in one of the town’s many cemeteries. They’d been able to find no clues to his involvement in anything more evil than kitten poker--although, in Buffy and Willow’s opinions, that rated almost as high as plotting to end the world.

So William the Bloody now lived on the Hellmouth, apparently posing them no more threat than any other vamp. Actually, maybe even less than the average vampire since he really seemed to be minding his own business, never being caught with his teeth in some poor unsuspecting victim’s throat. Of course, Giles realized, a master vampire would be smart enough not to get caught in the act.

But why the sudden change in personality? They’d all been reluctant to believe him when he said he just wanted to be left alone--that if they wouldn’t bother him, he wouldn’t give them a reason to. Was the former scourge of Europe (or one of them, rather) retiring to greener pastures, to spend the rest of his unlife in relative peace? Maybe play a few rounds of bocce ball with other ancient vampires? Not bloody likely, but Giles couldn’t for the life of him figure any of it out. There had to be a reason for the sudden change...

The Watcher groaned and poured himself another finger (or two--he wasn’t really measuring anymore) of scotch. The thing that disturbed him the most, that set him most on edge, was the fact that no part of him--not even the gut feeling that was always right--railed against Spike as a substitute Slayer. As loathe as he was to admit it, it seemed right.

Just to keep options open, however--always had to have options, alternate plans if you wanted anything to go right--he tried to think of anyone else who could replace Buffy. He cringed as the only person he could come up with was Faith.

Oh dear. The baby would be in more danger with Faith than Spike. With the hatred she had for Buffy, she’d probably sell the kid to the first bidder. Heck, she’d probably hand it over to the first fledgeling she’d set eyes on. Not trustworthy, that one. Anyway, Giles remembered that she was in jail--or so he’d heard.

At least Spike was friends with the baby’s grandmother. If his affection for Joyce was any indication, he’d never lay a hand on the child. And God only knew why they were friends.

Maybe because she’s an intelligent, good-looking woman, Rupert. Something you haven’t let yourself think about since Olivia. Someone who knows exactly what’s going on, who wouldn’t think it strange to find your library full of ancient texts and witchcraft how-to books. A woman who wouldn’t get jealous of an entourage of young women who look up to you like a father.

Giles emptied the Johnny Walker from his glass in one swallow. Since when did he go by Council code, anyway?

“Damn it, Joyce! Get a handle on it or he’ll know something’s off the minute he walks in through that door.” Joyce Summers wiped the spilled milk off the counter, trying to get a hold on herself. Tonight was the night that she was going to bring up the subject of substitute patrolling to Spike, and it was wracking her nerves.

She had no idea how to broach the subject. Would she slip it in between talking about the new artwork she received at the gallery and what was going on in Passions? Maybe she’d just blurt it out after he’d tell her about his latest win at poker. She could see it now. “Good for you--you haven’t won that many Persians in weeks, Spike. Oh, by the way Buffy’s pregnant and we need you to patrol for her--so what do you say?” Ugh. Every scenario she rolled through her mind sounded as banal as the last one. Maybe she shouldn’t have volunteered for this, anyway...

“Deep thoughts, Joyce?”

The eldest Summers woman jumped up, spilling the milk once again. She couldn’t, however, stop the smirk from coming to her lips. “You know, Spike--I’ve asked you not to do that. My heart can’t take being scared over and over again.”

Closing the door behind him, the blonde vamp smiled back. “Actually, I knocked a few times but you didn’t answer. I figured maybe you were downstairs or something.” Catching the slight tremble of her hands, his eyebrow went up. “Something wrong? You seem to be on pins and needles tonight.”

Joyce chuckled nervously. “Can’t hide anything from you, can I?” Maybe the best course of action would be to just go ahead and ask.

Putting the pan of cocoa on the burner, she turned to see that Spike had already set their mugs and spoons on the table and had taken a seat. If anyone would have ever told her, even a year ago, that a vampire would be so at home in the Summers household that he‘d know where to find dishes and flatware, she would have had them committed. “Actually, there is something I’ve been asked to bring up.”

Spike’s eyes narrowed. “’Been asked’, huh? This wouldn’t have anything to do with the Slayer and her Watcher, would it?” Great, now they had one of his only real friends in on their shenanigans.

Taking a seat across from him, Joyce’s face was serious. “Well, yes and no. It does have something to do with Buffy, but speaking to you was my idea.” Her finger danced around the mug’s rim as she tried to sort her thoughts. “I need to ask you a favour, Spike. I don’t want to pressure you--you can say no, but I just need to ask because you’re the only person who can really help.”

Ok, now his curiosity was really piqued. “Ok, Joyce. I’ll listen.”

“Buffy’s pregnant.” There--that much was out of the bag. Joyce waited until Spike stopped choking before continuing. “Yeah, I know. That was pretty much my reaction too.” She smiled, adding: “Except there may have been a bit more yelling involved.”

On a list of a hundred possible things the vampire expected Joyce to say, ‘Buffy’s pregnant’ would probably have ranked, oh, one thousandth. It was a good thing that the cocoa wasn’t ready yet, because he was sure he would have sprayed it all over the table, and all over the woman sitting across from him. “So what about Finn? What does Captain Cardboard have to say about all this? It is his, I assume...”

Joyce had expected laughter, sarcasm, maybe even glee at her daughter’s predicament. But she never thought she’d hear the most rational first question--the one neither she nor Rupert had thought to ask. “Riley’s in South America. He and Buffy didn’t exactly see eye to eye on the subject.” She didn’t want to go into any more detail, as the specifics of the couple’s argument weren’t any of his business.

“Bloody hell! A bloke doesn’t just get a girl pregnant and then bail out! Slayer or not, that’s downright caddish. Hope she broke the blighter’s nose, at least.” So, the righteous Whitebread wasn’t so righteous after all. It should have made Spike happier than anything to find out that the Slayer and Finn’s lovey-dovey relationship was over, but truth be told it didn’t. Maybe it was because of his own failed relationship, or maybe it was because of the baby, but he actually felt empathy towards her. Good God, he needed to go out and kill things more often--he was beginning to be a right ponce.

“No, she didn’t break anything. Although she did threaten him very imaginatively.” Joyce got up take the cocoa off the stove and to pour it into the two mugs. Her hands were no longer shaking, and she felt rather comfortable speaking to the vampire. He’d taken the news with about the same range of emotions than everyone else: shock, concern, anger... Hopefully support would be the next. Placing the vampire’s mug in front of him, she sat back down. “The reason I’m telling you this--the favour that we need...”

“I’ll do it.”

Joyce’s mug stopped halfway to her lips. “But... how...”

Spike might not have been the smartest vamp out there, but he wasn’t daft, either. “’S obvious, innit? There’s no way that you or ol’ Rupes will let the Slayer go out and fight--not in her condition, anyway. So you need someone to cover her patrols. I’m the only one who’s as strong as she is, so it only makes sense that you ask me.” He took a small sip of the steaming chocolatey concoction before continuing. “I’ll take over the Slayer’s patrols until after the bit’s born. I’ve been needing something to do, anyway. Poker’s nice and all, but I’m gonna get all soft if I don’t get in some regular exercise.”

Joyce had to fight the urge to get up and give the vampire a hug. “Thank you, Spike. You don’t know how much this means to me--to all of us.”

“S’all right. Just keep in mind, though--the only reason I’m accepting this is because you asked me. You’re the only one of the whole lot of’em who’s ever treated me right--with respect. ‘Cept maybe Red, but she‘s still kind of nervous around me...”

“Well, that’ll happen to nice, quiet girls when someone kidnaps them and threatens them with broken bottles.” She sent the vamp her best ‘disapproving mother’ look.

The vampire had the sense to look abashed. “Yeah, well... Not the smartest thing I’ve ever done, was it? And Red’s the nicest one of the bunch.” He took another sip and then frowned. “What does the Slayer think of all this? Of me patrolling for her? Betcha she‘s got her knickers in a knot over it.”

Joyce shook her head and sank further into her chair. “That’s putting it mildly, I’d say. I think Rupert and I got a couple of ‘over my dead body’s and even more ‘he’s evil, Mom, he’ll kill us all’s. It might have been funny, if the circumstances were different.”

Spike shook his head in disbelief. He’d been on the straight and narrow ever since he’d returned to Sunnydale. He hadn’t hatched any devious plans--hadn’t taken part in any, either, he hadn’t bothered anyone, aside from the Slayer of course, and--not that he’d ever tell anyone--he’d been drinking bagged blood for the past few months. He was sure it was some of Dru’s hocus-pocus. He found excuses not to kill every potential victim he’d come across. A middle-aged man--must have kids to provide for; a young girl--she’s just starting her life; an old couple--well, that’s just not fair, now is it? If he didn’t know any better, he’d swear he was developing a conscience, as hard to digest as the idea was to him. “Figures she’d say that. Wonder what she’d be saying if I was actually causing a ruckus instead of mindin’ my own business?”

“That doesn’t really matter, does it? Rupert’s already put his foot down and told Buffy that she has no say in it. She’s not happy with it, but I think she’s resigned to sulking.” After a long, uncomfortable silence, Joyce decided that that was enough serious talk for the evening. Their cocoa evenings were meant as a nice distraction to a blah life.

“So, how’d your poker go last night?”

“Hey there, sweetie. Haven’t seen you here before...”

Oh great, just my luck... The young woman turned around to see who was addressing her.

Ugh--a Billy Ray Cyrus wanna-be. Where did these guys come from? Did they just hatch them here in Sunnydale? Ever since she’d moved to this town she’d seen the weirdest people. Seventies’ throw-backs, punks, rocker chicks... Most of Sunnydale’s population seemed normal enough but the percentage of freaks was pretty high. Maybe it was a West Coast thing, like Seattle...

She squirmed, trying to avoid the weirdo’s grasp. “Uh, I really have to get going. I’ve...got someone waiting for me.” Yeah, that’s good! She stepped to the side to go around him, only to have the lug match her move. It was like a demented folk dance.

“Ah, come on. Whoever he is, I’m sure he can wait a while... Why don’t we go somewhere more... private?”

His smile came across as almost a sneer, making the young woman even more nervous. She’d never been good at confrontation. She was mousy, quiet--she didn’t know the first thing about defending herself. Perhaps she should just knee him in the groin, or just turn around and run. Or maybe both. Either way, she knew she wouldn’t be able to go ahead with it--so she remained rooted on the spot, too scared to do anything but hyperventilate. “Look, I really don’t want to. May--maybe you can find someone else? There are lots of other girls around...” Pleading. Yeah, that was good. She was good at that...

“Nah, I kinda have my sights set on you. You’re real pretty, you know that?” He reached out and took a strand of the girl’s hair between his grubby fingers, licking his bottom lip.

The girl whimpered, then jumped at the sound of someone else’s voice. The thin blonde man who was now standing beside her looked more dangerous than her own assailant, but the vibes he gave off were more comforting than she’d have imagined. Long leather coat, cigarette dangling from his lower lip, attitude coming off him in waves--to anyone else he would have screamed ‘danger’, but to this young woman he was salvation.

“Look, mate, seems she’s not interested. Why don’t you let the bird go, eh?” Spike had been watching the two, noticing the girl’s body language. She sure as hell didn’t want to be anywhere near the wanker and he didn’t seem to be taking no for an answer. But the girl was too meek to do anything about it. Never last long on the Hellmouth, this one. Pity--she looks like a nice enough chit.

He figured he might as well come to her rescue, like the ponce he was turning out to be. First he agrees to help the Slayer and now he’s saving shy girls from poorly-dressed creeps. Ooh, what’s next? Volunteering at the local YMCA?

Billy Ray turned to the bleached blonde with a sneer. “Lookie, buddy--me and the little lady here are just having us a nice talk. Why don’t you piss off?” Ignoring the Brit, he renewed his efforts with the young woman. “Right honey?”

Spike stepped behind the girl and looked at the creep. His eyes turned amber and he flashed the guy a bit of fang. “Don’t fancy on ‘pissing off’ right now, mate. Why don’t you just scamper and leave the girl alone, eh?”

The young woman was relieved to see the jerk run away; watching him fall back on his ass in the process was an added bonus. She let her shoulders drop a bit before turning around to her ‘saviour’. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

The vampire, back to his human guise, shrugged. “It’s nothing, really. Sometimes the power of suggestion is all it takes. You ok?” He cocked his head, making sure that she wasn’t injured in any way.

“Aside from being scared beyond belief?” She smiled at him shyly. “I’m fine. He... he didn’t have time to do anything besides creep me out.”

Nodding, the bleach blonde turned to leave. “Be careful, luv. There are lots of things in Sunnydale worse than country star wannabes. Just make sure you travel with a friend next time.” With that, he walked away, duster swirling behind him.

Shaking her head, smile on her lips, the girl sighed. “Great. Now vampires are warning me about what goes bump in the night. This town just keeps getting weirder and weirder...”

***

“And the drinkmeister delivers...” Xander placed a number of drinks on the table, concentrating very hard on not spilling any of them. Putting on a really bad French accent, he began to distribute the beverages. “A Shirley Temple for you, mademoiselle,” he said, presenting Willow with a tall glass with an umbrella in it; he put a glass in front of his girlfriend: “a Coke for you, madame.” Anya frowned at the non-alcoholic beverage set in front of her. Over a thousand years old, and all she could get was a lousy cola. If it wasn‘t for sex and money, being human would royally suck.

“And, for maman, a nice glass of tomato juice” Xander eyed the glass warily before adding “sorry, but it‘s the only remotely healthy stuff they had. They almost gave you Clamato.” Making a face, the young man added “who wants to drink clam juice anyway?“

Buffy snatched the drink out of his hand. It was bad enough being reduced to ordering juice at the Bronze without having Xander’s demented sense of observation to make it all worse. “Thanks, Xander. I could do without the sick mental image, though. And I thought you failed French?”

The young man hunched his shoulders. “I did, but I guess some of it must’ve stuck. Maybe I channelled Willow for a chapter.”

As he set his own drink in front of him, the brunette grinned widely. “And for me, a nice, tall beer...”

Three sets of eyes shot up at him.

Anya slammed her Coke down on the table. “Xander Harris! How did you get alcohol? I want to know right now, because I want you to get me one too! I’m way older than you. If anyone gets to drink, it should be me!”

“Ahn, I can’t do that. One of the guys from work was at the bar and he bought it for me. I couldn’t really say ‘hey, thanks--can you order a few others for my friends, who are also underage?’” He couldn’t believe his girlfriend sometimes. She had to be the most illogical...

“Well, you could have tried. Maybe I’d be sitting here with a...” She peered at the label on his beer, frowning. “...Michelob. Yes. I could have a Michelob too if you weren’t too...”

“Guys!!”

The bickering couple jumped at the sharp sound of Buffy’s voice. “That’s enough. What, are you trying to test my parenting skills already? Sheesh! Anya--someone legal bought Xander’s beer, that’s why he can’t get you one, and Xander--give her a sip for quiet’s sake.” Taking a sip of her juice, she made a face. “It could be worse, Anya--you could be stuck drinking warm tomato juice. Yech.”

As an uncomfortable silence sullied the friends’ good humour, Willow stood up. “Well, I’m just gonna visit the little witches’ room. I’ll be right back.”

Watching the redhead’s retreating figure, Anya chose to have the last words. “Look what you did, Xander--you made your best friend uncomfortable. If you would have only bought me a beer, she’d still be sitting here with us, happy as always. But...”

***

As Willow made her way back from the washroom, a flash of dark blonde hair caught her eye.

“Tara?”

When the other girl turned around, obviously relieved to see someone familiar, the redhead grinned widely. Never in a million years would she have imagined the shy girl from her Wicca group would really have shown up. Although she said she’d meet her at the club, the dark blonde wasn’t exactly the gregarious ‘loud music and grinding bodies give me a happy’ kind of person.

“Wow! I never thought I’d really see you here!” Her eyes grew, as her mind imagined a blatant faux pas in her greeting. “Oh, not that I think you lie, or that you’re not a fun person, or... or that you don’t like music... What I meant was...” Breathe, WIllow--don’t faint on the cute girl. Whoa!! Cute *girl*?! Where did that come from?

Tara was relieved to have Willow find her. She was funny and outgoing , and not afraid to voice her opinion. She was a refreshing person to be around and, yeah, she was pretty cute, with the short red hair, the sparkling green eyes and the adorable fuzzy outfits. But the blonde was sure that the other woman didn’t ’swing’ that way, as she’d mentioned an ex-boyfriend, so she kept her observations to herself.

Smiling warmly, Tara laid her hand on the babbling redhead’s forearm. Instantly, both girls felt a surge of energy rush through them at the powerful albeit brief contact. Whatever she was about to say escaped her, leaving her mouth ajar and her breath flushed. “So..sorry.. I don’t know what... That’s never happened before.” She removed her hand, immediately regretting the loss of whatever it was that had passed between them.

Willow’s mouth was agape--she just didn’t know what to say. Whatever had passed between the two witches had left her... wanting? The urge to pull the blonde against her, to press her full lips to her own was strong. Eep! Weird thoughts! As she was trying to gather her wits, instead of staring at the other woman slack-jawed, the redhead noticed a shock of bleach blonde hair pass by.

“Spike!”

Tara’s brow creased. “Spike?” What did that mean? Was that a term for what had passed between them? Didn’t really feel like something that should be called ‘spike’. Maybe ‘flutter’ or ‘swoon’ or maybe something else not so ‘Louis Lamour‘, but definitely not ‘spike’... Shaking out of her reverie, she noticed Willow waving someone over. Ah, the blonde vamp who had saved her. Now he looked like a Spike. Must be his name, then, she thought to herself. Very fitting...

“Evenin’, Red.” The blonde seemed to prowl towards them, sleek and powerful as the predator he was. He noticed Tara and a smirk touched his lips. “’Ello, pet. I see you’ve found your friend.” He raised an eyebrow and smiled knowingly. Well, well. Woulda never seen Red playin’ for the other team... He could sense the energy flowing between the two witches as they stood uncomfortably side by side. If nothing had happened yet--they seemed too awkward, too unsure of themselves--he knew something would happen soon. “So, you girls having a nice time?”

Willow’s curiosity was piqued. “Wait a minute, Spike. How do you know Tara?”

Spike’s eyes darted quickly to the blonde before his answer. “I just helped her out with a problem. A very poorly dressed, wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer kind of a problem.”

“Oh, you didn’t... hurt him, did you?” Buffy would be so pissed if she found out that Spike was back to killing people, even if it was to save a girl from a really gross come-on. And she was beginning to like Spike, even with his coarse language and his harsh attitude. His heart seemed to be in the right place and that’s what counted, wasn’t it? Maybe he was like that old silverware that you just needed to polish a bit to make it shine again...

The redhead and the vampire were both shocked to hear Tara answer for him. “No, Willow. There wasn’t any... blood shed.” She said it quietly, leaning in so they could hear it over the din of the music. She knew she’d given away a secret, that she’d sensed what Spike was, but she didn’t want him to be accused of something he didn’t do. “He just scared the guy off, no harm done.” She smiled, laughing a bit. “Well, maybe he bruised his ego when he fell on his rear end trying to run away...”

“Just a minute there, how did you know that I’m a demon? You didn’t see me scare the pillock--I was right behind you.” There was definitely more to this girl than met the eye, that was for sure. She seemed to be a shy, quiet bird but with her back to a wall, Spike imagined that she must be as dangerous as the Slayer herself. ‘S always the quiet ones, innit?...

“I... I can see your aura. I can see that you’re animated, but not really alive. Except that there’s something extra. I haven’t quite figured out what it is, though. But it definitely sets you apart from any other vampire I’ve seen.” The witch scrunched her face in concentration, biting her lower lip in a way that made Willow’s heart beat faster, but gave up with a shake of your head. “You don’t have a soul, do you?”

“Bloody hell! Not on my unlife!” A soul?! Yeah, as if he’d ever end up as pathetic as the Great Gelled one. “Don’t rightly know what else you ‘see’, but I can assure you I’m soulless and lovin’ it.”

They stood there in silence, not knowing what to say to each other until Willow finally piped up. Speaking to both blondes, she offered an invitation. “Why don’t you join me? The gang’s just over there--we’re doing a bit of celebrating tonight. It’s a multi-event party: school’s out, Xander just got a good job, and Buffy’s expecting. We might not be the zaniest group here, but the more the merrier!” She ended with a large grin, hoping to make the sale.

Tara was more than happy to join them. Because of her shyness, she’d never really fit in with any groups. Heck, she’d never really even had any close friends. Smiling at Willow, she didn’t even try to hide her excitement. “I... I’d love to. If that’s ok with everyone. I really wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Goddess, no. Everyone’ll be more than happy to meet you. I’ve...” The redhead ducked her head and blushed. “I’ve kind of talked about you, a little, and they’re curious to meet you.” This was so weird. She felt like she was going to introduce a potential boyfriend to the Scoobies--except Tara was far from a boy, with her curves and her soft lips, and... Narrowing her eyes, she looked at Spike, who was grinning like someone who was in on her secret. He can’t know, can he? What kind of special powers do vamps have--they can’t tell sexual inclinations, can they? No, more than likely it’s 120 years of existence...

If those two witches didn’t get together soon, they’d implode. Spike watched them glance at each other under their lashes when they thought the other wasn’t looking. Furtive, shy glances with much promise. He caught Willow looking at him, something running through that cute head of hers, but he didn’t try to hide his awareness of the situation. Smirking at the redhead, he virtually dared her to ask him what he was thinking. When she failed to speak up, he shook his head.

“Guess I’ll be leavin’ you two birds to your little get-together, then. The night’s still young--there are lots of pups to beat at pool, lots of dosh to be made.” He nodded at them and turned to leave.

Good Goddess that vampire was thick! “Spike, wait!” When the bleached vamp stopped, Willow frowned at him. “The invitation was for you too, you know. We’re having a Scooby get together, and I... I think you should join us. If you want to, that is.” The young witch wasn’t sure how he’d react to the invitation. She had purposely failed to say that he was part of the Scoobies--she knew right off the bat that he’d scoff and flat out refuse. But the surprise in his eyes betrayed any mean things she’d expected him to say.

He wanted to refuse, really he did. What business did he have hanging out with a bunch of people who didn’t give a rat’s ass for him? So what if he went out every night and fought his own kind (and other demons, too)--they never thanked him, never let it be known that he was appreciated. Quite the contrary, actually--he still found himself the object of their derision. Until now, he supposed. Red’s invite surprised him, flattered him even--he would never have expected anything other than the status quo. Tossing a glance back at the pool tables--the players didn’t look as wet behind the ears as he’d have wished, anyway--he decided to accept. “Guess I can pull myself away from the tables for a while. Got myself enough money for beer and blo... poker for the week, anyway.”

Willow squealed and clapped her hands. “Great! Come on, let’s go see what they’re doing!”

“Anya, for the hundredth time, I can’t go get you a beer! I’ve given you at least half of mine, for crying out loud, and if that isn’t good enough...”

Willow could hear them bickering before she reached the table. “Good grief, are they still going on about that? If only Anya would get a beer, we’d all get a moment of peace.”

Spike figured that since he was the only one who’d be able to buy alcohol in the whole group, he’d be the only one able to shut the ex-demon up. Bad enough that he’d be stuck with the whelp and the Slayer--might turn to dust from their stares alone--but Anya’s whinging was relentless and irritating as hell. “Look, I’m going to get myself something to drink--might as well get a round for you lot while I’m at it. You two birds want something?” Before either of them could respond, he pointed a finger in their faces. “But don’t think this’ll be some kind of habit or whatnot. I’m not part of you lot, don’t want to be, but I might as well act the gentleman when I’m invited.”

Fighting back the urge to slap him on the back and say ‘ah, shucks’, Willow simply grinned at him. Which, from the look of despair on his face, was just as bad. “No, no beer for me--I’m on a solid Shirley Temple diet. Just pick up a beer for Xander and Anya and you’ll be fine. And Tara...” She turned to the other witch. “You want anything?”

The blonde blushed. “Oh, no, I don’t want to...”

Spike groaned. “Look, Glinda--you’re not takin’ advantage. You want me to get you something to drink? Might as well take me on my offer, seein’ as it happens once in a blue moon.”

“Oh.. ok, then. I’ll have... a cooler!” She nodded, proud of herself. She’d never had alcohol before, but her life was taking a turn for the better. Why not celebrate with a little drink?

The vampire raised an eyebrow at the witch‘s proud smile. He couldn‘t help but smile himself. “Any particular kind?”

“Uh, I’ve never... Are there lots of kinds? How about you choose? I’m sure I’ll be ok with anything you get me.”

The vampire shook his head, leaving the two girls behind. Bloody wanker, he was turning out to be. Who would’ve guessed he’d lower himself to buying drinks for the Scoobies?

***

Maybe it was because he’d brought beer, maybe it was because he’d been patrolling for the Slayer, or maybe it was just because Willow had told them to be nice to him. Either way, the Scoobies had been far more civil towards the bleached vampire than they’d ever been. As much as he hated himself for it, Spike appreciated not being the despised outcast for once.

Anya, of course, had jumped for joy at the sight of her very own beer--she’d ranted for ten minutes before Spike had threatened to take it away from her if she didn’t shut up. Xander had grudgingly accepted his own beer, which was something on tap--Guinness, actually. Spike had decided it was about time the whelp had a taste of real beer. Although he‘d initially made some sly comments about drinking molasses, he‘d quickly shut up and seemed quite happy with the headier brew. And Tara had decided to share her cooler with Willow. She’d felt the alcohol go to her brain after half the bottle, and figured that getting drunk in front of a new group of people wasn’t the impression she wanted to leave them with.

The only person who hadn’t said a word to him had been the Slayer herself. However, he wasn’t sure if it was because of animosity or just because she looked like she was going to fall asleep at any moment. Her eyes had drifted shut a few times and she was visibly fighting fatigue.

While he was busy observing his nemesis (ex-nemesis? They weren’t really trying to kill each other anymore, were they?), the vampire hadn’t noticed that the others had gotten up off their seats.

Willow put her hand on the Slayer‘s shoulder. “Come on, Buffy--maybe a bit of dancing will wake you up a bit!” Her hand was holding Tara’s, and both girls seemed to have a case of the giggles. One cooler had managed to give both girls a good, heady, buzz.

“Sorry, guys. I’m not really up to a lot of dancing tonight. You guys go ahead without me--I’ll just sit here and finish my tomato juice.” She looked at her glass with undisguised loathing before finishing it in one gulp. Grimacing, she tried to smile. “See? Everything’s hunky dorey.”

Not quite convinced, but willing to give her friend some space, Willow and Tara looked expectantly at the blonde vamp. “Spike?”

“Not on my unlife, witches. There’s no way you’re having me out on that dance floor, with that bloody racket playing. Now, maybe if sectioned off an area for a mosh pit and played some decent music I might be tempted to go.”

Both blondes watched the two witches join the others on the dance floor, ready to shake their booty to the deafening beat of the music. Buffy missed being able to dance off her tension, but the last thing she felt like doing right now was expending a ton of energy. It was taking all she had not to push Spike off that couch and take a nap on it. She looked across at the vampire and sighed. As long as he kept his mouth shut, they’d be ok.

Spike sat forward, legs splayed and beer resting in between them. He couldn’t keep out the obvious glee in his voice when he addressed her for the first time. “So, Slayer, all that time you spent with Captain Cardboard, all that time you thrust him in my face, telling me how good he was, how noble he was,” he put on an effeminate voice, “oh, Riley is such a good person, not like you, Spike. You’re an evil monster, but my Riley is as pure as the undriven snow...” He shook his head, snickering. “All that time, it was a lie. The good ol’ farmboy was no better than your average wanker, tucking tail and running when the idyllic relationship became tainted. So who‘s the monster eh, luv? The one who‘s helping you out, or the one who left you high and dry?”

When his eyes lifted to meet hers, he felt a tug at the expression that crossed the Slayer’s features. He immediately regretted his words, feeling... guilt?... at the pain he’d caused her. But he felt no guilt at airing his feelings about Whitebread. He’d been upstaged so many times by that pillock that it felt great to be able to have the tables turned for once.

So much for silence from the bleached wonder. Buffy was hurt by the vamp‘s outburst. Her emotions were still too raw for her not to fight back--she never even stopped to consider the reasons for which she was defending the man who had abandoned her. “Oh please, like you’ve spent such a ‘bloody’ gallant life yourself. I wouldn’t judge others if I were you, you know, William the Bloody..” She forced out a laugh that was devoid of any mirth. “It’s laughable, you know--someone who’s spent over a hundred years torturing people is now placing himself on a pedestal because of something some human did...”

The vampire’s eyes flashed gold for a brief moment, guilt forgotten. “Yeah, Slayer--you’re right. I’ve done some nasty things in my time. Things that your simple mind couldn’t even begin to imagine. But the one thing I’ve never done is leave the woman I love because she’s become an inconvenience.” He smiled when the young woman flinched at the intentional jab. “One hundred and twenty years I spent with one of the barmiest birds around. Dru was never all there--you can thank Angelus and his twisted mind for that. But after Prague, when she became sick, it was decades upon decades of putting up with weeks of wailing, fits, and mood swings. She talked to her dolls, she could see the stars--inside, in the morning--it was like living with Sybil. And not once, not at any time, Slayer, did it once cross my mind to leave her because it was a bother to me to comfort her and protect her from herself. I may be the Big Bad, but I’m not completely heartless.”

He got up and turned around, unable to look at the Slayer’s big green eyes, filled with unshed tears. Yes, he’d hurt her--he’d reminded her that one didn’t have to be a demon to do cruel things--but he wasn’t going to let himself be compared to that whitebread army brat. “I’m getting myself something to drink.” He’d only taken a few steps away from her before he turned back to her. Wanker. “Do you want me to get you something?”

Buffy was startled by the bleached blonde’s question. Didn’t he just tell her off? Set her straight? And now he was offering to buy her a drink?! How dare he be a gentleman! But she was really thirsty--the tomato juice had been sorely lacking in thirst quench--so she bit back her pride and nodded. “A Ginger Ale would be nice.” She watched him walk away towards the bar and let a few tears slip by. It was true. Riley, her oh-so-right human boyfriend had turned his back on her at her most needed time; Spike--the former scourge of Europe--had stuck by his own woman through thick and thin. Buffy realized that she still had lots to learn about the world around her--and much more to unlearn...

Buffy sighed and sat back in her chair. Life was so unfair, wasn’t it? Since when was an evil, undead, pain in the ass truer of heart than the ‘normal’ man she‘d loved? According to her mother, Spike had been livid when he‘d heard what had happened between her and Riley. Initially, she’d rolled her eyes, but after hearing Spike defend himself, she was more inclined to believe her mother’s story.

