One Good Lay | Arizona by Jypzrose

Arizona
Chapters 16-Epilogue

Written by: Jypzrose
Author's Website

Summary: Druscilla followed Angel into hell. Buffy did leave, but never went back to Sunnydale, due to an unforeseen circumstance of that day. Now known as Anne, she lives in a small town, outside of Tombstone, Arizona working as a stripper. Spike finds her. What secrets does she have to tell, and can they get beyond the pain of the past to start a future together?
Spoilers: Through the end of Season 2
Disclaimer: If I owned any of it, Buffy and Spike would be together, minus chip AND soul. All characters belong to Joss, except Mark, he is a creation of my own mind, and I intend to keep him! So there.
Distribution: Here and at Libidinous Desires, anywhere else, email me first, jypzrose@aol.com
Author's Notes: Special thanks- to my beta suzy, you are the best, and kumi, for without her, you would not be able to read this. Love you gals.
Feedback: jypzrose@aol.com

Chapter 16

Everything went unbelievably well over the next few days. Anne, Spike and Matt settled into family life, the transition amazingly easy for the vampire. Nothing meant more to him than his woman and his child, and he wanted to do everything he could to make sure they were taken care of. On Thursday, she had dumped the month's bills in his lap, a smirk curling her lip when she also told him it was time to go grocery shopping. He didn't object, after all, it was his fault she was jobless, and it was his responsibility. He simply put in a call to his lawyer, and had all his funds transferred to her account. That way, should anything happen to him, she would never have to struggle again. He paid off her car and her house, eagerly awaiting the day when the titles arrived and her could present them to her. They were hers, and no one else's.

One day, while Matt was at school, he had woken up to her cleaning out her closet. Little scraps of lace and brightly colored fabrics went flying through the air to land in a cardboard box at her feet. He had staggered naked out of bed to inspect it, and had pulled out something that looked like a belt. Upon further inspection, he saw what it really was. The straps were made to wrap around her breasts in the imitation of a bra, since their was no cup. They then would travel around to criss cross her tiny waist and hook onto the matching g-string. He held it up by one finger, scarred brow raised high. She giggled at his expression, and snatched it away from him.

"You got me fired. No need for any of this anymore," she explained, tossing the leather back in the box. Spike merely smirked, and retrieved it, along with a couple of others.

"Oh, I think we can find a use for a couple of them," he'd purred, and then they had proceeded to do just that.

Matt loved having his family together, and had brought home a picture that he had drawn in school. It had Anne, him and Spike holding hands, standing in front of their house at night. Willow and Mark were also in the picture, their stick arms wrapped around each other. Matt liked the pretty lady with the bright hair. She was always nice to him, and she did cool card tricks. She made Unca Mark happy, too. He knew that, because the couple had been over practically every night that week.

Mark and Willow were moving along at a good pace as well. After their first morning in his apartment, he had taken her back to the hotel long enough to collect her stuff, then promptly deposited it at his place. Willow seemed to be constantly walking around on a high, her expression almost matching Anne's. She was still worried about what would come when she had to return home, however. She'd been too afraid to bring it up, but she had the distinct impression that Mark wouldn't let her go easily. What that meant, was a mystery to her.

None of them heard from Xander. Anne hoped he'd gone back to Sunnydale, and Mark and Spike didn't much care where he went. Willow hoped that he was alright, but she didn't seek him out, feeling he needed time to come to terms with the things that had been said to him. She hoped he finally got over it, and accepted his friends' choices. Then, maybe, he could rebuild his own life.

By the time Friday came around, Matt was so excited about taking his father to the carnival that night, that Anne had to scold him more than once. Spike jumped in a time or two, letting the child know that there would be no divide and conquer tactics allowed. Anne was amazed at how easily he had acclimated to fatherhood. He joked with her that after dealing with the idiocy of minions, a four year old was a breeze. They never mentioned Dru, or Angel, or their time in Sunnydale. The future was also a taboo subject, since they didn't want to contemplate the time when it would only be Spike left. Spike, himself was petrified of that time. It had never been something to worry about before, as his relationships with humans had been more of the eat and run variety. Now, two very fragile lives were part of his unlife. Four if you counted Mark and Willow. And he found that the thought of life without them was scarier than holy water and stakes to the heart combined. So, he chose not to think about it, and he and Anne did a good job of ignoring it. Matt, blissfully, was oblivious.

"Hi," Anne said, pulling open the door to let Mark and Willow inside. The setting sun cast the sky in a rainbow of red, violet and pink behind them. Anne hugged Willow, delighting in the changes in her friend. Her pale skin was sun kissed, and her brilliant hair seemed redder from the hours she spent in the sun. A silver necklace with a turquoise cross hung around her slim throat, a gift from Mark. Large silver hoop earrings adorned her ears, and two thick silver bangles jangled on her wrists. She was wearing a pair of jean shorts, sandals, and a white, billowing blouse that exposed her shoulders. Mark was dressed in his usual faded jeans and boots. His t-shirt was replaced with a crisp, white button down, the top few buttons undone to expose his copper skinned chest. The sleeves were rolled up to just below his elbows. His long hair was captured in a tie at the base of his neck. Anne studied them, thinking they made a striking couple.

"Hey, we're here, and fully prepared for the over consumption of sugar and lard, followed closely by the threat of tossing our cookies on all those whiplash rides," Mark said, leaning down to brush his warm lips across Anne's cheek.

"Hey, Tonto, watch your lips," Spike said good naturedly as he was pulled down the hall by the overexcited Matt.

"Whatever you say, Lestat," Mark threw back, smiling at the scowl that crossed Spike's chiseled features. "Turnabout's fair play," he said with a grin. The blonde vampire's lips quirked at that, and he nodded.

"Touche," he said, leaning in to kiss Willow on her cheek. The redhead's cheeks colored bright at that. Anne rolled her eyes, and lightly punched Spike in the arm, as Mark's face clouded briefly.

"Turnabout and all that," Spike reminded him, hefting Matt up into his arms. The little boy squealed in delight.

"Can we go now?" he demanded, wrapping his arms around his father's neck.

"In a few minutes. Soon as the sun goes down," he told him. Matt pouted a little, his chin dipping to touch the front of his Shaggy t-shirt. "Hey now, none of that," Spike said, tucking a finger under his chin. Matt giggled when his father tickled his chin, and he smiled wide.

"Matt, go get your shoes on," Anne told him as Spike set him back on his feet.

