Will's Papa
by Redwulf50

Happy Early Birthday C
From the Time Tossed verse preseries
Betaed by Spikeslovebite aka Tam
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This was his son. If the boy hadn't looked just like him it would have still been obvious by his demeanor. Poor boy was as much love's bitch as his dad. Spike entered the room in silence, watching his boy's shoulders shake with the force of his tears. ‘How do you do this?’ he wondered silently. ‘How do you help your twelve year old son recover from his very first heartache?’

Not like his mum or his irate twin that was sure; bloody Joy had nearly put the poor, arrogant, holier-than-thou twit in intensive care, and Spike's dear wife was currently setting up things to send the heartless little chit home to Atlanta. Oh, yeah, and not like Aunties Faith and Willow; those two were looking up curses in the council library. None of them understood the true problem. William- like his dad- felt second best. Spike was married to the most beautiful woman he had ever met, but still felt less than good enough for her.

"You're a good man, son," Spike told his only male child. "Better than your Papa. You're a good man and a good poet."

"You wouldn't ‘ve took it." Will's voice was thick with emotion, tears running down his tragic young face. "If she’d told you that you were beneath her, you woulda slapped her."

"Oh, bloody hell." Spike actually barked a quick laugh through his own tears. "You know who the last woman was that told me I was beneath her?"

William shook his head, wet eyes wide with disbelief. He couldn’t picture anyone talking to his papa that way and coming away unscathed.

"Was your bloody mum, the daft chit." Spike gazed at his disbelieving son. "Knew I loved her already, but your mum… Your mum can be as thick as two planks, sometimes. She needed a year or three to figure out she loved me. She said it, and I folded up right there in that alley and cried like a right poofter. Went home to get a shotgun and was gonna bloody kill her."

"What happened?" William asked, fascinated in spite of his own misery. He and Joy loved to hear about their parents’ life before they came along.

"Your mum found out that night that your Nana Joyce had a tumor and was sitting on the back porch, crying her eyes out,” Spike told the boy. "I saw her crying and like a right ponce forgot all about trying to kill her."

"But, I'm not you, Papa,” William lamented. "You're the Big Bad and I'm just a poet."

Spike reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of railroad spikes- one shiny and new, the other old and rusty. "You know what these are, mate?"

"They're you," William answered. "They're your symbol."

"Ahhh, not quite son." Spike held up the old one. "This one is me; made of wrought iron, old, and rusty. Effective in a fight, but not much use any other way."

He held up the new one. "This one is nickel plated titanium steel. Light weight, more durable than the older model, and you can use it in a fight or you can use it as anything else you want. This one's you. See, you’re all the things I've always wanted to be, but can’t. You're a better man than me, just because of who you are. Never let them fool you, Will. Your old Papa isn't that good a man, but you can be and are. I watch you and wonder how the powers could have blessed me with a son like you."

Spike laid the two pieces of metal on the bed beside his son and rested a hand on William’s tangled, honey colored curls. “You’re a good man, William. One of the best I’ve ever known.”

William sat silently as his Papa left the room.

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Buffy was standing outside Will's room as Spike left. She followed her husband with tears in her eyes till they were out of earshot.

"No, Will's papa is the best man I've ever known,” she said as she enfolded her mate in a hug.