A glass of Ginger Ale, suddenly popping into her field of vision, snapped her out of her musings. “Thanks.”

Instead of dropping down on the sofa, where he had been sitting before having words with the Slayer, Spike took the chair beside Buffy. He’d done some thinking on his drink run and had a few things he wanted to air out. “Look, Slayer...”

“Spike, I appreciate the drink--I really do, but I don’t think I can keep this up tonight, ok? I‘m tired, grumpy and not in the mood for arguing.” She knew he was right, but she didn’t need him rubbing salt into the fresh wounds. She was surprised when the vampire leaned forward and pressed a cool finger to her lips. Instead of hitting him, as she would have done at any moment, she simply raised her eyebrows.

“This isn’t a continuation of what we talked about.” Spike’s brow furrowed, and his lips pressed together. “Well, maybe it is, but just hear me out, alright?” When the young woman nodded, he removed his finger--feeling a sense of loss, for some odd reason--and sat back in the chair.

“I don’t regret saying what I said because every word of it is true, if you ask me. The pillock had no right to leave you in your condition and there’s no arguing with that. But I had no right to bring it up suddenly like I did, nor did I have any right to gloat. I’m sure you’re feelin’ bad enough without having me rub it in your face. I’m sorry I hurt you--I won’t bring it up again unless you want to talk about it.” There. That wasn’t so hard, was it? As he watched the myriad emotions flicker through her hazel orbs, Spike knew the apology had come as a surprise, albeit not an unwelcome one.

Ok. Who was this blonde guy and what had he done with Spike? Buffy stared at the man seated beside her, silent as she digested his words. Spike apologized. Stranger things could happen. Astronauts could discover that the moon really was made of cheese, or Pauly Shore could win an Academy Award, or vampires could apologize for being mean to her... The young woman was slowly discovering that there were indeed many layers to the bleached blonde who shared her company.

She took a sip of her drink and placed it on the table in front of her chair. Bringing her leg up onto the chair so she could sit on it, Buffy turned towards Spike. “I accept your apology Spike. However...” She paused on purpose to tease the vamp a bit. He did deserve it, didn’t he? “...I have something to tell you, too. I think I need to apologize as well. I’ve been harsh with you, even though you’ve agreed to help us out, no strings attached. Ever since you came back a few months ago, you’ve kept your nose clean, you’ve minded your own business and I realize that--and appreciate it. Until now, I haven’t given you the chance to defend yourself against my prejudices and that just isn’t fair. So, Spike, I’m sorry I’ve been a bitch, I’m sorry I haven’t believed you or given you any respect, and as long as you keep it up I’m willing to throw down the gauntlet.”

Spike couldn’t help but stare at the Slayer. This was so much more than he’d expected. He figured that he’d get a grunt, maybe, acknowledging his apology. But an apology from the Slayer herself? And, on top of that, a truce? Maybe there was much more to the young woman than he’d imagined. Perhaps her pregnancy was giving her a touch more maturity than she’d previously had--something to do with hormones or whatnot. That or she’d just needed a verbal slap in the face to wake her up, to shake her out of her black and white world. “Apology accepted, Slayer.”

For the first time ever, Slayer and master vampire shared a comfortable silence. The one that can span quiet moments between friends as they simply enjoy each other’s presence. They sipped their drinks, watching the Scoobies dance to some latin pop song.

Never one much for silence, however, Spike turned his attention to the woman sitting beside him. “So, how far along’s the bit?”

“Huh?” Why can’t he speak English like the rest of us?

The vampire rolled his eyes. Stupid Americans, gotta simplify everything for them. Enunciating clearly, he repeated himself, pointing to her stomach. “The baby, luv. How far along is it?”

“Oh! I’m ten weeks along. But the baby’s only eight weeks old.” Seeing the vampire’s raised eyebrow, Buffy explained. “They’ve got some weird way of calculating your due date now, where they start counting at the first day of your last period. So it kind of adds a couple weeks extra--that way, the pregnancy is always two weeks ahead of how old the baby is. It‘s kind of confusing, but makes sense in a weird logic kind of way.”

The vampire wasn’t even going to pretend to understand what she was trying to explain. “Confusing indeed, pet. Makes no sense whatsoever, but I’ll take your word for it.”

Both blondes sat there, talking about the baby, slaying and anything else that came to mind. They fell into a strangely comfortable discourse that belied any enmity that had existed between them previous to this evening.

A truce in the works, between Slayer and vampire. Maybe things would be better between the two foes after all...

“Spike, will you just shut up about it?”

“Yeah, well your mum’s gonna rip a fresh one out of me if she hears about this. Maybe you don’t care for your appendages, but I do.” The vampire stopped and turned around, watching the blonde follow him at about 20 paces‘ distance. His next statement belied any anger he’d shown her. “You wanna stop for a minute? You’re lagging behind, Slayer. If you’re tired just say so.”

How dare he! “I’m not lagging behind! You’re just walking too fast--God knows you could have missed a dozen vamps just because you’re trying to rush this patrol. Now slow down.” Buffy would never admit it, but the vampire’s fast pace was beginning to wear her down. She had no idea why--they’d only been patrolling for an hour. Her patrols usually lasted at least twice as long, and they never wore her out to the point where she was. “Anyway, if Mom has anything to say about this we both know that you didn’t have a choice. Either I tagged along with you, or I patrolled on my own--you remember my ultimatum.”

Spike had stopped, waiting for her to catch up to him. Buffy was too busy ranting to notice this courtesy on the vampire’s behalf. Resting on a tombstone across from where he stood, she sighed. Damn it felt good to get off her feet. “There was no way I was staying home, alone, tonight. Do you know how boring TV is on Tuesday nights? There’s absolutely nothing on! And with Mom at the gallery ‘till who knows what hour I would have gone stir crazy. So just think about it this way, Spike. You’re actually doing me a favour.”

The bleached vamp was about to reply that she’d be safer bored at home than running through cemeteries in her condition when two vamps sauntered up to them. Neither Spike nor Buffy had sensed them, as they had been so wrapped up in their arguing.

The bigger one, who was probably the leader--the bigger ones always were--spoke up first. “Well, well. If it isn’t the Slayer and her little...” he turned to see who she was talking to and nearly fell flat on his rear. “...Spike?” He looked from Slayer to master vampire to Slayer again, mouth agape.

Buffy hopped off her marble resting spot, deftly twirling a stake through her fingers. Although she was tired, the Slayer part of her felt a boost of energy go through her in the presence of potential prey. “Gee, I guess you aren’t as dumb as you look.” She paused, frowning. “Then again, I don’t see you running the other way, so I think I have to take that back.”

Leader-vamp took a step towards Spike, not caring to be too close to the Slayer just then. He turned to the blonde vampire, trying to read his expression. Impossible, of course, as Spike stood stock still, arms crossed over his chest and wearing his best poker face. Perplexed--something was really not right--the vamp broke the silence. “Uh, Spike? Why aren’t you killing her?”

Rolling his eyes, the bleached blonde finally spoke. “What does it look like we’re doing, you dolt? We’re having ourselves a picnic. Basket o’goodies is in the car, and we’re just looking for a nice comfy spot where we can lay the blanket.”

Buffy’s hand flew up to her mouth to stifle the laugh that almost escaped. Maybe hanging around Spike could actually be funny. Frowning at the perplexed vamp, she jumped in the game. “Yeah, and you and your friend weren’t invited. You’re ruining our picnic, you... ruiners.”

The second vamp, who until now had done a good job of blending in with the shrubs, took a step back in an attempt to leave the two blondes to their get-together. Who knew why a Slayer and master vampire were having a picnic at night in a cemetery, but it couldn’t mean anything but trouble in his mind. His retreat was impeded by his buddy’s firm grip on his shirt, and he inwardly cursed the day he’d joined up with the loudmouth troublemaker.

“Come back here, you idiot. They’re shitting us.” He narrowed his eyes at Spike, growling. “Seems Spike here’s changed sides, or something. Doesn’t matter, though.” He puffed his chest out, looking like some rain-swollen scarecrow. “Killing a master vampire’s gonna bolster our reps.” Looking at the more timid vamp, he nodded towards Buffy. “You take the Slayer, I’ll handle Spike.”

Mumbling to himself, you take the Slayer, I’ll handle Spike, the smaller vampire turned to face the Slayer. Struggling to keep his legs from taking him far, far away from Memorial Cemetery, he eyed his opponent, unsure of where to strike first.

Sensing his indecision, Buffy decided for him. A swift kick to his midsection sent him stumbling over the nearest gravestone. She turned quickly to Spike, seeing that he and leader-vamp were already going at it full tilt. For once, she was happy to fight the lamer vampire. She wasn’t too sure if she could’ve taken a stronger vampire, in her condition.

Ok, maybe this patrolling gig wasn’t so bad. Yeah, he was fighting his kind. Killing, actually. But it was more fun than he’d had in ages--literally--what with taking care of Dru, the whole Angelus reborn deal, and those army guys. Good thing he’d gotten away before they’d been able to do anything to him. God knows what nefarious plans they’d had for him...

A quick jab to his jaw brought the bleached vamp back from his musings. Fight now, ponder later, mate. He shook his head and punched the other vampire back, breaking his nose. Enraged, leader-vamp flew at him with a volley of punches and kicks, all of which were blocked by the master vampire. It may have been a long time since he’d fought like this, but a bloke doesn’t forget that easily.

Figuring he’d led the vamp on long enough, Spike pulled a stake from his coat sleeve and pushed it through the demon’s heart, watching its corporeal form turn to dust. Even if he’d done this many times in the past weeks, the sight of another vamp’s dust settling to the earth still disturbed him. He couldn’t help but think of his own remains and where they would end up settling...

Turning around, he realized that he’d forgotten about the Slayer. A pregnant Slayer, who should be sitting at home, feet up on the coffee table, watching some inane TV show with a laugh track. He frowned when he couldn’t see her--had something happened to her? That smaller vamp should have been a breeze for her, but what if it had been the better fighter of the two... “Slayer? Buffy?”

A small voice came from behind a larger tombstone. “Ugh. Remind me to stay home next time...” Buffy pulled herself up, with some trouble. “Geez, I’ve only been off patrol for, like, a month or so and I feel like I’m 98 years old.” Finally on her two legs, she tried to take a step forward but ended up lurching forward before being caught by the blonde vampire.

“’S cause your body’s concentratin’ more on taking care of the bit, pet. You shouldn’t be fighting--it can’t be good for the baby.” He held her in place until she was able to stand on her own. He extended his arm and smiled at her. “Let’s call it a night and take you home, shall we?”

Buffy smiled at him, accepting his arm--she pushed aside the idea that it was just plain wrong to allow Spike to help her. He was offering, after all, and she was really not in a position to refuse. “That’s the best idea I’ve heard in a while.” Wincing, she held her side. “I think I’m up for a nice, hot bath and a warm cup of cocoa.”

***

Spike settled onto the couch, ready to watch The World’s Worst Drivers--shows like that were always worth a chuckle. He’d just finished helping Buffy up the stairs so she could have that relaxing bath she’d prattled on and on about on their way home.

His keen hearing picked up a thump, followed by some muffled cries.

Taking the stairs two by two, he stopped at the bathroom door. He gave a two-knuckled rap on the door. “Slayer? Is everything ok?” When a minute had gone by with no response, he was ready to break the door down. What if she’d fallen, or fainted? He tried the handle--best not to cause damage if there’s an easier way to go about it--and saw that the door was locked. “Buffy, if you don’t answer me, I’m gonna break this door down and come in!” He was past being worried by now and was planning on following through with his threat.

Since when had he come to care so much for the Slayer anyway? Was it because she was with child, which reminded him that no matter what happens, no matter what horrible things take place, life goes on? Or was it because she’d actually treated him well in the past few weeks, not only thanking him for patrolling for her, but actually being civil, even friendly, to him, taking their truce seriously? Heck, maybe it was all of the above...

The clicking of the lock startled him from his thoughts. He didn’t hesitate to open the door and peer inside. The first thing that hit him was the faint smell of blood. Vamp must’ve gotten her worse than she let on. When he looked at her as she sat on the edge of the bathtub, face pale, arms wrapped around herself, body shaking, he knew it was more than that. Crouching in front of her, he placed a hand on her knee and looked her in the eyes. Pushing a stray lock of hair out of her face, he spoke quietly. “Pet--what’s wrong?” The sight of the Slayer, of all people, so shaken up by something freaked him out.

Sniffling, she brought her eyes level to his. She knew she should call one of the Scoobies, or her mom at the gallery, but for some reason she decided to put her trust in Spike. “I’m... I’m bleeding.” Her voice was faint and shaky.

Spike let out a little breath, part laugh part relief that she wasn’t in shock. “Yeah, I can smell it. Do you want me to look at it for you? Bandage it up?” Why was the Slayer being so squeamish all of a sudden? He himself had given her more serious battle wounds than she seemed to have received tonight.

The young woman shook her head. “Can’t bandage it up. It’s the baby. It must’ve happened when I fell, in the cemetery.” Her gaze never broke from his when she told him, hoping that she wouldn’t have to go into too much detail. Come on, Spike--figure it out...

Spike closed his eyes, hands clenching into fists. Damn! He knew he shouldn’t have let her come patrolling. Yeah, like you had any choice--Slayer does what Slayer wants, mate, and there’s nothing you can do about it. Now wasn’t the time, however, for self-recrimination. Now was the time for making intelligent decisions. Taking the young woman into his arms, he stood up. He was mildly surprised that, instead of fighting him, she curled up against his chest. “Hold tight, luv. We’ll take you to the hospital. To the doctors--they’ll help you and the bit.” I hope...

The automatic doors weren’t opening fast enough for Spike. Nothing had gone right on his drive to Sunnydale General Hospital. The red lights were too many, green lights too few. There were too many police cars roaming for him to chance going too fast. And he had Buffy curled against him, crying gently. The pit of his stomach was filled with lead, or so it seemed. His brain was turning in a million directions, too many of which ended up badly. Buffy loses the baby. Buffy can’t get pregnant again. Buffy blames him for all this, as does Joyce...

He walked into the hospital emergency, a weakened Slayer in his arms. Almost immediately, a nurse approached him. She looked to be in her early forties, a little matronly, and with a genuinely comforting smile. Her tag read “Connie”. Taking him by the arm, she led him to a gurney so he could put Buffy down. “Here--sit her down on here.” She took a hold of Buffy’s hand. “What’s the problem this evening, dear?” She was looking at the crying girl but Spike knew the question had been aimed his way.

Running the hand that wasn’t holding on to Buffy’s through bleached locks, he took a deep breath. “We... were out for a walk and she slipped on some grass. Landed on her arse pretty hard. She’s pregnant--says she’s bleeding... down there.” Damn Victorian manners--he couldn’t even say it.

The nurse nodded. Still looking at the young woman, she asked: “What’s your name, honey?”

Squeezing Spike’s hand--trying to let him know how much the contact meant to her at that moment, the young woman answered shakily. “Buffy.”

“Ok, Buffy. The bleeding--was it heavy, or light?”

Buffy frowned. Her mind was muddled and she couldn’t think clearly. “I don’t know. I went to the bathroom before my bath and I noticed that there was blood on the toilet paper. I’m... I’m sorry I don’t know.”

Connie smiled at the crying girl. “Now, now. It’s ok to be worried. We’ll get you upstairs to obstetrics and the nurses and doctors there will look you over. Before we do, though, I just need you to fill out some paperwork. It’s only a few sheets, but I can’t admit you until they’re filled out.” She gave the two blondes an apologetic smile.

Spike growled. “Bloody hell! You’re in pain and they want you to fill out bleedin’ paperwork? What if you came in here shot, or in a coma? Would they wait till...”

“Spike!” Buffy was happy that he was concerned, but she didn’t feel like dealing with any extra stress at the moment. “I’m not so sick that I can’t fill out a bit of information. Mom’s got insurance, so it’s all covered. If I don’t fill this out, they might bill us or something.” She took the paperwork and filled it out to the best of her knowledge.

When she’d handed the paperwork back, Buffy was glad to see Connie approaching with a wheelchair.

“Do you think you can sit in a wheelchair, or does it hurt too much?”

“I’ll be ok in a wheelchair.” God, why couldn’t they just beam her up there, like in Star Trek? They’d have her already looked at and she’d know if her baby was going to be ok...

The nurse parked the wheelchair by Spike’s side. “If you don’t mind, dear. She’ll have an easier time of it if you help her.”

Hoisting Buffy up into his arms, Spike tried to ease her nerves (and, truth be told, his own). “C’mon luv, let’s get you up there so we can see how strong the bit is.”

Before long, Buffy and Spike were being escorted to the obstetrics ward. Connie had remained at her post at the emergency desk, so a male nurse named Evan had accompanied them. The young man, an affable brunette, wheeled Buffy into one of the ultrasound rooms. Turning to Spike, but making sure that Buffy also heard him, he began giving instructions. “We’ll need Ms. Summers to get up on the bed, if you can help her. She’ll need to get her pants down past her hips so the technician can perform the ultrasound. There’s a cotton blanket at the foot of the cot--you can use that to cover up, if you wish. I‘ll try to get the tech here as soon as possible--I‘m sure you want to get this over with asap so you can go back home.” He smiled warmly and exited the room, closing the door behind him, leaving both blondes to themselves.

The room they were in was dark, except for the light that came from the ultrasound’s monitor and a small desk lamp. Buffy eased herself out of the chair, glad to be out of its confines. Stretching, she smirked at Spike. “Now I know why you were so pissed off at me after I landed you in one of these. Not the most comfy rides, are they?”

Eyeing the metal contraption wearily, the blonde vampire fought back the urge to kick it--over and over again. “No. I’d be happy never to have to sit in one ever again, thank you.” He turned his gaze to the Slayer, who was slowly lifting herself up onto the bed. “Now, now. There’ll be none of that--can’t have you aggravating any injuries. You’ve got the bit to worry about--never mind your pride, Slayer.” He pointedly ignored the eye roll she gave him as he picked her up at the waist to sit her on the mattress.

They found themselves eye to eye, Spike standing between Buffy’s open legs, staring into each other’s eyes. They both noticed it at once, the extra something that sparked between them. They’d moved from enmity, to tolerance , to friendship, to... what? What did they mean to each other, now? Were they simply friends--neither could deny that that’s what they were. Enemies didn’t rush enemies to the hospital, worried out of their minds. And enemies didn’t let enemies draw light circles on their hips as they gazed at each other, breathless.

Spike was the first to move, leaning in slowly. Buffy licked her lips, anticipating the kiss that she’d denied wanting so much. His lips seemed so soft, she wanted to know what they felt like against hers, cool against warmth. She was surprised, and more than a bit disappointed, when his lips passed hers and brushed against her cheek. “We’ll have time to discuss this later, Buffy. Right now, you have to get ready for the technician--whatever that means.”

He pulled back, giving the young woman the room to swing her legs onto the bed. They both stared at each other awkwardly before Buffy managed to find her voice. “Uh, do you think you could...” She twirled her finger around, indicating that he should turn around while she lowered her pants. Kissing would have been nice and all, but undressing in front of Spike was still way wiggy. When she’d covered her waist with the blanket, she let the vampire know that it was ok to turn around.

Staring at all the computers and small TV screens, Spike lifted an eyebrow. “So, all this technology’s supposed to tell you if the bit’s ok?”

She’d forgotten that he’d never have had any experience with this kind of thing. All this would be so foreign to someone who’d been born in the middle of the nineteenth century. “Yup. That’s the screen where you’ll be able to see the baby--if you can make it out. It’ll look really weird, not like on a regular TV screen. I’m not sure how it works, exactly, but I think it has to do with waves or something.”

Raising an eyebrow, Spike just nodded. “I guess I’ll just have to see it, then. Have you been to many of these before?” The technician was taking a lot longer than the impatient vampire deemed necessary, so he was trying to keep both himself and the Slayer occupied during the wait.

“Just one. When I was at 12 weeks. They do an ultrasound to measure something in the baby’s neck, and something else, too. They were doing some kind of test to see if the baby had any deformities.” Buffy stared at the ceiling, noticing that there was a poster--probably a Van Gogh, from what she could tell. It was a nice touch that eased her mind a little. They’d put a poster up there to give her something else to think about while lying there. It also reminded her that she wasn’t the first, nor would she be the last, to be in that room, for an emergency or a routine exam.

Boy, had medicine come a long way since Spike had been human. “So they can tell when the baby’s that small if it’s gonna have to be in a wheelchair or whatnot? Bloody amazing, that is. Back before Dru turned me, plain old childbirth was a big mystery. Lots of women died while delivering. And now they can see the baby as it grows...” He shook his head, pretty much talking to himself. “Amazing...”

Both were startled when the door opened, and a young woman walked in. Her chipper mood belied the early morning hour. “Hey there! I’m Andrea, and I’ll be going through your ultrasound with you.” She began to type on the keyboard, transferring some of the information from her folder to the computer. “So you’re 14 weeks pregnant, right?”

“Yup.” Buffy’s eyes were on Spike, who was fixated on the computer, obviously waiting for the baby’s picture to magically appear on screen.

“Have you had an ultrasound yet?” Andrea walked over to Buffy and lowered the towel until it reached her pubic bone.

“Yes--at eep! twelve weeks. God that stuff’s cold! Can’t you keep it warm or something?” The technician chuckled at the young woman’s reaction.

This was getting weirder by the minute. First of all, the only thing this Andrea bird had done so far was type in some information about Buffy into the computer and squirted something that looked a lot like KY onto her belly. And the baby was yet to appear on screen. Spike stood back, letting the technician do her thing, watching everything closely.

As Andrea began rolling some sort of instrument over the Slayer’s belly, Spike’s eyes flew back to the screen. It took him a while to figure out that the black and white image was a view of Buffy’s uterus. He couldn’t make heads or tails of what was what, until his eyes closed in on a little form in the middle of the screen. That couldn’t be... Nah. It didn’t look like much of anything. Of course, he didn’t exactly have the most experience in these things. He had to admit, though, that the blob looked like it had a head, and arms, and--were those legs?

The actual examination lasted about fifteen minutes, with the technician silently examining all of Buffy’s belly. Every now and then she’d click on her mouse, saving some bit of information that she deemed important.

About halfway through the examination, she broke the silence. “Sorry if I’m pushing a bit hard on your stomach, Buffy, but it’s a little hard to see anything with your bladder only half-full. I am getting information, it just means that we’ll be here a bit longer than we usually would.”

What could Buffy say to that? “That’s ok--just do whatever’s necessary. I’m not in as much pain anymore, anyway.”

Spike was glad to hear that, hoping that it meant that nothing was seriously wrong with either mum or child. Patience not being his greatest virtue, he had soon tired of watching the screen, choosing instead to watch Buffy, taking a seat on the opposite side of the bed. She smiled shyly at him when he reached for her hand once again. She assumed that the constant contact meant as much to him as it did to her and she found that oddly comforting. It was strange that in a time of great need, her former mortal enemy had been someone upon whom she’d been able to rely. He’d been constantly at her side, glancing at her when he didn’t think she was looking, worry marring those beautiful blue eyes of his.

Did he mean for them to be more than friends? Uh, their near-kiss was a definite yes, in her opinion. He’d even said that they’d talk about it later. She would hold him to that, as she also wanted to air things out between them. Sure, he was good looking, but he had so many other attributes that she admired. He was loyal--120 years devoted to Drusilla proved that; he was protective--ever since he’d come to her in the bathroom, he’d constantly been soothing her, holding her hand, comforting her in whichever way he could; and, although he’d vehemently deny it, she was beginning to notice that he was a big softy underneath all the leather and swagger. The naked look in his eyes as he’d fretted over her belied the ‘big bad’ attitude that he wore as a shroud.

Her attention was brought back to the attendant as she finally backed the chair away from the desk.

Turning the monitor towards the two blondes, Andrea finally spoke up. “Do you want to see the baby?”

Both Buffy and Spike nodded simultaneously--in any other circumstance it might have seemed comical, but considering what was at stake it just showed the worry that both were presently burdened with.

Andrea picked up a pen in one hand and began to roll the instrument over Buffy‘s stomach. She began a running commentary as she moved along Buffy’s belly, showing both blondes, with the help of the pen on the screen, the baby’s head, arms and legs. “And this little black spot is the heart, that you can see beating. When Dr. Nichols comes by to go over the ultrasound’s results with you, he’ll bring the Doppler so you can hear the heartbeat.”

The technician turned her attention back to the computer, hitting a key on the keyboard, causing a roll of pictures to print out. She tore the paper out of the printer and began to cut them apart. “Would you like to keep one of the pictures?” She held one in her hand, offering it to Buffy.

Before Buffy had a chance to say anything, Spike had taken the picture from the technician. He still held Buffy’s hand, but he was now leaning in over her, elbows propped up on the bed, staring quietly at the picture. She would have given anything to know what was going on in his mind as he stared at her unborn child.

Guilt. He’d never felt this much guilt since he’d been turned. Hell, he was a demon and demons didn’t feel remorse. They found pleasure in murder and mayhem, joy in the fear they instilled, and exhilaration in the kill. And as a vampire he’d relished, more times than he could count, the feel of taking another’s life. The struggling, the screaming, the pleading--it was all part of the rush.

Spike stared at the Slayer’s child--although it didn’t look like much right now, with its large head, tiny arms and tiny legs. Hadn’t been able to make those out, even when the tech had pointed them out.

But it had a heart. A small, beating heart. Beating as it slept, as it moved, as it took its nourishment from its mother’s body. It was a tiny life, just like the one that had been in the stomach of that woman so long ago.

Why did her face appear so clearly to him, almost a century later? Her big brown eyes, filled with fear for her life and that of her unborn child. She’d pleaded, begged, but Spike would have none of it. To him, she was but another meal. A right yummy one too, if what he’d heard about pregnant women was true. Richer blood, and more of it. Remorseless, he’d drained her without a second thought.

He’d even patiently waited as Dru had cut into the dead woman’s stomach, wanting a baby of her own. He was sure the baby had still been alive, its tiny arms and legs twitching because of the cold as his dark princess separated it from its dead mother. But by the time the child was in Dru’s arms, it was bereft of any life. Already bored with her new ’doll’, the vampiress discarded it onto its mother’s body, turning with Spike to leave the alleyway.

The Slayer’s wary voice woke him from his reverie. “Spike?”

The vampire shook his head, noticing that the tech was no longer in the room with them. How long had he been lost in his memories? “Sorry, pet. I must’ve zoned out.” He looked at the picture once again and a small smile formed on his lips. This was one child that he’d make sure would live a long, healthy life.

He handed the printout to the Slayer, who was still lying on the bed. His brow shot up, however, when she shook her head and closed his fingers over the picture.

“No. I’ve already got one--I put it up on the fridge. You can keep this one, if you want.” Then, she got an odd look on her face--part curious, part sad. Her small hand still cupped around his, she held her eyes steady on his. “Tell me what you’re thinking, Spike. Please.”

Oh, bugger. He couldn’t possibly replay for her the scene that had gone through his mind--she’s stake him on the spot, and with good warrant. For some reason, at that moment the Slayer’s disappointment in him would burn more than the touch of sunlight on his skin.
But those eyes. Those big, green eyes that would stare straight into his soul, had he one. He couldn’t lie to them, to her. So he chose the safest route. Not a lie, but not the whole truth either.

“Seein’ the bit, how small he is and how vulnerable. It just reminded me of all the lives I’ve taken, is all.” He grew silent and his hand went to her belly of its own volition. There was no swell there yet but there was a life there nonetheless. His finger traced circles in the lubricant that remained there from the ultrasound.

The vampire’s touch was cool, but oddly comforting. Buffy knew, from his hesitancy to answer to his quiet frame of mind, that the vampire wasn’t telling all. A lump caught in her throat as two thoughts entered her mind: he must have done something unthinkable to a baby once, or maybe a pregnant woman; and he must feel guilty about it.

Although she felt ill at the thought of Spike killing anything other than demons, Buffy felt a little pride on his behalf for the first true bit of conscience she was witnessing. Her hand moved to his hair, soft despite the years of bleaching, in a caressing gesture as she tried to figure out what to tell him. Something that would imply that she knew what he was thinking, what he was feeling, and that she would be there for him just as he’d been there for her.

However, when she opened her mouth to speak up, to say anything to break the silence, the door opened and a doctor walked in.

“Good morning. I’m doctor Nichols.” He greeted them both with a nod before setting Buffy’s folder on the desk. The doctor, a tall, lanky man with greying hair had a friendly air about him that immediately put the young woman at ease.

He flipped through the paperwork, soaking in what was written. “So, you had a bit of a slip, huh?”

“Yeah, darn that slippery grass. Just snuck up on me.” Buffy smiled shyly at the doctor.

The doctor smiled back, glad to see that his patient was at least well enough to have a sense of humour. “Are you in any pain from the fall? Does your back or your stomach hurt at all?” He began to press into the sides of the Slayer’s belly, looking to see if there were any tender spots.

Buffy’s hand tightened around Spike’s at the doctor’s touch. Sure, he was nice enough but it still wasn’t enough to calm the fear she felt. “No, I think it was just the shock of seeing the bleeding that had me so freaked out. I don’t think I was in much pain at all, come to think of it.” It was an embarrassing admission, but it was the truth.

Nodding, the Dr. Nichols turned to pick up what looked to Spike like a ham radio. It reminded him of the second World War. Which in turn reminded him of just how long he’d been around... The doctor’s voice brought him back to the here and now.

“That’s understandable, Buffy. Bleeding can be a sign of something serious, but it can also mean that your insides got jostled around more than they should have.” He picked up one of the ultrasound photos and showed it to the two blondes. Pointing to a small dark spot just to the baby’s left, he explained. “The fall you took earlier caused a bit of a tear in the uterine wall. However, it seems to have healed already.” He looked at the Slayer above his glasses. “That’s a heck of a recuperation, Miss Summers... but I’ve grown accustomed to the abnormal during my residency here at Sunnydale General. Usually I’d recommend three or four days’ bed rest, but with how quickly you seem to heal, I’d be happy if you stayed off your feet for 24 hours. Now, you might want to book an appointment with your doctor for a follow up, just to make sure everything’s fine. It’s never bad to be on the cautious side.”

Turning the switch on the ’radio’ he smiled. “Well, let’s move on to something more fun, shall we? Have you had a chance to hear the Doppler yet?”

Buffy nodded. “Yeah, two weeks ago at my last appointment.” She turned her eyes to Spike, who was looking at the instrument quizzically. Squeezing his hand, she added. “But it would be reassuring to hear the baby’s heartbeat again.”