"K!" he cried, taking off down the hall. The adults laughed as he disappeared. Spike turned towards Anne, his blue eyes traveling over her slim form. She was dressed in a pair of denim capris, a pair of white keds on her feet. A pink tank top highlighted her golden skin. A simple gold chain hung around her neck. Her dark, shiny hair was twisted into a thick braid that hung down her back. Simple gold balls decorated her ears. He thought she looked delicious.

Anne was having similar thoughts about him. She had forced him to go shopping the night before, deciding she'd had enough of the black. In it's place were a pair of blue jeans (he refused to buy anything but denim to adorn his lower half), and a t-shirt the color of his eyes. She couldn't make him veer from the style, but at least she got him to see that color could be a good thing. She also insisted that he leave the duster at home. It would get in the way on the rides, not to mention that it stood out like the proverbial sore thumb in a state that was hotter than most.

"So, are we ready?" Spike asked, as Matt flew back down the hall.

"I think so. You got money, right?" Anne answered with a bright smile. Spike rolled his eyes, and nodded his head.

"You going to follow us?" Mark asked as they filed out of the house.

"That's fine," Anne answered, locking the door. "Let's get this show on the road."

"Come on, Daddy," Matt said, dragging Spike down the stairs. Anne followed them to her car, and Mark and Willow went to his. As they pulled out of her driveway, none of them noticed the truck at the end of the street.

Xander waited until they were turning onto the main drag, before starting the truck and following them.

~*~*~

Anne smiled from her spot on the ground. Spike and Matt were on the merry-go-round, waving each time they came back around to her.

"Mommy, look at us," Matt demanded, smiling wide.

"I see, baby," Anne called back, returning his grin. They had been there an hour already, and Matt didn't look anywhere close to tiring. He had dragged Spike to each of his favorite rides, then proceeded to con his father into buying him cotton candy and funnel cakes. Spike was having the time of his unlife, happiness expanding his undead heart. Anne didn't ride too much, her tastes running more to the fast rides, but Matt couldn't go on those. Mark and Willow wandered around, riding what they wanted, then returning to the family. Willow found herself slightly envious of her friend, and she realized that she wanted what Anne had as well. She found herself imaging little dark haired children running around, while her and Mark cuddled on the couch. The thought thrilled and terrified her at the same time. Mark found himself having similar thoughts, only the children in his mind were exact duplicates of Willow. He shoved a hand in his pocket, and fingered the velvet box he had placed there earlier. His heart hammered in his chest as he thought of its contents. He could hardly believe that it had been just over a week ago that she had stumbled into his life. He felt like he had waited forever for her, and he had no intention of letting her go. He planned on asking her, when they got back to his place, if she would share forever with him.

Willow turned away form the merry-go-round, and smiled at Mark. Her smile diminished and her brows drew together when she thought she caught a glimpse of a very familiar dark head.

"What's the matter?" Mark asked, wrapping an arm around her waist. Willow glanced at him, then looked back to where she thought she saw Xander. Seeing nothing, she smiled again.

"Nothing. Want to go be manly and win me something cute and cuddly?" she asked, leaning her cheek against his chest.

"I thought I was cute and cuddly," he teased, his black eyes sparkling. She leaned up to brush her lips across his.

"I can think of a few different words than cute and cuddly to describe you," she said, giving him a saucy look.

"Really?" he purred, pulling her back against him. "And what might those be?"

"God, get a room," Anne teased, coming up next to them with Spike and Matt.

"Yeah, impressionable young eyes here," Spike said, indicating himself and not the little boy staring curiously at the adults. That comment elicited a chorus of snorts from the younger ones.

"If you're impressionable, I'll do a naked rain dance right here," Mark said, causing Spike to grin wickedly.

"That would almost be worth the price of admission," he sneered. Willow and Anne giggled at the way Mark's faced blanched at that. Mark didn't know whether to be insulted or afraid, or flattered.

"It's okay, honey. It's a vampire thing," Willow said, chuckling again.

"Yeah, but don't worry, not interested," Spike couldn't help but shoot out. The look of fear that hit the tall Indian's face was priceless.

"Alright, I think on that note, me and Willow are going over there. Away from you," he said, pointing at the vampire.

"Aw, too bad. Just when I was hoping we could bond," Spike leered, deliberately dragging his eyes over Mark. He couldn't hold his laughter back anymore when Mark practically dragged Willow away from them. Anne looked over at him, amusement warring with stern reproach on her face. Matt, luckily, hadn't understood most of the conversation.

"Good job. I don't think I've seen Mark that particular shade of green since I gave birth," she said, with a tilt of her eyebrow. Spike just chuckled.

"Wha? He started it," the blonde tried to defend. "What's next, bit?"

"Bafroom," he answered.

"Aw, that sounds like a man chore. I'll be over with Willow and Mark, kay?" Anne said, leaning in to accept Spike's kiss.

"Be back in a few," Spike answered, picking up Matt and heading in the direction of the loo. Anne watched them go, the contrast of dark and light making her heart squeeze. With a smile, she turned and walked to her friends, not seeing the dark haired man filing through the crowd after the vampire.

~*~*~

"Daddy, I don' feel good," Matt said, clutching his stomach when he came out of the bathroom.

"Well, after all that junk you ate, I'm not surprised," Spike answered, picking up his son once more and cradling him in his arms. The boy's skin was a sickly white, and a light sheen of sweat dotted his forehead. The smell of sickness reached Spike, and he chuckled a bit. "Let's go find Mum, and go home, shall we?" Matt only nodded, snuggling deeper into his father's cool chest. Spike smiled again, and started back towards the crowds to find Anne.

"Hold it, vampire," a slurred voice from behind him said. Spike stilled, then turned, blue eyes flashing yellow as they settled on Xander. The brunette stood unsteadily about ten feet away, a small crossbow trained at Spike.

"What are you doing, whelp?" he growled, keeping his voice soft to not disturb the fitfully sleeping child in his arms.

"I was about to ask you that. Looks like you've got yourself a tasty little snack there," Xander said.

"Don't be a git. This is my son," Spike returned.

"Oh, and all that sweet young blood isn't calling to you? I find that hard to believe," the brunette sneered. The crossbow never wavered, even though Xander looked worse for wear. Spike angled his body so that the bolt wouldn't hit Matt should the idiot accidentally shoot it. He glanced around the area, seeing that it was mostly deserted since most of the people were over at the carnival. His mind sped, as he tried to think of a way out of this situation, and not get Matt hurt in the process. Xander had obviously gone round the bend.

