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Nanny Spike and Aunt Buffy
by Megan
Written as Ravenesque
Chapter One
“ Its…its…what the hell is it?” Buffy spluttered as she looked at the screwed up, red-like-a-prune thing.
Spike snorted, watching the Slayer with evil humour as she backed up several steps. The thing she was distancing herself from wailed and went redder. Which was odd when it was sort of brownish to begin with.
“Well, its, er, I mean to say, she, would appear, er, um, to be, well she’s, mine apparently.” Giles stood uncomfortably beside the strange shaped carrier housing the even stranger bundle.
The Scooby and neutered, tied-up vamp filled room all turned to him as one, eyes comically wide as they set to refute the news.
“But…but…how?” Confusion was plastered all over the Slayer’s face.
“Come bloody well off it, Slayer. The girly spreads her dimpled knees, ole Rupert climbs aboard, rumpy-pumpy and Bob’s your uncle.”
Whiplash was the new concern as horrified eyes attempted to flay Spike without getting close enough to actually touch him.
Spike grinned maliciously. Right up until his eyes fell on the delightfully blushing face of his Slayer, that is. Then he frowned. Hard. His Slayer? Was his brain malfunctioning from lack of decent blood?
“Giles wouldn’t do something like that,” Willow counteracted, displaying unwavering faith in her responsible father-figure.
Spike leered at the redhead, sniffing out the chaos in the room and cherishing it as the last honest to goodness whiff of evil he’d probably be getting in a while.
“What? The Watcher absent the stones to get a little rough an’ tumble?”
Horrified gasps echoed around the room and Spike felt his grin widen.
“Stop it,” yelled Buffy, fists sexily balled on her hips. “Stop saying idiot British words.”
“Hey!”
“Oi!”
The Brits stood united in their affronted pride.
“As…as vulgar and colloquial as Spike is being, that is no reason to attack a fellow countryman for speaking a language you Americans fail to understand.” Giles almost tore the glasses from his face and rubbed the lenses to a frantic shine.
All this was to the sound of infuriated squalling, the group moving further and further away from the bundle that emitted the awful sound. Except for Spike who was tied to a kitchen chair and wasn’t moving anywhere.
“Got vamp hearing, you wankers. Want to tone the little tyke down a tad?”
No one moved, fear overriding concern as they held their distance.
With a massive sigh formed from irritation and frustration, Spike shrugged off the ropes that held him to the chair and walked over to the small bundle of pink bunny rugs. Eyes goggled as Willow, Giles and Xander looked at the discarded ropes on the floor. Buffy just rolled her eyes and wondered what made her friends think that a little rope would be strong enough to restrain a vampire.
In a gentle voice no one had heard from him—except for the small snippets of moments he’d been overheard with Dru—he retrieved the struggling and squirming package and tucked it under his arm. He hummed and rocked until the noise quieted to almost silence. Spike turned to face the Scoobies with a contented look of achievement flashing in his smile.
“See? So easy even a bleeding vampire can get it done!”
The expressions of horror hadn’t yet abated and Spike was starting to get a bit jack of all the unexplainable fear in the room. If he couldn’t eat it, he didn’t want to smell it.
“What’s the matter with you silly bints? I thought women loved babies. Clucked over cute little onesies and stuff. Know Dru liked ‘em. Bloody convenient for a midday snack an’ all.”
“Spike,” screamed four voices and finally Giles rushed him and snatched the babe from the arms of the vampire. One look at the older, less gentle man and the baby resumed the deafening screech.
“What? Got one of you useless lot to take it off me, didn’ it?
He smirked in self-satisfaction and took to lounging on the sofa.
“Got any reception on this box, Watcher?” asked Spike as he eyed the television with interest.
Er, not alot,” Giles replied with distraction, his eyes round with terror.
“Okay, okay, everyone just calm down,” jumped in Xander, his arms sweeping wide as he mirrored the frightened looks and let his eyes dart around frantically for the quickest way to sweep this dilemma under the carpet.
“You know what?” he began again as everyone watched him expectantly, his lips pursed as if in pain. “I have to go, can hear Anya calling.” His body was a blur as he passed through the door.
“Bloody chit’s not even in town, you cowardly git,” Spike shouted at the retreating back.
The peroxided vamp was just in time to catch the look passed between the Slayer and the witch and his own eyes shot wide open in sudden clarity and concern.
“Don’t you even think of taking one more bloody step. There is no way on this green earth that you’re desertin’ the Watcher to look after the wee one on his lonesome. So you bints better think of a solution to this mess. The bathroom has an echo and I am not gonna try and sleep with this cutie screamin’ her soddin’ lungs out all night, just cause you lot are too useless to know what to do with ‘er.”
The ‘deer caught in headlights’ look was getting old but given new meaning as he was stunned with it double-barrel like.
“Oh, you have got to be kidding.” Spike bounced to his feet, snatched the baby from Giles’s too loose hold and dumped her in Buffy’s arms. All to the sound of angered ‘hey’s’.
Buffy threw him a look of pure distaste, appearing like she had the spawn of Satan in her arms.
“I don’t know what to do,” Buffy whispered, a hint of tears at her lashes as she put that wounded, ‘help me’ look on her face.
Spike clenched his jaw. Hard. And—not for the first time since working out what the chip in his head was going to mean for his continued existence—he contemplated suicide.
“It’s a human, pet. Not gonna hurt you. You might even find out you enjoy it.”
Buffy watched him, sudden hope blooming in the wild forest green of her eyes, and Spike found himself aiming an honest smile at her. Returning to the sofa, he scooted over to give her room and patted the seat beside him. He tingled in anticipation of her sitting so close to him, the blood pumping loudly through her body an invitation to something other than feeding. Which the incongruity completely set him off his game.