The doctor began to roll a smaller version of the ultrasound’s roller instrument over Buffy’s belly, closer to her pelvis. As he kept moving it, it just made a staticky sound like dead air on a radio. With a bit of searching, he finally hit a spot where the static included a fast whoosh, whoosh, whoosh sound. “There you go, a good healthy heartbeat. A bit shook up, maybe, but that would be mostly in relation to the stress you were feeling over the bleeding.”

Dr. Nichols put the Doppler back on the desk and handed Buffy some tissues to wipe the lubricant off of her belly. “Now, get lots of rest,” he shot a friendly look at Spike, “and lots of pampering. If the bleeding continues, I want you to see your doctor right away. But,” he looked at her over his glasses again--what was it with middle-aged men with glasses?--”if the speed with which your tear healed gives any indication, the bleeding probably stopped a while ago.”

The doctor picked the folder and the Doppler up and walked to the door. Both he and Buffy were more than surprised to hear the genuine ‘thanks doc’ that came from the bleached blonde, who up to that moment had been but a quiet observer.

Spike was past caring about possible witnesses as he carried a dozing Slayer up the walk to her front door. Who cared about other vamps when it felt so right having her slight weight in his arms, her small form pressed against his chest and her warm breath tickling his neck? He managed to unlock the door and carry her inside without waking her.

Pausing at the foot of the stairs, he debated whether or not to wake her or to carry her up to her bedroom. One look at the sleeping beauty in his arms gave him his answer.

As he made his way up the stairs he realized that he’d never been on the second floor of the Summers household. Now if only he could find her bedroom... Ah, of course--the one with the New Kids on the Block posters. He grimaced at the five smiling faces that looked down at him as he entered the room. Why anyone in their right mind would ever voluntarily listen to that kind of crap was beyond him. Stupid poofters--probably busy buggerin’ each other in the dressing rooms between sets...

Gently setting the sleeping girl on her bed, Spike reached over and pulled the comforter over her. He stood up, rocking on the balls of his feet. Never good at fighting temptation--nothing ventured, nothing gained had always been his motto--he reached down and placed a soft kiss on Buffy’s cheek. “’Night, Slayer.”

The hand that caught his arm nearly made him jump out of his skin. “Spike? Wait...”

Buffy had been swaying between sleep and wakefulness ever since the car had stopped in her driveway. She’d expected Spike to wake her up so she could walk to the house, but the unusually protective and caring vampire was still present, taking her in his arms instead.

Those strong arms--why hadn’t she ever noticed that he was so well built? Add his solid chest to the mix, and she found herself wanting to be held by him for an eternity--and then some. So she’d worked at keeping her breathing slow and deep, keeping up the appearance of sleep. Nuzzled against him, taking in his scent of leather, cigarettes and everything else that was Spike. A moan of disappointment almost squeaked out when she’d been deposited in her bed. He had promised her that they’d talk and she was going to hold him to that. What better time than now, when they were both still under the spell of actually being nice to each other?

So she hadn’t been asleep--naughty Slayer. Playing him so she could... what? So she could stay in his arms like in those poncey fairy tales? Not bloody likely--more likely that she was too tired to walk on her own and didn’t want to impose. Easier to feign unconsciousness. His blue eyes were captured by her hazel ones, unable to look elsewhere--even if he’d tried.

Buffy smiled nervously, almost too coy to go ahead with her plan. What if he wanted to let her down--he’d only kissed her cheek, after all. What if he really didn’t think of her like that, but more in a friendship capacity? What if... What if, what if, what if. If you don’t go ahead with this, all you’ll be stuck with will be a bunch of what ifs. “You promised me a talk, remember?” She eased the pressure of her hold on the vampire’s sleeve, but didn’t let go altogether.

Spike’s brow furrowed. Talk? Huh? Oh, that talk... The ‘we almost kissed’ talk. “Are you sure you’re up to this, pet? Why don’t we wait till tomorrow, when you don’t need your sleep so much...”

Oh, no you don’t! “Spike, the doctor said bed rest. I’m in bed, and I’m resting. As far as I’m concerned I’m heeding his advice. Talking won’t hurt me--and it won’t hurt you.” She let go of his sleeve and padded the bed beside her. “Now sit.”

The blonde vamp chuckled. “Well, looks like there’s no arguing with you, eh, Slayer? Fine--I’ll sit, we’ll talk--but if you look like you’re in desperate need of forty winks, this is over and you’re going to sleep. Hear?” He removed his duster and placed it on a chair before sitting down on the bed beside the Slayer. Half his concentration would go to their discussion, half to push away the thought that both he and she were in her bed, at the same time...

Buffy pulled herself up into a sitting position against the bed’s headboard, letting Spike fuss over placing pillows around her. Geez, you’d think I was dying or something... “Ok, ok--that’s enough. I’m drowning in pillows...” Although--not that she’d admit it out loud--she was much comfier with the extra pillows.

Awkwardly taking his cool hand in hers, she forced herself to make eye contact with the vampire. No use having one of these talks if they didn’t at least look at each other. “I’m not usually word girl, so let me muddle through this.” Buffy pursed her lips, trying to find the right way to voice her feelings. “Things have changed between us--for the better--since you accepted to help me, help us, rather. What you did for me tonight, it let me see you in a new light.”

“Really, pet--it was nothing...” Spike’s interruption was cut short by a well-manicured finger pressed against his lips. Oh, to take that finger in his mouth and taste it... He bit back a moan, squirming in place in order to readjust his physical reaction to her touch.

“Shush! Just let me get this out, then you can have your say, ok?” When he nodded silently, a strange look on his face, Buffy pressed ahead. “You treated me as well as Mom or any of my friends would have, if they’d been in your place. Even more so, I think--I doubt Mom would have molly-coddled me anywhere near as much... Anyway, I’m getting off track here. What I mean is that before you agreed to patrol, we were nothing but bitter enemies. You hated me and I hated you, and that was it. Vampire and Slayer, end of story. And after the bronze, we’ve been able to tolerate each other, but now...”

The young woman was temporarily distracted by the look in Spike’s eyes--the one she’d noticed before resuming her speech. Her breath hitched when she finally recognized the naked longing in his gaze. It was a look that hadn’t been directed at her since that first year with Angel. But Spike’s eyes didn’t hide anything--she could actually see the affection, the worry, the need... “But now I don’t see you as a monster, a dead thing, anymore. I don’t just see someone who’s killed--probably babies and children and pregnant women.” The flash of pain in his eyes confirmed her thoughts in the hospital. “I see someone who’s changing, who’s working on becoming a better person. Spike, you didn’t need to be cursed with a soul--I think you’ve got something inside of you already, a spark maybe--I don’t know. And it’s letting me see a Spike that I like--I really like--to be around.” Please read between the lines, please.

The Slayer’s admission hit Spike hard. She liked him, and she must have an idea that he liked her too or else she wouldn’t be telling him this. He wanted to pick her up in his arms, to surround her body with his, to open the window and yell to the world that... Wait. Scratch that last one--too poncey for a master vampire, that--yelling out of windows and such Williamish nonsense.

She lay there staring at him, obviously awaiting an answer of sorts. Worry was apparent in her eyes--was she afraid that he’d laugh at her? Shoot her down with stinging words and a sharp tongue? Maybe at one time, he would have done that to her. But not now. He took both of her hands in his, kissing them both before pulling her towards him into an embrace. Hugging her as tightly as he felt comfortable, he let out a sigh of relief that mimicked her own. Nose buried in her golden hair, he finally admitted it out loud. “Oh God, Slayer--Buffy, I don’t think I’m falling for you. I know I have. As hard as any man ever could. You’re such a wonderful woman, so strong, so beautiful...”

The young woman pulled back, wonder in her eyes. “You... you think I’m beautiful?”

Spike looked at her like she’d grown a second head. “Of course I do!” He ran a finger down her cheek and along the column of her neck. “Even when I hated you, when I wanted to kill you, I thought you were beautiful.” A wry smile on his lips, he added: “Not that I ever would have admitted it.” That last sentence got a giggle out of the Slayer, and both blondes were noticeably more at ease with these revelations.

“Stay with me tonight?” Buffy didn’t know where the question had come from. It was almost as if her mouth had opened of its own accord, although the thought had been at the back of her mind.

“Luv--I don’t think we should, not after...” Oh, how he wanted to. He wanted her so badly--it was like a raw ache. He needed to be close to her, to have her scent cover him, to feel her warm body pressed against his. But now was certainly not the time for that--he’d stake himself if he’d hurt her...

The Slayer blushed at his interpretation of her request. He thought she wanted to... oh! Not that that would be bad, not in the least... Just not tonight, though. “I know we can’t do that tonight. I just want you to hold me.” A bit of blackmail never hurt, either. “I’ll sleep much better with you here.”

“Alright, luv.” Yeah, twist my arm... Spike stood up, removed his boots and socks, and began to unbutton his shirt. He stopped suddenly, looking a bit awkward. “Uh, Slayer? How do you want to do this?”

Buffy hadn’t thought that far ahead yet. She herself was still dressed in her patrolling clothes. How were they going to do this? “Well, first of all, can you pass me the pyjamas that are on the chair, there?”

Spike tossed them to her and turned around to give her some privacy. It also allowed him to hide his smile from her--who knew that the Slayer wore pyjamas with monkeys on them? It was just another layer of Buffy that he was discovering. At her indication that she was decent, he turned back around to face her. Now the dilemma--what about him?

It felt awkward asking him this, but she had to ask: “Uh--do you wear boxers or briefs?”

Buffy so hadn’t been ready for his answer of ’neither’. Her face took on a bright red hue and her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. She squeaked out an “oh” before turning her attention to a very, very interesting flower on her bedspread. Hey, that’s a posy--never noticed that before...

Chuckling, the bleached vamp removed his shirt, and the T-shirt that was underneath. “Don’t worry, pet--I’ll leave the jeans on.” He moved to the bed, sliding under the covers, spooning Buffy’s body into his. “Now give in to sleep, love.” He pressed the flat of his hand against her abdomen and kissed the back of her neck. “You and the bit both need it.”

As she faded from consciousness, the last thoughts on Buffy’s mind were how good Spike’s body felt pressed against her, and easy it would be to fall asleep in his arms every night.

“Oh, this so hits the spot. I don’t remember ever being this hungry...” Buffy bit into her burger, moaning with delight.

Shaking her head, Willow couldn’t help but tease her friend. “Uh, what about last night? When you ate three very large pieces of lasagna?”

The young blonde narrowed her eyes at her friend. “Ha ha, Willow. So I’ve been eating a lot. This is the only time in my life that I’ve pretty much got a ‘get out of jail free’ card when it comes to food.” She looked around the food court and nodded towards one of the venues. “Could have been worse--I could have grabbed one of the combos at that Chinese food place. Betcha there’s a lot more fat and calories in one of those plates than there is in my burger.”

“And fries. And it’s a Big Bacon burger, Buffy--probably Wendy’s fattiest burger.” Her face scrunched as she tried to make out the menu from where they were seated. “Well, aside from the double burger. Uh, or the triple. Ok, maybe you’re right--you could be doing much worse.” Leaning over, conspiratorial grin on her face, she giggled. “Feels good, though, doesn’t it? You eating anything you want while I’m stuck here eating my ‘Spicy chicken hold the mayo’...”

Buffy nodded, but her smile quickly disappeared. “Willow, how am I going to manage? You saw the prices on all the baby stuff--I can’t afford any of it! I mean, even if I get the cheapest stuff out there, it’s still going to be astronomically expensive.” She began to count on her fingers. “Crib, change table, stroller, car seat, high chair... and what about the sheets and stuff for the crib? 150$!! My best sheets didn’t even cost that much!”

Her voice reached a high pitch. “I can see it now--I’ll have to find a nice big cardboard box and have the baby sleep in that, and I’ll line the bottom with some of my old sweaters...”

“Buffy!” Willow couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Didn’t her best friend remember the network of caring people who surrounded her? “What about your mom, or Giles, or even us--your friends? I’m sure that if we all pool in together to help you, you’ll manage just fine.”

It was as if the redhead hadn’t said a word. “Or maybe I’ll just have to pull a Spike and go to the dump. People throw cribs out, right?”

Willow realized that this topic wasn’t going to change. No matter what assurances she laid out, Buffy would either dismiss them or choose to ignore what was being said. At the mention of Spike’s name, the redhead decided to steer the conversation away from expenses.

“Speaking of Spike--what’s up between you two, anyway?” There. That should do it. She’d been trying to broach the subject for a couple of weeks, but never found the courage to bring the vampire up.

Buffy’s head snapped up as if she’d been hit. “Huh? Up? With Spike? Nothing’s up, nothing at all. There is nothing up with Spike. And me. There is nothing but a big... nothing.” She cringed at her denial, which sounded lame even to herself. By the mischievous look on her friend’s face, she knew that nothing but the truth would suffice.

“Come on, Buffy, you’re denying this way too obstinately. You guys have been acting differently for a good while now. First at the bronze, when we came back to find you two chatting it up like long lost friends, then after the hospital. Especially since the hospital--it’s like you guys are like... soulmates or something.” The redhead frowned at her statement. “Except that Spike doesn’t have a soul, although Tara is convinced that there is something special about him...”

Sighing, Buffy got ready to face the inevitable. Taking a long sip of her lemonade, she began to talk. “Ok, Wills--there is something. But before I say anything I want you to promise that you won’t wig out, and that you won’t tell anyone else.”

Willow nodded soberly, although she already knew that she’d be spilling every sordid detail to Tara. But she knew that Buffy had meant Giles, or Xander--and especially Anya.

“It started at the bronze--that night where you invited him to come sit with us. After you guys left to go dancing, we had words. I have to admit, he put me in my place--and rightly so.”

“Oh, Buffy--don’t say that!” The redhead reached across the table and put her hand over Buffy’s.

“But I needed it, Wills. Ever since I’d been ‘chosen’, I was taught that the world was black and white--demons bad, humans good--and even the Riley incident didn’t shake that belief. It took Spike’s brutal honesty to infuse a bit of reality--a bit of grey--in my world. He taunted me with Riley and I fought back, throwing my age-old line of him being evil, blah blah blah. Now that pissed him off. He reminded me of how he’d stuck by Dru, no matter what. Willow--you saw how loony she was. But he stuck by her for over a century, through thick and thin.” She let out a hoarse laugh. “And then there’s Riley, normal human, all-round good guy, who tucks tail and runs at the first sign of a challenge.”

The blonde looked down at her napkin, which she’d torn to shreds. Picking up the pieces and dropping them in her empty french fry container, she sighed. “Spike made me realize that everything is balanced. There’s often some good in evil, and some evil in good. It was a bit of an eye opener, but it was long overdue.”

Patting her friend’s hand, Willow spoke up. “Well, you were hard on Spike, even after he agreed to help you...” She pulled her hand back to finish the few tepid fries that remained in her own container. “But you haven’t gotten to any kissage yet... What about the hospital?”

Buffy smiled and shook her head. Just like old times--God how she’d missed this. “You’re going to be muy disappointed, Willow, because there isn’t any kissage. It just hasn’t happened yet.” Unfortunately, she thought inwardly. Her thoughts turned to the vampire’s soft, full lips and how they’d feel on hers. Flushing, she hid behind her drink.

“Everyone knows that it was Spike who took me to the hospital that night. What no one knows, though, is that he never left my side--not once--the whole time. He was like supporto-man, holding my hand, talking to me--I would never have gotten through it without him, Willow. I know that I’m the Slayer and everyone thinks that I’m the strongest person around, but Spike knew that night that I’m also just a regular young woman who, every now and then, needs someone else to be strong for her.”

The Slayer’s admission sent a pang of guilt through the young witch. “Oh, Buffy, I’m sorry. I mean, we never thought... You’re always the one we look up to...”

Shaking her head, the young blonde put a stop to her friend’s apology. “It’s ok, Wills. I appreciate you guys more than you can imagine. You’ve all been my safety net, ever since I came to Sunnydale. So don’t feel bad, please.”

“Anyway, Spike kept my mind off my problems--he talked to me, and he asked a lot of questions about what was going on. Imagine how weird it must be for him to be standing in an ultrasound room looking at the image of a foetus--last time he had anything to do with doctors was over a hundred years ago. He was so worried, so good to me that I think everyone thought that he was the baby’s father. After the doctors gave me a clean bill of health he took me home and simply held me while I slept. He didn’t ask for anything more than that--he seemed just as happy to hold me as I was by being held.”

Ok, Willow thought, so Tara’s reading of Spike wasn’t so far off. He may not have had a soul, but he had something more to him. Choice, for one--he chose to help them instead of hindering them, he chose to be there for Buffy instead of taking advantage of an injured Slayer. Which led to the fact that he seemed to have more control over his demon than any other vampire she’d ever met. Especially more than Angel, since he didn’t have a conscience/soul thrust upon him. So was he a dichotomy--William and the demon, separate in the same vessel, or was he simply ‘Spike’, both entities mixed into one? The redhead sighed. Looks like I’m not getting any sleep tonight.

But, for now, on to better things. “I don’t mean to sound like a broken record, but no kissage, not even a little?”

“Well, he did kiss me on the cheek when we were in the ultrasound room...” Buffy blushed at the memory. It was so weird--here she was, pregnant, yet she was blushing at the memory of a chaste kiss.

“Wait--was it a brotherly kiss on the cheek, or more than that?” It had been quite a while since the two girls had talked boys, but they both fell back into it easily.

The blonde’s eyes glazed over. “It was... You know when it’s almost as if it’s happening in slow motion, and you don’t want to close your eyes just in case you miss something? Like the look in his eyes, or how sexy it is when he licks his lips just before he kisses you?”

Willow nodded dumbly, knowing full well what she meant. Of course, these days she was substituting ‘he’ with ‘she’, but the feelings were still the same...

“And then your heart starts to beat so fast you think it’s going to burst right out of your chest and your hands get all clammy, and your body shakes in anticipation for just that kiss? Except that his lips don’t go on yours, they just brush past them and settle on your cheek but in some really weird way, that’s almost as good?”

The Slayer sighed again and slumped back in her uncomfortable food court chair. “That’s what it was, Willow. It wasn’t even on the lips but it was still so close. I could feel his breath on my skin, and I could smell cigarette and leather and whatever else that he smells like. And I must be such a sick person to feel like this because of a vampire--again--right?” Please say no, please say no...

Willow needed a moment to catch her breath. This was so beyond any boy talks they’d had when they were sixteen. So much hotter than the ‘I think he likes me--do you think he’ll kiss me?’ that Angel had brought about. “Oh, Buffy, it’s not wrong. So he’s a vampire. You yourself admitted that he’s loyal, he’s obviously head over heels about you, and--not to open any wounds--Riley proved that normal boys don’t necessarily make you happier. Go ahead with it--take a chance. Life is whatever you make of it--you want to hold back, wonder what would or could have been, then that’s your prerogative. But I think it’s more fun to follow your heart, to do what it thinks is right. You’ll be happier, you know...”

Buffy knew that somehow this little speech was no longer only about her and Spike. “You mean like with Tara?”

The witch’s eyes snapped up to her friend’s. She hadn’t told anyone about just how friendly she and Tara were, yet. So how did Buffy know? “How... how do you know about us?”

The Slayer couldn’t help but smile at her friend’s babbling. Obviously she’d worked hard at hiding it because she was afraid of what the others would think. “Don’t worry, Wills. None of the others know. Spike mentioned it one night over cocoa and it made sense to me all of a sudden.” She looked sheepish before continuing. “I have to admit I was a bit wigged at first, but Spike reminded me that we don’t always choose who we fall for. And you’ve been happier these past few weeks than in a long, long time. I just want you to know that I’m here for you, no matter what.”

Both girls became a little teary at the show of affection; this simple fast food meal having strengthened their friendship like nothing else.

Willow sniffled and began to gather all her garbage on her tray. “Well, if you’re done, why don’t we get going? Maybe we can buy the baby a little outfit or something, you know--to make you feel better.”

They both grabbed their trays and headed out of the food court.

“Maybe I can get a job--nothing too hard, just a way to make a bit of money. I’m sure there’s something out there that I can do until the baby’s born.”

Willow slipped her arm through Buffy’s as they entered Baby Gap. “I know a girl who worked at Sunnydale U last summer grading papers. Mind-numbing, but the hours were good and the pay was ok. I can ask her about it if you want...”

Author’s note: Ok, guys--you’ll notice that the chapters will start to slow down sometime soon. I’ve got the story written and beta’d up to chapter 16, but I’m still working on the rest. My writing has slowed down a bit, what with the Christmas holidays coming up (clean the house for guests--yikes!!) and pre-natal classes that I have twice a week. I’m writing in the spare time I have, but the story is getting harder as the pregnancy progresses (Buffy’s, I mean)--I want to make sure that I don’t just end this with a ‘and everybody lived happily together’. Anyhoo, I thought I’d just give you folks a bit of a warning :)

“Argh! This is so stupid! I haven’t even gained a pound and nothing fits anymore...” Buffy was poring through her closet in search of something decent to wear to a job interview that coming Monday. Willow’s friend had proved to be a valuable source, even going so far as arranging a meeting between her former employer--the head of the Psychology department--and Buffy. But as the day approached--she only had three days to go--her nerves were beginning to get the best of her.

Joyce Summers sat on her daughter’s bed, a paragon of patience. “Honey, it’s not that you haven’t gained any weight, it’s just that what you have is being redistributed to other places. Remember how you mentioned that your rings and bracelets seemed looser? You’re almost nineteen weeks pregnant, Buffy. It’s only natural that your pants don’t fit--your tummy’s beginning to fill out and your hips are getting wider. Just consider yourself lucky that you escaped the Grant curse--it happened to your Grandma, to your aunt Susan and to me: our breasts doubled in size within the first three months.” She added, mumbling to herself, “not that your father minded...”

“Mom! Ugh--I don’t need to know about that between you and dad. That’s just ooky...” The Slayer looked up from the latest pile of clothing. “But you do have a point there, mom. I’m so not looking forward to the Pamela Anderson look.”

The young woman refocused on her search, leaving a trail of discarded shirts and pants. Maybe if she’d adopted the homeboy look, her pants would still fit. She shuddered at the image of herself in four-times too big pants and a cap on sideways. Ugh, maybe not...

The two women jumped at the sound of the kitchen door opening. Their gazes fell on Buffy’s alarm clock at the same time. It read 11:19pm. The same name came out of both their mouths at once: “Spike”.

Stretching her legs, Joyce managed to heave herself off of the bed. “Keep looking, honey. I’ll go start the cocoa.”

With that, Buffy was left to her own devices. A few minutes passed before her patience began to wane. “Ok, clothes. It’s me versus you. I’ve defeated Fyarl demons, Chrysalis demons and really smelly vampires. I’ll find something to wear even if it kills me.” A tingling at the back of her neck informed her that she was no longer alone. “Come in, Spike. I know you’re there.”

Damn that Slayer sense of hers. Chuckling, the vampire found a spot on the bed which was free of any clothing. “You usually hold discourse with your clothes, Slayer, or is this a pregnancy thing?”

“Shut up, bleached wonder. I’m not in a mood to put up with your crap tonight.” The young woman pulled a skirt off its hanger, stared at it for a moment and shut the closet door. Maybe *this* one will fit... Through the door, she heard the vampire’s voice.

“No need to get huffy. Your mum told me about your earth-shattering dilemma, pet.”

The closet door slammed open and a flushed and frustrated Slayer appeared. “Again, Spike--shut up. If you’re only here to bust my ass you might as well go downstairs and keep mom entertained.” Pouting, she threw the skirt over the bleached blonde’s head. “I have a job interview on Monday and I’d like to show up in something other than jogging pants.”

The vampire’s response, “Don’t know, pet--bet you’re right sexy in jogging pants”, earned him a glare. Maybe not the right thing to say just then...

“Seriously, though--what am I going to do? I need to make some money to buy stuff for the baby.” Her arms dropped to her side before she gave up. “This is useless. None of my nice clothes fit anymore and I really can’t afford to buy any new ones.” Looking up to her new friend, she asked in a quiet voice “what am I gonna do, Spike?”

The master vampire couldn’t handle seeing her pout or the crestfallen expression on her face. He spread his arms in invitation. “C’mere, luv.”

Buffy couldn’t help but do what he’d asked. As far as the Slayer’s stressful days went, this one wouldn’t even make it onto the stress-o-meter; but for Buffy-the-girl, it had been one shitty day. She made her way over to the vampire, who took her in his arms and sat her on his lap like a child, cradling her against his solid chest. Any other day, she would have told him to piss off, but for some reason Spike’s arms were a much-needed haven for her at that moment.

“You doing anything tomorrow, luv?”

The young woman pulled away and stared at him, eyes narrowing. Now what was he up to? “No... why?”

The vampire picked her up and set her on her feet before getting up off the bed. “Good. I’ll pick you up at five.” He placed a soft kiss on her brow before walking to the hallway.

Snuh? “Whoa--hold on! Why will you be here at five tomorrow?” What kind of weird plans were going through his mind, and why did they involve her?

Spike let out a sigh. When would she just trust him? “Look, pet. I want to take you to LA to find you some clothes. ‘S nothing more than that.”

Buffy’s eyes grew large. “Shopping in LA? Are you insane? When was the last time you actually paid for clothes out there? I can’t afford to shop there!”

“That’s cause you’re not shopping in the right stores, love.”

“Have you been drinking bad blood or something? There’s no way you’re dragging me to some demon stores, no matter how desp...” The vampire’s hand on her mouth shut out any further sounds from escaping.

Spike managed to speak, although the feel of her warm breath on his palm was driving him to distraction. “You could afford the demon shops even less than the human ones, luv. And that’s not what I’m suggestin’. I’m talking second hand stores. Now, I don’t mean the dingy ones you have out here in Sunnyhell, I’m talkin’ about the ones where the rich folks’ clothes go. Imagine buying Holt Renfrew or Chanel for ten or fifteen dollars...”

Buffy ripped his hand from her mouth. “Really? You’re not teasing me, are you?” She turned to look at her wardrobe--a small infusion of high fashion wouldn’t do it any harm, even if she could only wear it for 5 months. “Ok, Spike. It’s a deal, but only on one condition.”

“What’s that, pet?”

“We have to stop at Gerry’s for some ice cream. I’ve been dying for their moose tracks for ages now...”

***

Ok, so maybe Spike hadn’t been exaggerating after all...

Buffy held up a pair of flared maternity jeans. Who knew that maternity clothes could be this nice? The size was right--she’d read that she should stick to the same size she usually wore--but they didn’t look like they’d fit when she’d be that much bigger.

She stood there eyeing them suspiciously, until another woman walked up to her.

“Not sure if you like them?”

Buffy turned to the woman and showed her the pants. “Actually, I love them. It just seems like they won’t be big enough to last me through my pregnancy.”

The lady took the clothing from the Slayer and showed her an elastic at the waist. “See this elastic? It’s adjustable--you make it as tight as you need at first, and then you give it some slack as your belly grows. You’ll notice a lot of different kind of pants out there--some will have the elastics, like this one, some will have zippers or buttons at the sides and some will just have panels at the front.” Seeing the young woman’s look of confusion, she returned the pants and patted her on the back. “Don’t worry, honey. You’ll get the hang of it.”

“Thanks.” Buffy took the pants and looked at them once again. The elastic did make sense, in some demented sort of way. Returning her attention to the stack of clothing she had in her cart, she tossed the pants onto it. She already had two blouses, three shirts, a couple of skirts and the jeans. Now that she understood the mechanics of maternity pants, she set her sights on acquiring a few more pairs. Hey, they were all dirt cheap and in amazing condition--how could she not help herself to a cartload of clothing?

“Find anything, luv?” Spike’s eyebrow shot up when he saw the amount of clothing that Buffy had pulled off the racks. Holding up the jeans, he muttered “guess so...”

The Slayer turned to the vampire and saw that he was holding an armload of black clothing. “So this is where you get your endless supply of ‘Big Bad’ wardrobe, huh? I figured you just stole them at the mall or something.”

The bleached blonde faked a hurt expression. “Haven’t nicked anything in a good while, pet. Told you I was behavin’. Anyway, at the price I get stuff here it’s damned near stealing. Lot less trouble than avoiding the cameras and security guards, too.”

Buffy smiled, shaking her head. “That’s good to know--hard to believe, but good to know.” She looked around the store, still amazed at the goods it held. “You know, I think I’m gonna take up shopping here after the baby’s born...”

The announcement that came on the overhead speakers, announcing the store’s closing in fifteen minutes, got Buffy moving. “I guess that’s good enough for today. You got everything you wanted?”

“Yeah, I did. I’m just wonderin’ if you’re done--I mean, there are a couple of pieces of clothing still left on the rack...” Spike barely avoided the Slayer’s playful slap before commandeering her shopping cart. “C’mon pet--let’s get you back home before your mom thinks we’ve eloped.”

They didn’t get very far before Buffy began to tug on the vampire’s coat sleeve. “Ooh! Look! Turn down here for a sec--I just want to look at something.” Before he knew what was happening, he saw her staring at the baby furniture.

“Spike--look at this crib. Isn’t it beautiful? I mean, a little Goo-Gone and I could get the stickers off of it. But it’s just as nice as the ones Willow and I were looking at at the mall a few weeks ago, and it’s only $50...” Her hand caressed the crib’s side rail as she walked around it. “Aside from the stickers, it’s almost new--it doesn’t have any bumps or nicks, and” she rattled the bed’s frame “it’s still as solid as the new ones.”

She hadn’t heard any noise from the vampire--no snide comments about how close they’d been to the checkout, so she turned around to see if he’d actually followed her. Her eyes fell upon him as he was inspecting a stroller. Of all the weird things she’d seen in her short lifetime--and man, had she seen some weird shit--the sight of Spike, William the Bloody, poking and prodding a baby stroller topped them all. Coming up quietly behind him, she tapped him on the shoulder. “Wanna go for a ride? Maybe like a test drive?” She snickered at her joke, finding it quite funny, but was surprised by the vampire’s curt snarl.

“Come on--place is almost closing.” He couldn’t put words to how all this made him feel. Up to this moment, Spike had shared everyone’s eagerness in the baby’s coming. But as he looked the stroller over--especially the sun guard--he realized that this whole situation was far beyond anything he could handle. Not because of Buffy and their burgeoning relationship, not because of how much a baby cost--either in emotional or financial costs--but because of everything that he wouldn’t be able to do.

He’d never be able to take the baby out for a mid-day stroll--he’d have to find a way to hide under the blasted sun guard with the baby--never be able to go to the park, or the beach, or do anything that normal fathers did. And the realization of this hit him hard. How could he have been so stupid, so blind, as to ignore this? Vampires didn’t play daddy--they killed kids. Ate them. Not rock them to sleep, or help them with their revision.