"I don't care what you believe. And I don't believe that you'll shoot. Wouldn't want a brassed off Slayer after you, now would you?" Spike asked, hazarding to turn. A growl erupted from his chest when the sharp sting of wood pierced his shoulder. He struggled to keep his grip on his precious bundle.

"Wanna try again?" Xander asked, reloading quickly. "Why don't you put the boy down, then we can finish this in private," he suggested. Spike looked down at Matt, and cursed when he saw the bright blue orbs open.

"Daddy?" he asked weakly. His stomach was hurting, and he felt hot. He wasn't afraid of the vampiric ridges of his father's face. What scared him was the look of pain in his yellow eyes, and the cold voice speaking to Spike.

"Sh, bit. Quiet now," he whispered, struggling to return to his human features.

"Isn't that sweet?" Xander crooned, his voice mocking. Finally, Spike managed to push his demon back, and smiled down at his child.

"I'm going to put you down, now, poppet. Run to your mum." He spoke softly, hoping to ease the scared boy.

"Daddy, that's the man that made Mommy mad," Matt whispered back.

"I know." Spike answered, slowly lowering him to the ground. "When I say, you run, alright?" Matt nodded, sliding his wide blue eyes to the man behind his father.

"Hope you aren't planning on running Spike. I'm not as stupid as you think."

*That's a matter of opinion,* Spike thought with a grimace. The bolt in his shoulder hurt like fire, and he wondered if the brunette had treated it with something.

"Run!" Spike hissed, pushing the boy to get him started. Matt moved as fast as his little legs would carry him. Spike waited a beat, long enough for Matt to disappear into the crowd before rounding on Xander. Full game face on, he started to lunge, only to collapse when Xander let another bolt loose into his stomach. That one was definitely treated, as the skin around it started to smoke.

"Bloody hell," he gasped, as searing pain lanced through him. Another bolt hit the front of his shoulder, inches from his heart. The one in his back pierced all the way through when he landed on it. Spike reached up to pull that one out first, tears of pain misting his eyes. He threw it away, and struggled up to his knees, leveling yellow eyes on his nemesis. Xander still had the crossbow aimed at him, a fresh bolt ready to go.

"Get up, Spike. Let's take this somewhere we can talk," he said, amicably. Spike took a deep breath and pushed himself up. He was losing blood quickly, and he wondered what exactly was on the wood. "Holy water. Keeps the wounds from closing too quickly," Xander supplied, as if reading his mind. "Now, move!" He jerked the crossbow, letting Spike know which direction to go. With one last, longing look at the bright, colorful lights of the carnival, the blonde started to move.

~*~*~

Anne, Mark and Willow were standing in front of the dart game, laughing at Mark's attempts to win Willow the giant panda. After the tenth try, he gave up, turning to kiss Willow's smiling mouth.

"Pool's more my game, sweets," he said apologetically.

"Oh well. I still have you to snuggle with," she replied, brushing her thumb across his cheek.

"Speaking of snuggling. Haven't Spike and Matt been gone a while?" Anne asked, turning to scan the crowd.

"MOMMY!" A tiny voice carried over the din, causing Anne's heart to jump into her throat. She raced in the direction of the sound, Willow and Mark on her heels. Matt broke through the crowd and launched into Anne's arms.

"Matt, what happened? Where's your father?" she asked, wiping his tears away. Matt was breathing heavy, and sweaty, the smell of sickness in the air around him.

"Da-daddy took me to the bafroom, I got sick. He was comin' to fine you, and then he stopped. That bad man from Sunday was there. He shot Daddy. Daddy tole me to run and find you. Why did he hurt Daddy, Mommy?" Matt had deteriorated into sobs as he told her what happened. Two feelings hit Anne at once. Relief that Matt was alright, and fear for Spike.

"Oh, goddess," Willow gasped, gripping Mark's arm. The Indian immediately started to scan the edges of the crowd, looking for the tell-tale white head.

"Matt, honey, can you tell me which way they went?" He shook his head wildly, clutching his mother with all the force he had in him. Anne closed her eyes and hugged him close, her minding visiting every death that she herself had bestowed on vampires.

"Let's go check by the bathrooms," Mark said, already heading that way. Willow and Anne followed him, terror clutching them. Willow's mind had shut down, her disbelief making it hard to think. She never would have thought that Xander would go this far. She thanked anybody that she could think of that he let Matt go.

Mark moved with the stealth and speed that rivaled any vampire. Thousands of years of Native American heritage flowed through his veins as he started to track the pair. When they reached the bathrooms, he immediately veered left, following the trail into the clearing beyond. Every few feet, he would see blood in the light from the moon, and he guessed correctly that it was Spike's. Just as they reached the side of the road, Xander's beat up old truck tore off onto the highway. They were too far away from their cars to even think about giving chase. Willow began to scan the surrounding area for obvious piles of dust.

"He's not dead," Anne said with conviction, realizing what her friend was looking for. "I'd feel it if he were." Matt continued to sob in her arms, and she squeezed him tightly. "Sh, baby. We'll find him."

"I can do a location spell. I just need something of his," Willow said, hope flaring in her eyes.

"Then let's go back to my house. Everything is there."

"We need to stop by Mark's first, so I can get my supplies." Anne gave a curt nod and started back towards the crowds. The smell of sweet stuff was nauseating, and the laughter was grating. She strode silently to the other side where her car was parked, her arms wrapped around her child, her heart refusing to believe that she would lose Spike. Not now, after they finally found each other. She vowed, as she slid her terrified son into his seat in her car, that Xander would pay for fucking with what was hers.

Chapter 17

AN:-for those that are a little shocked at my Xander treatment, I have issues, and I am working through them. Those at Crumbling Walls know this, and accept it. Lol. However, if it bothers you too much, read Speedway, I treat him much better there (end shameless plug). Lisa

Spike came awake with a groan, two things apparent almost immediately. One, his body was one white hot throb of pain. Two, his arms were tied above his head, his sockets burning with the strain of holding his body weight. He tried to pry his eyes open, but the pain in his head was nearly unbearable. The last thing he remembered was the dizzying walk to Xander's old jalopy. Then, when they had reached it, the blinding lights that had exploded behind his eyes, before blackness over took him.