“Come take a load off, luv. Take a look at the little one. Seems settled in your arms. A lot more ‘en in the Watcher’s at any rate.”
Buffy settled in beside Spike, sitting a little stiffly with the restless babe clutched tightly in her hands. Spike reached over to loosen her grip slightly and smiled as she seemed to relax.
When he looked down at the child all swaddled against the world, the gurgling acceptance of the tyke made him feel all satisfied with his lot. For the first time since he’d parted from Dru—or possibly even before. Made him feel like when he’d made a decent killing for the night.
Yeah, with the Slayer by his side, a baby in her arms, it made him feel all… His smile slipped.
Made him feel bloody peculiar.
Chapter Two
The little face was scrunched up in preparation to let rip when Spike began to stroke the baby’s cheek with a slow and soft-moving finger. He added a lullaby in a low, soothing voice and before long, the little princess had relaxed her facial muscles and succumbed to sleep.
As the vampire relaxed back against the sofa, hands crossed behind his head and nothing less than a self-satisfied smirk on his face, he finally noticed three sets of eyes watching him. Their wordless, intent stares were starting to worry him, and he suddenly ran his fingers through his hair to make double certain that yes, William’s poncy curls were well slicked back, and HELL NO was he sporting any of Nancy Boy’s hair gel. No, he was looking pretty sharp as the good-looking vampire that he was, and he went back to relaxing, content to let the trio squirm on their own.
“You are so going to start singing me to sleep, mister.” In one smooth sentence, the Slayer had set his dick to throbbing. How the bloody hell could she do that? He hated the bitch! Spike could feel internal hysteria tickle his throat, but instead of letting loose with edgy laughter, he pinned Buffy to the spot with a manufactured molten gaze. He swept his burning blue eyes over her body and grinned appreciatively.
“Not a problem, pet. Might put a bit of a dampener on your love life, though.” Despite his derogatory commentary, he was almost hoping she was serious. Sitting on the Slayer’s bed, singing her suggestive rock songs while he got her off with the huskiness of his voice. Oh yeah, he could see real potential there.
Buffy’s cheeks flushed hot as she imagined Spike sitting beside her bed, or better yet, on it and using that oozing sex he called a voice to lull her into the land of lusty dreams. Oh yeah, crampy style might just be of the so worth it if that was on offer.
“So, I guess the question isn’t a question anymore now that we’ve made with all the answers...” Willow paused for effect, then beamed her answer. “It’s a baby!”
“Well you’re a sight more chipper about the event than you were a whole ten minutes ago. ‘He wouldn’t do that’,” Spike mimicked in an alarmingly similar Willow whine.
The redhead blushed and quickly hid behind the clueless Watcher.
“Yeah, it’s a baby. Girl munchkin, too. You people are in bloody trouble if it’s a little bit like this that gets your knickers in a twist.”
“And what the hell are knickers?” Buffy snapped, but shushing him as soon as he opened his mouth with a tart comeback, indicating the bundle on the move.
Everyone stilled, guarding the silence avidly to ensure the baby calmed back into slumber.
Multiple shoulders heaved sighs of relief as they all settled back into the situation.
“So, Giles. Want to explain the sitch? I know I speak for all of us…” Buffy looked around at the smaller Scooby group with a frown. “Well, okay, I speak for Willow and myself when I say a resounding ‘huh’?”
Spike couldn’t tear his eyes off her. The clueless California girl routine was—in his eyes at least—simply adorable. Unfortunately, looking at her gave his dirty mind all sorts of images that had him shuffling uncomfortably in his seat.
“Yeah, Watcher,” he croaked, feeling suddenly hoarse. “Already got a houseguest. Why’d you go looking to get another for?”
“I did not go looking…” The older man froze, his cheeks turning an amusing shade of pink. “I had a friend…”
“That is so not possible,” Buffy barged right in, her body tensing with a strange form of sibling rivalry, jealousy of someone givng him a real child that wasn't her. Giles was hers…where did he get time to go and find someone else to be with anyway?
“Why do you silly bints find it so hard to believe that the Watcher might get lucky? Some deaf, dumb and blind woman might actually find him attractive.”
“Hey,” shouted Giles, the flush having spread from his cheeks to the little tips of his ears. “That’s really not necessary.”
Spike’s smirk was evil as he sat back, taking a deep sniff to determine everything was right and on the edge of chaos in his world. Which it very apparently bloody WAS NOT! He bolted to his feet and took long strides to the bathroom.
“Right then. Be gettin’ out of your hair. Not interested in hearin’ how the Watcher knocked some poor bird up. Prolly was too drunk to remember the mediocre event, anyways.” With one nervous, pained glance at Buffy, he was gone, nudging the bathroom door closed behind him.
Willow and Buffy were back to communicating telepathically, except without the real knowing of what each other was thinking. They shared nervous looks anyway, and then the pungent aroma began to filter through the air.
Buffy was the first to turn up her nose. “Ewwww…” she shouted, hastening to her feet and thrusting the baby back into Giles’s unwilling arms.
“But…what…surely you don’t expect me to…?” Giles spluttered in a perfect balance of confusion and horror.
He held the baby out away from his body, hardly having a small clue of what to do with it. He sought the help of the two girls in the room, the ones who should have possessed even the smallest inkling of what to do in a situation such as this, and was defeated in his expectations before he even opened his mouth.
The three looked at each other, desperation to get rid of the smell overriding all prejudice. As one they turned to the closed off bathroom and opened their mouths to yell.
“SPIKE!!”
“No bloody way!” was shouted back, and instead of seeking again an answer from each other, Buffy marched to the door and kicked it open.
“Oh, Buffy. Now really, I don…” was completely ignored as Buffy grabbed Spike by a fist full of black tee and hauled his ass out into the open.