He knew it was unfair to take this out on the Slayer--after all, it wasn’t her fault. None of it was, but he couldn’t help but be in a pissy mood afterwards. Better to bottle it in than to create a scene in a store, anyway, no?

Buffy didn’t know what had come over Spike. One minute he was teasing her, whistling as he pushed the cart, the next he was pretty much biting her head off. She went over everything she’d said, but couldn’t find anything that could have offended him. She promised to bring it up later--anywhere but in the store--but for now, she’d let him brood. Only for now, though...

***

They’d been driving for fifteen minutes and still Spike hadn’t said a word. He’d still opened the car door for her--guess manners don’t take a break, no matter what kind of mood he’s in--but not a sound had come out of his mouth. Buffy was at her wit’s end, trying to figure out what had gotten to him. Well, she thought to herself, there’s no better way of knowing what’s going through that thick skull of his than to ask point-blank...

“Can you pull over, please?”

The Slayer’s voice surprised him for a moment. The silence in the car had almost fooled him into thinking that he was alone. “What?”

“Pull. Over.” Maybe if she used small one-word sentences he’d understand better.

Spike did as she asked, but kept his gaze ahead of them. He had a funny feeling that she was going to want to have ‘a talk’.

“Thanks. Now spill.” Before he had time to play stupid, she continued. “And don’t ‘what do you mean, spill?’ me. Something’s been bugging you ever since we were in the store and you need to get it off your chest.” When he turned to look at her, clear blue eyes resigned to give in, she couldn’t help but take his hand in hers. “You know you can tell me anything, Spike. Please don’t keep this to yourself--good friends are there to listen, you know.”

The vampire sighed heavily. “Buffy, it’s nothing against you, it’s just that... When we were at the store, lookin’ at all the baby stuff, it just dawned on me how stupid this all is. And I don’t mean that you having a baby is stupid, I mean my actually getting all worked up about it is.” When he was sure she wasn’t going to interrupt, although her body language screamed that she was just chomping a the bit to do just that, he continued his explanation. “Vampires aren’t meant to take care of babies. If we were, we’d be able to go out into the sun--take the bits to the zoo or whatever activities folks do with their kids, but we’re not. I can’t do what all your Scoobies can. I can’t go out for an afternoon stroll, I can’t sit out in the backyard and look for four-leafed clovers, I can’t...”

As touched as she was by his admission, Buffy was tired of hearing ‘I can’t’s. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t... Spike, why don’t you concentrate on what you can do? You can take the baby out trick or treating, you’ll be able to go to school plays--they’re almost always held at nighttime, you can play with it inside, watch stupid tv shows with it. There’s so much that you can do--you just have to use your imagination a little.” She took his hand and placed it on the slight swell of her belly. “This baby will have so many people in its life. And every single one of them will have a different role to play. So yours won’t take place outside during the day--it doesn’t mean that you won’t be loved as much as the others.” It doesn’t mean that you aren’t loved as much... But Buffy wasn’t ready to reveal that much information so soon.

Spike didn’t know what to say. A million thoughts raced through his mind, but all were insufficient as a response to the Slayer’s calming words. Instead, he pulled her into a tight hug, pressing her warm body against his. “Thanks so much, pet.”

The quiet that followed during the remainder of the ride home was a comfortable one, where both blondes were lost deep in thought, connected only by their entwined fingers.

It had been so long since Buffy had allowed herself to have some fun. Sure, she’d gone bronzing with her friends, but even then she had to be the Slayer, always keeping an eye open for demon activities—stupid vamps were always looking for an easy meal, or rather, stupid kids were always allowing themselves to become easy meals... But tonight, she was just plain Buffy Summers, date of Spike… the 120 year-old vampire.

Ok, so maybe it wasn’t completely a normal date, but it was as close as she could ever get.

As they approached the admission booth, both blondes were assaulted by a wall of scents. Buffy’s mouth watered at the smell of all the different foods, while Spike got a rush from the fear rolling off those braving the wilder rides.

Buffy’s mind travelled back to the last time she’d been at a fair. She was only 8 years old, and had gone with her parents. Her dad had won her Mr. Gordo that night—maybe that’s one of the reasons why the stuffed pig meant so much to her. Any happy memories of her old life, the ones where her parents were together, where she wasn’t the chosen one, were cherished and held dear to her heart. She was startled out of her reverie when her date’s hand clasped around hers.

“Penny for your thoughts.” Spike had watched as Buffy’s eyes glazed over, the girl obviously lost in thought. What was she thinking about? Were horrible memories being dredged back to the forefront of her mind? Had something bad happened to her at a fair once? However, the quiet smile she was wearing eased his worries—must be some nice memory, then. Always better that way…

Buffy looked up at her companion and smiled. “Just thinking about when Dad won me Mr. Gordo.” She sighed, leaning into him intimately. “Things were so much easier back then, you know? I mean, Mom and Dad got along—or at least pretended to, I wasn’t the Slayer…” Turning to look at him, she continued. “You know, I used to be a cheerleader. I was really good at it, too. I thought I was normal, just like all the other girls.”

Spike didn’t know what to say to that. He’d always known her as the Slayer, but he should have guessed that at one time, she may simply have been ‘Buffy the girl’. He just squeezed her hand and pulled her in closer to him, kissing her on the top of her head. Sometimes words weren’t necessary to convey sympathy.

It was so nice to have someone to talk to, someone who would understand—not just out of empathy, but out of really knowing what it was like. Buffy truly appreciated Spike’s quiet listening skills—who would’ve thought that the hyper-energetic vampire would be a good listener? “Thanks Spike. It’s nice to be able to share this with someone who’s been through it, in a sense.”

“It’s no problem, luv, really.” Spike stopped mid march and looked around. “So, what do you want to do first?”

***

“Ugh. I think I’m gonna be sick.” Buffy sat down on a bench and groaned, hand over her stomach.

Spike pulled his duster in and sat down, after checking for wads of gum. Never can be too sure, in these kinds of places. “Well, eating cotton candy, caramel popcorn, beer nuts and a hot dog will do that to you, I suppose.”

Snickering, the Slayer stretched out. “Guess it’s good we hopped on the rides beforehand, then.”

Echoing his date’s laugh, the vampire couldn’t help but agree. “Don‘t know--it might have rated high on the entertainment factor. Especially when we went on ferris wheel.” He got a twinkle in his eye as he continued. “Would have had tons of targets then, luv.”

Buffy’s nose crinkled. “Eww! But it would have been funny, huh?”

Both blondes shared a chuckle at the expense of potential victims. They sat on the bench in a comfortable silence, watching the other fair-goers go to and fro. Buffy’s attention was captured by a couple with two young children. The kids had had their faces painted—one like a clown, the other like a cat—and were running in circles, flying plastic airplanes around their parents. Sighing, she leaned in closer to Spike, worming her way under his arm.

Gauging the Slayer’s reaction, Spike was sure that they’d been watching the same family. Kids had always annoyed him, even before he was turned. Boisterous, loud, always asking embarrassing or unanswerable questions. How the hell was he supposed to know why the sky was blue, or why some flowers were yellow while others were white? But now, with the nibblet on the way, his attitude was slowly changing. Babies weren’t little crying bundles of piss—they were amazing little miracles, taking everything in like little sponges. And kids weren’t so irritating anymore—he realized, despite himself, that he was more like one than he’d ever wanted to admit. Or so he’d been told more than once by pretty much everyone he knew.

“You thinking ‘bout the bit, luv?”

“Yeah. It’s just so weird that this little bump—well, not so little anymore—is going to turn out to be like those two kids. I’m gonna have to start to think about kissing scraped knees, carrying quarters in my wallet for those rides at the mall, sewing patches on the knees of his or her jeans. I’m eager for it, but scared out of my wits at the same time, you know? I mean, what if I’m not up to it? What if I forget the kid in the carseat like you read in the papers, or what if I feed it something that I shouldn’t, or…”

Spike placed a finger on her mouth, interrupting her rant. “Buffy, you’re going to make a great mum. The fact that you’re worried about all this stuff—needlessly, really—is a good indication that you’re gonna do the right thing. You have lots of people to help you—some folks don’t even have that. I believe in you, and so should you.”

Buffy gazed at the vampire without saying a word and just slowly shook her head. Bringing a hand up to trace one of his sharp cheekbones, she asked him. “Has this Spike always been in there? Drusilla was such a dumbass for ever leaving you…” Before he had time to sulk, or to reminisce about lost loves, Buffy pulled him in for a searing kiss. She’d show him that he was missing nothing.

Spike was the first to pull away, giving the Slayer a chance to catch her breath. He rested his forehead against hers, trying to slow his breathing. His hands made their way to her face, gently placing loose wisps of hair back behind her ears. Unable to resist the feel of her warm skin, he kept his fingers in contact with her face, carefully tracing its outline. “God, Slayer—the things you do to me…”

A wicked look came upon Buffy’s face and she found herself speaking before her brain had grasped what she was about to say. “But you haven’t given me the chance to do anything yet.” When the words had left her mouth her eyes grew large and a blush creeped up her cheeks. “Oh! What I mean is… uhm…” The words, however, wouldn’t come. Truth of the matter was that she’d meant what she’d said, and by the look on the vampire’s face, he knew it.

Before Spike could say a word, Buffy spoke up. “You know what? Screw it. I’m old enough to decide what I want to do, and if that means I want to go do a bit of parking with my boyfriend, well—so be it.”

The bleached blonde’s voice was only a whisper. “What… what did you say?”

Not realizing that she’d said anything revealing, the Slayer’s brow furrowed. “What? I said if I want to go parking with my boyfriend, I…” Then it dawned on her. She’d called Spike her boyfriend. Funny word to describe the 120 year-old master vampire who’d become her constant companion, her anchor, her friend. Ok, maybe not so funny after all. Well, sounds like a good description of a boyfriend to me…

Spike’s eyes betrayed him. As much as his face had lost all emotion and his stance screamed indifference, his eyes said otherwise. Buffy’s reaction to her announcement could either strengthen or dissolve the relationship that they had built up during the past couple of months.

Taking his hands in hers, she locked her hazel gaze on the vampire. “It’s not such a far cry from what we are, is it, Spike? I mean, we go on dates, we chat over hot chocolate, we’ve kissed… That’s what people who are in a normal relationship do, isn’t it?”

His shoulders dropped and he expelled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Sometimes this human body of his divulged way too much about his inner thoughts… “Don’t rightly know, luv, seeing as I’ve never been in a ‘normal’ relationship before. I mean, what Dru and I had, it wasn’t what you’d call the quintessential boyfriend/girlfriend relationship. So I don’t know what it is that we have, but I can say that whatever it is, I’d like to see where it’s leading.”

Buffy got up off the bench, tightly gripping the stuffed animal that Spike won her at the shooting gallery. Sarcastically, she thought to herself: Gee, who would’ve thought that Spike was a good shot? She held her hand out to him in invitation. “C’mon. Let’s go find somewhere where we can talk in private…” The smirk on her lips ensured that he’d get her drift—or so she hoped, at least.

***

They’d hardly made it out of the parking lot before Spike found himself forced to pull the car off the road. Buffy had been boldly staring at him while licking her lips and lightly tracing her fingers up and down his thigh, each time closer to where he needed her most. The engine wasn’t even shut off before he found himself with a very aroused Slayer on his lap.

Buffy couldn’t handle any more of this ‘taking it slow’. She wanted Spike, and she wanted him now. It had been at least three months since she’d last had sex--going solo just didn’t cut it anymore for this girl. Pressed up against his hard chest, feeling his erection pressing into her centre, she couldn’t help but go with the flow. She brought her mouth down to his for a long, hot kiss that had them both panting for more.

Spike’s brain was unable to process all that was going on. One second he’s driving, the next he’s got Buffy grinding down against him, pulling his t-shirt out of his pants. The smell of her arousal was intoxicating and it took everything in his power to push his demon back down. He tried to speak in between kisses. “Buffy, love...” “Hold on a sec...” “Please...”

It finally got through to Buffy that the object of her desire, the man who she was straddling... who she was practically raping... was asking her to stop. Embarrassed, she slid off him, mumbling apology after apology, looking at anything but him. Good going, Buffy. Your overactive hormones just pushed away Spike, of all guys!

“Buffy, please look at me.”

She turned to do as he asked, cheeks still burning.

“You know I want you so bad, but this isn’t what I ever envisioned for our first time, luv. As much as I love my DeSoto it isn’t exactly the place for romancing the woman of my dreams.” God, how he wanted her. Seeing her beside him, chest heaving with exhilaration, skin rosy from the heat of their actions, it was all he could do to stop himself from pulling her into a lying position on the seat and ploughing into her.

So he did want her, but just not here. The wheels in Buffy’s brain were turning, processing what the vampire had just told her. Was he doing this for her, or for him? Knowing him, it was most likely for her. “Spike? If I was offering, if I didn’t care in the least where our first time was--I mean, as long as I’m with you, I don‘t mind... What I’m trying to say is I haven’t had sex in over three months, and right now? I’m not really picky as to where it happens, just as long as it happens.” She held her breath, waiting for his answer.

A small cry escaped her as Spike grabbed her by the leg, pulling her into a lying position on the seat. Quicker than she’d realized what had happened, her body was covered by that of the very, very, aroused vampire.

This was it. The one moment that he hadn’t even allowed himself to think of, outside of his dreams. Of course, he’d never had any control over his dreams, but any naughty Slayer-related thoughts had resided there, and only there. Until now, it seemed. Lying on top of her, feeling her writhing beneath him, was more than his lust-addled brain could handle. The vampire pulled himself up off of Buffy and looked into the hazel depths of her eyes. “You sure about this, love? I... I might not be able to hold back if we really get started.” Of course, this wasn’t true--he’d stop in an instant if she decided to change her mind. This was more like a plea--don’t tease me if you don’t mean it.

But she did. She meant every whimper, every grind of her hips. Buffy wanted him so bad, it was hard to believe she’d held back for so long. “Yes, I want this, Spike. I want you to make love to me, and I don’t care if it’s in the front seat of your old... of your car.” Best not to insult his baby if she wanted him to continue...

“Good.” He pressed his mouth to hers, tracing the warm velvet of her lips with his tongue. She responded in kind, rubbing her own tongue against his before reaching up to nip at his lower lip. He felt her fingertips underneath his shirt, dancing along the length of his spine, slowly tracing every vertebra one by one until she reached the waistband of his jeans.

She was so grateful that she’d worn a skirt. When she’d seen the cargo-style skirt at the second-hand store, she’d fallen in love with it immediately. It was comfortable, stylish and allowed for her extra girth. Now, as the vampire’s hand slowly made its way up her thigh, she realized it had other virtues as well. Who would have thought that at 21 weeks pregnant she’d be thanking the powers that be for easy-access maternity clothing?

Her skin was so hot. Sizzling, almost--burning to the touch. Spike could hear the blood rushing through her veins and it was driving him absolutely crazy. Licking a path down the slim column of her neck, he used his teeth to undo the buttons of her blouse, while at the same time running a hand up her leg towards her panties.

Wow. If that mouth could undo a blouse, what kind of other delightful things could it do to her? Buffy’s mind was racing a mile a minute, trying all at once to concentrate on pleasuring Spike and not frying under the vampire’s ministrations. It was much easier said than done, although she was doing a pretty good job of removing his belt and working his fly open. It dawned on her, as she began to slide his pants down, that he didn’t wear any underwear.

And she thought she couldn’t get more turned on...

If Spike prayed to any deity, he would have thanked it for the front-clasp bra that the Slayer was wearing. One hand busy holding him up and the other pulling her knickers down, he had no other option but to keep using his mouth to remove her upper body clothing. Not that he was complaining in the least, especially not when her perfect breasts fell out. He darted his tongue out, teasing the hard nipple of one mound, alternating between licking it and sucking on it. He nearly bit down when he felt Buffy’s small hand finally grasp his cock, moving up and down, aided by the pre-cum that was leaking out of its tip.

Buffy wiggled under Spike’s weight, trying to shimmy out of her panties and keep a grip on his erection all at once. She still couldn’t believe just how much she wanted him. Not just because of his body, although--hello!--no complaints there, but it was equally because of the bond they’d formed over the past few months.

It was so hard, though, to concentrate on anything with the vamp lavishing attention on her body. Every suck, every nibble, every lick to her breasts shot straight to her centre. The back of her mind registered the feel of his other hand--the one that wasn‘t holding him up--at the apex of her thighs, slowly tracing the folds of her pussy, pausing a little longer at her clit to pinch and tease.

When she’d finally managed to pull one of her legs from the underwear, it was all she could do to just moan “Oh, God, Spike--please...”, thrusting her pelvis up into his, pulling his cock towards her centre.

If Spike had learned anything in over a century, it was to never deny a woman what she wanted. He sat back, taking his weight off his hands. Rolling her skirt up until it was bunched at her waist, he leaned back over her. It was all so surreal--here he was, in the front seat of the DeSoto, with the Slayer underneath him, head thrown back, bearing her neck to him, hips thrusting up. He’d stake himself for sure if he woke up before this dream was over...

Buffy had closed her eyes when she saw the vampire sit back on his haunch. More than anything, she wanted to concentrate on every sensation of their first coupling. But when nothing happened--Oh God, this isn’t another of those dreams, is it?--she ventured to open one eye to see what was going on.

She saw Spike sitting back, awe and fear in his eyes. “Spike,” she managed to whisper, “this is for real. Make love to me...” She held her arms out in invitation, relieved when the vampire didn’t hesitate for one instant.

The moment he was back on top of her, Spike positioned himself at her entrance. Locking eyes with hers, he slowly slid in, gasping at her heat. “Christ, Buffy. So goddamned hot--you’re gonna burn me, baby.”

Thrusting her hips upwards, matching his every movement, Buffy couldn’t believe how good this felt. Not that sex had never been good before, because she’d be lying if she said that. But it was different with Spike--not only did he fill her completely in a physical sense, but she also felt complete with him inside of her. Like in Plato’s Republic, which she had studied in first year Philosophy, where every person had another half that they spent their lifetime searching for. She felt like she’d found hers, and that they were finally together, finally whole.

He didn’t know how long he could last. The sensation of her centre, which clutched at him like a warm glove, sent an electric current through him. For the first time in well over a century his body remembered what it felt like to be alive. Nerves tingling, muscles flexing, the warmth of her body transferred to his; if he didn’t know any better, he’d expect to begin breathing at any moment.

She could feel the pressure building up. It had been so long, and she was so turned on by just being with Spike, that just the slow, sensual, rhythm of their coupling was enough to send Buffy over the edge. Clutching the bleached blonde’s shoulders , she let herself give in to her orgasm, let it wash over her, screaming his name as her body rode out its release.

When the Slayer’s internal muscles began to contract around his cock, tight enough to nearly pull it off, Spike was also tossed over the edge. Roaring, he tucked his head in the crook of her neck, trying his best not to thrust too far in--wouldn’t help to hurt the baby, now would it? He pushed the demon back, concentrating instead on the more human aspects of their coupling’s aftermath. How right it felt to have Buffy’s arms and legs wrapped around him, her breath tickling the sensitive skin of his neck, her centre still pulsing its orgasmic aftershocks.

“I love you.” Both blondes stiffened at their dual confession, pulling back to look in each other’s eyes. Neither had meant to say it out loud, but both were relieved to: a) have it out in the open and b) have the feeling reciprocated. They remained silent for a while, not really feeling a need to say anything more than those three words.

Finally, Spike pulled back a little, rolling to the side. The DeSoto’s seats were more than wide enough to allow him to lie on his side beside the Slayer. When he went to smooth Buffy’s skirt back down her legs, she stopped him.

“Hold on--I think I might need to clean up. I don’t really want to have to explain a huge wet spot to Mom when I get back home.” She popped open the glove box and pulled out the napkins she’d put there a few weeks back when they’d stopped for ice cream on their trip to LA. She cleaned herself up, tossing the used tissues aside. She smiled when Spike gently slid her skirt back down--modesty wasn’t something she’d expect the vampire to respect.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Spike pulled the skirt’s waist down below Buffy’s belly. Her stomach finally had that specific baby swell to it, instead of the ‘is she fat?’ belly she’d previously had. Tracing its outline and leaning down to kiss it, he looked back up at Buffy. She still hadn’t done up her blouse or bra and her nipples were still hard--more likely because it was beginning to get a little cold in the car.

“So how old’s the bit now?”

“I’m at 21 weeks--which means the baby’s about 19 weeks old.” Buffy’s love for Spike grew as she watched him examine her belly, holding his ear close up against it... Everything that Riley had rejected, this vampire seemed to embrace.

Still in deep concentration, Spike kept up the twenty questions. “How big is it, then?” Her stomach still wasn’t that big, but he knew he’d been able to pick up a heartbeat nonetheless.

“Well, according to the book I’m reading it would be about the size of a banana.” She paused, bit her lip, and decided to go ahead and ask. “Can you hear anything? I can feel it moving sometimes--kinda feels like gas, to be honest... But it always reassures me to actually hear the heartbeat when I go to the doctor.”

Pulling the skirt back up over her belly, Spike sat up, helping Buffy up as well. As he did her bra back up--not before placing one last kiss on each mound--and buttoned up her shirt, he nodded. “Yeah, I could hear the heartbeat. Wouldn’t have known what it was if I hadn’t heard it on that contraption they used at the hospital, but it’s still beating just as fast, and just as strong.” He finished pulling his own pants back up before leaning over to place a kiss on the young woman’s lips.

“I mean what I said, love. Don’t think I said it just because we had ourselves an amazing moment.”

“Me too--I really meant it, Spike. I never even said it to Riley, but with you--it’s just so obvious to me that I wanted to let you know, too.”

A small silence followed, broken by Spike’s sigh. “Well, we should get you back home. Joyce’ll think that I’ve sold you to the carnies.”

“Hey, Buffster--how high do you want the border?”

The Scooby gang was gathered at Buffy’s house, helping her decorate the baby’s room. This hadn’t been something she’d felt comfortable even thinking about earlier on in her pregnancy, but now that she was 24 weeks along, she no longer had that superstitious feeling that putting too much energy into preparing for the baby was going to jinx everything.

“I don’t know. What do you think about putting it lower, so the baby can see it when it begins to move around? Like about ‘so’ high?” She put her hand at the wall at hip level.

Tara turned around from painting the baseboards. “Oh, that’s good, Buffy. I don’t know why people put it high up--the baby won’t ever see it up there.”

Willow put her own paint brush down and nodded. “Yeah, unless they levitate the crib or something...”

A look passed between the two witches, who began to giggle.

Xander and Buffy looked at each other, eyebrows raised. It was obviously some inside joke that neither of them wanted in on.

“That’s about three feet. Ok--I’ll go fill the wallpaper tub with water and get to work.”

The Slayer nodded, and returned to her own task of trying to figure out the blinds. She smiled and patted her belly as she felt the baby move. In the past week, she’d begun to feel the movements during the day, instead of just at night when she lay down to sleep. “You getting excited about your room? I hope you like what we’re doing to it. It’s called ‘renovating on a budget’.” She rubbed the swell of her belly once again. “You’re kinda gonna have to get used to that...”

“Ooh! Is the baby moving around?” Willow dropped her paintbrush onto the newspaper and ran over to her friend. Putting her hands on ‘mommy’s belly, she closed her eyes and concentrated. After about thirty seconds her eyes opened and her mouth formed a definite pout. “Pooh... It always stops moving...”

“That’s ok, Wills. The only other person it moves for is Sp...” She caught herself as Xander walked into the room. “Mom! Is mom--that ‘Special’ mom person, who the baby moves for... also...” Ugh, could her cover-up be any worse? She wasn’t sure how to go about telling the rest of her friends about her burgeoning relationship with the vampire. Burgeoning? More like burgeoned, if that was a word...

Truth was, the baby moved most in Spike’s presence. Maybe it was the cadence of his voice, maybe it was because Buffy was happiest when he was around, maybe it was because he spent lots of time talking to it through her belly. Either way, a few simple words from Spike, like “Evenin’ luv”, would have the baby doing a Riverdance.

Willow and Tara just smiled, knowing perfectly well what Buffy was about to say. But it was up to their friend to announce her new ‘boyfriend’ to the rest of the gang, and they respected that right. They knelt back down, wanting to get the second coat on the moulding before calling it quits. As much as they loved helping Buffy, crawling around on all fours, painting an 8” colonial-style baseboard wasn’t what they’d consider a fun chore. Fun was going to be deciding where to put the crib, decorating the walls with decals, helping shop for the cutest lamp...

An hour later, the four friends sat down on the room’s floor, exhausted. In just one afternoon, they’d managed to give the moulding two coats of paint, install roller blinds, put up the wallpaper border and, thanks to Xander, fix the light fixture that had never worked.

Buffy wiped at her forehead and turned to Xander. “So, where’s Anya, again?”

“She’s working at a self-imposed inventory. She does it every week or so. I think she’s afraid to be low on eye of newt or something... She sends her regards, though.”

The Slayer’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

“Uh, not exactly. It went something more like ‘Lie for me, Xander. Tell Buffy I’m sorry I couldn’t come--but you know as well as I do that I’d much rather count my money than do actual physical labour.’ The thought’s what counts, though...”

The three girls shook their heads in wonder. Anya’s bluntness was something that grew on you, something that you really had to work at to appreciate. It was just part of the Anya package, along with her neverending drive to impart wisdom (usually in regards to sex, or banking).

They were startled by the sound of the kitchen door opening, but Buffy knew immediately who it was. Time for the big showdown, she mused.

“That’s the food--I’ll go set it out in the dining room, if you guys want to get cleaned up.” Without giving them a chance to answer, the young blonde scampered out of the room and bounded down the stairs.

Shaking his head, Xander pulled himself up. “Buffy seems really... I don’t know, she seems happier these days, don’t you think? Maybe she’s finally gotten over the whole Riley thing...”

Willow and Tara just stared at him, not really knowing what to say. Surely they couldn’t tell him the truth... Finally, Tara spoke up. “I think that she’s just finally figuring out which direction her life’s going--she’s in control of her future and that makes her feel safe.” Well, it was the truth, wasn’t it? So she hadn’t mentioned a particular decision of Buffy’s--an omission is by no means an outright lie...

Xander seemed to take her opinion seriously, though. “That makes a lot of sense. I guess she probably hasn’t felt like she was in charge ever since she’s been the Slayer.” He smiled and turned towards the bathroom. “It’s just nice to see her happy again.”

***

“Ooh! Chinese!”

Buffy ran to the take-out containers on the counter and began to pick through them. “Mmm... Kung Pao Chicken, Szechuan Beef, Pork Fried Rice, Sweet and Sour Fish... Soups, spring rolls... You really made sure there was something for everyone, didn’t you?”

She turned back to Spike, who was putting some beer in the fridge. Sneaking up behind him, she threw her arms around his waist in a bear hug, trying to peek over his shoulder. “What did you get for us non-beer drinkers?”

“Got some Coke for the witches--don’t fancy seein’ them near alcohol for a while, considering that the one cooler they shared got them snookered last time. And for you, I got juice--a bottle of apple and one of that mango-passionfruit-tropical crap you like so much.”

The vampire finished finding room for the extra beers. He turned around to find a pouting Buffy. “What’s wrong, luv?”

“I’m sick of juice. I want some Coke too. You know, I’m allowed to have some caffeine--they say I can have something like 4 servings a day. But you always get me juice...”

The vampire walked to the counter and, leaning back against it, pulled the Slayer in his arms. “Then why don’t we let you have a glass just this once? It’s damned near impossible to say no to such a beautiful woman...” He leaned down and placed his lips on hers in a slow, sensual kiss. They were past the hurrying, the uncontrollable urges, even though they hadn’t had a chance to consummate their relationship since that night in the DeSoto.

Buffy felt her heart speed up and her legs weaken at the vampire’s proximity. It was so silly and childish to get jelly-kneed over something as simple as a kiss, but she couldn’t help it. Her arms reached over Spike’s shoulders, her hands clasping around the back of his neck. When his own hands came down to her rear, pulling her towards him--pressing her into his erection--she couldn’t help but let out a contented sigh.

She broke off the kiss when she heard the strangest noise. I kind of sounded like a cross between a gurgle and a choke, but she couldn’t really be sure. When she looked up at Spike, she noticed that he was looking at something behind her. She turned around, only to find a slack-jawed Xander pointing at them, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

It had to be a spell--it just had to. There was no way that Buffy would be stupid enough to get involved, once again, with a member of the undead club. “Bu... Buffy... Please tell me this isn’t what it seems...” He knew that pleading was pathetic, but he wasn’t beneath begging. Not when it came to this.

Buffy opened her mouth, but Spike was the one to speak up. “Listen, uhm, the Slayer asked me to come over and discuss some demon related... stuff, and...” The vampire’s pathetic attempt at a cover up was cut short when the woman in his arms turned to face him and put a finger to his lips. She simply shook her head, clearly indicating that this was up to her.

“Xander? There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you...” She was leaning back against Spike, who had his arms snaked around her, hands on her belly. As grateful as she was that he‘d tried to cover for her, knowing that their relationship wasn‘t something she‘d discussed with Xander, she knew it was time to stick up for herself and for the choices she had made. “It’s about Spike, and me. We’re kind of together. Well, not really kind of, more like... really, really together. Like Willow and Tara together, or you and Anya together.”

The young man shook out of his silence and stood up, back ramrod and eyes boring into the blonde couple. “Why, Buffy? What is it with you and vampires? Is it some sort of a fad that I haven’t heard of--should I go get myself some undead plaything, too? I honestly don’t know what’s wrong with you, it’s disgusting to see you lower yourself to screwing around with his kind.”

Buffy felt Spike’s body go rigid, his hold on her arms almost painful. But the pain from his grip was nowhere near as harsh as her friend’s vitriol. “Oh, I’m sorry I disappoint you, Xander, but I’ve already tried the ‘normal guy’ route. And do you know where that left me? Knocked up and alone, that’s where! But what do you care, as long as I live my life how you want me to? Does it mean anything to you that I’m happy? Does it truly matter if a vampire is the source of my happiness?”

Tears clouding her vision, she looked up at the man who held her before turning back to the brunette. “Xander, Spike’s been there for all the times that Riley should have been. When I’ve felt crappy, when I needed someone to talk to, when I had to go to the hospital... It’s just so refreshing to have someone who doesn’t want me to be anything else but Buffy; not the Slayer, not what you expect me to be, just who I want to be. I hope you can understand, Xander, because I’m not going to change just because you don’t accept my being with Spike. He makes me happy, and it’s been a damn long time since that’s happened.”

She untangled herself from Spike’s grasp and stormed off. “Now, if you don’t mind, this vampire screwing slut is going to go and let her lesbian witch friends know that the food is here!”