Forgetting about seeing for the moment, he tried to center himself so he could pick up the sounds in the room. He had to single out the roar in his head, and push it aside, desperately searching for the sound of Xander's heartbeat. He finally heard it, behind him. Along with the sound of wood hitting metal. For the first time in five years, Spike felt fear. Not since Dru attached herself to her daddy and ventured into hell had he felt terror like this. He was tied up, lightheaded, and nauseous, with no immediate means of escape. He thanked the God that had forsaken him that Matt had gotten away. He found himself begging that same God to get him out of this. He wanted his life, his woman and his child. Maybe he didn't deserve them, but he had been blessed for a reason, and he couldn't believe that it would all be snatched away from him. Or, maybe that was the price he had to pay. His life for theirs.

Finally prying his eyes open, he ventured a look around. They seemed to be in some sort of abandoned barn, the interior empty and dim, even though Spike could smell sunrise coming. He looked down the length of his body, noticing for the first time that he was only wearing his jeans, the blood from his wounds staining his chest, stomach and the denim down to his knees. The angry hole in his stomach was finally starting to close, and he could feel the one in his back and chest starting to as well. His head throbbed, every time he tried to move it, making his vision swim black. He forced himself to stay awake, wanting to face his death head on.

"Whelp," he croaked, trying to turn to see behind him. He heard a clatter like something being dropped on a table.

"Spike. You're awake! Wanna drink?" Xander let out a giggle that would have had Spike smirking if it weren't for the crossbow waiving around dangerously in his hand. A bottle of Jack was in his other hand, the contents half gone. He reeked of booze and sweat.

"No thanks. Got a bit of a headache," Spike answered, wincing when the brunette giggled again.

"That's funny. Too bad you're evil, we coulda been friends," he said with a snort, before tipping the bottle back again. Spike raised his scarred brow at that.

"You have me at a disadvantage, mate. What are you planning to do?" Xander shrugged a flannel clad shoulder, and sat down hard on the floor. Amazingly, he didn't drop either of the two objects in his hands, even though he tipped dangerously to the side.

"Not sure. Had a few ideas. Thought 'bout bleeding you, seeing if you would turn to dust when you were empty. Like me, empty, empty. No love, no friends." He snorted again, tears sliding sown his cheeks. "Even thought about just staking you. Thought that lacked. . ." He waved the bottle around as he searched for a word. "Poetry." Another burst of laughter followed that. "Now, I thought, that I would bring in a tasty little morsle for you to chew on. Let you stew for a while. Let the bloodlust build up. But, I know that wouldn't work, cause, I know my Willow. Such a pretty little Willow. She's going to find us." Spike felt hope bloom at those words.

"Then, why haven't you taken care of me yet? Seems a touch sloppy on your part." Spike knew he probably shouldn't have said that when a bolt let loose and imbedded in his knee. "Augh." He twisted in the chains, the smell of fresh blood assailing him. "Bloody hell." Agony sliced up his leg, and his vision swam.

"Oops," came the comment from the floor. "Just slipped." Laughter again, cut off by the sloshing of liquor against glass. Xander pushed up from the floor, and staggered out of Spike's sight again.

"Fuck!" Spike spat when he felt burning liquid sear his flesh.

"Ya know, Spike. I just don't get it," Xander started, his tone friendly. He let loose another stream of holy water from the water pistol in his hand, watching the burns form odd patterns. "What is it about vampires? You're evil. Okay, so you have the benefit of being eternally young, which I will admit is cool. But, the whole blood drinking, sleeping with an animated corpse thing. I just don't understand. And WHY would the Gods give you a child?" Confusion coated his words, as he started to walk in a circle around Spike, occasionally pulling the trigger to release more of the deadly liquid. The vampire struggled to stay quiet, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of any sound at all.

"Cause I'm so charming, maybe?" he offered, quirking a brow.

"Humph. Whatever." Xander rolled his eyes, the action causing him to stagger a bit.

"Why aren't you killing me, boy?"

"Eager to die?" Xander stopped, and turned his drunken eyes on the blonde.

"Not really, done it once, can't say it was pleasant. I just can't figure out what this is all about. You didn't traumatize my son to keep me alive. Or, did you not plan ahead?" Guilt crossed Xander's face at the mention of Matt, and the ramifications of what his actions at the carnival would have on the youngster.

"I didn't want to hurt him. Or scare him. I just thought. . .they had to know that you couldn't change. It's impossible."

"Who says? The Council of Wankers? They don't know the first thing about vampires," Spike snorted.

"Oh, so, you're all just a bunch of regular Joe's who just happen to think that world destruction is a fun past time, and that blood makes an excellent after dinner drink?" the brunette quipped, his face calm.

"No. Most of 'em are evil. There are a few that aren't. And not because they're cursed," Spike said. He was starting to get the distinct impression that Xander wasn't going to kill him. He was stalling, and the blonde couldn't figure out why.

"Really?" Xander seemed to consider this. "Why then? What makes you so special?"

"Has a lot to do with who you were before you got turned. Liam was a bastard to begin with, that just transferred to Angelus. Darla was a whore. Dru, well, Dru was innocent. Angel tainted her before he turned her."

"What about YOU? What about you makes it concrete that you won't ever kill again?"

"Lost the taste for it," Spike said, honestly. He never fully understood himself, why he had given it up. Part of him thought that maybe it had something to do with the bite that he had given Buffy, like maybe he had linked into her soul, and it kept him from doing it. "I love her, Xander. You can turn it however many different directions you want. It won't change. Dru turned me, Buffy saved me."

"But that doesn't explain WHY," the brunette whined.

"What do you want me to say, whelp? I haven't quite figured out myself. I lived for over a century, doing exactly what vampires are supposed to do, and enjoying it. One day with Buffy and everything changes. ONE DAY! I don't know why, I don't know how. Nor, do I particularly care. It just is." Spike jerked hard on his restraints when he felt the blade of a knife slice into his kidney.

"It just is? IT JUST IS? That's all you can come up with? I don't get it. She's the vampire SLAYER. She's not supposed to fall in love with you. Leave behind her friends, her mother. Especially her mother."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't exactly supposed to fall in love with her, either." Spike blinked, struggling to stay conscious, as Xander carelessly inflicted new wounds. He needed blood, soon, or all Buffy would find was a big pile of dust. He still didn't think that Xander would intentionally kill him. But he was drunk enough to do it by accident. "And your attitude is the reason she left. You lied to her about the spell. Then you show up in L.A. and try to shove your hate down her throat. You think her bloody calling is so sacred, you try giving up everything, with the knowledge that you probably won't live past eighteen, to save the world on a weekly basis. Maybe she would have stayed if you didn't lie. Maybe she wouldn't have run if you had just been her friend." His head whipped around with the force of the punch Xander hit him with.