“Oh no, the mighty Slayer and her fearless Watcher can deal with the Nibblet’s nappy change. This well of knowledge is all dried up,” he said with a satisfied air, but his smile turned way upside down as he found the squirming child back in his arms.
“Oi. What are you lot on about. This is NOT my responsibility. Little Prissy over ‘ere couldn’t keep his ding dong in his pants…torture him with the job.”
Determined eyes were unmoving on the issue.
“Bloody vampire, you stupid bints and wanker. Nappy changin’ is more cruel torture than even Angelus could dish out.” There was a slight edge of panic in his voice now, and he was more than thinking the Whelp had the right idea by bolting from the situation earlier.
The reference to torture gleaned only the slightest reaction and Spike felt oddly guilty as he saw Rupert’s flinch. But there were more important problems to be solved, and seeing his escape, he put the baby in the carrier chair, bestowing a quick and completely uncharacteristic kiss on her downy head, snatched up his duster and made like a hare on steroids right out the door after Harris.
Shock greeted his departure as the girls and Giles stood staring open-mouthed at the open door, eyes drawn in a morbid curiosity as the sunlight bathed the carpet just inside the door.
“I guess Spike would rather risk being a crispy critter than change junior’s diaper. Huh!” Then Buffy’s eyes widened as she realised the implication. Grabbing Willow’s arm, she tugged her to the door. “Got a class. We’ll check in later for the scoop.” She stopped, suddenly grossed out by her own words. “The story, not the…ewww…” and the girls almost dived out the door, leaving an ignorant watcher with a dirty baby and a bag full of mysterious objects.
He pulled out a fresh diaper and struggled with opening it out. The container of nappy wipes followed and he alternated looking at the haul of necessary changing implements, and the baby.
“Oh dear,” he muttered with disgust and grudgingly got to work.
Chapter Three
When Buffy finally made it back, Giles was happily strumming away on his guitar, a settled baby presumably cleaned and fed—judging by the empty bottle on the floor—and gurgling happily along with the entertainment. The last dregs of sunshine were chasing her heels as she shut the door behind herself and blocked it out.
“I…I guess we weren’t entirely helpful before. Or, well, you know, supportive?” She offered with her presence, feeling a little sheepish about earlier.
Giles smiled as Buffy came further into the room and peered down at the angelic face relaxed in sleep.
“She’s actually kinda cute.”
“Well, I suppose it was a bit of a shock for all of us.” Giles was forgiving, even if the too recent memory of nappy changing made him shudder involuntarily.
“And what’s with evil Spike knowing more about babies than any of us?” Buffy said with a pout, feeling unusually jealous of the vampire’s ease to adapt to the human world.
Giles chuckled, amused at the vampire’s contradictory nature.
It was a strange moment when both of their smiles slipped in unison.
“Er, where is Spike exactly?”
Buffy shuddered again, a feeling of dread clutching at her heart.
“He left,” she spoke, wondering at her own lack of Slayer responsibility. She had allowed herself to become so swept up in the event of avoiding the baby that she had not even blinked when Spike departed. He could be happily fattened now on fresh blood, draining the innocent.
Well, except for the chip. The chip they still knew so little about and which could easily have stopped working in the interim. Not like Spike had had a chance recently to test its boundaries out. He could be out there now, testing it out on a hundred vulnerable necks.
Buffy jumped to her feet, anxiety twisting her stomach into knots, and wondered why she’d let him out. If she had to dust him…well, it actually kind of hurt. Not that it would stop her from dusting him if she had to, but she had association now, had shared time with him other than fighting. She’d caught glimpses of non-vampire Spike, and secretly, she liked it.
Duty crawled along her arm as she reached behind to take out the stake tucked into her waistband. Hesitation kept her beside Giles while she settled her mind to the fact that ‘on the loose’ Spike could not be good for the Sunnydale community.
Completely unbidden her eyes fell upon the door, and an image of Spike’s look of shock and betrayal as he turned to dust hit her hard. Buffy gulped and took a step toward the door, stopping abruptly when it was flung open and a black blur streaked through.
Only small puffs of smoke escaped the leather covering as Spike threw his duster aside, stood up tall, and ran both slightly singed hands through his flattened peroxide locks.
“Evenin’ all,” he greeted, completely composed and without a hint of guilt. Until his appreciative glance swept over Buffy and rested on the stake gripped tightly in her hand. “Goin’ somewhere, pet?”
Buffy felt something settle in her throat and she squeaked out a response. “Was…” she cleared it and tried again. “Was going to go look for you. You’ve been gone all day,” she accused and he raised a brow in surprise.
“And you were gonna punish me with your fancy stick of wood? How bloody original.” He continued to study her, could sense the slight trembling of her body and let out a mouthful of useless air.
“You thought I’d been out feeding. What part of the excruciating pain from the chip did you miss during my little show and tell?” His voice had taken on a sarcastic edge and Buffy felt slightly ashamed for jumping to conclusions.
“So you weren’t out snacking?” She cringed at the bluntness of the question, but she had to know for sure.
His ‘pfft’ of irritation seemed to be all the reassurance she needed and she replaced her stake and went back to ‘ooing’ and ‘aahing’ over the baby.
“So, Giles. Do you think you can reveal this little mystery to us now?”
Even Spike took a seat, though he slumped back in a big show of being unconcerned.
“Please Watcher, tell the class how you managed to get yourself all tangled in this little web.”
“Yes, well, er, remember Buffy when I asked both you and Xander if you could take on Spike-minding for the weekend? That my friend Olivia was coming for a visit?”
“Uh huh!” replied Buffy while Spike scooted closer to the edge of the seat and leaned in for the big revelation.