Both men watched her leave, eyebrows raised. Xander turned his gaze back to Spike and had the common sense to look abashed. “Guess I really put my foot in it, didn’t I?”

The vampire chuckled and shook his head. “You should know better than to piss off a pregnant Slayer, Harris.” He walked to the fridge and grabbed two beers--one for himself, and one for the brunette. Truth was, he kind of felt pity for the young man. He knew what it was like to let your emotions lead you on, then to get your ass kicked--whether literally or metaphorically.

Surprised at the bleached blonde’s act of truce, Xander accepted the beer he was offered. “Look, I’m sorry...”

“Don’t need to apologize to me--Buffy’s the one you should be talkin’ to. I don’t give a rat’s ass what you think of us, but she obviously does. She’s been through enough hell without being castigated by her best friends on top of it all. What she needs right now is for people to support her, to believe in her ability to make the right choices for herself.”

Xander was sobered by Spike’s words. “You really do care about her, don’t you?” It would have been a joke even one minute prior, but after what the vampire had said it no longer seemed so inconceivable.

“More than anything on this earth, Harris.”

“Do you love her?” Where the hell had that question come from?!

“Yes.” Didn’t need to expand on that, now did he?. He loved Buffy. More than anyone he’d ever loved, even since he was a human. Stupid William, believing that what he felt for Cecily was love. He had simply been idolizing what was unattainable. If anyone who was half the woman his Slayer is would have made her way into his life back then, he wouldn’t have run into Dru that night. Wouldn’t have accepted her invitation to the dark side.

The brunette nodded, strangely satisfied with the one-word answer. He was expecting some sort of... what did they call it in English class? Ah, a soliloquy. That’s what he expected from the usually verbose vampire. But when all he said was ‘yes’, blue eyes clear and steady, it was obvious he was speaking the truth.

The sounds of three hungry girls hopping down the stairs shook the two men from their silent musings. Willow and Tara looked mighty pissed, and Buffy was avoiding any eye contact, especially since it would show them that she’d been crying.

The redhead was the first to speak up. “Xander Harris! You big jerk--come over here so I can talk to you!”

Xander surprised everyone by shaking his head. “Sorry, Wills. Buffy’s the one I have to apologize to, if she wouldn’t mind having a quiet talk before we sit down.”

Buffy looked up, surprised. What had gone on between two of the most important men in her life that would cause her good friend to revisit his opinion on Buffy+vampire? “Uh, ok.” As she walked by Spike on her way out to the porch, she looked up to him questioningly. He simply smiled and nodded, assuring her that all was ok.

“Go on, love. The whelp’s got some serious grovelling to do. Dinner’ll still be warm when you come back.” He placed a kiss on the top of her head and walked to the dining room.

“So... everything’s going to be ok?” Tara had felt awkward in the midst of this emotional outburst. Not having been part of the Scoobies for very long, she didn’t feel comfortable participating in this sort of debacle. These were people who loved each other so much that nothing was done halfway; not the laughing, not the crying, and not the fighting. And hopefully not the apologizing, either.

“Harris and the Slayer’ll be right as rain when they come back. Don’t fret your pretty little self over them. The whelp just got a serious case of foot-in-mouth that he needs to apologize for. He’s made his peace with me and I’m sure he’s more than eager to do the same with Buffy.” The vampire busied himself by setting the table and placing the food containers in the middle, ignoring the odd looks he was getting from the two witches.

Neither of the three admitted it out loud, but they were curious to know what the two out on the porch were saying. Was it going well? Were they actually talking, or were they just sitting there with their arms crossed, playing in the dust with the toes of their shoes? They both needed to air out some opinions--the well-being of their friendship depended on it.

When the kitchen door opened and Buffy and Xander came through unscathed--although both looked like they’d cried a bit--the two witches and the vampire let out breaths of relief.

“Well, don’t know about you, but I’m starved. Kissing ass builds up a heck of an appetite...” Xander made his way to the table, clearly indicating that he wasn’t about to be the one to repeat what had been said in the privacy of the porch.

Spike put his arm around Buffy, guiding her towards her seat. “Come on, love. I’ll go get you a glass of cola--and a bottle of juice. You just sit tight.”

While he was getting the Slayer’s drinks ready, the vampire heard Willow speak up.

“So where’s your mom tonight?”

Helping herself to some wonton soup, Buffy shrugged. “Don’t really know. She said something about having to stay overnight somewhere--LA or something. I guess she’s on a buying trip. It’s funny, though, she usually tells me all about it, gives me about ten emergency phone numbers, but this time she kept avoiding having to answer me. She wouldn’t say why she was going, or where she was staying...”

“Bloody hell!”

Before anyone could ask what was wrong, Spike’s head popped into the dining room. “Rupert!”

Buffy’s brow furrowed. “What about Giles?”

Spike looked like he’d discovered Tut’s tomb--he was wearing a crazy grin, his eyes were bright and he kept chuckling to himself. “Rupert told me not to come by tonight or tomorrow night after patrol, that he was having company. I started to tease him about havin’ a bird over and he went beet red and started to stutter...” He looked at the Scoobies, waiting for a reaction, but all they did was stare back at him.

“Are you all bloody daft, or what? They’ve been givin’ each other puppy dog eyes for weeks now!”

“Who’s ’they’?” Xander was tired of this game--he just wanted to dig in.

“Joyce and Rupert, that’s who! Not only that, but the other night I spotted Joyce’s umbrella at the Watcher’s house. I figured maybe Buffy’d been there, but...”

“Argh! No! Stop, now!” Buffy’s mind was being invaded with x-rated visions of her mother and Giles. She put the heels of her hands over her eyes and groaned. “It’s just a coincidence, that’s all! You just saw an umbrella like my mom’s--I’m sure there are tons of them around...”

Spike’s eyebrow raised. “A four-foot wide umbrella with Degas’ ballerinas on it? Tell me, pet--how many of those have you seen in Sunnyhell recently?”

“No! I’m not listening! This is beyond gross, and way beyond wrong. You’re just...” The young woman paused, taking a bite out of one of the wontons. “... jumping to conclusions.” She looked around to her friends, looking for support. “Right?”

“Uh...” “Well...” “Spike kinda has a point, Buffy...”

Needless to say she didn’t get the rousing support she’d expected.

“Look, pet. Why don’t we test my theory. You call your Watcher, make it sound really important and tell him that you absolutely have to speak to your mother. If she isn’t there, he’ll truly be flummoxed. If she is there, he’ll probably slip.” He popped a peanut from the Kung Pao Chicken in his mouth. “What do you say?”

Shoulders squared, the Slayer was intent on proving the vampire wrong. No way in hell would her mom and Giles be doing... things. Especially not without her figuring it out. “Challenge accepted, bleached one. Bring me the phone and I’ll show you how wrong you all are.”

Phone in hand, she dialled the number she knew by rote. It rang twice, three times, four times... Come on, Giles, I know you can’t let a phone ring without answering it... She nearly squealed with joy when her Watcher answered it on the sixth ring.

“Hello?”

“Hi Giles?”

“Buffy? What... is something wrong?”

Here it was--the moment of truth. “Oh, Giles--I need to speak to Mom. It’s really important...” She sniffled, adding to the drama of the moment.

“Your Mother? Of course, I... Wait a second--how did you...”

Buffy didn’t even give the man a chance to finish before she hung up on him. “OhGodOhGodOhGod...”

***

“Oh, dear...”

“What’s wrong, Rupert?” Joyce walked up to the British man, circling her arms around his waist and resting her head against his back. She’d been in the kitchen when he answered the phone, and had missed the short conversation.

Giles removed his glasses, taking one of the arms in his mouth. “I do believe we’ve been found out.”

Author’s note: Well, this is the last chapter I’ve got saved up for you guys. The next two are with my beta, and should be back within a week. I haven’t started on the next ones yet, but I know what they’ll be about, so I just need my muse to inspire me, that’s all. I’m figuring that this story will have about 24 or 25 chapters at the most, so this story’s about two thirds done... I'd also like to say that I know 'Real Renos' is a show up here in Canada, but the title fit my story too well.

And, as usual, please read and review. Looks like over 100 people read that last chappie, but didn't review... Pretend it’s a Christmas gift, or something :)

“Honey, if you keep staring out that window, you’ll burn a hole through it.”

Buffy sighed and turned her attention away from the dark of night. “Sorry, Mom. It’s just that he was supposed to be back over an hour ago. I’m getting kind of worried.”

Joyce laid a comforting hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “I’m sure Spike’s fine. It’s probably just a busier night than usual. Maybe he came across a... what do you call it again? A nest--that’s what you call a group of vampires, right?” It may have been a few years since she’d learned that her daughter was the Slayer, but she still had trouble with some of the terminology.

The Slayer smiled brightly. “Mom! You actually remembered! I’m proud of you. You’re probably right, though. A nest is about the only thing that would keep him busy enough to be this late.” I hope... She returned her attention to a pot on the stove, stirring it slowly. “The hot chocolate doesn’t look too good anymore, though.”

Both women were startled by the sound of someone on the back porch. Dropping the wooden spoon back into the pan, Buffy stomped to the door and swung it open.

“Well, it’s about time that you...”

There was a vampire on the porch--however, it wasn’t Spike.

“Angel...”

God, she was still as beautiful as ever. And there seemed to be a stronger glow to her, too. “It’s about time that I what?” He smirked shyly and ducked his head, dragging his fingers through his gelled hair.

The young woman was held speechless. This was the absolute last person--ok, not absolute, but not far from it--that she’d expect to drop by for a visit. “I...” She shook her head and returned his smile. It was odd, having the one-time love of her life standing in front of her, and not feel her heart speed up like it used to. “I’m forgetting my manners. Please, come in, Angel.”

The vampire let out a breath that he didn’t know he’d been holding. He hadn’t known what to expect. After all, his visit was unannounced, and Buffy hadn’t exactly been overjoyed to part with him when he last left Sunnydale. But there was something... different about her. The way she held herself, the glow of her skin, the rush of her blood, heck--even her smell was different.

When he was finally in the kitchen and the door was shut behind him, he noticed that Buffy’s mother was also present. Hands deep in his pockets, he nodded uncomfortably, knowing full well how much this woman didn’t like him. The most he could blurt out was a quick ’hi’ before shifting from foot to foot.

As much as she wanted to stay in the kitchen and make this Angel guy shrivel under her ’evil eye’, Joyce knew that Buffy would want some alone time with him. That and she actually had to get up for work the next day. So she graciously bade the two goodnight before heading up to her bedroom. Now if only Spike could come home in one piece...

The kitchen island separated the two former lovers. Buffy was sitting on one of the stools, elbows on the counter and chin propped up in her hands. “So... What brings you to Sunnydale? Unannounced?”

Angel remained rooted on the spot. The strange vibes he was getting from the Slayer were distracting, almost to the point where he missed her question. “Sorry? Oh--Cordy had one of her visions. Something about a baby or something, and the joining of dark and light. She wouldn’t give me any details--from the look on her face I thought it was a joke, but she insisted that she was serious.” He frowned again, squinting as he stared at Buffy. Had she gained weight? Was that it?

“Ok, before you stare me to death...” Buffy’d had enough of his gaze. She knew he suspected something and that he was going to pussyfoot around it until she pretty much drew it out for him. Hopping off her seat, she walked around the island and faced the vampire, hands on her hips. “Notice anything... different?”

Why hadn’t he put two and two together until now? She’d put on a bit of weight, there was her increased blood flow, her smell was different... Uh, that and Cordy’s vision about a baby...

“You’re pregnant.” Angel stood stock still, increasingly agitated by the news. He didn’t know how he felt about Buffy’s pregnancy. He was happy for her, in a sense, since she looked very content with her condition; but on the flip side, it angered him that he hadn’t been able to be the one to father her child--or anyone’s, come to think of it.

Buffy raised an eyebrow. “How astute. Good thing you’ve got those extra vamp senses--I might have been worried there, for a sec.” She sat back on one of the benches and motioned for Angel to do the same. “Come on. I think you have a few questions for me. You’re being more broody than usual.”

“I don’t brood!” It was an automatic answer, which garnered a wide grin and a chuckle from the Slayer. Taking a seat beside her, he sighed deeply. “Why don’t I let you tell me what happened. Then, if I have any unanswered questions, I can ask.”

The young woman nodded, agreeing with the vampire‘s suggestion. “Ok, sure. Although it’s really simple. No hocus-pocus, no prophecy, no weird demons. Riley and I... we made a baby. It’s really as simple as that. Two humans, one really, really persistent sperm and a very receptive egg. That’s all it took. Nature‘s quirky way of saying ‘one plus one equals three‘.”

“Is this ‘Riley’ who you were waiting for when you opened the door?” For some strange reason, he accepted her explanation. In some weird way, it was fitting that the most unusual of Slayers have a child in the most usual way.

Oh boy. Here it comes... “Uh. No. Riley kinda tucked tail and ran after I told him about the baby.” Maybe if she changed the subject, she could avoid the whole Spike cuffuffle that was bound to arise.

“Oh.” What could he reply that wouldn’t sound lame? ‘I’m sorry’? ‘He’s a jerk’? “You’re ok, though? You seem to be happy.”

And that she was, realizing that Spike was a much better choice for her than Angel ever would have been. Heck, Spike had been her sworn enemy and he’d been much more bothered about her abandonment than Angel seemed to be. Maybe she wasn’t going to shy away about telling her ex about her present boyfriend after all...

“Actually, I’ve met someone else.” A smile beamed across her features, making her glow even more. “He takes good care of me, he cares about the baby like it was his own... My life‘s been wonderful since we‘ve been together.”

Angel hadn’t seen that dreamy look in her eyes since he’d been the cause of it. He felt a jab of envy, but quickly pushed it aside. He and Buffy weren’t meant to be together. She’d obviously moved on--it was about time that he did, too. “That’s good. Really, it is. Is it someone I know?”

“Actually, yeah. You’ve known this guy much, much longer than I have.”

“Uh-huh...” He looked at the Slayer, silently asking her to go on.

“And... you don’t really like him much, and I don’t think he likes you very much, and... Oh, screw it. It’s Spike.” There. The cat was out of the bag, and based on the twitch that seemed to have developed in Angel’s left eye, he actually believed her.

“Are you out of your mind?!” The vampire jumped off his seat and began to pace the length of the kitchen. She had to be joking. There was no way that Spike, slayer of Slayers, William the Bloody, would pair up with Buffy Summers. It had to be a trick of some kind. Maybe he had a witch working for him or something...

“No. As a matter of fact, I’m of very sound mind. Spike’s been there for me since Riley left. He’s been really good to me and the baby.” She tried not to sound like someone convincing a parent, but she knew she was failing miserably.

“I can’t believe you fell for that! I thought you might be smarter than that. This is a trick--he’s going to kill you!” How could she be so gullible? Maybe he should come down to Sunnydale more often.

“Oh, of course! I’m obviously stupid, since I put faith in the man who rushed me to the hospital when I fell, staying with me the whole time, holding my hand and comforting me. The man who drove me out to LA to find some maternity clothes so I could get a job. The man who takes me out to help me forget about all the stress that I’m feeling. How could I be so blind, not seeing through this ruse of his?” She worked hard at keeping her voice down so she wouldn’t wake her mother up, her words coming out of her mouth like a hiss.

“But...”

“But nothing. Spike’s been everything no other man has ever been to me. He’s been there for me. No man’s ever done that--not my dad, not Riley, not even you. He puts up with my wonky moods, my weird eating habits, he’s strong for me when I need him to be. Heck, he’s even nice to my mom... Do you know that even before we became a couple, when we still hated each other, he agreed to patrol for me--without asking for anything in return?”

Angel didn’t know what to say. Spike always had been oddly loyal to women he loved. And if for some cosmically deranged reason he fell in love with Buffy... Well, she’d be served hand and foot for eternity.

“Light joins with dark...” Now it made sense! Cordy’s stupid vision wasn’t foreboding some horrible prophecy, it was just showing her that a vampire and a Slayer had joined together and that there was a baby involved. Grumbling to himself, he mused that maybe he could find some sort of a teacher that could show the seer how to better interpret her visions.

Great. First he’s on the offensive, attacking her judgement and now he was being introspective. “Angel, what on earth are you mumbling about?”

The vampire snapped out of it, returning his gaze to Buffy’s. “Cordy’s vision. Or, rather, her interpretation of it. That’s actually why I’m here. She said she saw the forces of dark and light joining together and that there was going to be a baby from the union.” At the Slayer’s raised eyebrow and crooked smile, he chuckled. “Yeah. I know--she still needs a bit of guidance in interpreting these things.”

Deciding that it was time to apologize, he put his hand on Buffy’s forearm. “Look, I’m sorry about...”

They both turned towards the door when they heard footsteps outside. Finally, Buffy thought to herself. Swinging the door open a second time, she began her lecture once again. “Well, it’s about time...”

“Riley.”

Wow. She really hadn’t been joking about keeping the baby. But she looked great--amazing, actually. The soldier felt a slight weight lifted from his shoulders, assuming that his ex-girlfriend had taken his leaving rather well. “You look good, Buffy. Motherhood seems to suit you.”

It took all her control not to slam her fist into the soldier’s face in order to wipe away his goofy grin. “So, Riley, what part of our last conversation didn’t you understand? The ‘guts through the asshole’ bit, or the ‘strangling with’ bit?”

Ok. Maybe it wasn’t all peaches after all. “Look Buffy, can I come in? We’re letting all the flies in.”

“And I should let one more in?” Ugh. She might as well get this over with. Lord knew who would be popping up next. “Fine. Come in.” She moved aside and shut the door after him.

Riley walked into the kitchen, nodding to the dark-haired man who stood in front of him. Was this Buffy’s new boyfriend? He kind of looked... broody. “Hi, there.”

Angel’s reply was to simply raise an eyebrow. So this was the idiot who left a pregnant Buffy? Whatever it was that she’d mentioned about guts and strangling sure seemed fitting.

“Ok, Riley. Why are you here?” Buffy’s patience was waning. Although much of her mind was preoccupied with the ex-boyfriends who were congregated in her kitchen, the back of her mind was still worried about a missing Spike.

Back straight and arms to the side, as though he was facing a superior, Riley looked at the young blonde. “Actually, my unit had a few hours’ stopover here in Sunnydale and I thought it might be a good idea to see how you were doing.”

The Slayer let out a hoarse chuckle. “Well, it’s nice to see that you care. I’m doing fine. Now go away.”

Great. He knew she’d be unreasonable. “Look, Buffy...”

“Look nothing. You left me. You have no right to just come back here and expect me to be civil to you. You’re lucky I don’t kick your sorry ass out that door--without opening it.” All the feelings that were long ago forgotten, those of hopelessness and despair that had filled the pit of her stomach like lead, were returning. She knew she was close to crying--damn her hormones, making her weak, unable to refrain from breaking down.

Another bump outside the kitchen door caused her shoulders to slump. “If that’s Parker, I’m going to seriously lose it.” But a loud thump, followed by some not so quiet ‘bloody hell’s confirmed that it wasn’t Mr. Poopyhead after all.

Spike! Pushing Riley aside, she flung the door open in time to have the bleached vampire fall into her arms.

“Oh my God! Spike--what happened?” She worked hard at holding him up and was relieved when Angel moved forward to take the injured vampire from her.

Spike was fluttering in and out of consciousness. When strong arms took him from the Slayer and propped him in a chair, he forced his head up. “Fuck... Peaches--what the hell are you doing here?”

Buffy knelt in front of the bleached blonde. She pulled the sides of his duster apart and noticed that there was a lot of blood staining his black T-shirt. Turning to the other two men in the kitchen, she took command. “Angel. Riley. Help me take his duster off, and make sure not to jostle him around too much. I think he’s seriously injured.”

Her command was obeyed immediately, and Spike was quickly divested of his coat. The Slayer pulled his T-shirt up and noticed a gaping wound in the center of the vampire’s chest. “Oh, God...” The wound went right through him, if the blood on his back was any indication.

She turned to her two ex’s. “Keep an eye on him--make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid, like try to get himself a beer or something. I don’t need him aggravating... whatever it is that happened to him. And Mom will kill both of us if he bleeds all over the kitchen.” She disappeared into the living room and was heard climbing the stairs.

Riley remained still, not moving from the injured vampire’s side. Angel, on the other hand, pulled himself a chair and sat facing his childe.

“So. What’s this about, anyway?” He needed answers and wasn’t about to wait until Buffy returned.

This was all he needed. His poof of a grand-sire and the pillock who abandoned the Slayer (of course he recognized him, stupid git). In the most sarcastic voice he could dredge up, he answered Angel. “Well, I was just out for a walk, mindin’ my own business when all of a sudden...”

“Not that, you idiot. I don’t care what happened to you. I mean with Buffy. What the hell’s going on?” No one, but no one, could get under his skin as quickly or effectively as the bleached blonde. Five minutes in his presence, and Angel could feel Angelus chafing at the bit for some violence.

Super. Just super. Spike had no idea how much the Great Gelled one knew, but he wasn’t about to blurt anything out. Managing to speak through clenched teeth--vampire or not, the pain of being lanced was excruciating--he played dumb. “Nothing’s goin’ on, mate. I’m just patrolling for her until the bit’s born. That’s all.” He sat up straight and fell into a coughing fit, spitting up blood. Looking up at Riley, he snarled. “Wouldn’t mind makin’ yourself useful, would you? Get me a towel so I don’t spit blood up all over Joyce’s kitchen. If she sees a mess in here, I won’t have to worry about this hole in my gut.”

Riley did as he was told, but only because of Buffy’s mom. He pulled some paper towels off a roll and handed them over to the injured blonde. Why weren’t they bringing the guy to the hospital? He’d never seen anyone take a... whatever it was... to the stomach and remain conscious--never mind be able to converse with people. The guy was weird, there was no denying that. He muttered under his breath, quietly enough that the two men wouldn’t be able to hear him. “Maybe I should have stayed after all. Buffy must really be delirious to be hanging around weirdos like those two...”

Unfortunately for him, the two men had better than average hearing and had heard every syllable.

Temporarily forgetting his condition, Spike shot out of the chair and lunged at the soldier. Only Angel’s quick reflexes stopped him--albeit only inches away from the pompous jerk. “You fucking sod! Your leaving her is the best thing that could ever have happened to her. She...” By the look on the young man’s face he knew that he had lost control of the demon. He didn’t care, though, one bit, at that moment. This way, it would be easier to rip the Whitbread’s throat out.

Surprised, but not frightened, Riley stood his ground. “I knew I’d seen you before! You’re the hostile that escaped my men. I knew we should have looked harder for you...”

Oh, now he had an even better reason for tearing him apart. But before he could try and free himself from Angel’s grasp, Buffy stormed into the kitchen.

“What the hell’s going on? You guys woke Mom up! Now shut up--all three of you.” She pointed at Spike. “You--sit down.”

Angel knew better than to get in an angry Buffy’s way, so he helped Spike into a chair and sat down also

Riley, on the other hand, wasn’t so smart. Before the Slayer had a chance to even open the first aid kit, he began his diatribe. “Buffy... Is this what you’ve lowered yourself to? Did my leaving you have such a negative effect on your sanity? How could you...” He stopped short when the medical box’s lid shattered under his ex’s grip.

For the first time ever, Spike and Angel had the same thought at the same time. Oh, this is going to be sweet...

“You know what, Riley? I don’t need to explain myself to you. I can be with whoever I choose, whether it be some pathetic GI Joe wannabe who runs at the first sight of a hurdle, or a vampire who has more heart and more compassion than a whole platoon of losers like you. Your leaving me was the best thing that could have happened--I had to face reality, and it set my vision straight. Now, if you don’t mind...” She walked over to the door and held it open. “... I do believe you’re being kicked out. Good bye, Riley. And next time? Don’t. Come. Back.”

“Buffy, listen to me...”

A grinning Slayer turned to the two chuckling vampires. “You can’t imagine how good that feels. Well, not as good as giving in to my threat, but close enough.” She sat herself down across from Spike and rooted through what was left of the first aid kit.

Spike eyed her warily, not being too keen on falling under the painful yet well intentioned care of nurse Buffy. The last time she’d cared for him he’d ended up covered in iodine and Band-Aids. Didn’t seem to matter to her that there was no chance for infection, no matter how many times he reminded her.

That’s when he remembered the ace up his sleeve. “Buffy, love. Forgot to mention earlier--I picked something up for you. It’s on the counter.”

The young woman’s brow furrowed, temporarily distracted from her medical duties. “What?” She turned around and spied a brown take-out bag sitting on the counter. “Ooh! McDonald’s!” As quick as a snap her attention was diverted to the food. “Mmm... Chicken McNuggets and fries! You’re the best, you know that?”

Spike took advantage of her distraction in order to patch himself up. Whispering to Angel, he handed him a roll of gauze. “Wouldn’t mind helpin’ me out, would you? I’d rather get this over with before she finishes those. You can’t imagine how quickly a small thing like her can down 9 nuggets and a large fry...”

Angel didn’t know what to say. Heck, he didn’t even know what to think. He felt like he’d been dropped into some weird Twilight Zone episode. Nodding dumbly, he managed to help the bleached vampire tend to his injuries, all the while keeping one eye on his one-time lover, who was actually talking to her food as she scarfed it down.

These so hit the spot, Buffy thought to herself as she tossed the empty container into the garbage. When she turned back to the two vampires, she noticed that Spike had his T-shirt back on. “Hey, wait! I wasn’t done yet.”

“S’alright, love. Peaches here gave me a hand. I just need a good rest and I’ll be right as rain in the morning.”

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, where neither of the three individuals knew what to say. The two blondes were more than tired, one being up past her bedtime and the other having been rather badly injured, and Angel was... well, he was just confused. Buffy and Spike. Never something he’d given any thought to, but oddly enough they seemed to go well together. Spike had a woman to dote on and Buffy had someone who wouldn’t leave her for anything in the world. It was just too weird.

“Well, I’d better be heading off. I have to have a talk with Cordy about her visions, I think.” The dark haired vamp stood up and looked at Spike. He opened his mouth but was interrupted before he had a chance to say a word.

“Save your breath, Peaches. You don’t need to warn me about anything. I love her--I won’t hurt her, won’t leave her and I certainly won’t do anything to the bit. So you can hop back in to your Batmobile and head for your bird back home with an easy conscience.”

“But still, if anything happens...”

“Yeah, yeah. Get in line behind Rupert, Joyce, and the Scoobies. Like I said--you don’t have to worry about me hurting her.” Spike was both angry and upset, all at once. He was mad that Angel thought that he’d actually hurt Buffy, but even more so he was upset that his word didn’t seem to mean much with his grandsire. Never be good enough for that ponce...

She was tired and, quite honestly, sick of having Angel around. If she ever wanted a guard dog, she’d give him a call but the whole ‘protector’ bit was beginning to grate on her nerves. “Angel, he’s right. I trust him and that’s what counts most.” She headed to the door and put her hand on the knob. The message that she wanted him out might not have been as direct as it had been with Riley, but it was obvious nonetheless.

Angel smiled at the young woman. “Alright. I know when I’m being kicked out. Take care, will you? And give us a call to let us know how you’re doing. The more people who know about the baby the more gifts you’re bound to get.” It was a bit of a hint, in a direct slap-in-your face kind of way.

“Presents. Now you’re talking.” She chuckled as she gave the dark-haired vampire a friendly hug. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. And I’ll call before the baby’s born. I know Cordy’s gonna freak when she hears about this.”

The vampire walked out of the house and turned to wave one last time. Funny how it was getting easier and easier to leave, as time went by.

Buffy locked the door and turned to a curious Spike. “Come on, blondie. I think it’s time for bed.”

Ok, so it was time for bed but she was locking the door--with him inside the house? “Buffy, love--am I staying here tonight?” Oh, please say yes...

“Yup. I told Mom you were really out of it, and she agreed to having you stay over.” She turned the stove light on and the kitchen lights off before taking his hand in hers.

“And she’s really ok with this?” Although he didn’t have any dating experience, Spike knew that they were taking a new step in their relationship. Staying over--in the same bedroom--meant a parent’s acceptance of what might be going on between the two blondes.

Leading him up the stairs, Buffy chuckled. “Well, she may have said something like ‘Don’t forget that the walls are paper thin, or that I sleep with one ear open.’ I guess it was her way of warning me.”

Spike shook his head, smiling. “That’s Joyce for you. Ever giving, but ever watchful.”

“So what did happen to you tonight, anyway?” The Slayer was whispering as they walked by her mother’s bedroom. Wouldn’t do any good to wake her up again...

“Met up with a Polgara demon. Almost bloody didn’t make it, as you can see.” He watched her change into her nightie, smiling when she shyly turned her back to him as she put it on.

“Eww... Polgara--those are the ones with skewers for arms, right?” Buffy slipped into bed, turning the sheets over. This was strange to her, as she’d never had anyone actually stay the night--oh God, what if I snore?! Her cheeks flushed as she watched Spike undress--how could she have forgotten that he didn’t wear any underwear?--before he slid in beside her.

“Something like that.” The vampire spooned his lean body behind the Slayer’s, resting his hand over her belly. Nuzzling the back of her neck, he whispered in her ear. “So, pet... was Joyce exaggerating about the paper-thin walls?”

A voice from the other room took them both by surprise. “No! Now get some sleep!”

Author’s note: Yay! Got my two chapters beta’d and back this morning. You’ll have those to keep you happy for the next two days, but after that I can’t make any promises. Loathe as I am to go into TMI-land, Mr. Piper and myself seem to have picked up a stomach bug, which means my concentrating on things other than fic writing (yeah, imagine that!). Thanks for all the reviews for the previous chapter (made my heart warm, they did) and please keep reviewing!

Although the curtains were drawn tight, a haze of diluted sunlight painted the small bedroom in shades of gold. Outside, the birds were chirping, the squirrels were chattering and the neighbour’s lawnmower was burping and sputtering. Ah, the early-morning sounds of suburbia...

Buffy was happily nestled in the crook of Spike’s shoulder, head resting on him. His chest rose with every deep breath he took and the young woman wondered at this strange habit the vampire had. Was it comforting to him, or was it just a human trait that his body had never forgotten?

Her quiet musings were interrupted by the slam of the front door. Buffy turned to her alarm clock: 6:45am. Her mom had just left for work. Finally! A wide grin spread across her face before she wiggled out of the vampire’s arms. She slipped her nightie over her head and wiggled out of her panties before awkwardly crawling under the covers.

Maybe it was the hormones, maybe the night of lying in a naked Spike’s arms, or maybe just because it was a nice, sunny morning and she didn’t have to go to work. Whatever the reason, the Slayer found herself feeling adventurous. She slid the tip of her finger along the vampire’s cool skin as she made her way down to a spot between his legs, placing kisses along the way. She could have gotten off simply from kissing those hips of his...