"SHUT UP! What do you know about friendship? You are an evil, soulless thing." Xander got right up in his face, the stench of alcohol filtering the air between them. "How many friends have you had in your pathetic unlife? Hm?" Spike refused to answer, because, the whelp was right. Aside from Druscilla, Spike had spent the majority of his life alone. Until Buffy. His hazy mind brought up an image of Mark, and even Willow. He'd only known the Indian a week, did that make them friends? "You can't tell me, can you? That's cause the number is a big zero. Well, I had two friends. Yeah, they were girls, but I loved them. And they have both turned on me. For what?" Xander reappeared in front of Spike again, a knife replacing the crossbow. "You. That's what. And that Indian. They don't need me." That last part was said in a whisper, and Spike's pain addled senses had trouble picking it up.

"Xander. What the hell are you going to do?" Spike's voice was tired, and he felt the call of sleep as the sun rose over the horizon, the deadly rays filtering through the gaps in the boards of the old building.

"I. . ."

Just then, the squeal of tires and the sound of skittering rocks came from the outside.

"They're here," Xander said, moving quicker than Spike thought possible in his inebriated state. He moved to the mechanism holding Spike upright, and released. The blonde hit the floor with a thud, pain singing through his body. Xander looked down at the prone vampire, and they both realized, in the same instant, that he was in the position of the door. Once it was flung open, the vampire would be bathed in sunlight. Spike tried to push himself up to move, as the sound of pounding footsteps became audible. They apparently weren't worried about stealth. Before Spike could register what was going on, he felt a pair of unsteady arms wrapping around his chest, and pulling him out of the way, just as the door flung open wide.

"Put him the fuck down you sicko," Anne spat, taking long strides with her short legs to reach them. Spike hit the floor when she let loose a kick, sending Xander careening backwards. He groaned loud, growling when the dust from the floor rubbed into his wounds. Warm, gentle hands were on his chest, Willow's soft voice filling the air around him. The sounds of flesh hitting flesh overlaid her words, making it hard for him to hear. The pain started to become bearable, with each passing second of her hands on him. He hazarded cracking open one eye, to look at the redhead above him. She was kneeling beside him, her head thrown back, and ethereal type light glowing around her. The heat of her hands intensified and spread, making him feel like he was being wrapped in a warm blanket. His head slumped to the side, and he had a perfect view of the destruction Anne was bestowing on Xander. He could just see Mark, hovering behind Willow, keeping an eye on the fight, but every second or so, his gaze landed on Spike.

Anne didn't speak as she threw punches and kicks at Xander. The fact that he wasn't even trying to fight back not registering. Not that she would have cared if he had. This was the final straw. She was tired of him trying to run her life, doing things that HE thought were right. First with Angel, and now with Spike.

Her right cross to his jaw sent him spinning through the air, his blood stained her knuckles, the sound of his groans filled her ears. Her vision was hazy with rage. He terrorized her son, tortured her mate, she was beyond caring. She let out a frustrated scream when her next punch was caught. She whirled on the offender, nearly knocking Mark back on his ass.

"What are you doing?" Anne growled, her voice tight, her jaw clenched. She could have made him let go, but some part of her brain recognized that would be bad. HE wasn't who she wanted to hurt.

"Annie, he's out cold. Don't do something you'll regret," Mark told her, black eyes piercing through her haze. She turned to look over her shoulder at the prone figure on the floor. Xander was sprawled on his back, blood pouring form his nose and lip, his eyes blooming a brilliant purple over the yellowing older bruises. She knew that his chest was probably just as bruised. "Willow needs your help with Spike." Instantly, Xander was forgotten, and she was moving towards her friend and her man.

Mark walked over to Xander, his dark hair falling over his shoulder as he looked down at the man. Sympathy and pity coursed through him as he looked down at him. Mark sighed, and shoved his hands in his pockets. Everything had been moving on fast forward since Matt found them at the carnival. He and Willow had left and gone straight to his house, gathering the supplies she would need to find the vampire. Then, they had rushed to Anne's who was on the phone trying desperately to find a sitter for Matt. Finally, Molly called and said that she could come over. Matt had been terrified, crying for his daddy, and clinging to Anne like she would disappear if he let go. Finally, exhaustion had overcome him, and he had fallen asleep. Anne laid him down in his bed, draping the child in his father's duster, before going to her bedroom to help Willow. Mark had tried to come up with a story for Molly, so she wouldn't think they were all nuts, or call the cops. He'd finally settled on telling her that Spike had been in an accident, and that's what all the confusion was about, hoping she didn't shine light through all the obvious holes in the explanation. Molly had thankfully accepted it. Then, the girls had emerged from the room, a steely look of determination on Anne's face. Grief, fear, and anger warred across Willow's, and she clutched onto Mark's hand as they made their way to his car. Anne was in no condition to drive, and she wasn't as familiar with the areas outside of town as he was. Willow had shown him the circle on the map that the spell indicated, and Mark knew exactly where to go. He'd barely skidded to a stop when Anne was out of the car, followed closely by Willow.

When they burst through the doors, Anne lost all reason when she saw Xander handling Spike. It looked to Mark like he was trying to pull the blonde out of the way of the sunlight streaming through the door. Annie was too far gone to care. The Indian let her have her licks, but anymore and she would have killed him, and he didn't want her to have to live with that kind of guilt. With one final look at the brunette, he walked over to where the girls were frantically hovering over Spike. The vampire had passed out from blood loss, and his pale skin had taken on a sickly pallor. The front of his jeans was completely covered with blood, and his hair was sticky with it.

"How's he doing?" Mark asked, kneeling down. In this state, Spike looked like a corpse, and even though Mark knew that's what he technically was, it was still unnerving.

"I don't know. The healing spell was designed for humans, not the undead. I think the bleeding has stopped. He needs blood. That's the only thing I know for sure," Willow said, her wide green eyes full of worry. She hazarded a glance over at Xander, her pale skin blanching even more. Anne was stroking gentle fingers over Spike's brow, silent tears tracking down her face.

"Mark, give me your knife," she said, not looking up at him. His brow creased in confusion as he did, the velvet box he had in his pocket coming out as well. Green eyes widened when Willow saw it, looking away quickly as the implications hit her. Mark just put it back, handing Anne his pocket knife, not realizing that the redhead had seen it. He watched as Anne opened the knife and slid it across her wrist. He gasped as the blood bubbled forth, and she immediately put it against Spike's slack lips.

