Chapter 13:

Spike awoke slowly, aware first of the sunlight in his face, then of the pounding of his head, and then...the tiny arms wrapped around his torso. He looked down achingly at Buffy's small head nestled against his naked chest. Then the memories of what they had done the night before came crashing into his consciousness, causing him to reel back and pull from her sleeping grasp. He scrambled out of his bed, quickly tugging on a pair of sweatpants as he backed away from Buffy. She blinked her eyes lazily, feeling the absence of his warmth and his desperate movement.

"Spike?" she mumbled sleepily, stretching out her arm towards him as she sat up. The sheet dropped to around her waist, "Spike, come back to bed. Its cold."

Spike raised his hand to his forehead and looked away from her naked chest. She blushed when she noticed his polite embarrassment and tucked the sheet back up under her arms.

"Spike?" she asked nervously, one shaking hand smoothing her hair behind her ears as she watched him.

"Buffy...oh god oh god oh god. I'm...so...sorry!" he gasped, rubbing his head desperately as if trying to erase the night.

"S-sorry?" she whispered, eyes wide and expressive.

"Bloody...I-I...we...I shouldn't 'ave...oh god, pet." he babbled, his blue eyes rimmed with the red of a hangover, but suddenly filled with so much pain that it broke Buffy's heart, "I really did...take advantage...'f Buffy. You."

"No, no no no no!" Buffy quickly cut into his ranting whispers. She slid across the bed to him, keeping the sheet draped around her torso as she stood up in front of him. Her hand gently touched his cheek. "Spike...its okay. We were both sooo drunk. You didn't take advantage of me. If anything, I took advantage of you. Okay? Please, please be okay with this."

Spike bent his head and took a deep breath as she begged him, reassured him. He couldn't believe he had slept with Buffy. BUFFY. His best friend, his guide, his muse, his life. She was worth so much more than a drunken roll in the sheets. Granted, he had never really thought about making love to her, but if it had ever happened, he wanted it to mean something. Maybe it did mean something...it was comfort, solace for her. Release for him. Yeah. Thats it.

Buffy let out a sigh of relief as his anguished face turned more peaceful. He looked up at her and covered her hand on his cheek with his own, giving it a squeeze.

"I'm okay, Buffy-Love. Are you okay?" he asked with concern. She let out an unsure giggle.

"I'm fine... I think! I don't remember a whole lot about last night except that Riley and I...are over. And that you and I...did stuff. And I really, really need to take a shower. I do know that." she smiled weakly as she fiddled with the edge of the sheet, "So I'm gonna go...do that.." she mumbled, holding her makeshift dress to her body as she shuffled to the bathroom.

Spike watched her go and then let a loud, disbelieving sigh before stumbling to the kitchen to get some aspirin. Hurray for another morning with a hangover...

--- --- ---

Buffy stared at her reflection in the mirror. Hair wet and stringy around her face still flushed from the hot water. She had just gotten dressed, the clothes laying over her fresh skin feeling like an abomination to her cleanliness. No, Buffy. Bad Buffy. She wasn't clean. She had fucked her best friend, remember? But it was more than a drunken fucking. She knew that. He had to have known that. Hell, she told him she loved him at the moment of pleasure. Did he remember?

One way to find out: Ask him.

It was time to talk.

She took a deep breath and opened the bathroom door, the smell of bacon and eggs wafting in the air. Spike was apparently cooking up a storm in the kitchen. Buffy moved silently to the center of the living room and watched him as he plucked off two leaves from one of her plants and put them on the side of the plate she assumed was for her. He then carefully poured her a giant glass of orange juice and set it next to the plate, pausing before turning away to adjust it so it was perfect. His eyes suddenly noticed her.

"Hi, pet. Um.. this is for you, 'f course. 'S kinda a "Sorry about your break-up", "Congrats on Graduating in a week!", and "You're special" breakfas'. Notice the garnish." he grinned lightly, pointing to the little leaves. Buffy stared at him seriously, only allowing the edges of her lips to curl into a thankful smile before turning solemn again.

"Spike." she whispered. He stopped bustling around and looked at her.

"Yeah?" he asked cautiously, "Wha's on your mind?"

"We need to... talk about something." she took another deep breath, "Do you....do you remember what I told you last night? When we were...together?"

Spike walked around the bar towards her, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Memories flashed through his head. One in particular came to the forefront.

"I do believe you said some...affectionate things to me when we er, came. But it was the alcohol, an' the pleasure, an' all the soddin' stuff tha' there's no need to discuss." he said, waving his hand as he started to turn away again.

"William, look at me." she said firmly. He turned around in surprise, his piercing blue eyes shooting to her eyes clouded with painful decision.