“Yes well, apparently Olivia wasn’t coming over to…er, this is very difficult.”
“Take it one step at a time, Rupes,” calmed the vampire without a hint of derision in his voice.
Giles looked at him startled, yet smiled at him in gratitude; at least he would have some support in one corner, as bizarre as that concept was. And even stranger was the look of pleased confusion on his Slayer’s face as she contemplated the vampire. Oh, dear. He couldn’t help but feel a little anxious about it.
But for now, it was on with the details of his current predicament.
“O-Olivia came to see me early, and, well, she brought with her a little surprise.”
Three sets of eyes turned to the well-behaved little baby girl still fast asleep in her carrier.
“Can’t keep her sleepin’ in that thing, Watcher. Little tyke needs a cot. That thing will be bad for her posture. Can’t be too comfortable, either.”
“Okay, that’s it,” Buffy interrupted the baby lecture to stand with her feet planted firmly on the ground and her hands on hips in a show of…well…not defiance exactly. More like something akin to bravado.
It made Spike feel all warm and gooey on the inside.
“What’s it, luv?” he smirked, and thoroughly enjoyed the show of her flush as it crept up her neck.
“What’s with all the baby know-how?”
He kinked his head to the side and couldn’t help but picture her holding the baby earlier.
“Don’t know,” he told her honestly. “Just commonsense, really. Guess I remember a bit from when I was still human. Now, if I wasn’t mistaken, your Watcher was filling us in.”
Everything seemingly settled for the moment, they turned back to Giles. As he opened his mouth to resume the story, the little one dressed head to toe in pink started to wake, and the transition was loud.
Spike observed Buffy and Giles sitting in a state of indecision, and instead of barking orders or insults at their inept behaviour towards a baby, Spike stood and ambled toward the carrier and took the little one out.
Returning to his seat, he rocked and cooed until smiles broke out on her tiny face. Buffy and Giles watched, completely transfixed by the uncharacteristic gentleness—but said nothing.
“So, Rupert. What’s the little bit’s name?”
The older man looked rattled for a minute, then something seemed to come back to him and he beamed.
“Her name is Ophelia,” and didn’t even finish before Spike was laughing.
“What a bloody name to saddle a kid with!”
“Yeah, yay with the expectation of insanity in her future.” Buffy couldn’t resist the dig.
Something suddenly occurred to her and Buffy let out a whoop of merriment.
“Hey, that’s how you know how to deal with her! You’ve got an affinity with the sanity challenged.” She grinned and even winked, causing Spike to almost drop his handful.
“Laugh it up, Slayer. An’ how did you get with the big words? Crack open a dictionary lately?”
“Children, children. Let’s keep this calm for now, please.”
“So, this Olivia woman had your brat, and now she’s dumped her on you. When is she coming to pick her up?” Buffy looked at the baby out of the corner of her eye, wanting to ask Spike for a nurse but feeling too embarrassed to.
“Well, that would be the dilemma.” Giles paused and looked at the two watching him from his sofa and prepared for the reaction. Neither spoke, just watched him with an anticipation he was dreading.
“She…she isn’t coming back. She’s left little Ophelia here with me. Indefinitely.”
Chapter Four
“Well, that’s not bloody right, Watcher. You need to go track the bint down.” The outrage in Spike’s voice was moving, and Buffy found herself staring at him with a fresh set of interpretations. And a tinge of respect.
“What?”
Spike squirmed in his seat as he became the object of attention, and he suddenly felt embarrassed for his outburst.
“It’s…well, I never suspected you could be so protective,” spluttered Giles in a moment of insight.
“Little tikes need their mums. Not right for this bird to just dump her on you and take off. You need to get her back and get things sorted.”
Buffy’s expression was now filled with open amazement, and while Giles turned his head to smile fondly at his newest family member, she scooted closer to Spike on the sofa. Spike immediately looked at her as if she’d gone loco—but didn’t move away. Buffy could see a little smile tilt the corner of his mouth as he looked down at the floor.
“Well, I suspect she may have returned to England, but I can’t go traipsing all over the countryside looking for her while dragging along a baby.” Giles screwed his face up with concentration while he thought through his options.
His silence stretched into minutes and Spike finally caught on to Buffy’s longing looks at the baby, and decided to give her a reality check.
“Here you go, little Lia…you hop on over to your Aunt Buffy.”
Buffy jumped, then held her arms out eagerly for the gurgling baby. Her hold was awkward at first, but then she became mesmerised by the baby’s eyes and started to coo at her, talking baby gibberish.
Spike watched and felt something so fundamentally deep that it felt like a throb throughout his body. He couldn’t help but wonder what in the bleeding hell he was doing being all domestic with the Watcher and Slayer, but as he watched Buffy play cutesy games with the bub, he couldn’t prevent the tingle in the back of his neck.
“I can’t help but agree with you, Spike.”
Spike was suddenly on alert, knowing that the world was completely whacked out of balance. Two days ago these people had him chained to the bloody bathtub, controlling him through rigid feeding times like he was a zoo animal kept under observation for research purposes. Now they were chatting to him like an old wise uncle, taking his advice and even commending him on it. If he didn’t feel the heat of attraction circulating through his body and zeroing in toward his groin, he’d think they were completely off their rocker, or that they’d dusted him and his ghost hadn’t worked it all out yet.
“Of course you can’t,” was his automatically cocky reply. Then he tilted his head to the side and the wonder took over. “Wait. What are you agreeing with, exactly?”
Buffy’s curiosity got the better of her and she stopped playing with darling little Ophelia and glanced up to watch her Watcher and vampire. She blanched a little at Giles’s new enthusiasm, apprehension swirling inside her gut. She had the very real compulsion to fling the baby away and run for her life.