"Come on, baby," she cooed, stroking his cheek. She sighed in satisfaction when she felt his lips start to move, instinct kicking in and making him drink. She let him until she started to feel light headed, then pulled her wrist away, wiping the blood that stained his lips away. "Let's get him home. There's more blood there." She moved to pick him up, swaying a bit. Mark pushed her out of the way and did it himself, cradling the blonde against his chest.

"Find something to cover him with," he said, staring at the patch of sunlight. Anne and Willow began to search through the near empty building, Willow finally finding a horse blanket in the corner. It stank from mold and age, but, it would have to do. "Let's go." He walked outside, leaving the girls to follow. Willow stopped next to Xander, an idea playing in the back of her mind.

"Willow, let's go," Anne said, pausing by the door.

"Go ahead, send Mark back once he gets you home," Willow said, kneeling next to her fallen friend.

"What are you going to do?" Suspicion made her words sharp, as she watched the redhead unbutton the flannel shirt.

"Just go, Buffy. I'll take care this."

"Willow! What about all he's done. . ." Willow's green eyes snapped to hers.

"You forgave Spike." Her words stopped Anne cold. Her head jerked back, almost like she had been slapped. She looked down at Xander, then back up at Willow. "He won't bother you again. Just, go. I'll see you in a bit."

"I love you Will." Anne felt the need to say it, just so the women understood each other. She wasn't mad at the Wiccan need to help him, she understood it. Willow's face softened, and she gave Anne a soft smile.

"I love you too. Send Mark back."

"Okay. Be careful" The witch nodded and went back to her task. Anne gave them one last look before turning away to take Spike home.

Chapter 18

Anne went into the house to let Molly go before Mark brought Spike in. She didn't want to freak out the babysitter by bringing in a badly injured body wrapped in a blanket. As soon as she was gone, Mark brought the still unconscious vampire into the house, and took him back to Anne's room, while she went into the kitchen to prepare him some blood.

"I'm going to go get Willow," Mark said, striding out of the house. Anne stood in front of the microwave, her body trembling as her mind finally convinced her of how close she had really come to losing him. Her eyes drifted closed as she fought the wave of tears that burned behind her eyes, and she forced back the nausea that threatened to choke her. She hadn't felt this desperate since that day so long ago, when she watched Angel get sucked into Hell.

The ding of the microwave broke her from her thoughts. She pulled the mug out and went towards her room, pausing to look in on Matt. He was thankfully still sound asleep. She didn't know if, in her current state of mind, she could deal with him and take care of Spike at the same time. Smiling gently at the sight of the curly brown hair peeking out from under the duster, she pulled the door to.

She sucked in a breath when she entered her room, the sight of Spike's pale, motionless body familiar yet so foreign at the same time. The blood covering his skin and clothes made him look too much like the casualty of a car accident. She moved over to the bed, and placed the mug on the nightstand, then went to the bathroom to get a basin of water, a washcloth, and the first aid kit. Taking them back to her room, she went in search of the scissors, using them to cut his jeans off. Her chin trembled as the extent of his injuries became even more obvious. Three puncture wounds marred his torso, a grisly map of where the crossbow bolts had gone. Luckily, they were starting to close. Several angry burns traversed his stomach and chest. His knee also sported a puncture wound. Blood intermingled with his bright hair, giving it an odd punk look. She knew there was more damage to his back, but she decided to deal with the front first.

Sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed, she dipped the cloth in the basin and brought it to his skin, gently washing the wounds clean. By the time she was done, the water was tinged pink, and the washcloth was ready for the trash. He hadn't moved through her ministrations, and she was starting to get worried. It was so hard to tell when something was wrong with vampires. With no heartbeat, and the total lack of breathing, she couldn't determine what to do. She blinked back tears again as she set to work on bandaging him up. She refused to think of Xander, or what Willow might be doing. She couldn't. She might have understood Willow's motives, but that didn't mean she had to like it.

When she was done, she gently rolled him over to deal with the entry wound in his shoulder, and the burns that she found there, as well as the knife wound on his lower back. He groaned a little as she eased him back when she was done.

"Spike?" she whispered, brushing her fingers over his cheek. He leaned into her touch, and she smiled. "Spike?"

"Kitten?" he gasped, opening his eyes to pin her with the blue orbs. Pain clouded them, but she saw his relief, and the love that was beneath.

"Hi. I was starting to worry," she admitted softly. He brought a hand up to cup her face, to prove to himself that she was real, and not some vision created by the devil to torment him.

"Told you I'd never leave," he said with a smile. Her own lips quirked in response, the tears that had been fighting to break free finally falling. "Sh, kitten." He pulled her against his chest, heedless of his injuries. It felt so good to hold her, to know she was real, and alright. She was thinking along the same lines as her arm wrapped around his waist, mindful of his injuries. After a few minutes, she calmed, raising her head to look down at him. Her eyes were swollen, and her nose was red from crying. Spike couldn't remember her looking more beautiful.

"I love you," she said, leaning in to brush her lips softly across his.

"I love you, too." He pulled her down for a longer, deeper kiss, passion flaring between them. She pulled back when he tried to roll them, his growl of pain cutting through the haze of want.

"We can't. You're hurt."

"Hmpf. Never so hurt that I can't make love to my woman." He growled once more when he tried to shift, and she raised her eyebrow.

"Wanna try that again, Fang boy?" His eyes narrowed into slits.

"Watch it, pet." A knock on the door stopped what Anne might've said.

"Mommy." Matt's tiny voice drifted through the wood.

"Hold on, honey," she called, going in search of something to put on Spike to cover the worst of his wounds, so as not to scare the boy any further. Once he was dressed in a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt, she went over to the door to let him in.

"Daddy!" the boy cried, scrambling up onto the bed to throw himself into his father's arms.

"Honey, be careful. . ." Anne started, only to be waved off by the vampire. She smiled as Spike wrapped his son in his arms, and went to join them on the bed. She snuggled on the vampire's side, her heart swelling with joy that everybody was all right.

"Did that bad man hurt you?" Matt asked, his eyes owlish.

"Don't you worry about that, poppet. I'm fine," Spike lied smoothly, easing the child.

"Where did he go?" Fear flickered across the young face, causing Anne to tear up again.

"Don't worry about that, honey. He won't be able to hurt us again," she told him, running her hand over his soft curls. Her eyes caught Spike's and she mouthed 'Willow' to him. As he started to nod his understanding, all three hissed in air as a wave passed over them. A flash of red light passed through their eyes and tiny moans of near pain passed from their lips. After a couple of seconds, they blinked, everything returning to normal again.