As the fog slowly lifted from his sleep addled brain, Spike became aware of the most wonderful sensation at his groin. The thought that he was dreaming flitted through his mind, but he discounted that idea--sunlight seldom pervaded his dreams. Not the good ones, anyway.

Reluctantly, he opened his eyes fully and looked to either side of him. No Buffy to the left; no Buffy to the right. That had to mean, then, that she was...

He bit his lower lip and grabbed fistfuls of sheets when he felt warm, wet kisses along the insides of his thighs. Oh, just a bit closer, luv...

Buffy knew that the vampire was awake, by the twitching of his muscles and his sharp intake of breath. Oh, that and the moaning, she thought to herself, proud that she’d reduced him to a puddle of goo without actually taking him in her mouth. She was even more encouraged when his hands came down to play in her hair, massaging her scalp.

“Christ, Buffy. Please...” He couldn’t take the teasing and didn’t care if he was reduced to begging. He needed to feel her hot little mouth engulf him. It had been so long since a woman had pleasured him like this. Not that he minded being the one doling out the pleasure, but--hey, he was a man after all.

Buffy let his reactions guide her as she ministered to his needs. Licking the palm of her hand, she curled her fingers around his shaft and pumped her fist up and down a few times, feeling him get harder. She brought her mouth to him and slowly dragged the point of her tongue up his cock’s underside, paying more attention to the little spot just under the head. On a whim, she decided to gently bite this sensitive spot.

When his hips bucked up and an animalistic growl emanated from the blonde vampire, she knew she’d found a definite weakness. Biting back a snicker, she thought to herself ‘Gotta file that one under ‘how to get my way’...’

He really didn’t know how long he could last or how far she was planning on going. In between pants, he managed to find his voice. “Keep that up, love, and you’ll find yourself with a new take on ‘breakfast in bed’, if you catch my meaning.” The answer she gave him, a loud ‘Mmm’, followed by her taking him in her mouth, nearly caused him to lose control.

The heat of her mouth reminded him of their first--and only--encounter a few weeks back, where he had been sheathed deep in her pussy. This action, though, touched him on a different level than the frenzied fuck they had shared in the DeSoto’s front seat. This pleasure was something she was giving him, freely of her own volition, to please him. He hadn’t had to ask (or beg). She’d just taken it upon herself to give him the blowjob of his unlife.

She knew he was close, gauging by the vampire’s rapid breathing and constant fidgeting. For the first time ever, she knew that she wanted to follow this act through to the end. She’d never swallowed for Riley--it wasn’t something that had tickled her fancy, for some reason. But for Spike? She couldn’t explain it, she just knew it. It probably had to do with how excited she’d become just by getting him off. Relaxing her throat muscles, she began to take him in deeper and deeper, all the while continuing to caress him with her hand.

The sensation of the Slayer’s throat muscles gripping his cock pushed all thoughts from the vampire’s mind, save but one. He was just lucid enough to mumble a “Now, pet... I’m gonna cum...” before roaring out his release.

Buffy kept her hands pressed against the vampire’s hips, keeping them flush on the bed. She may have decided to stay the course, so to say, but she certainly didn’t look forward to having him thrust up in her throat. Making sure that her tongue kept up its movements, she took almost everything he had to give, not minding the taste or consistency--or volume--of the demon’s spendings. When she couldn’t swallow any more, she pulled back and finished with her small fist, pumping until it was clear that Spike had ridden out his orgasm.

Feeling the Slayer slowly lick the cum off his softening cock, Spike wondered what he had done to deserve this.

***

Eleven minutes. Eleven minutes is all it had taken for them to do... well, whatever it was that would cause Spike to sound like that.

Joyce had driven back to the house, having forgotten the keys to the gallery. She’d walked in to a silent abode, but just as she was about to leave she thought she’d heard moaning. Pausing, she nearly jumped out of her skin at the roar that had echoed through the house.

Well, there was nothing she could do. Buffy would certainly never speak to her again if she walked in on them at this point--she’d just have to make time to have a little chat later on...

As she locked the door on her way out, she made a mental note to ask Rupert about the mating habits of vampires. Maybe he had a book or two that might just explain what her daughter was up to.

Hey, a woman had the right to be curious, no?

***

Spike dropped his head back on the pillow, trying to catch his breath. If only he could wake up to this every morning, unlife would be amazing...

He lifted his head up a little and smirked at seeing the lump underneath the blankets make its way up to him. When the Slayer’s head appeared, hair mussed from the covers and cheeks flushed, he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“So what brought that on? Not that I’m complaining or anything...”

Buffy sighed and settled herself comfortably on the vampire, her rounded belly pressing against his solid abdomen. “Dunno. Just felt like it, I guess.” She paused for a moment, averted her eyes from his and asked shyly. “Um... You did like it, right?”

Spike’s face snapped down to hers, eyes wide and incredulous. “You’re joking, right?” Hadn’t the howling been sign enough?! When his eyes met hers, he realized that she was dead serious. “Christ, pet. You were amazing--I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard or that fast before.” Pulling her up even with him, he leaned in and kissed her hard, holding her tightly to him.

He broke the kiss, but not the hold he had on her. “I’ll never get enough of you, not if we were together for an eternity.”

As she lay in her lover’s arms, Buffy realized why she’d fallen so quickly and so hard for the vampire: he didn’t go halfway with his emotions. It was either all or... all, come to think of it. He loved her as wholly and passionately as he’d hated her. But, as much fun as it had been to fight him, adrenaline running through her veins, muscles aching, lungs pumping furiously, it was so much better resting atop his strong body, kissing his soft lips, feeling his cool hands caressing her curves.

She smiled when she felt him harden again. Ah, the benefits of a vampire lover... She ground her pelvis down into his, announcing her own arousal, causing him to growl deep in his throat.

Such a vixen, and even at 7 months pregnant almost as insatiable as him. Of course, it had been almost a couple of months since their first and only encounter, so she probably wanted it--needed, it--as much as him. Quick as lightning, he flipped them both over so that his body was covering hers, his arousal pressing against her warm centre.

His voice hoarse with desire, he locked his blue eyes with her hazel ones. “How... how do you want to do this? I don’t want to hurt you or the bit...” It wasn’t important what position they assumed--all that mattered to him was to be buried deep into her heat, feeling her inner muscles clamped around his cock.

Oh, she needed him. Needed him in ways even she couldn’t begin to understand. Could someone need someone on a molecular level? She looked into his eyes, which had turned almost black from desire, and licked her lips--she knew that drove him nuts. “This way’s perfect. Just try not to go in too deep...”

Nodding, he positioned himself at her entrance and slowly began to slide in. The strained sound of his voice surprised them both. “Jus’ let me know how deep is good, ok?” God, she was tight. Both times he’d been in her, it felt like he was her first. He was convinced she’d burn him with her heat--but she was so moist, so welcoming...

When she felt that he was in far enough, she found her voice. “That’s good--oh, God, that’s good Spike...” She put the soles of her feet flat on the bed and pushed her hips up, meeting with his gentle thrusts. She’d never been verbal during sex, but the emotions that were coursing through her were too strong. “Please don’t stop, ever... Feels so good, so right... God, I love you, Spike...”

The words that were streaming from her mouth were bound to be his undoing. For once in his unlife, he was the silent one, listening to what his Buffy had to tell him. All whispers, all moans, every single little noise were put to memory as he moved within her, following the rhythm she was setting.

When he felt her begin to shake, heard her breathing increase, he lowered his lips to hers. “I love you, Buffy” slipped from between them before they locked with hers. He held steady as she rode out her orgasm, breaking their kiss to throw her head back and call his name out. The contraction of her muscles around his shaft led him to follow her over the precipice.

Although she never expected any less from him, Buffy was still surprised at Spike’s gentleness. Even when he came, she could tell that he held himself back, only letting himself ride his release through shallow thrusts. It felt so right being in his arms, being held by him. She’d never allowed herself to be the weaker one in a relationship until she was with Spike. It had bothered her when Angel or Riley had tried to treat her like a porcelain doll, but if Spike were to try she had a suspicion that she’d let him. She didn‘t really know why, but she knew better than to try and figure it out. For once, she just wanted to follow what her heart thought was right.

Still breathing hard, Spike rolled over onto his back and pulled Buffy in with him, curling her into his side. “Oh!” Both blondes jumped when her stomach moved. Buffy smiled and rubbed where she’d felt the movement. Turning her eyes towards her belly, she cooed. “What’s got you moving around, like that, huh, baby? You getting hungry, or you just stretching out?” Or maybe it was the earth-shattering orgasm?

Spike pulled the covers back and gently prompted the Slayer to lie on her back. He propped his head up on one hand and cupped his other hand over her belly. The baby wiggled around under the weight of his fingers as they danced around in lazy circles over the young woman’s stomach. “It’s strange, seein’ the bit move around like that. Guess it must feel kind of strange, eh?”

Placing her hand over Spike’s, Buffy nodded. “It’s weird, but only if I really stop to think about it. If I just let my instincts take over, it’s the most natural thing--baby moves, it means it’s ok. But if I step back, in a sense, and think about it in a detached way, it’s way weird. I mean, think about it--something is alive in my belly, and it’s moving around. It’s kind of like in that movie, where that thing rips out of that guy’s stomach.”

The vampire couldn’t help but chuckle. “Like in Alien. I remember that... That scene even set me off for a while afterwards.” He tore his eyes away from her stomach and looked Buffy in the eye. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

The Slayer blushed and tried to pull the covers back up. “Shyeah--with my big belly, weird belly-button and water-swollen ankles. Real beautiful.”

Spike shook his head. Taking her chin in his hand, he turned her hazel gaze onto his own cerulean one. “But you’re creating life! Your breasts are fuller, and so are your hips; your skin glows, your hair is shiny... There isn’t anything on this planet more beautiful than you right now, Buffy. We’ve both seen so much death, so much destruction. We’ve got to take a minute and step back to appreciate just how glorious this is...”

Buffy didn’t know what to say. She knew he was right, but that didn’t mean that she still didn’t feel like a whale. “Thanks. It’s nice to hear that, that someone finds me beautiful when I feel so big.”

They shared a comfortable silence before Buffy spoke up once again. She had a favour to ask the vampire, but wasn’t sure how he’d feel about it. On one hand, he was always there when she needed it, but on the other, he was often discomforted at being put in all-too-human situations.

“Spike?”

“Hmm?”

“I have a favour I need to ask you. I only want you to say yes if you really want to go ahead with it, though.” Oh, this wasn’t sounding good, even to her own ears.

Still lulled by the morning’s events, the vampire kept his eyes on the baby’s movements. “Ask away, love.”

“I’ve... uh... signed up for pre-natal classes. They really encourage the partner to be there during the courses, but since I’m not really with the partner anymore, and anyway you’re really kind of my partner now, and I signed up for night classes, I was wondering...”

Ok. Now she had his attention. Dragging his gaze from the young woman’s belly to her face, he pursed his lips. “What’s involved in these classes, pet?” He wanted to say yes, but this was asking a lot...

“Well, I’m not a hundred percent sure, but they explain what goes on when the baby’s born, they give you some pointers on how to make the delivery easier, they go through some of the problems that might come up. Oh! And there’s also a visit to the birthing unit in the hospital, so we get to see how everything is set up, and...”

“I’ll do it.” It wasn’t a hard decision, after all. He’d want to be there, by her side, during the baby’s birth. That much he knew. And if he wanted to be of any use, he might as well tag along to these classes. He’d be of no use if he didn’t know anything about what was going on. When she turned to look at him, hazel eyes wide with surprise and face beaming, he knew he’d made the right decision. “’S’not much of a decision, really; not if I don’t want to look like a complete git when the baby’s on it’s way.”

Buffy hugged him as tight as she could. He’d just answered another question, one that she hadn’t built up the courage to ask yet. He’d be with her during the delivery. It sounded like a cheesy 70’s song, but he was her rock, her anchor. With him there, in the room with her, she knew she could go through anything. “Thanks, Spike.” She pulled back and sniffled, wiping away a few stray tears--stupid hormones. “Now, why don’t we go downstairs so I can rustle us up a breakfast of champions?”

“Sounds tempting, love. But I have a much better idea--why don’t we start off with a nice, hot shower first?”

“Oh my God! I can’t believe you actually snuck this by me...” Buffy looked around at the women gathered in her mother’s living room. She’d had no idea whatsoever that a baby shower had been in the works for her (and the baby, of course), so when she walked through her front door after a rather long day at work she was surprised to see all of her friends, her mother, and her employer waiting for her.

“Buffy, you really didn’t think that we’d pass up a tradition like this, did you?” Joyce walked over and helped her daughter with her bag and coat and ushered her to a comfortable seat placed at the centre of the room. “Now sit down and put your feet up--I’ll go get you a cold drink, then we can start the fun.”

The young woman watched her mother disappear into the kitchen, then turned to those who were gathered around her: there was her boss, Pauline, and--of course--Willow, Tara, and Anya. “You guys all knew about this, and managed to keep it from me?” She turned to Anya in particular. “Especially you! You’re the worst when it comes to secrets. How did you manage?”

The ex-vengeance demon frowned and glared at Willow. “Hmph. Threats were made. Involving certain long-eared rodents.” She shivered, remembering the redheaded witch’s words of warning. Keeping secrets was easy when you ran the risk of being invaded by rabbits every time you had sex. Stupid, cruel witch. If only I still had some of my powers, she‘d think twice about threatening me... She shivered at the thought of rabbits hopping about on her pristine floors, their little noses twitching evilly as they taunted her with their mere presence.

Buffy’s eyes turned to her left, where an assortment of brightly wrapped presents, baskets and bags were stacked. She leaned over and, stretching, tried to peek into a bag that had baby rabbits on it. Definitely not from Anya, she mused.

“Buffy Summers! You keep your hands to yourself--absolutely no peeking until those gifts are ready to be opened!”

Really, you’d think her daughter was eight, the way she still acted around presents... Joyce handed her daughter a glass of juice and sat in a folding chair to her right. She picked up a small gift bag and handed it to the expectant mother. “Now, every gift has a number on it. As the party moves on, you get to pick numbers out of this bag--that will let you know which gifts to open. But first, let’s start with a game...”

***

Two hours, five games, and a couple of platefuls of hors-d’oeuvres later, Buffy sat back in the recliner and exhaled deeply. She’d received such a varied assortment of gifts, all wonderful in their own way. Willow and Tara had given her a baby monitor--the one with the pad that you put underneath the baby to monitor life signs; her boss had given her a basket of stuff, including a handmade blanket, some tiny sleepers and a rattle; and her mom and Giles had bought her a musical rocker. But it was Anya’s gift (and why was she surprised--really, why was she?) that had shocked the whole gathering. She had given Buffy a black and red see-through negligee with some aromatic massage oil (and some other ’toys’ that the Slayer had kept hidden in the wrapping). After the collective gasp and deafening silence, the ex-demon found herself obliged to explain her gift.

“Well, I don’t think it’s fair that everyone forgets about the mother at these silly get-togethers. I mean, just because she’ll have a baby it won’t mean that she won’t want any orgasms anymore. Really--she’ll need them more than ever. Orgasms are relaxing and pleasurable and will provide much needed down-time in between feeding and diaper changing.” She nodded and smiled to herself.

Buffy opened her mouth and shut it a few times before deciding on how to respond to Anya’s little speech. “You know what, Anya? In the weirdest and wackiest way possible, you’re probably right. It might not make any sense right now, but I’m sure that after the baby’s born I’ll appreciate the... gifts you got me.” Leaning over, she hugged the ex-demon. “Thank you.”

She’d opened the gifts from everyone who was present, and no one (save for her mother, from the look on her face) seemed to know who the last one was from. The fact that the gift didn’t have a number on it also piqued her interest--it was obviously meant to be opened last.

Anya, not being very good with suspense, broke the silence. “Well, don’t just sit there staring at it! Open it up--this excitement is causing strange feelings in my stomach and I don’t like it!”

Shaking her head, smirk on her lips, Buffy acquiesced to the request. On top of the box was a plain white envelope, much different than the assortment of colourful baby cards she’d received with her other gifts. No pastel colours, no flowers, no rattles or pacifiers. Just a standard white 8 x 11 envelope. She tore it open, only to find a note written on lined paper. Ok, whoever this is from isn’t into cutesy things...

Now, she’d come close to crying a few times over the course of the party, especially when she’d laid eyes on the blanket that Pauline had crocheted her, but this note broke her not-so-firm resolve.

She read and re-read the short note through tears, until she felt everyone’s eyes on her. Sniffling, she apologized before stuffing the note in her blouse pocket. “Sorry...” She looked at her mother, who only gave her a knowing smile. Of course she’s in on this... Turning back to the large box, she began to slowly unwrap it, trying to make this moment last as long as possible. She had no idea what the vampire had bought her--she’d looked at so many baby things in the newspapers...

Nothing could have prepared her for the sight that befell her when the wrapping was finally removed. A collective gasp went around the room at the sight of the brand new stroller that was contained in the box.

Willow was the first to speak up. “Oh, Buffy! Isn’t that the one that we were looking at when we went shopping a few months ago? The one where we were wondering who’d be crazy enough to pay...”

“Yeah.” The Slayer was in a daze as she sat back and stared at the box. Part of her wanted to refuse the gift--it was really too much, honestly. Who needed cup holders and all-terrain wheels, and three storage compartments... But the other part of her--the one who’d been staring at the stroller for months upon months--was doing backflips and whooping noises. “This is the one.”

Anya brusquely shattered the quiet moment. “Well, it’s nice to know that you have a man who’s willing to spend lots of money on you.” She stared back at all the weird looks she was getting. “What? It’s the truth. Xander spends lots of money on me, and it makes me happy...”

“Bu.. but how do you know who sent it?” Tara was confused. Did she miss something? She was usually on the ball, but Anya’s non-linear thought patterns often sped light years ahead of her own.

“Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? She’s opened all our gifts, so it had to be someone who didn’t want to be here. There wasn’t a card--nothing cute like we girls spent valuable time and effort looking for, and the wrapping doesn’t have anything to do with babies. It almost looks like Christmas paper... Who else would this be from, but a man?” Were these people all stupid? Women shouldn’t have to be around for a millennium to figure this stuff out...

No one had an answer to the ex-demon’s rhetorical question. Once again, Anya was ten steps ahead of everyone. Her quirks made her come off as a ditz, but more often than not, she was more perceptive than the lot of them put together. They all sat back, sipping their drinks or examining the door prizes they’d won, happy that Buffy had someone who cared for her.

***

When all their guests had left, Buffy and Joyce sat at the kitchen table, chatting about the gifts that she’d received.

“You knew about the stroller, didn’t you?”

Joyce sighed. “Yes, I did. Spike actually gave me the money to go out and buy it for him--I don‘t think he‘s quite ready to be seen buying baby stuff yet. He wrapped it himself, though.”

Buffy giggled. “I kinda figured that out myself. I think he used up two rolls of tape--you’d think that 3M sponsored the present, or something. That and...” A bang, coming from upstairs, stopped her in mid-sentence. “Did you hear that?”

“That would be another present, one from Rupert and me.” Joyce winced at the language that was coming from upstairs. She’d made Spike promise to sneak in and be quiet, but that vow was now shot to hell.

“But didn’t you guys get me the swing?” Was that Spike, upstairs? No one, not even Giles, could swear a blue streak like him.

“That was a bit of a... side present, I guess you’d call it. Your other present, which was supposed to be a secret until later, is upstairs--either being put together or broken into little pieces, from the sound of it.”

Using the table for leverage, Buffy stood up. “Well, let’s go see what Mr. Pottymouth is up to. The sight alone of him putting something together is worth it.” She turned to her Mother, evil grin in place. “You don’t happen to have any film left on that disposable camera, do you?”

***

“Look, if you think this is so bloody funny, you can put the fu... stupid thing together...” Even in his piss-poor mood, Spike hadn’t forgotten his vow to try to curb the worst of his cursing before the baby’s arrival.

He threw a two-sided leaflet at the Slayer, who was sitting on the floor beside him laughing. “The English instructions are useless, as are the French and Spanish ones. Maybe if I could make out the Korean ones, I’d be able to get this bleeding thing put together before the bit’s born...”

Buffy took the paper in hand and looked it over. Not the easiest to follow, but after the whole dorm-room Ikea incident, they were a cinch. “Look, why don’t we just take everything apart, set it all out and try again. You guys always do this--guess it doesn’t matter if you were born yesterday or over a century ago--you just try to put stuff together and only use the instructions as a backup plan...” She wrenched the Allen key from his hand and begun to pull the screws out of the base. “You know, if we follow the instructions step by step, we’ll be done in an hour, tops.”

She then turned towards her mother, who was still standing in the doorway. “And you... I can’t believe you and Giles actually went out and bought a crib! I’m sure the one in LA would have done--you didn’t have to go out and spend lots of money on a new one.”

Spike sat back on his haunch and watched the young woman skilfully deconstruct his attempt at putting the crib together and nag her mother at the same time. Multitasking was definitely a woman’s strong point, he observed wryly.

“Honey, we wanted to get you a nice gift...”

“But the rocker was nice!”

“...and we didn’t trust a used crib. It may have looked sturdy, but who knows what it’s been through? For all you know, someone might have crazy-glued it together.” Joyce sighed, watching her daughter sort all the rungs and hardware into neat little piles--she’d never thought she’d add ‘well organized’ to Buffy’s attributes. “We just want what’s best for the baby--you can at least acknowledge that my first grandchild will be more spoiled than anyone else’s...”

Buffy chuckled as she opened the last of the plastic bags with her teeth. How the hell had Spike gotten so much done without the 1 1/2” screws? “I know, Mom. It’s just I feel weird that everyone’s spending so much money on stuff. I’m not going to turn any of it down, but I just feel awkward.” Addressing the vampire, she pointed to one of the piles of wooden lengths. “See those? Put them together like this (she pointed to a drawing on the instructions) with those screws over there...” She handed him the Allen key and turned her attention back to her Mother. “You know what I mean, though, don’t you?”

If Joyce had ever had any doubts as to her daughter’s ability to manage a household, this little scenario quashed them all. Watching Buffy take charge of a project and see it through in a logical, organized manner and getting her boyfriend to follow instructions (/*cough* orders *cough*) without a word, well... it made her feel proud. “Yes, I know exactly what you’re talking about, but you don’t have to worry. No one feels pressured into helping you--we’re doing it because we want to. Your job is to just sit back and let yourself get pampered. Oh, and oversee the assembly of furniture, obviously.”

“Well, someone’s got to make sure that the baby doesn’t have to crawl into the crib from underneath the mattress...”

Spike looked up from his corner of the room and scowled. “Look, ‘s not my fault the bloody things are more complicated than I thought. It’s supposed to be simple, innit? ‘Here, put these four sides together and put the baby in the middle’...” He continued to grumble as he screwed in the last set of bolts. “It’d also be nice if they provided some tools that were longer than an inch long. Who the hell’s supposed to be able to use this bloody thing, anyway? A five year-old?”

“Well, I think this is my cue to bow out for now. I’ll go down and make us some supper--how does chicken fettuccini sound?” No way was Joyce staying around long enough to get hooked into the assembly team--she’d done it often enough that she more than deserved a ‘get out of jail free’ card on this one. Heck, the Ikea incident at Buffy’s dorm should have absolved her of a lifetime of furniture assembly...

“Ooh! Yum! Yes, go and fix dinner--we’ll be ok on our own!”

Spike remained silent, still trying to figure out what the hell the crib company was thinking when the only tool they’d provided was a miniature wrench...

***

“It’s a nice crib, once it’s assembled correctly--isn’t it?” Buffy couldn’t help but throw in a little jab as she and Spike sat back in the baby’s room after having assembled her ‘surprise’ present.

“Hmph--you just watch it, Slayer. Might not be that good at putting together baby furniture, but I’ve never heard you complain about my massages...” Spike didn’t mind the teasing, but figured he had to fight back a little, at least--for image‘s sake. He helped Buffy scoot in between his legs, with her back to him. Letting his hands do their magic on the knots in her muscles, he asked her if she’d had a nice party.

“Oh, it was so much fun! Willow and Tara got me a baby monitor--one I hadn’t seen anywhere. I don’t know where they got it, but it’s really neat--it comes with a pad that you put under the baby’s sheets that monitors the breathing, or heartbeat or something. Anyway, if the baby stops breathing it lets you know. Um, what else... Oh yeah--Pauline gave me a bunch of different stuff, like clothes and a cute toy and this really nice blanket that she knitted or crocheted or something--it’s yellow, since we don’t know if the baby’s a girl or a boy. And she gave me a ton of bibs--she said something about needing as many as I can get my hands on. Mom agreed, and they began to exchange baby stories. And Anya...”

Spike felt Buffy’s back tense up before her head bent forward, slowly shaking from side to side. “I was so embarrassed. You should see what she bought. She actually got me some sexy lingerie, some massage oil and some ‘toys‘... I managed to leave the toys in the bag without anyone noticing, but I’d pulled out the garter belt before seeing what it was. Do you know what her reasoning was? She said that I’d need plenty of orgasms after the baby was born, to keep relaxed... I swear, sex is all that girl ever thinks about.”

“Makes sense to me, luv. I can’t imagine finding the time for the massage oil, but the kinky knickers? Think of it--you’ll have your body back like it was before,” he trailed a finger down along her side, skimming her breast, and nuzzled the side of her neck, “and I’m sure you’ll be feeling right sexy again.” He turned her around to face him, and pressed his lips against hers for a long, slow kiss. Breaking away, he waggled his eyebrows.

“And what’s this about toys, then?”

Author's Note: Well, I have to admit this one came faster than I expected, but slower than I'd hoped (if that makes any sense). There's supposed to be a Christmas chapter coming up soon, but I don't know if I'll have it done by Xmas... Anyway, please read and review, as always :)

“Just call the bloody shot, will ya?”

“Oh, nonono--this is way too rich.”

Spike propped his elbows up on the table and rested his forehead in his hands. What was it with him and his big mouth? Why had he never, not in well over a century, ever learned to zip it when it counted? What the hell had prompted him to confide in the whelp, anyway? Maybe it’s because we’ve been on actual speaking terms since that night at Buffy’s, when he found out about us, or maybe it’s because we’ve been getting together for these billiard games, or hell--maybe it’s because he’s the only other bloke around. Ok, so there were lots of reasons, which was perhaps the reason why Xander’s mirth was so hard to swallow.

Xander was beside himself with glee--finally, something was off in the Buffy/Spike lovey-dovey-athon. He’d never seen anything like it before--sure, they bickered, but from what the vampire had been saying, theirs seemed to be a match made in heaven, with no drawbacks. Until now, that was...

“What’s the matter, Spikey? Feeling... stressed?” When the vampire looked up at him, scowl on his face, he decided that that was enough teasing. He’d had his fun, but Spike seemed to be taking his ribbing a bit too seriously. Stick in hand, he walked over to the table and hopped up onto the free stool. Taking a sip of his beer--damn, but hadn’t the vampire gotten him addicted to that Irish Ale--he put on a serious face.

“Look, I’m sorry about poking the angry bear--but you’ve gotta see it from my angle. You and Buffy--man, you guys are, like, made for each other. Everything’s always hunky dory--either you give in or she gives in, but you’re always... I don’t know, it’s like you guys are always perfect. Then I look at me and Anya and--don’t take me wrong, I love her more than anything--but she’s a high maintenance gal. She’s always begging me to buy her stuff, or pay all my attention to her--you know, I actually have to bribe her to let me out of the house for these guys nights out...” He sighed, realizing that he’d been babbling. “What I mean to say is that although I don’t want to see you guys hit any bumps, there’s some personal satisfaction at seeing your relationship finally take a more normal turn. Capisce?”

Although the whelp seemed to be more verbose than usual, Spike had hung onto every single word of his diatribe. He slowly blinked before taking a long swig of his Guinness. “Yeah, I kinda see where you’re coming at. Doesn’t make me feel any better, but I get your point.” He felt so weird having someone to talk to. Who had the vampire, in his century-plus of existence, to confide in? Angelus? Not bloody likely. Drusilla? Uh, no. Crazy women don’t make good sounding boards. Buffy? Yes, but this was about her, so he wasn’t going to talk to her about it.

So he had Xander. The boy-wonder whom he’d so often ridiculed--useless, really, compared to the others; so blatantly following Buffy because of some hopeless crush, like a puppy dog following its master. But he had his strengths--you couldn’t discount a strong heart and valiant effort. In battle, so many men of stout character had performed greater feats than the best swordsmen, or the sharpest marksmen. And now, he felt comfortable in saying that he had the whelp as a friend.

Which led him to the issue at hand. His sex life. Not something he’d ever shared with anyone, but recently there had been dry periods. Ok, more like intermittent oases in the Gobi desert. Sure, Buffy was pregnant--well, very pregnant--and that was a valid reason, no arguing with that. But up to a short while ago, she’d been just as into it as he was. He’d walk into the kitchen after patrolling and find himself with the Slayer wrapped around his waist, kissing him like he’d been off to war for years; they’d go to a movie, and she’d want to sit in the back row, just in case the urge befell her to lean over and... well, you know. But the surprise attacks lessened, the urges to be naughty became fewer and far between, and now it was mostly him and... himself.

“Uh, Spike? Anyone in there?” Xander had watched Spike’s eyes glaze over as his mind went bye-bye for a while. Yeah, he was mulling things over, but it was just plain creepy, with the lack of life signs and all.

The vampire shook his head. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Have you tried to talk to Buffy about this? I know it sounds dumb, but I’m sure you guys talk about things, right?”

“Dunno. Well, yeah, we talk about stuff, like the baby, and what she wants to do with her life, and that sort of stuff. Truth is, I’d feel like a prat bringing it up. ‘Pet, I know you’re tired, and your back hurts, and your ankles are swollen, but how ‘bout a roll in the hay?’ I don’t think it’d go over too well.” Spike’s attention was diverted for a moment as he motioned a barmaid over for refills and a basket of onion rings. When she had left, he muttered. “Can’t believe they got rid of that bloomin’ onion. Best thing the place had going for it, if you ask me.”

The brunette snickered. Nice try to steer the conversation, Deadboy... “Spike--it’s bothering you. I mean, look--you’re talking to me about it--that’s a sign that this... glitch... is really working one on you. When I say talk to Buffy, I don’t mean saying something like ‘hey I’m horny--give me some’, ‘cause I think that, honestly, you try that and it’s hellooo dustbuster. What I mean is just... I don’t know--it sounds gay, but just talk to her about it. Let her know that you’re frustrated. Maybe you can find other ways of dealing with it.”