“Yes. I must take your advice and go and find her. Sort out whatever it is that is going on and see if I can’t make sense of the situation.”
Spike was nodding, feeling all manly about the Watcher agreeing with him, when his eyes shot wide open, drowning in confusion and an escalating fear. One quick look to the side saw Buffy getting red as she started to connect the dots as well.
“One little problem there, Rupes. You said you couldn’t take Junior here while you did the search and rescue. What are you plannin’ to do with the bit?”
He could have kicked himself as soon as the Watcher opened his mouth, knowing he was in for a world of trouble. Buffy had no reservations though. She did kick him. Got to her cute little shoed feet and kicked him hard.
“Spike,” she hissed, and he could sense her heart pounding. But as Giles began to talk, she slumped back in the chair with a sadly defeated whimper.
“Quite right. It just wouldn’t do to take the little one through what could potentially be an unknown situation. I would get nothing achieved if I had to care for a baby as well.” He stopped and stunned them with his infectious beam. “So, I’ve thought of the perfect solution.”
Buffy started to shake and darted quick looks to the door as they waited out his pause.
Spike let his eyes sweep back and forth between the three focus points: Watcher, Slayer and door. It was dark now, so no worries for the flame act. But he had a feeling that Buffy wouldn’t be so distracted and let him make an escape this time. He had a gut feeling she would tackle him before he got half to the door and drag him back to hear his death sentence, offered up with a smile.
Buffy decided to brave it out.
“What…ah what…is your solution?” She risked the question; her voice was husky with building concern for the all important, possibly life-altering answer.
“Well, it’s simple really. Quite the perfect solution.” He stopped while he thought out the details, picturing his best course of action while Buffy looked imploringly at Spike.
They both were frantic for escape, and as they were about to charge to their feet, Giles caught them again with his plan, and they rewarded him with classic ‘deer in headlight’ stares.
“Spike is rather skilled in sensing what a baby needs, how to care for them—which in itself is more disturbing than I wish to face at this juncture. And Buffy, I am sure with your love of fashion and footwear that you would be delighted to earn some extra cash. So I propose,” and both Buffy and Spike cringed, “that Buffy, you move in and mind Spike, while he minds the baby.” Giles grinned, completely comfortable with his suggestion despite the fact that Buffy—as speechless as she was—was on the verge of hyperventilating.
“Have you gone completely burko? What the bloody hell kind of watcher are you to leave a vampire babysitting your offspring?”
Giles didn’t even blink.
“The kind that is thoroughly convinced that your chip makes you as dangerous as a…a…fluffy, white bunny. And the kind who knows that his options of caring, available, child friendly adults is rather limited. I might have asked Joyce, except well, she works, but if I understand from Buffy, she isn’t even in Sunnydale right now. That leaves me with you two.”
Buffy offered a cringe in sympathy of the putdown, but then her eyes bugged as the implications of Giles’s suggestion crowded in on her. He wanted her to sit the sitter, be nanny to the nanny. That kind of meant she would have to be around Spike. A lot!
“Um, Giles? You know I’ve got school, right? I can’t exactly take little Ophelia…” she looked at Spike and remembered, “ little Lia here, to class.”
“And how many hours would that take you away again? Three? Maybe four some days?”
Buffy huffed.
“And the studying! There’s studying time, too!”
She was completely appalled when both Giles and Spike snorted their amusement.
“Fine,” she spat at the pair as she took to her seat again.
“Buffy, I will expect you to move in here for the duration of my absence. I can accept Spike being left alone with…er…Lia… but not for more than those hours for the day.”
Giles seemed beside himself with good humour as he grinned at the pair sitting unhappily on the sofa.
“Right, I’ll go and pack and organise the plane tickets.”
He jumped to his feet and bestowed an uncomfortable pat to his daughter’s head, and took off for the phone.
“Oi! What about all the stuff for the mite? Cot, pram, nappies, clothes? I don’t know how to do all of it, you ponce!” Too late Spike thought of the arguments to get out of this surreal situation.
Giles ducked his head around the corner from his kitchenette.
“Oh, I will leave you some cash and you and Buffy can go and buy whatever it is you think you’ll need.”
Oh, that does it, thought Spike in rising panic.
“You can’t bloody expect me to go nipper shopping with the Slayer. That’s even poor form for you, Watcher.”
Buffy giggled, hysteria beginning to get the better of her.
“YOU!” she pointed as she screeched with laughter. “The Big Bad pushing a stroller and feeding a baby… with bottles!”
Spike stood, very gently positioned Lia in her carrier chair before shooting the Slayer a furious look filled with hatred, and left.
He got all the way into the bathroom and stared at the glaring white of the tub before climbing in and switching on his telly.
“Bitch is gonna get it good. Nanny Spike might get stuck pushing the bloody pram, but she’s gonna cop the upchuck when junior has her bottle.”
Spike reclined as best he could against the cold enamel, and smiled in satisfaction at his inner image of Buffy covered in baby puke. Oh yeah, that was going to be his one really good day.
Chapter Five
Buffy and Spike stood dumbly looking at the lovely pile of cash sitting next to a credit card on the dining table. There had been barely enough time for words in between Giles’s announced trip to search out his daughter’s mother, and leaving to catch the plane. He’d offered up a grin as he laid out the finances on the table, giving them permission to spend freely for little Ophelia’s comfort, and then walked briskly to the door.
A rather loud and obvious throat clearing from Spike had Giles dead in his tracks, a guilty return trek to kiss Lia’s downy forehead, and then he was gone. Leaving Buffy and Spike completely speechless.
Five minutes elapsed in silent contemplation of the table’s contents.
“Huh!” was Buffy’s first attempt to offer anything in the face of Giles’s desertion, her eyes compelled to rest sympathetically on the quiet baby. A weak jab with her elbow to Spike’s ribs didn’t seem to dislodge his stare at the pile of notes on the table and she could practically see him salivating.