"I need to get this out. I could chalk up everything that happened last night to hormones, and the vodka, and my depression over the break-up, but that’s the coward’s way out. Our friendship has always been about honesty.... Spike, when I told you I loved you last night...I meant it. I love you. More than as a friend...You are... everything to me." she finished, her enormous eyes filling with glassy tears.

His expression was unreadable. And then it was disbelieving. His mouth opened and closed as if he was going to speak and the words would not vocalize. Her heart grew heavier and heavier as each moment of silence dragged on. She slid onto the couch and curled up into a ball, still watching him and dreading what he was going to say as each second slipped past.

Spike couldn't believe it. He didn't know how to react. His world had just slipped into something ten times more confusing than he ever wanted. He dropped down onto a stool, facing the living room and his huddled best friend. What was he supposed to say to her? 'Sorry Buff, but I don't feel the same way.’? 'Even though everything about my life revolves around you and I wouldn't have it any other way.’? Actually...that sounded pretty good at the moment...

"Buffy-Lo-" Wait. He couldn't call her that anymore. The 'L' word was entirely something different now. He tried again, "Buffy..."

She jumped off the couch and hastily wiped away the tears that stained her cheeks as she awaited his reply. "No, don't. I know what you are gonna say. And lets not...I don't want to hear you try to let me down easy." she babbled, rushing forward and grabbing her jacket and purse, "I have errands to run. I'll um...see you. Later. Bye. Going now."

Spike jumped out and grabbed her arm before she opened the apartment door, "Buffy, stop. You wanted to talk. Let me talk now."

She tensed in his grip and glanced at him, refusing to see the emotion in his eyes. He slowly loosened his fingers as she turned towards him. His other hand found her cheek and tilted her head up to look at him. She closed her eyes.

"Buffy Summers, 's your turn to look at me." he pleaded softly. Her eyelids fluttered open to look painfully into his serious gaze. "I...am honored...that you hold me in such high regard. I adore you almos' as much. But not... that way. You are my entire WORLD, sweetheart, but you and I... it would ruin us...if we were together like that. You deserve more than me. More than our... humble friendship..."

He trailed off as the tears from her eyes began to spill over his fingers on her cheek. God, he was a fool. He didn't even know what he was trying to say. Why the hell'd he open his mouth, when he hadn't organized his thoughts yet?

"Ruin us." she repeated bitterly, sadly, hurt. "Are you afraid to try, Will? Of course you are. I'm not the long-haul girl. I'm just little girl Buffy. Oh! Its fun to be her friend! But she isn't good for anything else! Other than the SEX. Right, Spike? Guess you have that down."

Spike retracted his hands at those words, ice creeping into his presence, "Oh, Summers, don't even. You are gonna turn this aroun' and make this *my* fault and put words into *my* mouth all because *you* can't handle rejection! God, it isn't even soddin' rejection, pet, 's just me tellin' you that it can't be like that. It can't be more."

"We could be great." she whispered fiercely, "But I'm not gonna try to talk to you into being in a relationship with me. Real relationships are about emotion, and passion, and commitment. I thought we had it. I guess I was wrong."

He let his gaze move from the floor to her again. She stared back at him, the connection between them full of anger and hurt feelings, understanding, and -- through it all -- adoration. It was an odd look to be shared. And then it was over. Something about it screamed that this was the final bow. The curtain was falling.

Buffy sniffed a final time, and backed up towards the door. And before Spike could say another word, she had left, leaving him in the empty apartment that he shared...with her...

--- --- --- --- --- ---

Buffy slowly unlocked the door, dreading to see and speak to Spike again, but knowing she couldn't avoid him for forever. It was 11 o'clock at night. She had been gone all day, doing random errands that really didn't NEED to be run, but she just wanted to occupy her time and mind. The apartment was pitch black, much to her surprise and relief. Spike wasn't home. She could go to bed and not have to face him until tomorrow. Tossing her keys blindly into the kitchen, she reached over and flipped on the switch, causing the apartment to flood with light.

Buffy frowned. Something was off. There was something different about everything. Sure, it looked the same, but Buffy just had a sixth sense when it came to oddities. She wandered around the living room, inspecting everything curiously, and then headed for Spike's room.

The door opened creakingly, like always, only this time it revealed...nothing. Spike's room was neat. Clean. Organized. And completely devoid of all his things.

Spike had left his artwork.

Taken his personal items.

And moved out.