The vampire’s brow went up. “Other ways? What, you mean find myself another bird or something? Don’t think Buffy’ll go for that, mate.”

“Uh, no. Other ‘birds’ are definitely out of the question. I meant... you know “other ways”...” Xander couldn’t bring himself to actually volunteer the information--he may be with Anya, but there’s no way he could be as upfront as she was when it came to talking sex.

Spike let out a frustrated sigh--he wasn’t in the mood for games. Imitating Xander’s quotation mark hand signal, he growled. “What the hell kind of “other ways”, Harris? I’m not in the mood for twenty questions.”

Shit. The young man leaned over and tried to keep his voice down. At least Spike had vampiric hearing, so he knew he could hear loud and clear. “I can’t believe I’m actually going to talk about this...” He paused and leaned back as their drinks and food arrived. “Thanks, Angie.” He pulled out some money and paid the barmaid. After all, Spike had taken care of the last round.

Munching on a ring, he leaned back in. “Look, I’m sure you’ve got a good imagination--I mean, you were with Drusilla for what, a hundred and twenty years? Don’t tell me you guys stuck to missionary sex, cause I won’t believe you.”

The vampire’s words were laced with sarcasm. “No, we didn’t stick to the missionary position. But I don’t think that Buffy’s either gonna be in the mood to try what we got into, nor is she in shape to try some of it.” Stupid wanker--what did he think he was, anyway?

“I’m not talking bondage, here. I’m talking...” His voice got lower, if possible. If anyone heard him, he’d probably just crawl under the table and die. “Uh. When Anya has her period, we don’t have sex. Doesn’t mean we don’t do anything, though. We get around the whole penetration bit.” He narrowed his eyes at the vampire’s look of unabashed hunger. “Not that you would care any with the period and all, but for us non-vamps, it’s kind of a messy deal, ok?”

Spike’s hands shot up. “Hey, didn’t say a word.” Great, talk of sex and blood. And a low prospect of getting any action when he went home... “Keep talking, though.” He popped an onion ring in his mouth and talked around it. “I’m dying to find out what your secret is...” A teasing smirk pulled the corner of his lips up.

“Just don’t tell anyone I told you any of this...”

“Don’t you think our birds talk about this kind of stuff all the time? I betcha the Slayer and the two witches know everything it takes to get you off, Harris. Anya isn’t exactly the buttoned lip kind of gal.”

Spike was right--why was he nervous about this? Anya’d probably been telling everyone about this stuff forever. Maybe it was because he didn’t know how the vampire would react to it. “Fine. You could try masturbating on her. I mean, she doesn’t have to do anything, but it’s better than doing it alone, or in the washroom...”

“You mean tossing off on her?” At Xander’s blushing nod, the vampire pursed his lips together. “Never thought of that, really. Be better than the alternative, that’s for sure. And you say Anya’s ok with that?”

“Yeah, it actually excites her, in some demented ‘only Anya’ way.” He was really, really talking to Spike about this. This was definitely a Hellmouth moment.

“Well, makes sense, in a way, dunnit? Tell me you wouldn’t like watching your bird get herself off?” This man-talk was kind of fun, Spike decided. Especially the ‘whelp-turns-a-deeper-shade-of-purple-as-we-go’ part of it. When it came to sex, Spike was definitely unabashed. “So, how do you do it, does she just lie there and you kneel beside her, or does she help?”

Xander’s face paled. Now he was the one who regretted opening his big mouth. “Why don’t you use your imagination, huh? I don’t think I need to go into details.” Please let him leave it at that...

So he no longer went around killing people. Somehow, this was much more pleasurable to the vampire at the moment. Trying his damnedest not to let his smirk show, the bleached blonde pressed the issue. “No, seriously. I just want to make sure that I do this right. And I can’t do that unless you let me know exactly how it is you ‘pull it off’”

The bleached wonder was having all too much fun at his expense. Here he was, genuinely trying to help--but dying of embarrassment along the way--and Spike’s jumping in his seat, gleeful as can be. “Look, we’ve got a game of pool that’s only halfway done. Why don‘t we work on pulling that off, huh?” There. He threw the towel in, gave up, whatever you want to call it. God knew how much Spike wanted to get out of him, but there’s only so much one poor guy can take.

He jumped off the barstool and took a swig of his beer. Before he was able to take a step away, his arm was held in the vampire’s iron clutch.

“Look, Harris. I really appreciate all this. I know it’s awkward for you, ‘specially with us not being best of buddies, but you did good. I’ve never had anyone to talk to before--of the male persuasion, mind you--so all this is a bit strange for me. But, for all it means, thanks.” He removed his hand from the brunette’s grip and stood there, not really knowing what to do.

Xander made that decision for him. Nodding, he smiled. “Actually, I’m with you on that. It’s good to have a non-Giles kind of guy to hang around with. And it’s no big. I guess we all have stuff we need to sort out, every now and then.” Turning back to the table, he looked at it for a few seconds.

“Green in the far corner pocket.”

Author's note:Yay! I actually got another chapter in before Christmas! I know it doesn't have the Spuffiness you're all craving, but this was an important chapter to me, in regards to character development. Now, I did have a Christmas chapter I wanted to get out in time, but I doubt that I'll be able to pull it off. Oh well, guess it'll be a post-Xmas Xmas chapter.
A safe and happy holidays to all, best wishes (and all that rot, as Spike would say) :)

Buffy sighed, leaning back into the couch’s soft pillows. “You know what? The Grinch really did know what he was talking about... at the end, I mean.”

Spike sat down beside her, setting his drink on the coffee table. “How do you mean?” He propped his arm up onto the couch’s back, fully relaxed after a more than extravagant meal. Joyce sure knew how to stuff her turkey--and the guests, as well.

“Well, I mean that bit about Christmas not being about presents and material things.” She nestled herself into the crook of the vampire’s arm, taking a sip of her eggnog. Weird stuff, but hey--it tasted good, so why think too hard about it?

“Ah. You mean ‘It came without ribbons! It came without tags! It came without packages, boxes or bags!’?”

“Yeah. That bit.” She turned her head to look up at him, the corner of her lips turned up into a wry smile. “And you know that way too well for someone who claims to have seen it for the first time a couple of days ago...”

The vampire had the sense to look abashed. Raising his hand to scratch the back of his head, he seemed to almost blush. “Yeah, well, about that. I might’ve seen it a few times before.”

Buffy scooted back to the other end of the couch, resting her back against the armrest and settling her feet on Spike’s lap. “So. How many times is ‘a few times’, anyway? Cause I’ve seen it every year since I can remember, and there’s no way in hell that I know it that well.”

He was cornered. Another chunk of the Big Bad chipped away, sent to oblivion. “Bloody hell. Alright. I’ve watched it every year since it first came out on the telly, ok?” The Slayer’s nod and mute assent were better than the gloating he expected. Guess she was just as stuffed as he was--maybe more, since she seemed to have eaten almost as much as he did, but her stomach no longer had the same capacity it used to.

He began to rub her feet, trying to massage the swelling away. Time to change the subject. “How are your feet, love? They any better?”

“No, not really. They will be, though, if I can keep them up high.” She stretched her legs and groaned. “And with Mom gone to Giles’, I don’t see myself tearing my butt off this couch for anything.”

A few moments of silence was spent before Buffy grew tired of the quiet. “So, how was your first Christmas in over a hundred years?”

Spike took a long sip of his eggnog (mixed with Captain Morgan’s Spiked Rum, of course), one hand still rubbing the young woman’s foot. “Hard to put into words without sounding like a poof, to be honest. I hardly expected anything--especially not the presents you lot gave me. I would’ve been happy just to come by and watch you open your own gifts.”

“But that wouldn’t have been any fun, now would it? I always prefer watching others open the gifts I get them over opening my own gifts--not that that isn’t any fun either.” Buffy took a deep breath and shifted into a more comfortable position. Her eyes kept darting over to the mantle and the cards that were displayed there. “Although I have to admit that I was surprised to see something from Dad. It’s the first time since Mom and I moved to Sunnydale that he actually remembered me at Christmas. Guess he finally got a secretary with a good head on her shoulders.”

It pained Spike to see how much the Slayer’s severed relationship with her father affected her. Sure, Joyce was a great mother--there was no doubt about that, but something was definitely missing in her life. He himself knew what it was like, not having both parents, and it crushed him to know what she was going through. And he’d put all his efforts to make sure that Buffy’s baby wouldn’t feel the same kind of emptiness in his or her life.

“Well, she’s got a good head on her shoulders if she’s the one who thought of the gift, that’s for sure. The nibblet’ll be able to afford Oxford with the money he’s putting into that school fund.”

“Hmm... Oxford, eh? You really think it’ll make it to Oxford?”

“Absolutely! Nothing’ll stop our bit...” Spike paused, his use of the word ‘our’ having surprised him. Before he could take it back, though, Buffy had pulled herself back into a sitting position and had slid over to his side.

“Our baby, Spike. Don’t feel like you shouldn’t say it. You’ve been a great daddy so far--nothing says you won’t be just as wonderful after the baby’s born. It might not be your flesh and blood, but that doesn’t always mean much, does it? Just look at Dad...” She pressed her finger to his lips to still the words that almost pored from them. “Hold on, just listen. Dad’s my flesh and blood and he hasn’t been anywhere near as close to me as Giles has. So bloodlines--they don’t mean everything, Spike. They just determine hair colour and whether you’re a good singer and if you like spicy food and stuff. The emotional bond--that’s determined by what’s in here” she thumped two fingers against his chest, where his heart lay “and I know that you’re a good man, and that you already love this baby. That’s all it needs to know, and to be shown.”

The vampire just sat there, not knowing what to say. He wanted to tell her that vampires weren’t meant to be good parents, that he didn’t have any good values to instil, that he sure as hell couldn’t shoot the shit about the good ol’ days... But he knew that she was right. He loved the baby as if it had been his own, and he’d die making sure that it--and its mother--were safe, that it was loved. It didn’t matter at the moment how he did that, but a warm feeling inside of him assured him that he didn’t have to worry. Things would be fine.

He leaned over and kissed his love on the forehead. “You really surprise me sometimes, love. Thanks, though.”

Buffy decided it was time for something a little lighter. “So, do you really like the presents you got?” She looked to the foot of the couch, at the small stack of gifts that the vampire had received. Each one had been worth their weight in gold, with the look on his face as he opened them.

Spike leaned over and picked up his presents. Chuckling, he picked up a small light blue book that Xander and Anya had bought him. Not only was he surprised that they’d thought of him, but the book’s matter of content floored him. “’The Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook: Parenting’...” Shaking his head, he opened the book. “This book’s a lark--have you actually looked at any of this? ‘How to recapitate a doll’, How to discipline an imaginary friend’... Downright ridiculous.” He had to add, however, “but bloody hilarious.”

From Willow, he’d received a small package of maple sugar candies. It had taken all his self-control not to finish the lot of them right then and there. “So, how did Red know about my sweet tooth, eh?”

The Slayer’s face took a look of innocence. “Oh, it may have been mentioned once or twice, when she was wigging over what to buy you. You should have seen her, Spike--she was so worried over your present, I thought she was going to pass out. She thought of the maple candies, though. Said she has some family up in Vermont or something.”

“Well, I’ll have to tell her it’s much appreciated.” He opened the packet and offered it to her. “You want another?”

Buffy’s nose turned up and she cringed. “Ugh. A world of no. One’s enough for the year--those things are way too sweet. I have no idea how you can sit there and eat a bunch of them.”

Spike took two and popped them in his mouth. Managing to mumble around the sugary mouthful, he shrugged. “They’re addictive, they are. Too sweet to pass up.” His eye gained a twinkle and he leaned in for a quick peck on her cheek. “Like you.”

The young woman rolled her eyes. “Ok, I’m taking those away before you make me gag here, buddy. The sugar’s getting to your brain.” She tore the pack from his grasp and tossed them onto the end table, before turning back to him. “Do you really like the shirt? Cause if you don’t, I can take it back.”

The vampire’s eyes grew large. “What? I don’t bloody think so! Don’t know what you’re worried about--it’s dark blue and it’s silk. What’s not to like about it? Actually, I can’t wait to see it on you.” He held it up in front of her, one eye squinting as he imagined her wearing nothing but the shirt. Great, now he was getting himself horny...

Buffy smiled, knowing her lover all too well. “We’ll just see about that... But how about we watch your movie first? I’ve never actually seen a James Bond movie with Sean Connery.”

Spike walked over to the DVD player, where he popped the movie in. “I still have a hard time believing that--he’s THE James Bond, luv! There is no other James Bond...”

They argued for a short while--Buffy in favour of Pierce Brosnan and Spike of Sean Connery, before the movie started. Shifting until she was more than comfy, Buffy snuggled against Spike. The combination of a warm fire, lots of home cooked food and a bit of rum had raised his temperature a little, and she found that comforting, in a strange way.

***

By the time the credits were rolling, Buffy was fast asleep. Spike was surprised that she’d lasted more than halfway through the movie--she’d been leaning quite heavily against him, not that he minded in the least. Trying not to wake her, he wiggled out from beneath her so he could retrieve the disc from the movie player. He pried himself away from the couch and carefully lay her back down, head resting against the armrest.

When he turned back towards the couch, movie in hand, the vampire saw that the Slayer was no longer asleep. She was quietly watching him, an odd look on her face.

“Ready for bed, love?” He dropped the movie onto the coffee table and began turning some of the lamps off.

When the vampire crouched down in front of her to pick her up, a strange feeling came over Buffy. Well, not strange, just a bit... neglected. Nestled in his strong arms, she turned her face to his and leaned in, placing her lips against his.

He nearly dropped her. If it hadn’t been for vampire reflexes and all that rot, Spike would have simply dumped the Slayer on the spot, out of sheer surprise. With her hands running through his hair, her lips attacking his, her tongue in his mouth--he didn’t know what to think. But he sure as heck wasn’t going to be the one to stop her.

Buffy didn’t know where this burst of passion had come from, but she knew better than to try and fight it. It had been a long time since she and Spike had really made love and she saw it as the cap on a wonderful day. And anyway--her mom wasn’t going to be home until much later, so...

“God, Buffy... please tell me I’m not dreaming this.” Spike had managed to get them both halfway up the stairs, but had to stop because of what the Slayer was doing to his neck. He began to wonder if he had a turtleneck, because there was no way he was coming out of this unmarked.

“No, Spike--you’re not dreaming. If you can ever get us to the bedroom, this is really gonna happen...”

***

Both blondes lay back, satisfied from the intimacy of their coupling. Sure--it hadn’t been anywhere near as... energetic... as their usual bouts, but it was contact that they’d both needed at the moment.

“You comfy, luv? Or do you need another pillow?”

Buffy’s eyes narrowed at the vampire’s verbal jab. So what if she was resting on half a dozen pillows? How else is a pregnant gal supposed to get comfortable? “Hey--you’re just lucky I’ve left you some room, there, buddy.”

Spike’s eyes gleamed as he dragged a fingertip down her belly. “Well, I could always lie underneath you--didn’t seem to mind it a few minutes ago...” He was well aware that it was probably going to be the last time they would have sex before the baby was born. As much as they’d both enjoyed it, the act had been awkward for Buffy, who had spent most of the time trying to find a comfortable position.

“Shyeah--I think I’m just going to spend the next few hours lying on my side with my pillows, Mr. Sex-on-the-Brain.” She smiled at him to let him know that there wasn’t any malice in her words. Tonight had been for him, sort of an extra Christmas gift. Sex was no longer natural or easy, but she’d wanted it for him--one last time before the baby came. She was relieved to find that, although sex had been such a large part of their relationship--they definitely gave Xander and Anya a run for their money, Spike hadn’t held her weakening libido against her. He’d definitely surprised her with some imaginative alternatives, which had turned out well for both of them, but he hadn’t pressured her into anything.

The Slayer shook herself from her thoughts and caught her vampire lover smiling at her belly. “Penny for your thoughts.” She ran her fingers through his hair, knowing that it was soothing to him as much as a massage was to her.

“Just thinkin’ about next Christmas--how different it will be with the bit. We’ll have to go out and buy toys and go visit Santa at the mall. It’ll be so... domestic.” It was all so strange to him, the new twists and turns his unlife was taking. Never in a million years would he have envisioned himself raising a tot with a Slayer. And especially not looking forward to things like Christmas and birthdays and bath times and kissing scraped knees. These were all things he’d lived through as a human, but hadn’t given a thought to (well, not a positive one) since becoming a demon.

Buffy wasn’t sure how to take Spike’s comment. Was he getting cold feet, or was the phrasing of his thoughts just odd? He hadn’t given her any indication that he wanted to back out to date... Her natural reaction was to keep her worries to herself, but what good did that do? They’d had a couple of arguments to date, and most of them had sprung from misunderstandings. She tried to keep her voice even, to keep any worry out of it. “And ‘domestic’--that’s ok?”

Damn the Slayer’s insecurities. “I wouldn’t trade it for the world, Buffy. I love you and I love the bit, both more than anyone. If I didn’t want to stick around I wouldn’t have--I would’ve hoofed it a long time ago. As strange as this sounds, I want to experience the diapers and the crying and all that rot--it’s something I desperately wanted as a human but hadn’t given a second thought to as a demon. But now that I’m back in a position to go through it, I’m finding myself more than eager.”

“I still say you should give writing a try. You always find the right words, Spike.” Buffy pulled herself over a few pillows and placed a kiss on his cheek. Falling back against the mountain of pillows, she groaned. “You know, I’m at the point where I really can’t wait for this baby to pop out. I can’t sleep, I can’t sit, I can’t stand... At least I’ll be able to move around easier when the baby’s out--although my boobs will just get bigger if I manage to breastfeed.” She slapped her hand over the vampire’s mouth before he could utter a retort. “And I don’t want to hear a word about my big boobs--they’ll be for the baby, not for some horny vampire...”

Chuckling, Spike turned to the bedside table and turned the lamp off. “Merry Christmas, Slayer.”

Author's Note:Well, I didn't know if I could do it, but here it is--another chapter. I have one week left to work before my mat leave and then a week before my due date. All things permitting, I'll try to get another chapter out to you guys before February. I'm sorry the Christmas chapter took so long in coming, but better late than never, eh? And, as usual, please feed the author (aka please review).

Spike growled as his feet were roughly knocked from their perch on the living room coffee table. “Christ, woman! You’ve already dusted the bloody thing twice!”

Buffy shook her head, but proceeded to vigorously wipe away at the table anyway. “Well, if you’d keep your feet on the floor--where they belong, might I add--I wouldn’t have to keep cleaning up after you.”

The vampire bit back an acerbic retort--no use pissing off a very pregnant Slayer. “Look, luv. Why don’t you just sit down and relax a bit? I’m sure the living room’s clean enough--you’ve been at it all morning.” Truth was, Spike was a bit worried about Buffy. She’d been tired, listless for well over a month, practically lacking the energy to climb the stairs to go to bed. But that morning something inside of her had snapped and she’d been scrubbing away at any and every surface she could still reach. Surely, she’d wear herself out...

“Well, that’s just the living room--have you seen the dining room? There are some finger marks in the cabinet’s glass, and the carpet needs a good vacuuming...”

That’s it... the bleached blonde thought to himself, as he went to stand up. Someone had to stop the whirling dervish before she hurt herself. “Ok, pet. I think that’s more than enough... ow!!”

Turning around, he looked up and saw Joyce standing behind him. He rubbed the back of his head where she’d hit him with the wooden spoon. “What the hell was that for?”

The older woman bent over beside him, resting her forearms on the back of the couch. In a quiet voice, she tried reasoning with him. “She’s not going to hurt herself. She’s nesting--it’s something that many pregnant women do right before they’re ready to give birth. It’s kind of a... boost of energy, I guess. Anyway, if she wants to clean the house from top to bottom, you’re going to sit there and keep your mouth shut. This is the first time I’ve seen her put so much effort into dusting without my having to threaten her.”

Spike couldn’t help but chuckle. It was odd seeing Buffy in such a domestic tizzy. He got up and decided to follow Joyce into the kitchen. She’d be much better company than the young blonde armed with a dust rag.

“Must be strange, for you, to go through all this...” Joyce kept most of her attention focussed on the lasagna she was preparing, but let Spike know that she was there if he wanted to talk. Which they still did often over a cup of hot chocolate, after Buffy was in bed.

The vampire hopped onto one of the barstools and rested his elbows on the counter. “Strange doesn’t even cover it, Joyce. The whole thing’s bloody out of this world. I’ve never even given tots a second thought, really--not even before I was turned. Well, not a positive second thought. Now Dru, she was the one who was...” He saw her back stiffen, her imagination obviously running a mile a minute. He’d shared a few of his stories with her, so she wasn’t ignorant of the kind of activities he and his sire were capable of. “Well, ‘s not the place for that anymore. But I never imagined I’d be in a situation where I was preparin’ to take care of a baby.”

He paused, taking a moment to breathe in the aroma of the onions and ground beef. Vampire diet be damned--he could bet that given the choice between a cup of blood and Joyce’s lasagna, he’d choose the latter. “When I was still human, we didn’t have all the gadgets you folks have nowadays. No monitors, no breast pumps, car seats... It’s all so bloody confusing having to wrap my mind around all of that rot.”

Sprinkling generous amounts of oregano on the cooking mixture, Joyce turned back towards him and gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “Spike--we’ve discussed this before. You’ve been around for more than a century--as weird as it always is, saying that. It just shows that you adapt well. You use the microwave, you’re the one who set up the DVD when we got it, you’ve managed to teach yourself to use my laptop...” She chuckled out loud at the deer-in-the-headlights look that the vampire gave her. “I don’t mind, just as long as you clear out the history when you’re done. It’s really best if I don’t know what it is that you’re using it for...”

If the vampire had enough blood in him, he knew he’d be blushing at her revelation. What the heck could he say to that? ‘Sorry I’ve been looking at porn on your computer?’ He just sat there, mouth agape, trying to find anything to say in response. However, Joyce spared him the trouble.

“I said I don’t mind, Spike--I really don’t. I remember what it was like when I was pregnant with Buffy. Not that you need to hear this from an old lady...”

“You’re a babe compared to me, Mum.”

“Oh, that‘s right--I keep forgetting that. But I remember that sex wasn’t exactly at the forefront of my mind. Actually, I doubt it would have been on my top twenty list... So don’t feel bad about it. Just mind that nothing pops up on me randomly. I can’t imagine what excuse I’d have to come up with if I was sitting with a prospective buyer and a marital aid window were to pop up.”

Spike was about to thank her when Buffy walked into the kitchen. She looked around and gave him a dirty look, prompting him to remove his elbows from the countertop. Hopefully this nesting thing wasn’t a week-long affair or he’d be moving back to the crypt...

“Mom--what are you doing?” She’d just cleaned the kitchen that morning, and now her mom had the gall to actually use it, getting it dirty in the meanwhile.

“I’m cooking dinner, dear--what does it look like?” Joyce bit her lip at the tone of voice her daughter had used with her. She repeated her mantra over and over again: It’s almost over, it’s almost over, it’s almost over...

“But I just cleaned this room! Now you have tomato sauce on the counter...”

Spike could sense an imminent battle brewing, with Joyce’s back gone ramrod straight and Buffy’s increasingly loud whine. If he let this go on, both women would say things they’d regret. Life in the Summers household--well, in any household--was Twilight-Zone weird when the vampire was the level-headed one. “Ok, pet. Your mum’s gotta keep us fed, now doesn’t she? Why don’t we go upstairs and make sure you’re all packed up for the hospital. Wouldn’t do anyone any good if you forgot something important, now would it?” He didn’t even give her any chance to respond as he tore the dust cloth from her grip, tossed it onto the counter and dragged her out of the room.

***

“Do you think I need to bring my conditioner?” Buffy called out from the bathroom, where she had the cupboard open to her perusal.

“Don’t know, luv. Really up to you, innit?”

Spike sat on the bed and pulled the baby bag onto his lap. He turned it upside down and dumped its contents out onto the bed. There wasn’t much in it--not like there would be in Buffy’s suitcase, once she fit the kitchen sink in there. He picked up one of the diapers--sure as hell didn’t have nappies like these, he thought as he noted the notch that was cut at the waist. He played with the side velcro strips, peeling them onto and off of the cartoon character--some fuzzy orange thing with a big nose. The diaper instigated a dual thought--first, that the baby would be tiny to actually fit into this piece of plastic; second--that something so big would have to come out of someone as small as his Buffy.

“How about lip gloss?”

Spike shook his head as he picked up a tiny sleeper. “Lip balm, they said. Don’t know why you’d need lip gloss...”

“But I’ve already got the lip balm in my makeup bag.”

“Then leave the lip gloss behind. You won’t be in a mind to think about lookin’ pretty when you’re in labour, pet.” The little outfit he was holding was beige and had Winnie the Pooh on it--now there was a character he recognized. Not like those Moppets or Muffets or whatever the hell those other things were... He brought his attention back to the grumbling blonde; hollering so she could hear him, he continued. “You’ll be ravishing, love--glowing. No need for false beauty.” Ok. Maybe he was laying it on thick, but she seemed to have accepted it since the grumbling had died down.

A pack of diapers, two outfits with matching hat, a couple of blankets and a soother--the baby’s bag was much, much lighter than its mummy’s...

The vampire turned his attention to Buffy’s suitcase. Two pairs of pyjamas, slippers, a nursing bra, a change of clothes to come home in, a pack of heavy-duty hygienic pads... and the pile kept growing. He grumbled when he saw the pads--waste of good blood, in his opinion; but then he’d never been on those kind of terms with the Slayer when she had had her period, so he had no way of knowing if she’d go for that kind of thing.

As he was putting everything back in the suitcase--who could guess how she’d react to an unmade suitcase in her present mood--Spike heard a sharp intake of breath, followed by an ‘oh!’ coming from the bathroom. A few things were knocked over before Buffy called out to him.

“Spike?”

If she asks me ‘vanilla bath gel or strawberry’, I swear I’ll snap... “What’s up?” The bleach blonde’s brow furrowed as he heard the Slayer turn on the sink faucet. What the heck was that girl up to?

“Eww... Can you come here, please?”

There was an eerie calm to her voice that had been absent all day. She’d been on pins and needles, edgy about the cleaning, nervous about everything else. Spike finished placing the pyjamas back at the top of the suitcase and walked over to the bathroom. When he found Buffy in her top and underwear, on the ground on all fours, scrubbing the floor, he nearly lost it.

“What the bloody hell are you doing on the floor? I thought you were done washing, luv--I don’t care what your mum says, this can’t be good for either you or the bit.” He knelt down beside her and paused for a moment. Something was off. Something smelled... strange. What was it that she was cleaning off the floor, anyway?

His eyes grew wide as they met hers. “Buffy?”

“Yup. My water just broke.”

Author's Note:Ok, guys--one chapter and and epilogue left to go. I'm really hoping to get the chapter done this week, but as it'll probably be a long one I can't make any promises. Mini-Piper is on the way (due in one week to the day), so that may also affect my tentative schedule.
Thanks so much to those who reviewed--it always means so much to me.

Author’s Note:

Nope. Don’t fret--this isn’t the note that tells you that I’ve abandoned the story, that it will never be finished, blah blah blah.

This is just a quick note to tell you all that I haven’t forgotten LLT--it’s just taking me a bit longer to finish it, with the new baby and all. I’ve got the final chapter left to write and the epilogue, and then it’s done, finit.

The good thing is that I have at least half of both already written; the bad thing is that I don’t get time on a daily basis that I can use for personal use. Pooh. But--no offense--I’d rather snuggle my little boy than write fic any day :)

Take care, and please be patient!

Pipergirl

“Pet, are you sure you don’t want me to take you to the hospital?” Spike continued to rub the Slayer’s lower back as she rested her head against the chair she was straddling. Although he’d never admit it out loud--probably get his love’s knickers in a knot--he was downright worried. He’d seen Buffy walk from a fight with broken ribs, sprained wrists--damn, he’d even given her a concussion once and she’d still managed to kick his ass.

But at the moment, the diminutive blonde sat backwards on the folding chair, because she’d wanted something solid on which to sit, trembling and moaning with every contraction that passed through her body. ’Back labour’, Joyce had said. Whatever that meant--he just knew that he’d never seen the Slayer in so much pain.

He was sure that if she’d just allow herself to be taken to the hospital that the staff there would find a way to help her through the pain. Heck, anything would be better than just gritting her teeth through the cramps that were racking her midsection.

The concern that Spike had shown all though her pregnancy--concern which Buffy had appreciated through the seven months or so that she’d been with the vampire--was now grating on her nerves. The pain she was feeling was like nothing she’d ever experienced before, and the last thing she needed was to have someone fawning over her like she was some sort of invalid. Her patience had reached its limits. “Spike! For the last time, I’m not going to the hospital until it’s totally necessary. If I’m going to be miserable, I might as well be miserable in my own home.” She paused, grimacing through yet another wave of pain, signalling to the vampire the beginning and end of the contraction, so he could record it with the others.

Fighting the urge to roll his eyes at Buffy’s stubbornness, Spike jotted the contraction’s time and duration down on the chart he was keeping. According to the prenatal class they’d attended, as well as all the books and internet sites the Slayer had consulted, timing contractions was an essential tool in assessing how far along in labour a pregnant woman was. His brow furrowed at the newest data scribbled on the sheet. He hadn’t been paying much attention to what he was recording, or else he might have noticed the pattern sooner--for the past forty minutes or so, the contractions had been about five minutes apart--give or take a few seconds--and lasted close to a minute each. The vampire bit his lip, dragging his mind back to the pre-natal class and all the literature he’d pored over.

Whether or not she was psychologically ready, Buffy’s body had decided for her.

“Sorry to rain on your parade, love, but I think we’ve reached that ‘totally necessary’ time...”

***

“Ugh. I can’t believe I went through all that pain and I’m only 2 centimetres dilated. What the hell’s it going to feel like when it gets time to actually deliver?! I‘ve still got, like, 8 centimetres to go...” Buffy caught Spike’s arm in a death grip and cast a panicked glance at him. “I can’t do this. It’s just too much. We‘ll just sneak out, and...”

Peeling the Slayer’s small fingers from his forearm before she made permanent dents, the vampire tried to soothe her. “Look, pet, that’s what they’ve got drugs for. Once they get you into a room, you just tell them to give you something for the pain. It’ll be much easier to handle once you’re in a drug-induced haze. Right now, though, you‘re doing really well. Your Slayer powers may not be doing anything for you, but Buffy Summers--the woman--is plenty strong.”