“Spike!” she shouted, and he mumbled some inarticulate response, his eyes making sure the cash didn’t move.
Getting impatient, she punched him in the gut and smiled as he keeled over. Cupping his chin she lifted his upper body back up and smiled sweetly at him.
“It’s for the baby, honey.”
Spike’s eyes flew open wide as he watched the playful nature of the Slayer at work.
“This is a load of bollocks. You do know that, don’t you, pet? Bloody Watcher buggers off to parts unknown, leaving a teenager with no experience of kids and a vampire with more of it in the food category than you lot should be comfortable with. He’s no better than the bleeding useless mother that dumped her ‘ere in the first place.”
Buffy frowned, wondering why he hadn’t attempted to bite her head off for the cutesy endearment. Then she frowned some more trying to work out why she wanted to even call him honey in the first place.
Okay, Giles had just completely screwed up her life. What with the making her grow up too fast, and completely unnecessarily with the responsibility of babies, and vamp sitting. She just knew this whole experience was going to scar her for life.
Before she could berate her Watcher much more, Lia began to wriggle and screw up her face. She started to turn red, and Buffy panicked.
“Spike,” she screeched as she grasped his arm. “Do something. She’s going red.”
Spike stood back, rocking on his heels and smirking as he watched Buffy stand shaking on the spot, indecisive and hating it.
“Don’t just stand there. There’s something wrong with her, you idiot.” The tone of voice was frantic as Buffy began to wring her hands, getting rougher and rougher the redder Lia became. Suddenly, the tiny girl opened her mouth and let rip.
“Bloody powerful set of lungs on this one, that’s for bleedin’ sure,” Spike crowed proudly, despite the necessity of covering his ears with his hands.
Buffy stared at him hard, her lip curling with irritation, but almost within seconds she was cringing in desperation, willing to do anything to stop the caterwaul from making her eardrums explode.
“Ah,” she cried with hands clamped tight over her ears. “Please, Spike,” she begged, and nearly collapsed in relief when Spike rolled his eyes but reached for the writhing bundle that was Ophelia.
“There you go, kitten,” he cooed as he scooped the baby into his arms. Her yowls immediately softened to a whimper and Buffy watched transfixed, having no clue—and no real eagerness to get a clue—how he did it.
“Uncle Spike’ll take care of you.” He rocked her gently and started to sing as he waltzed around the room with the baby girl in his arms, stopping abruptly when his eyes caught hold of Buffy’s amused stare on one of his graceful pirouettes.
“Not a word, missy. This gets out to the rest of your merry band of mates, an’ I know exactly whose entrails to collect the second this chip stops working.” He’d started out pinning her with a hard stare, but the mirth seemed to be catching and Buffy could only gasp at how the blue altered in warmth.
“So, luv. We’ve got ourselves a bit of a problem.”
Buffy couldn’t help it. She rolled her eyes as her hands rested on her hips.
“Only one?” she had to emphasise with more than a touch of sarcasm.
Spike held up the baby as point of reference. “The bit’s hungry. Rupert didn’t explain any kind of feeding schedule?”
Buffy’s eyes hurt with the width they gained in her panic.
“Feeding schedule? You mean we’re expected to feed the baby?”
There was nothing left for him to do but snort his incredulity and laugh Buffy into a becoming blush.
“You’re not serious, are you?” He narrowed his eyes at her, sniffed the air and immediately lost the smile. “You bloody are. What? You think the mite will survive on air alone? I thought you birds would have a better grip on the practicalities than a vamp that hasn’t cared for a live baby for over a century.”
Buffy pouted and Spike couldn’t help the little shuffle and the drop of the baby rug, which quite conveniently curtained over his bulging crotch area. If he didn’t know better, he’d think the Slayer put out the lower lip for the express purpose of driving him bonkers through the existence of a permanently hard cock. The pressure of an unrelenting hard-on was surely known as a cause of insanity.
Other realities of their situation filtered through to his mind and he couldn’t stifle the smirk that flashed across his lips, completely at odds with the escalating volume of Ophelia’s displeasure. He tilted his head to the side and contemplated the girl who had caused him so much trouble in the past. He wondered what kind of parent she was going to turn out to be over what could be the week.
Buffy was watching him, the lip still poking out beyond the normal line of her mouth, and Spike found himself compelled a little toward her, eyes glazing over as she darted a pink tongue out to wet it and make it glisten invitingly. The boundaries of his pants just continued to get excruciatingly tight, its demanding presence only dimming as the baby’s cry reached deafening decibels.
The squawking broke through the burgeoning lust and both Buffy and Spike cringed simultaneously. It was successful like nothing else in deflating his aching member to a more reasonable tolerance.
“Little one’s hungry, pet.”
Buffy seemed to click to the urgency of the situation and allowed her eyes to dart frantically around her, searching for something that might provide a clue on what the baby needed to consume in order to make her quiet again.
“What do we give her, Spike?” Buffy’s eyes met his and where once he might have rejoiced in the edge of fear in her gaze, he now felt more sympathy than he thought reasonable.
With a sigh of frustration, motivated more for the preservation of his image than for irritation with the little blond, he did another eye lap around the room in search of something, anything that would tell them what to feed the little angel before his ears began to bleed.
“Did the Watcher tell you anything before he left?” he asked hopefully.
The almost hysterical shake of her head dashed his hopes in one, and he began to understand that the Slayer wasn’t all about the everyday practicalities. For a girl who had the world resting on her shoulders, she knew remarkably little about the smaller inhabitants.
“Right, then. Process of elimination. How old would you say this babe is?”