Chapter 14

A/N-- Okay, lots of stuff to cover in this Authors Note so hold onto your hats and stakes.
1- I am leaving the country on monday, and going to an obscure other country to do humanitarian aid for 4 months. I will still have e-mail and the internet, so I WILL be finishing this story, but updates may be few and far between. I only have about 6 more chapters to go though, so it won't be too bad. I just wanted to let everyone know.
2- Vote for me! I have never demanded votes before, but I was doing so well in the last Fic Of The Week poll, and now I'm doing horrible! Vote!
3- Vette...you are too smart. Stop guessing the turns and twists of my stories! You are gonna give it AWAY!!
4- I made everyone cry! Go me! I'm so proud of myself right now, you people have no idea! Read on...it gets better. Well, no, it gets worse, but then it gets better. Eventually. Just read.

The apartment door was shaking with the pounding of someone's fist. Buffy peeked over the back of the sofa at the front door, debating with herself whether she should open it, or simply ignore the thunderous knocks.

"Buffy! We know you are in there! Now open the fucking door!" Anya's commanding voice shouted from the hallway. Buffy rubbed her tear-swollen eyes and shuffled to the door, unlocking it slowly and then jumping back to avoid the stampede that would occur. Anya, Willow, and Tara burst into the apartment.

"Oh my god, Buffy, you look awful!" Willow gasped and then slapped her hand over her mouth, "Oh geez, I didn't mean to say it like that."

"Well, good thing you did. Buffy, you look awful." Anya repeated truthfully, kicking the door closed behind her and moving to the kitchen to get a soda. Buffy watched with a distant expression, nodded absently at the comment, and then trudged back to collapse on the sofa again. Willow followed her and waved Tara over to join them.

"What happened?" Willow asked softly, reaching out and petting Buffy's shimmering blonde ponytail. Buffy responded by letting out an anguished sob and buried her head in a pillow. Anya scurried over and plopped down next to her.

"It...all...f-fell...apart..." Buffy said between heaves, her voice muffled by tears and the fluffy throwpillow. Willow shared a serious look with Anya.

"Oh, sweetie.." Tara cooed sympathetically from her place on the floor next to the couch. She put a tender hand on Buffy's shaking shoulder.

"Why are you guys here? I mean...how did you kn-now something was wrong?" Buffy sniffed, raising her head to look at them all through the fog of her eyes.

"I was over at Oz's yesterday. Spike showed up last night and asked him if he could live there for a while. I knew something big had happened, but Spike didn't look like he wanted to talk about it. He quit his job at the Bronze, too." Willow explained gently, still running her slender fingers through the blonde locks.

"Oh my god!" Buffy gasped, her lips twisting downward into a water sob again, "He hates me! He wants to get as far away from me as he can!!" she dove back under the pillow again.

"We'd love to be good best friends and help you and stuff, but we have to know what happened." Anya said matter-of-factly, but there was concern and love deep down in the blunt tones she used. Buffy sat up again, her entire face a red and wet mess. and tugged a piece of paper from her sleeve and tossed it weakly onto the table.

"I t-t-told him I loved him-as more than a friend-after we shared a n-night of drunken passion." Buffy muttered, and then snuggled back into the pillows.

Tara raised an eyebrow at the other girls and then grabbed the crumpled note and smoothed it out to read:

"What a jerk!" Tara exclaimed to everyone's surprise.

"What? I thought it was very nicely worded. He apologized. He explained. It makes sense." Anya said, tilting her head as she stared at the girl on the floor.

"Anya, he DIDN'T apologize. He said 'la la la, we made love, but now its messed up because of you, and I refuse to acknowledge what you told me, so here's to us being best friends! Good day!' " Tara summed up in a mocking male voice, "He didn't explain. It DOESN'T make sense. I take my 'jerk' and raise it to 'bastard'."

Willow gaped at Tara's powerful words, wondering where the sweet girl had gone. Then she noticed that the sobbing Buffy had sat up and was wiping her tear-stained cheeks and listening very attentively to Tara's speech.

"You're right." she said softly in a cry-roughened voice.

"So let me get this straight: You and Spike got drunk, had sex, and then you told him how you really felt about him. You came home, and all of his stuff was gone. He quit the Bronze, he moved out, and this is all he has said to you about it?" Willow rubbed her temple as she spoke, her headache blossoming as the details were revealed.

Buffy nodded pathetically, pulling her hands into the sleeves of her sweatshirt as if it could some how make everything better with its childish softness.

" 'Bastard' going once, going twice, SOLD." Willow agreed heartily with Tara, her face hardening into something that resembled her Resolve Face.

"How much did it go for?" Anya asked curiously. Buffy looked over at her, the comment causing the corners of her pouty lips to quirk in a bit of a grin. Anya winked at her.

"So..I d-do what he says, right? I graduate next week...I'm not gonna hold anything b-back because of him..." Buffy said firmly, but her voice rose at the end, turning the strong statment into a wary question.