Spike couldn’t blame her mood, though. As soon as they’d arrived at the maternity ward, she’d been ushered towards a bathroom, and expected to provide a urine sample. After ten minutes, she’d stormed out of the small room grumbling something about contractions and contortionism. He hadn’t even considered asking her what she’d meant. Then, she’d been ushered into a large room with four beds--certainly not the private room either of them had expected--and had been asked to don a gown and lie down on one of the cots. She’d been in that room for about an hour, hooked up to two machines--one to monitor the baby’s heartbeat and one to register the severity and frequency of her contractions.

So there she’d lain, forced to sit still for what seemed like forever, while everyone who came in seemed to need to stick their fingers up where Spike figured they had no business. Of course, they were doctors and nurses, and it was their business to keep a close eye on her, but it still riled him to have so many people touching his Slayer.

“Calm down, Spike.” Buffy gave his hand a squeeze and offered the vampire a quick smirk. Although his possessive stares and stiff body language (well, at least he hadn’t growled yet) should have aggravated her, the young woman felt reassured that the man she was with would ensure that she be as comfortable as possible. “It‘s necessary, and you know it. And you better get used to it, because I have a feeling that this will be going on the whole time I’ll be in here.”

Not that she enjoyed being ‘handled’ by everyone--heck, she half expected the janitor and the lunch lady to come by and see for themselves just how far she was dilated--Buffy nonetheless appreciated the fact that her care was constant and thorough. When the doctor reappeared about half an hour later he checked her cervix once again.

When he was done examining her, he pulled the latex glove off and looked surprised. “Well, Miss Summers, you’ve reached 6 centimetres--a pretty good feat in only an hour, if I must say so. That’s a commendable goal to reach without any narcotics. I think it’s time to get the nurse to help you to one of the birthing rooms.” He smiled at her warmly, nodded uncertainly at Spike, and disappeared behind the curtain to check on the young woman in the bed across from them.

Brenda, the nurse who had been assigned to Buffy, began to remove all the straps that connected her to the monitors. “Are you ok to walk to the room, or do you want me to get you a wheelchair?”

Sliding off the bed, the young woman stood on her two legs. Pride swallowed, she decided to test her strength before automatically refusing the extra help. Testing out her balance, she figured she could make the short jaunt on her own. “Nope. I’m still good, as long as I don’t have any stairs to climb.”

Brenda couldn’t help but laugh at the blonde‘s sense of humour. There weren‘t many who still laughed at this point. “Don’t worry--it’s a nice, straight floor the whole way there. And you’re lucky tonight--you’ve got one of the bigger rooms.” She held out a hand to help the Slayer and cast a glance back at the other blonde. Sure, he looked dangerous as all hell with his leather coat, peroxide locks and scar--but the older woman could see a softness in his eyes whenever he looked at Buffy. She signalled for him to grab their bags and follow her to the room that would hopefully greet their baby.

***

Brenda had been right--the room was huge, much bigger than the one they’d been shown during the prenatal class’s tour of the ward a few weeks prior. There was a closet to which Spike was ushered, coats and suitcase in hand. Across from the bed--which Buffy hoped came with a detailed instruction manual--was a bassinet on wheels. And, for the significant other, there was a seat that folded out into a makeshift bed.

Now this was the private room they’d been expecting. She really had to thank Giles--once more--for his offer to splurge on this extra comfort.

Brenda signalled for Buffy to sit back on the bed, which had been raised to an upright position. “The buttons to operate the bed are right here on the side panels--they’re on both sides, in case you have to lie on one side or the other.” She pointed to each button as she explained it: “this one raises and lowers the whole bed, this one raises and lowers the head, in case you want to sleep or sit up as you’re doing right now. And this one here pages the nurses’ station where one of us will answer it, and you can just tell us what you need.”

Buffy nodded--it was all rather simple. Guess I won’t need that manual after all, she mused. She turned to the seat beside her, finding that Spike had joined her. Smiling at him, she held her hand out to him and smiled in a way she hoped hid her nervousness.

The Slayer was about to crack--it was only a matter of time. Spike could see through her pasted-on calm demeanour, her fake toothy grin and the death grip in which she held his hand. He squeezed back, pretending to be blind to her obvious panic.

“So, how are you pain-wise? Have you given any thought to what you might want to take, if anything?” The young woman was putting on a stoic face, but Brenda had seen it before. Hiding the pain out of some weird sort of pride. Why these women didn’t just go ahead and take everything available to dull the pain was beyond her.

Buffy looked at Spike, who raised his eyebrows in silent questioning. Turning back to her nurse, she pasted the fake grin back on. She was the Slayer--she should be able to go through with this unassisted. Women had done it for ages before the time of modern medicine, so why couldn‘t she? She would be strong. She could take a little pain.

“No, I‘m fine. I can handle it.”

***

“Oh God, please give me something--anything--to make the pain go away!”

If the pain had been bad before, it was now intolerable. Every time a contraction would occur, it felt like she was being stabbed in the back. Even with Spike‘s comforting touch, trying to massage where he could, her body would tense up and contort. Buffy couldn’t even imagine what it would be like if it got any worse. Her stoic plans now cast aside, she finally allowed herself to beg for help.

Spike watched as Brenda took Buffy’s hand. He knew that the Slayer still had a ways to go, from what the doctor and nurses were saying. Only 7 centimetres dilated--the quick progression from earlier had died down to a crawl. At this rate there were probably still many hours to go, with the pain bound to get worse.

Closing his eyes, he offered a quick word to the powers that be, thanking them that he’d been born a male.

It had taken half an hour longer than Brenda would have wagered, but the young woman had finally buckled. “Ok, dear. You’ve got a few options available to you right now. I’d suggest Demerol, which will take the edge off your pain. You’ll still feel something, but the pain won’t be as acute. That way, you’ve still got the choice of whether or not you want to have an epidural.” She gave Buffy’s hand a squeeze and offered her a reassuring smile. “So--what do you say? Do you want to give it a try?”

Teeth gritted as she endured another wave of extreme discomfort, Buffy managed to nod. Right now, she’d assent to leeches if they could help. She watched Brenda reach into her front pocket and pull out a clear vial and syringe. The thought that her capitulation was taken for granted insulted her for all of five seconds, before the next contraction hit. Hell, the nurse went through this on a daily basis--of course she would know the routine better than the delivering women themselves.

When prompted, she rolled onto her side, baring her hip for the needle. Goddamn! Couldn’t they come up with medication that could be administered in a less painful way?! But relief was almost immediate, having subsided a bit even by the time Spike had managed to help her roll onto her back.

The drug had the exact effect that had been explained to her. She still felt the contractions, but they were dulled to the point of no longer being painful. Leaning back against the raised bed head, she smiled and relaxed. “Oh, wow. Now this is labour...”

Only Spike caught Brenda’s ‘until it wears off’ as she walked out the door. He did not look forward to being in the Slayer’s presence when the drug wore off--the pain was bound to be twice as bad by then. Maybe he could get Joyce to take over for him at that point. Buffy would surely have a moral objection to ripping her mother’s arm off.

Then again, maybe not, depending on the pain...

As if on cue, Joyce--accompanied by an almost comically anxious Giles--entered the room. One look at Buffy’s blissful state had her smiling knowingly. “Ah. Finally gave in to the drugs, did you?”

Slowly, the Slayer turned her head towards the door. “Mom, Giles! Come in--everything’s just hunky dory! The nurse just gave me some Demetriol--no, wait, some Dermatol, no... well, some drugs and I feel great!”

Giles’ eyebrows quirked up and he gave Spike a sideways glance. The vampire simply shrugged as if saying ’your guess is as good as mine’, before getting up and offering Joyce his chair.

“Thanks, but we aren’t staying in the room for very long. I’ve got a ton of phone calls to make--you should see the list Buffy gave me.” She held up a piece of paper covered in the Slayer’s scribblings. Turning to her daughter, she walked over and held her in a big hug. “Now, let me know if you need anything. Rupert and I will be in the waiting area--don’t hesitate to send someone if you want us here when the baby’s coming, but we won’t hold it against you if you‘d rather have fewer people in the room.”

Buffy bit back a few tears. “Thanks Mom. And thanks Giles. For being here for me--it means so much to know that I have people who care about me and the baby.” She also looked at Spike, making sure that he knew that she appreciated his presence as well.

***

In the end, Buffy had opted for an epidural. Actually, opted wouldn’t be the exact term. More like... begged and pleaded for. When the Demerol had begun to wear off--faster than the three hours it was supposed to last--she began to experience pain that eclipsed anything she’d gone through so far. Slayer honour thrown out the proverbial window, she had let the tears flow free, finally giving in to the one thing she vowed never to have.

Spike, the only one strong enough to hold her steady for the procedure, helped her sit on the edge of the bed and kept her in his arms as the anaesthesiologist inserted the small tube into her spine. Her head was nestled against his chest as he attempted to soothe her with comforting words. If he’d been thankful before--for being a man--he was doubly so now. Just the thought of having someone stick a tube in your spine with the purpose of lessening pain was beyond his comprehension.

These back labour cases were always the worst. The anaesthesiologist directed all his attention at the task at hand, but his job was made that much harder by the patient’s shaking. One wrong move--the needle inserted in the wrong space, the tube slid in too far--and she could become paralysed. He stood up and addressed the man holding Ms. Summers. “You’re going to have to hold her more steady than that, or I won’t be able to go through with this.”

All Buffy heard was ‘won’t be able’ before she bit her lip and forced herself to stop shaking. But it was so difficult, with the contractions becoming so intense she could hardly sit up. Spike looked her in the eye, communicating his actions just before his grip on her increased to an almost painful level. At this point, the thought of going through childbirth without the epidural frightened Buffy more than anything. She now understood what her boss had said about ‘walking in backwards’. If she ever had to go through this again--not that she expected to, ever--she would take that advice to heart.

“There. Everything’s in place. You should begin to feel the effects of the drug within the next ten to fifteen minutes. Then it should be smooth sailing from there on.” The anaesthesiologist smiled--the ‘won’t be able’ threat worked every time--and began to secure the tube in place with medical tape. He wished everyone good luck, then rushed off to his next assignment.

“Ten to fifteen minutes?” Buffy’s voice was still weak from the pain. “I can’t wait that long!”

“Buffy, love, you were able to wait an hour for the anaesthesiologist to show up. I’m sure you’ll be fine for another ten to fifteen.” Spike was proud of his Slayer. And so was the staff, gauging by their words of encouragement. All the nurses were assuring her that she was a trooper and that she was doing so much better than the majority of patients. Now, whether or not they were telling her that simply to keep her spirits up was a mystery to him. Either way, their words were helping.

***

“Well, you’ll be glad to know that it’s finally time to start pushing.” The nurse--Lea--smiled at Buffy, patted her knee and began to gather supplies for the birth. “I’ll insert a catheter so we can flush out your bladder, then we’ll begin the pushing. When the baby begins to crown, I’ll send for the doctor. Now, the average woman pushes for about an hour, but it can go anywhere from fifteen minutes to over two hours.” She winked, turning back to her patient. “So let’s hope that the baby’s as eager as you are for it to come out.”

Buffy’s pulse sped up. “Oh God...” It was time. The time--the one she’d been waiting for all these months, that she’d been praying for these past hours. She was no longer afraid of the pain, the epidural having pretty much numbed her from the waist down. All that mattered was that she was still able to feel enough to sense pressure from the baby’s head as it pressed downwards.

Lea returned to her side and began to adjust the bed for the birth. As the head of the bed was raised and the foot lowered, she began to explain how the delivery was going to take place. “Ok, now the easiest way for you to go through this is for both me and your partner to each hold up a leg. You can still hold on to them for leverage as you push, but it’s best if you don’t have the extra worry of holding them up as you’re concentrating on pushing--that’s enough of a job for you.” She took a spot to Buffy’s right, held her leg in a bent position and waited for Spike to do the same on her left. “Good. Now, when a contraction shows up on the monitor--or when you feel the baby pressing against you, that’s a sign that you have to push. What I’ll need you to do, is to grab your legs at the knees, pull them back and lift your chin to your collarbone. Then you hold your breath and push, counting to ten.”

Buffy nodded. That was lots to remember, but most of it made sense. When Lea gave her the first go ahead, she did as instructed and pushed. When she’d finished counting to ten, she let out her breath and dropped her head back onto the bed. That wasn’t *that* bad...

Thus began over an hour’s worth of pushing.

“You’re doing great, love. Only a few more pushes left. The doctor’s on his way.” There was a pause, as the vampire steadied his voice. “We saw the bit‘s head on that last push. It‘s got a shock of dark hair, pet. It‘s gonna be beautiful.” Spike had always been under the assumption that he’d felt rapture before: his first kill, the first time he’d bedded Dru, the two Slayers he’d slain. But nothing, ever, ever compared to this. He’d always worn his emotions on his sleeve, so it didn’t surprise him to feel his chest constrict and the prickling of tears in his eyes at the first sight of the baby.

Buffy almost lost the check she was holding on her own emotions when she looked into Spike’s eyes. There was so much emotion there, so much love directed at her. She wondered at the change the vampire had gone through in the past months--he’d gone from being the biggest thorn in her side to the love of her life. He had made her re-evaluate her whole view of evil and good...

The next contraction distracted her from her musings. Although she was beginning to tire, she hoped to God that the baby didn’t come before the doctor arrived.

“...7...8...9... Doctor Friedman!” Lea waited for Buffy to finish pushing, then pulled back from her position at the patient’s side to apprise the doctor of her condition. When she was done, she resumed her position to the young woman’s right.

“Hello, Buffy! Looks like you’ve been doing a bang-up job so far--the little one’s almost out. Let’s see if we can push it along, shall we?”

Both Buffy and Spike immediately felt at ease with the doctor. He was an affable older gentleman whose bedside manner spoke of experience and ease.

A tall man, he pulled up a stool and lowered it so he could comfortably help Buffy out. “Good girl, Buffy--you’re doing wonderfully. I need you to push again, on the count of three. One, two, three--and push..” He counted to ten, just as Lea had been doing for the past hour. “Now, the baby’s going to be a tight fit, and you might just feel a bit of a pulling sensation at the bottom of the vagina--that’s perfectly normal, and shouldn’t be more than a second degree tear. It’ll probably feel more like a light pinch, thanks to the epidural.”

Buffy pushed two more times before she heard a sharp intake of breath from her left, and the doctor’s assertion of ’just one more push’. She got to a count of five before she felt the baby’s head come out. Looking up at Spike she saw that he had tears in the corners of his eyes, as well as a smile a mile wide. She pushed again to get the baby’s shoulders out and finally let herself drop back onto the bed.

She was a mother. A mommy. To a healthy baby boy. She let out a breath that was half a laugh, half a sob as her son was placed on her stomach. “Hello, there. I’ve been waiting for so long to meet you...” She kissed him on the head, glad to hear the piercing cries that were coming from this tiny human’s lungs. As soon as he was taken away for cleaning and assessing, Spike leaned down and caught her in a tight caress.

“Oh God, love. He’s beautiful. Looks just like you.” The vampire was having a very hard time keeping his voice from breaking. It was bad enough that he was crying like a ponce without having to... Ah, hell. He didn’t care what he looked or sounded like. This was now the best moment in both his life and unlife and he was going to enjoy it as freely as he could.

Buffy pulled back and wiped the tears from her cheeks. She sniffed and laughed. “Go get Mom and Giles! Wait till she sees that she’s got a grandson...”

The two men sat side by side on the steps, sharing a first-ever comfortable silence. The moonless sky allowed them to view a mid-winter’s speckling of constellations--a vision that would hardly change in their lifetimes, however long they might be.

The younger of the two vamps broke the silence, patience never having been his strong point. “So... why are you here, again?” He took in another drag of his cigarette, never taking his eyes off the firmament.

Angel let out an exhausted sigh. “Cordy sent me.” More like she’d threatened to kick his ass if he didn’t pay the two blondes a visit--but he didn’t have to share that piece of information with the bleached blonde, now did he?

“That’s the bird with the visions, right? How’re those going, anyway?” Maybe if Spike steered the conversation, it wouldn’t go where he assumed his grandsire would take it.

Nice try, Spike, but I’ll play along--for now. “Yeah, that’s her. And the visions? Not going so well. Imagine being staked in the head.” Unable to hold back a chuckle, Angel added: “Of course, that’s not how she puts it. I think she once said it felt like she’d been forced to watch hours of last year’s fashion shows...”

Although he didn’t know Cordelia first hand, Spike had to smile. He admitted that she sounded just like Buffy had described her. In one of his most unguarded moments with Angel, he surprised himself with what he said next. “I’m glad you’re happy, mate.”

The younger vamp’s honest remark caught Angel off guard. Shaking out of his stupor, he tossed back a genuine ‘thanks’ before remembering part of the reason he was there. “How about you, Spike? Are you happy?” Do you make Buffy happy? That was the question he really wanted to find out, though.

This heart to heart was almost too much for the rebellious vampire, but he knew it eventually had to take place. No way would Angel just lie back and let him make an attempt at an honest life without questioning him or his incentives. Years, heck--maybe even months ago, this would have perturbed him, but now he understood the darker vamp’s motivation: Buffy. Anyone who knew and loved her would do anything to protect her, to make sure she was happy. And if that was the purpose of this ‘Spanish Inquisition’--minus the comfy chair, he thought to himself wryly as he fought to find a comfortable position on the wooden steps--then so be it. He’d put up with it.

The bleached blonde took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “That’s the question I’ve been asking myself, you know?” He got up off the stairs and began to pace the length of the bottom step. “Was always an outcast, even before Dru turned me. William was a right wanker--the bloody biggest joke to the crowd I hung around with. The constant butt of their jokes, held in their lowest esteem...”

Angel nodded. “Ah. So that would explain the...” He jabbed his closed fist in the air, in an upwards and downwards motion.

“The spikes? Yeah... Be another century before I even consider feeling bad about that one.” Spike cast a quick glance towards the house. “Not that I’ll ever share that tidbit with the Slayer, though.” He took his seat back on the steps before resuming his train of thought. “Anyway, then I got stuck with you lot. No need to tell you how poorly I fit in with your little family. Even Dru, on those days where she more lucid than not, seemed to look at me with more pity than love.”

His hand trembled as it brought the cigarette up to his lips. “You know how it feels to have the love of your life look at you with pity? Like she doesn’t know if she regrets ever giving you life? Bloody hard to be looked at like that, mate. Especially when the look’s aimed at you for over a century.”

For the first time since he’d met his grandchilde, Angel actually felt sympathy for him. “Can’t say that I do, Spike.” And it was the truth. Even after the Gypsies had cursed him, Darla had been by his side, as if the soul was more of an infirmity that could be tolerated--maybe even cured.

It had been more of a rhetorical question, but Spike appreciated the other vamp’s answer nonetheless. He nodded, but didn’t have a reply. So he continued, for a lack of something better to say. “Then I get stuck here in Sunnyhell and my unlife takes a nosedive. First, the Slayer is damn near invincible what with her family and friends, then we have the joy of experiencing Angelus once again, Dru leaves me, I nearly get caught by GI Joe for God knows what ends... Didn’t think it could get worse, but then I’m offered the job of patrolling for a pregnant Slayer.”

His eyes were steeled against the firmament, and even with his heightened vision Angel couldn’t see them well enough to make out his thoughts.

“That should have been the absolute worst moment of my unlife, you know? William the Bloody, descendant of the line of Aurelius, helping a bloody Slayer--master vampire can’t get much more pathetic than that, can he? But every day after I accepted, every day I spent with the Slayer and her superfriends, I realized that it was just the opposite. For some truly fucked-up reason, it ended up being the best decision I’ve ever made. For the first time ever, I’m accepted--’course, the Scoobies aren’t much more than a bunch of misfits, but it’s probably why I fit in, innit?”

“And Buffy?”

“You’ve loved her, mate. I don’t think I need to explain that, do I?” Spike paused and, noting the other vampire’s silence--a hint that an explanation was indeed requested, tried to organize his thoughts. “Fine, then. Doesn’t look like I’ve got any other option but to prattle on until you’re satisfied.”

Truth was the bleached blonde was happy to have this opportunity to sort out the myriad thoughts that were spinning around in his head. And Angel, despite being a brooding ponce (well, in Spike’s mind, anyway), was the best sounding board he could get. The older vamp had been where Spike was, part of the Scoobies, in love with the Slayer--no one would understand as well as him.

“Why do I love her? I love her because she accepts me as an equal. No more being anyone‘s bitch, ’cept for love--that won‘t ever change. She challenges me to be a better person without being some nonce--I can still do good and come home and trash talk Harris to his face. ‘Course, she doesn‘t like that, but she doesn‘t hold it against me. She‘s beautiful, she‘s tough and she turns me on like no one else ever has--not even Dru.” The vampire added quietly. “I thought I loved Dru all that time, but I had nothing to compare true love with, you know? Now I figure it must’ve been some sort of infatuation or something, cause it wasn’t anywhere near as real as what I feel for Buffy.”

Angel nodded in agreement. He knew exactly what Spike was saying--he’d gone through it a few years previous. Buffy had been his saving grace, the person who managed to make him believe in himself--who gave him his self-worth back. But now he figured it was time to steer the conversation over to a lighter subject. “So how are Buffy and the baby doing, anyway?” He had to admit it was strange to see the younger vampire’s face take on a proud glow, eyes shining with emotion, mouth stretched from ear to ear with a stupid grin. To tell the truth, he had expected this reaction but it was so different to actually witness it with his own eyes.

“They’re both doing really well. There was a bit of a rough spot right after the bit was born--he didn’t catch on to breastfeeding well--wouldn’t latch on, or something--and Buffy took it pretty hard. Guess she kind of blamed herself, I suppose. But Joyce went out and bought her a pump--a right good electric one, not one of those manual ones that gives you cramps in your hands and... What?!” Spike looked up to find his grandsire staring at him wide-eyed and biting back a grin.

“You do realize that you’re talking about breast pumps with the same enthusiasm that the average man discusses his car’s engine, right?”

Shaking his head, Spike let out a chuckle. “Fuck off, ponce. It’s just that... Remember back when you were still alive? What happened when women weren’t able to get their babies to feed? The tots died, that’s what. Now, all the mothers have to do is go out and buy themselves a pump--or, failing that, some powdered formula--and the baby lives. A century ago, we would have been talkin’ about the baby’s funeral, not about how much bigger he’s getting every day. It‘s just... Hell, it‘s just that after 120 years of bathing in people‘s blood, it‘s a nice change to appreciate life.”

There was nothing the older vampire could say to that. He was just glad that Spike of all people had been one to realize the beauty of life. Of course, that thought led to the reason for which he was really speaking to his grandchilde...

“Spike, I didn’t come here just to see how you and Buffy are coping.”

Here it comes... “I gathered as much. If you cared that much you would’ve been here harassing me during the pregnancy.”

Now Angel remembered why he kept his distance from the younger vampire. “Funny. Really. Now shut up so I can actually go through with this without balking.” He pulled a small velvet sac from his coat pocket and offered it to Spike. “This is for you. It was Cordy’s idea...”

Spike opened the sac as his grandsire spoke, only half listening. He emptied its contents out into his hand and nearly choked. “Bloody hell...”

“...’cause it sure as hell wasn’t my idea. But she figured that it might come in handy now that the baby’s here.” When no sound came from the other vampire, Angel waved a hand in front of his face. “Spike?”

Nothing could have prepared him for the gift that he’d just received. Spike opened his mouth to say something--one of a million questions--but was interrupted by a sound from the kitchen door.

“Angel! How long have you been here?” Buffy had been wondering where her better half was, as it was his turn to take care of the baby. She never would have imagined seeing him sitting on the back steps with the one person he claimed to hate more than anyone. Deciding to be social, she stepped out onto the porch, still carrying the baby.

The older vampire got up and dusted his pants off before walking over to the Slayer. “Just a short while.” He kissed her on the cheek, pulling back to awkwardly examine the child. “How are you holding up?”

The young woman smiled and shifted the baby from one arm to the other. It was a good thing she still had her slayer strength, because carrying eight wiggling pounds was hard enough as it was. “I’m doing great. Christopher’s a wonderful little boy.” She positioned the baby to face Angel before holding him at arm‘s length. “Here. Take him.”

Spike couldn’t help but laugh out loud at the look on his grandsire’s face. He looked like he’d been asked to go shopping for shoes with his girlfriend. “Come on, peaches. It’s just a baby. They don’t sting, spray acid, or cast spells and if you keep your fingers away from their mouths they don’t bite.”

Awkwardly, the vampire took the tot in his arms and held him, looking at him curiously. The baby was, of course, tiny. Its skin was wrinkled and flaking, its eyes unfocused... funny enough, though, he’d never expected babies to be so funny looking. A hiccup, coming from the small form in his arms, shook him from his reverie.

“Here, mate.” Spike reached over and took Christopher from Angel. “That’s a sign that the bit’s hungry. Best to feed him before he starts to cry or it’ll be too late and he‘ll be whinging all night.” He walked towards the door and signalled for the other vampire to follow him. “Come on. If you’re lucky enough, I’ll show you how to change a nappy...”

The last thing that was heard before the door closed behind them was Angel’s protests and Buffy’s laughter.

***

Six years later...

Buffy opened the screen door and stuck her head out, shielding her eyes from the strong noon hour sun. “Lunch, guys! And I’m not calling out twice today--you guys can have cold fish sticks for all I care!” When neither acknowledged her call, she shook her head at the two best friends playing out in the sandbox. Retreating back into the kitchen she covered both plates with foil paper and put them back in the oven to keep them warm. They never come in until the second call, anyway.

The call for lunch registered at the back of Christopher’s mind, but he pushed it aside. After all, lunch--even fish sticks, his favourite--came a distant second to building sand castles. He was good at it, even he knew that. His dad had mentioned something about him being an engineer--whatever that meant. What the heck did building castles have to do with engines, anyway?

“Pass the small shovel, ok?” He pointed the instrument out to his playmate and caught it when it was tossed his way. His “thanks” was muttered under his breath as his attention was already directed back to the castle’s moat. This time, he’d manage to get the bridge to stay up...

Mouth slightly agape, tongue caught between his teeth, the six year-old was the picture of concentration. Something he hadn’t picked up from his mother, or so everyone said. Now all he needed to do was put a little more sand... right there...

“Yes! Finally!” The young boy pulled his hands back and grinned with self-satisfaction. Dusting the sand off his hands he looked over to the castle’s other side, which was being worked on by his friend. What the? Oh, not again... “Hey! You’re supposed to be working on the castle, not lying down!”

Now, the impatience he did get from his mom. Even he could figure that one out.

Pushing himself up to a sitting position, the other brushed himself off. “I know, I know. I just got distracted...” Taking the butter knife that they had pilfered from the utensil drawer, he began to cut out crenels on the turret closest to him.

Both looked up when the second lunch call was hollered. Christopher didn’t even budge, but his companion got up, trying to rid all creases and crevices of sand.

“Come on, bit. You know Mum doesn’t call three times.” Spike looked down at the castle’s other side--the one worked on by the young boy--and shook his head bemusedly. When it came to imagination and the execution of his designs, Christopher was a tough act to follow.

All of a sudden, the backyard was filled with the squeals and giggles of a six year-old as he was grabbed by his ankle and turned upside down in an effort to shake all the sand off of him. “Stop! Stop! I gotta pee!” Squirming out of his dad’s grasp, he landed on the lawn with a solid thump.

Spike helped the youngster up to his feet before shooing him towards the house. “You go on and wash up; I’ll be in in a sec.” He turned his gaze to the castle, wondering at how quickly it had been built back up from the ruins of the previous one, which had been decimated by a good rainstorm a few days back. Christopher had been upset, but had cheered up at the prospect of having the chance to build a better one.

He was jolted from his reverie by a hand slipping into his. “Food’s gonna get cold, you know. Even your blood’s getting all weird. You know how gross it gets when it starts clumping.”

The vampire looked down at the love of his life, pulling her closer to him. He kissed the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her shampoo. Even after all these years, she still made the effort to find apple scented shampoo because it was his favourite. “S’ok, luv. It’s worth it. Over a century stuck in the dark--you can’t expect me not to bask in the sun whenever I get the chance to.”

“Spike--Angel gave you the gem back six years ago. You‘ve had hundreds of days in the sun.” Buffy couldn’t help but chuckle as she slipped her hands in the vampire‘s back pockets, looking up at his face. “Guess we found out that you don’t freckle, though.” She’d never given any thought to whether vampires would tan or not, and she honestly didn‘t expect to have a chance to ever find out. Although he didn’t seem to be as pale as when they’d first met, Spike’s skin was far from being as dark as it should have been with all the time he spent in the sun with Christopher.

The young woman was pulled from her reverie by a quick, but passionate, kiss. “Let’s go make sure that the bit hasn’t started in on my fish sticks, as horrid as those things are.”

Buffy couldn‘t help but laugh out loud. “Yeah, right. You know, if it wasn‘t for you, Captain Highliner would have to find himself a new job.”

The sound of friendly teasing followed the two blondes as they made their way up to the house that had been left to them four years ago. Joyce and Giles had moved to England, both content that Buffy and Spike--and Christopher, of course--would be fine without them.

Faith had been released on early parole and had joined Angel Investigations. She was making an earnest attempt at setting herself straight and in the meanwhile had accepted full Slayer responsibilities. Half her time was spent in Sunnydale, half in LA. Because of this, Buffy had been free to go back to College and had earned herself a degree in Landscaping--much to the amusement of Xander and Willow.

She had argued that it was nice to help things thrive instead of killing them, for once. No one could argue with that.

As they approached the porch, Spike grabbed Buffy by the waist. “You do remember that Christopher’s staying over at Jason’s tonight, don’t you?”

The former Slayer smiled--she knew full well where this was going. “Oh, he is? Guess that gives us a free night to enjoy all those Star Trek reruns before turning in early.” She let out a scream as she was tickled mercilessly to the ground. “Ok! Ok! I give!”

When she was finally standing, Buffy brushed the grass off her pants. Snaking her arm around his waist--and giving the vampire‘s ass a pat on the way--she poked him in the ribs. “This time, though, let’s avoid the sandbox. I was picking sand out of my hair for weeks after that night...”

Author’s Note: Well, that’s all, folks. I really hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as I did writing it (and pretty much living it, too.) I’d like to thank my beta Melissa once again for her help with the first twenty-two chapters. And for the twenty-third and the epilogue a great big thanks to VamptasticA, who lent a hand at the last minute so I could finally get this over and done with.

Next up is a very, very long story that I actually started writing before this one--started in 2002! I’ll begin posting what I have already finished, and in the meanwhile write the last of it. It’s called Dark Prophecy and we find Spike and Buffy (4th season) being sent to England to help the Council of Watchers avert yet another apocalypse. A fun romp that I hope you’ll follow and enjoy.

And last of all, thanks to everyone who reviewed. It always means so much to a writer to know that our efforts are appreciated.