Again her shaking head and body told him he would be making all the judgement calls in this bizarre situation. The huff was real this time, frustration mounting with each denial of an answer the Slayer gave him.
“Okay, littleun. Let’s have a look at you. You’re small, not much fat on those bones yet.” He bravely stuck a finger into her mouth and felt the gums. “No teeth, then.”
“Oh, oh!” interjected Buffy suddenly enough for Spike to jump in surprise.
“Bloody hell, Slayer. Warn a bloke when you’re gonna shout out like that.”
“How could I warn you, Spike, when I would be yelling at you in the first place?”
Spike gritted his teeth and braced himself against the almost desperate howls of the baby, and turned his full attention to the other substitute parent.
“So, what bright little spark of information are you bringing to the party, pet?”
She grinned as if completely taken with her own brilliance.
“We could check for her size on the label on her clothes, Spike. Won’t that help?”
How could he be anything but annoyed with the self-satisfied look on her face, and the first example of rational problem-solving she had attempted since they had been landed in this mess.
“Right you are, pet. Right you are,” he squeezed out through clenched teeth and juggled Lia around until he could comfortably look at the label in the back of her… “What are these bloody things called again?”
The way her confused brow scrunched up her face made his body throb. With a quick jerk, he stopped his thoughts from broaching any other temptations and focused on squinting at the label.
“Ah,” she shocked him again when he was unprepared, and he felt the baby slip a little before he got her back in a secure hold.
“Can you stop with the bleeding loud and unnecessary exclamations. On top of this ones crying…” he stopped in thought. “You know, luv. This one still sounds like a newborn. The wail is enough to set my teeth to bloody powder.”
“I…I was just going to say, that thing she is wearing is called a romper.” Her eyes suddenly looked alarmed, like if she got it wrong she was going to lose the biggest test in the world. “I think?” she finished off in that little girl’s voice that melted the big bad in the Big Bad more than a little.
“It’s okay, pet. Romper it is. But this baby is less than 8 weeks old is my nearest guess. An’ there’s an echo in my head. We have to find a way to feed her, right bloody well now. This kind of torture sends people insane, you know.”
Desperate panic added to the search around the room, and finally Buffy’s gaze rested on a puffy navy blue bag, brimming with something as the sides bulged out.
Without thought, she dived on it, attacking the zip with a zest she usually only showed her pizza.
It seemed like a gift from Heaven when things that looked like feeding implements fell out of the bag, along with a piece of paper. A quick study of the writing had her eyes fixing back on the pile of cash on the table, and when she turned back to Spike, her face was pale.
“Spike? There’s a list. She left us a list. What kind of mother leaves a list? I don’t know what to do with a list…” Tears were brimming at her eyes as her heartbeat increased, thumping a rhythm of hysteria that Spike was quickly finding wasn’t his favourite music anymore.
Two strides and he had the note out of her hand and retrieved a tiny bottle and small container of a powdery substance. The bottom of the note held the short answer to their mystery, however. Without further thought, he shoved Ophelia in Buffy’s arms, took the small bottle and what he was taking on faith was formula and not some other more damaging substance, and followed the instructions to the letter. He returned with a lukewarm bottle of milk and shoved it at the Slayer.
Her eyes widened in alarm, already sensing impending disaster.
“No objections, Slayer. You feed; I’ll look in the phonebook. We’re going to need a few things and I need to find where to go shoppin’. So get that into the tyke to stop her frettin’ and let’s get on with it.” He looked angry and Buffy gulped hard.
“Okay,” she squeaked, and went about sitting comfortably, trying to work out the best way to hold the baby while aiming the nipple to her mouth. Buffy sighed in relief as the small mouth puckered and then latched on.
“Mission accomplished.”
Chapter Six
“This isn’t so bad. This is actually kinda neat,” Buffy whispered conspiratorially to her teeny little charge as Spike spoke on the phone. The milk level in the bottle had fallen so fast that Buffy wondered if the silicone actually had a leak and she just hadn’t noticed it yet.
No way could a baby suck that fast!
The last drops gurgled down to the bottom of the bottle and Buffy smiled at how successful she was at her task.
“Okay, Mr. Experience. Princess Lia is all fed, no more gripees for her.” The smile faltered as the baby’s face screwed up slowly into the most adorable pout the Slayer had ever seen, before letting the most heinous cry explode from her lungs.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t the only explosion. As Buffy tipped Ophelia up just a little, leaving her head admittedly a bit wobbly, she screamed in pain, quickly followed by a round of babysick that covered all of Buffy’s front and half her face.
The Slayer—covered from cheek to waist with baby formula—was speechless for all of two seconds, then her own wail built in her diaphragm and she shouted in near hysteria.
“Ewwww…Spiiikke!”
Her frantic eyes landed on the carrier and she quickly put Lia back in, then snatched up a coat—looking pretty tweedy—before rubbing herself raw in desperate need to get the baby vomit off her.
Spike was in front of her in seconds, his smile derisive as he took in her altered state and Rupert’s now ruined jacket.
“Do something,” she pleaded with him, holding her arms out—speckled in puke, her voice all wobbly. “She spit up all over me, Spike.”
He tilted his head to the side and contemplated her thoughtfully. “Did you burp her, pet? Help get her wind up?”
Buffy’s emerald orbs widened. “You couldn’t have told me about doing that?” she spat at him, beyond irritated that her only set of clothes weren’t fit to be worn outside the apartment. Weren’t fit to be worn in the apartment.
“I need to take a shower right now,” she screamed like a banshee at the smirking vampire. He made the mistake of following along behind her and quickly got smacked in the head by her flying top, damp and sodden from Ophelia’s upchuck. That he had his hands buried right in it as he gripped the top in his fists didn’t even register. The bare smooth expanse of her back was the hypnotic focus of his eye as she rushed for the bathroom door, giving the taps over the bath a sharp twist and almost moaning as the water burst through the nozzle.