Anne smiled as she looked down at her men.

"Daddy, d'you prawmiss to be carfull when you drive?" Matt asked his father, a stern look on his face. Spike mock saluted him, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

"Absolutely," he said, a smile curling his lips.

"Yeah, buddy. You need to remember, that just cause you're undead, doesn't mean you're immortal." Anne scolded, giggling at his annoyed expression.

"How was I supposed to know that the bleedin' deer was going to jump out at me?" he defended himself. "Ugly bastard too." Anne smacked his arm lightly, a reproachful look on her face.

"Language," she scolded.

"Sorry," Spike mumbled, scowling.

"Daddy, don' do that. Your face will stick," Matt said with a giggle.

"Oh, really?" Spike said, vamping. The boy squealed with delight at the sight of his father's vampiric face.

"Can't be much worse than this, now can it?" Matthew giggled hysterically at the funny faces his father was making, all the while in his demonic visage. Anne joined in, her own heart light that the accident hadn't taken him from them. Even though Spike looked like he had gone a couple of rounds with a pissed off lumber truck, the DeSoto had escaped unscathed. Spike pridefully said something about things being made to last back then. The rest of the day was spent, just the three of them, huddling on the bed together, laughter filling the room.

~*~*~

Fighting back tears, Willow undid the buttons of Xander's shirt, hissing when she saw the bruises marring his chest. Buffy had been wild when she had attacked, defending her family with the ferocity of any mother bear. Placing her hands on his chest, she whispered the healing spell, her body starting to glow once more. As she spoke, the bruises began to fade, and the open cuts closed. When all the damage had been repaired, she stopped, and leaned back to wait.

A loud groan escaped the brunette's lips as he shifted, his eyes fluttering open.

"Will?" he gasped, pushing himself into a sitting position. She knew the moment that memory returned to him, as his shoulders began to shake. Torn between anger and the need to comfort, Willow sat there while he cried. "What the hell is the matter with me?" he asked the air. Turning to face her, she flinched as she looked into the guilt ravaged eyes of her friend. "How could I do that to that little boy? To Buffy?"

"To Spike," Willow added, anger winning for a brief instant. "I don't know what's going on with you anymore, Xander. I don't know you," she said. He closed his eyes, and scrubbed a hand over his face.

"I don't know, either. I really don't. Oh God, how they must hate me." Pain laced his words and he started to shudder again. He shook it off, and looked back at her. "What I did to that little boy. I'm no better than any vampire," he mumbled, misery written on his face. This is what drinking did. It made you ignore logic and rationality. He'd seen it enough, growing up, how could he have forgotten?

"I hope that you've finally learned something from this. Because, you've ruined any chance you had at getting back into her life. You terrorized a four year old little boy, Xander. You shot his father in front of him." Her voice rose with each word, his head dipping lower as she spoke. "There's no fixing this. You've burned your bridges, I hope you're happy," she finished, silent tears tracking down her face. He looked up at her then, the stark anguish in his dark orbs making her heart break.

"You can fix it," he whispered. Her eyes widened a fraction, her brain not catching his meaning. He just continued to stare at her, not blinking or moving, and not clarifying himself.

"What do you think I can do, Xander?" she cried, throwing her hands in the air. "There's nothing I can say that will smooth this over. You were wrong."

"I know. I don't want you to say anything," he said, raising himself up onto his knees. "Make them forget. Make ME forget," he whispered, his face imploring. Green eyes widened at his plea.

"What?" she asked, not quite sure she had heard him.

"It hurts too much. Make me forget." She stared at him in disbelief, her head shaking no. She studied his face, not really believing what he was asking her. She saw so much pain in his eyes, she nearly choked from it. She could heal his body, but she couldn't heal his heart.

"I can't," she gasped. He leaned forward and gripped her shoulders, his eyes shiny with unshed tears.

"Please." She knocked his hands away, backing away on her knees.

"What you're asking me to do, is wrong. It's an abuse of magic. . ."

"Why?" he interrupted. "I'm asking you to. You're not sneaking around behind my back, or anything." He reached for her again, only to be evaded. "Wipe it all out, Will. The Hellmouth, demons, Buffy."

"Me!" she cut him off, agony lancing her heart.

"You're better off without me." She shook her head, vehemently denying his words. He moved forward again, bringing a hand up to cup her cheek, his thumb gathering the moisture sliding along her skin. "Let me go. You have the opportunity to have a great life. Take it, and don't look back. I'm sorry, for everything." He brushed a kiss across her forehead, fighting the ache tearing at his chest.

"Xander. . ." his name was barely a whisper as she pulled back to look at his face.

"You can fix this, Will. Make it better. For that little boy. For me."

"What am I supposed to do without my best friend?" she whimpered.

"You have a new best friend now." She was crying in earnest, her heart shattering in her chest. He had been the only constant in her life, the only one who cared when her parents didn't. "Please, Willow." The look of steely resolve on his handsome face was what finally pushed her over to his side. Surging forward, she wrapped her arms around him and hung on for dear life.

"I love you," she whispered, sobs shaking her slim frame. His arms tightened around her waist, his own sobs breaking free. She sat back, running her hands and eyes over his unshaven face, trying to imprint everything about him into her memory.

"I love you, too, Will. Always." He moved away from her, avoiding the hands still reaching for him. "Do it, Will. Before Mark comes back. Then, you hold onto him, and you never let him go." His face twisted in agony as he broke into fresh tears.

Still crying herself, Willow pulled her bag to her, and pulled out her supplies with shaking hands.

~*~*~

A half an hour later, Mark found her, sitting in the middle of the old barn, arms wrapped around her knees as she cried. Saying nothing, he walked to her and gathered her up in his arms, gently rocking her. Tremors wracked through her as she began to speak, telling him in a hitching voice what Xander had wanted, what she had done.

He cradled her in his lap, a strong hand running down her back as he talked. They were the only two who knew the truth now. She had wiped the memory of Xander Harris from everybody that knew him, just like he had wanted. Except for hers and Mark's. She needed to keep him alive in her mind, because, technically, he was dead to her now. And she had needed Mark to remember, as well. So she wouldn't go crazy from it.

The Indian just sat, his mind turning in a million different directions at once. He wasn't sure about the ethics of what Willow had done, or the cowardess of what Xander had wanted. He was sure that he was thankful that Matt would have no memory of the events. Shaking the thoughts away, he looked down at the grief stricken woman in his arms. Her pain tore at his heart, and he knew that he would stand by her. He wasn't judgmental by nature, and he didn't feel the need to start now. Not when she looked so tiny and broken in his arms.