He’d bumped right through the door as she attempted to swing it closed, not even noticing when he continued to follow her and began salivating when she peeled off her pants, his focus on her back falling as the naked globes of her arse that appeared extremely bitable.
And then she turned around and he felt the fabric in his hand tear as his claws extended and got caught. Holy fuck was she a picture. Bloody perfectly rounded tits that made his fangs itch to taste them, to mark them and make them his property. Her muscular abdomen and arms, the neatly trimmed curls that kept her pussy hidden from his gawking eyes.
And then her hands were intently scrubbing at her skin and he could feel drool dribbling out the corner of his mouth. It must have been a cold breeze that reached her from the open door because she turned suddenly and caught him staring. A scream pierced the steamy air.
“Spppiiiikkkkeeeee! What the hell are you doing?” she screeched at him while frantically trying to cover her luscious body with the shower curtain.
“You know what, Slayer? Lia needs a wash, what with all that baby spew on her.” And he spun on his heel, though unfortunately not quick enough for Buffy to miss seeing the bulge of his pants and flushing bright red over every exposed inch of her body.
When he didn’t come back straight away, Buffy released her death-grip on the curtain and turned back into the water, panting still in shock at his behaviour and then taking a second to wonder at the lack of his snarky comments. She hadn’t expected anything less than his emphasis on how imperfect he found her—too slim, way too small breasts, too muscular for a girl. Not like he wasn’t evil or anything. But he’d been silent, almost an admiring glint in his face just as he was caught and rushed from the room.
Just as her blood pressure resettled on normal and the heat of the water seeped back into her clammy flesh, the shower curtain was torn back and a naked baby thrust into her arms.
“Know what, pet? Best I take off my T-shirt if I’m to help you scrub the little one clean.”
Buffy’s eyes bugged as Spike whipped off the black that hid…the most amazing and sexy abs she had ever seen. No way did Riley or Xander have muscles like that. As she gawked, she completely forgot that she held a baby against her slippery naked body and a Spike poised to do a bit of washing.
He leaned across her, trying hard not to stare at her as he reached for the soap, offering grateful prayers of thanks to the big guy in the sky that good little Ophelia had relaxed her lungs and was finding the warm water soothing.
“Right then, lather up time.” And he soaped up his hands, rubbing them lightly over the baby’s soft skin. Was it his bloody fault if Buffy was holding the munchkin so close to her torso? Course not! So when he went to wash Lia’s back, how could he stop himself from brushing against an agitated nipple? Was bleeding well impossible.
A strangled gasp jiggled the nerves that fed his cock to action, and he felt his hard flesh expand painfully against his zipper, almost wishing for another bout of baby vomit to project from the baby right on his crotch. Any excuse would do in a crisis.
More rubbing, more accidental nipple stimulation and suddenly his hands where on her belly—under the guise of washing Ophelia’s back. Buffy didn’t move, stood completely still as her body began to shake. In Spike’s mind, that was just wrong. Here he was, the Big bloody Bad stroking her tits into delicious peaks and she hadn’t moved or made a noise other than that first painful exhalation. So he let his hand circle her belly, revolutions getting larger and larger until his fingers were brushing the hairs between her legs.
The pounding of her heart stirred his cock some more and he felt like growling—he kept it in with the vicious control on his will that he’d mastered over the twenty odd years spent being piggy-in-the-bloody-middle of Dru and Angelus. Thank fuck that Darla hadn’t wanted a go.
His eyes shot wide as he felt the infinitesimal shift of her position, the subtle parting of her thighs and his finger slipped, diving unintentionally between her pussy lips to attach itself to her clit. Once there it seemed stuck, and the only way he could shake it free was to rub it back and forth. Gently at first and then more vigorously in an effort to get loose.
“Ohhhhh,” she moaned as he desperately tried to get his finger back to safety, grateful again to Higher Powers that she hadn’t at least dropped the baby. Lia seemed to be so comfortable against the Slayer’s warm flesh that she’d closed her eyes, softly breathing the sleep of the innocent as Buffy bucked her hips against his finger.
“Thata girl, luv.” And by some odd fucking twist of hysteria, more of his fingers got caught in her sticky honey, delving up her hole in a way that made him think he was more likely to lose them than ever get them back. As much as he wished to taste whatever it was that held his grip so firmly, he was terrified for his lips and thus stayed on his feet.
She was gyrating against him, dislodging the fingers one minute and giving him hope when they were suddenly sucked back inside, leaving him desperate and with a head full of mush.
So, in the midst of such turmoil, was it so beyond the realm of possibility that he would bend down to kiss the sleeping baby and instead find his head lodged between two scrumptious bodies, teeth latched hard to a nipple as he sucked in a shocked breath.
“Gahhhh,” Buffy told him and he could only nod, the pressure of his suctioning mouth twisting the aching bud from her body. “Spike,” she sobbed and his fingers twisted against the cruel thing that held him hostage, feeling it right to the tip of his cock as the funny nub and the slippery moisture heated and pulsed in his hand.
And only then, when Buffy was panting her way to calm, was he able to pull free, his hand squeezed weak in the nicest way. At the same time, he worked out that the reason he was dripping was because he’d lost his head. Quite literally, even under the pelting shower water. Spike hid a smile as he grabbed up a towel in one hand and turned the faucet off with the other. He thrust the big fluffy towel at Buffy, marvelling at her confused, spaced out expression and took Lia into another. The baby stayed relaxed as he patted her dry.
Then he was gone, dressing and placing his precious excuse into her carry-cot once again.
And Buffy hadn’t moved one lax, brutally satisfied muscle.
To be continued
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