"I love you, Willow," he said softly, brushing a kiss across her hair. She shifted in his lap, until she was straddling his lean hips. Cupping his face in her hands, she kissed him, expressing all the love she felt with the press of her lips against his.

"I know what I did has a lot of hazy moral implications. I don't practice magic to abuse it. But, in this situation, I think it was best, for all of them. He was in so much pain, and Matt. . ." She trailed off, resting her forehead against his. "Please, don't ever doubt me. I will never do anything like this again. I swear to you. I love you, Mark, please believe me."

"Hush, now," he whispered. "I know. I understand. I do," he said when she looked at him doubtfully. "You're my world now, Willow." His throat threatened to close with the force of emotion he was feeling. Her large, luminescent green eyes searched his face, the last vestiges of doubt dissipating under the black eyes filled with love. She thought of what Xander had said to her, before she performed the spell.

"Grab hold of him, Will. And don't let go."

With a smile, she kissed him again, then settled back to look at him.

"I think you have something in your pocket for me," she said, giggling through her still flowing tears at the look on his face. He blinked and pursed his lips, fighting his own wave of tears. He didn't ask how she knew about the ring. He just shifted his hips and reached into his pocket, pulling out the little velvet box. They both stared down at it for a long minute, each thinking about the ways their lives were going to change once it was opened.

With a pounding heart, and suddenly sweaty hands, Mark opened the box, and turned it towards her. The dim light glinted off the simple, round diamond set in a gold band. Willow sucked in a deep breath when she saw it, tears of joy replacing her tears of grief.

"Willow," Mark started, stopping to clear his throat. "Will you do me the extreme honor, of becoming my wife?" he asked, holding his breath. She looked at the ring, then back up at him, feeling as if all the answers to all of the questions she'd had about them had been given with that one question. Giving him a wide, watery smile, she shook her head yes, laughter bubbling for her chest. Mark released the breath with a whoosh, and with a shaking hand, pulled the ring from it's resting place. He slipped it onto her slim finger with ease, their eyes locking as it slid into place.

"Perfect fit," he whispered, piercing her to her soul with his deep, black gaze.

"I know."

Epilogue

New York City, New York (three months later)

Alex Harris stepped off the bus and into the sweltering heat of the city in summer time. With curious brown eyes, he surveyed his surroundings, smiling to himself. It had been three months since he had woken up confused, and with no memory of his life before that day. The pretty redhead that had been there in that barn had told him that she had found him outside, passed out from the heat. He had no idea what he had been doing in the desert, or why he was walking in it. She had told him that he had said his name was Alex Harris, and even though all his ID was gone, he decided to take her at her word. He couldn't say why, but he felt that he could trust her. She had offered him the use of the truck sitting outside, to get him as far as the bus station, and had even given him some money. He had thanked her, not really wanting to leave the sad looking woman alone, but she had said that she was waiting for somebody. Then, she had done something really strange.� She hugged him.� Him, a total stranger, and told him to take care of himself, her green eyes shiny and wet.� He had nodded, surprised, and touched.

Then he had turned from her, and left, taking the old junker into town, following the instructions she had given him, and leaving it in the bus station parking lot. He had then purchased a ticket, traveling everywhere, and taking odd jobs to fund his explorations, desperate to try to figure out who he was. Then, about a week ago, he just woke up and decided it didn't matter. He somehow felt that he had a new lease on life, and really didn't want to know who he was before. Something told him he wouldn't really like himself.

So, that's when he decided to head to New York. Get lost in the Big City and recreate himself. With the help of a man he met traveling, he secured a new ID, and even a social security number, then took the next bus headed east. Now, here he was, and he felt a strange sense of peace and freedom overcoming him. With a smile, he picked up his bag, and started down the street, quickly getting swallowed by the throngs of people going about their daily business.

Sunnydale, Ca

"Coming!" Joyce called, wiping her hands on a dish towel to dry them. It had been a week since Willow had called her, telling her she was coming home with some exciting news, so Joyce prepared herself to be faced with the redhead, and the man that had so enraptured her attention. Giles was at the library, helping Faith train, so she would have to play hostess by herself until he got home.

"Goodness Will. . ." The name died on her lips when she looked into the hazel eyes of her daughter. "Buffy," she gasped, afraid that her eyes were playing tricks on her. Anne stood nervously on the stoop, fingers twisting the simple gold band on her finger.

"Hi, Mom," she said, her voice quiet as she looked up at her mother. They stood, staring numbly at each other, for what seemed like an eternity. Then, it seemed like time just melted away, and Joyce was holding her daughter in her arms, tears of joy streaming down their faces.

"Daddy?" Matt asked, twisting in his spot in the front seat to look at Spike, who was casually smoking a cigarette while he watched the reunion at the door.

"Yeah, bit?"

"Why do ladies cry if they're happy?" Spike snorted at the question, wondering how he was to explain one of the mysteries of life.

"Dunno, really. Guess they're just made that way," was all he could come up with. "Let's go meet your grandmum," he said, when Anne turned to wave at them. Matt scrambled out of the car after his father, taking his hand as they walked up to the women waiting at the door. Joyce looked down at them, her hands clasped in front of her chest, eyes drinking in the little boy in front of her.

"Say hello, poppet," Spike whispered. Matt looked up at the woman and smiled.

"Hello, gramma," he said brightly, letting go of his father to move closer to the woman he had only seen in pictures. She kneeled down to his level, tears still streaming down her face.

"Hello, Matthew. I've been waiting a long time to meet you." She tentatively held open her arms, inviting the child into them. He tilted his head up to look at his parents, Spike having moved up to take position behind Anne. They both nodded, large smiles on both of their faces. Turning back to Joyce, he smiled again, and stepped into her waiting arms. She had to force herself not to scoop him up and smother him with all the years of saved up grandmotherly love. Closing her eyes, she relished the feel of her grandson for the first time.

Anne watched the scene before her, reaching up to link her fingers with Spike's. He had been right, she decided, to push her to bring him here. She really couldn't say what had kept her away so long.

"Tell me something," Joyce said, reluctantly letting Matt go. "Do you like hot chocolate?" Matt eagerly shook his head. "Well, I just happen to have some in the kitchen, and I think it has your name on it," She finished, standing and holding her hand out. He took it, and followed her into the house.

"You got any of those little marshmallows?" Spike asked as he closed the door behind them.

THE END

Back to Fiction: By Alpha ~ Back to Fiction: By Season