"Yes. You will go on. You graduate. You go find another job. You start your career. Go, be free!" Tara said with a sweet smile. Willow patted Buffy's knee reassuringly.

"That's right. Move beyond it. And enjoy having his artwork to yourself." she teased. Buffy grinned lightly again, "Well, Buffster, we gotta go. Xander has some errands for Anya to run, and I'm joining Tara on a BlackCharis photoshoot...unless you wanna come?"

Buffy shook her head and blew her nose again, "I don't think I'm really in the mood to go anywhere."

"That's fine. Feel better. We love you." Anya said shortly, giving Buffy an akward hug before she moved towards the door. Tara leaned over and squeezed Buffy's shoulder and followed Anya out. Willow stayed behind for a second to say some final things to her best friend.

"Buffy..." she began, cupping the blonde's wet cheeks, "you and him...may be over. I'm not gonna lie to you and say its all gonna be perfect again. But I know you're strong enough to go on. You were right to decide to do what he says. You gotta keep moving. You got your whole life in front of you. Don't shoot it down because you're too busy moping and waiting for him."

Buffy's watery hazel eyes looked up sadly into Willow's green ones, "I love him, Willow. SO. MUCH."

"I know. But sometimes you gotta reset your stage to find if it fits you, and if maybe he wants to try to fit himself into it again, too. Your arms don't have to be open for him. Just remember to live for yourself first." Willow leaned forward and pressed a friendly kiss to Buffy's forehead, "Bye Buff."

The door closed with its quiet click and snap. And Buffy found the tears start rolling downwards again when the silence of the paintings and sculptures around her, slammed into her with the force of a train.

--- --- --- ---

"Hello?" Joyce Summer's voice answered at 1630 Revello Drive.

"Hey Mommy." Buffy said sadly.

"Buffy! What's wrong?"

"Can I move in with you?" she blurted into the receiver

"Honey, you know you're always welcome. What's happened? I thought Spike was living with you..."

"Yeah..he was. It's a long story....I'll tell you when I move in...which will be tomorrow."

"Wow! Um, I guess I'm gonna have to clean out your room then of my gallery stuff, huh?"

"Yeah..." Buffy said distractedly.

"This is serious, isn't it?" Joyce suddenly asked, motherly concern evident.

"Yeah, it really, really is." Buffy responded, tears leaking into her voice.

"Come over tonight and talk to me while I am cleaning up your room. I'll order pizza. Okay, sweetheart?"

"Okay."

"Oh, and I have some exciting news for you involving a job opportunity too! So remind me to tell you."

"Okay."

"See you tonight, then."

"Yeah...bye..." Buffy sighed, and hung up the phone, staring blankly out the window and wondering how to fix the confusing, tattered mess that was her life.

Chapter Fifteen

Heya guys! Sorry for the EXTREME delay in updates. I'm here in Asia! I got 5 lovely chapters written for you all, so they will be posted as regularly as possible. My internet browser isn't working very well here, so if you all want to E-MAIL me your reviews, I know I could use the emotional boost! But at least I'm still contributing....right? So anyway, here you go! And all of you SpuffyChatRoomChatters: I miss you all!! Big huge thanks to Lady Anne for betaing for me!

Spike slunk into the gorgeous imported doors of Revamp Designs, Inc. and peered around the silent studio. Xander was probably in his office, and Anya was missing from her normal post at the designing desk, Spike noted with a relieved frown. He had come to talk to Xander, and the last thing he needed was Anya's blunt scolding abou-

"Spike Sheffield." Anya's voice coldly interrupted Spike's thoughts. She stood stiffly in the doorway to Xander's office.

"Anya. Hullo, pet. Um...congratulations on graduating..an' all that.." Spike greeted her hesitantly. Anya tossed her hair and crossed her arms under her breasts.

"Graduation was a month ago. Congratulations on promptness," Anya mocked sarcastically, tilting her head and giving him an evil glare. Spike held up his hands in a surrender.

"Bugger it, Anya, 'm sorry okay? My life has sucked beyond the tellin' of it lately, an' caused me to forget about you and all your little friends’ graduation."

"Yes. All of MY little friends: Tara...Willow...Buffy," Anya hinted, saying Buffy's name with vicious feeling. Spike flinched. "Oh, so you do have a heart! I mean, at least I got a reaction when I said her name. Buffy. Buffy. Buffy. Buffy."

"Alright, Anya. Enough," Xander called from his office doorway. Anya stopped her torture and gave her husband a sheepish smile before melting back into the chair of her desk. "Come on in, Spike."

Spike shot Anya an annoyed look, hurt simmering below its surface and strode quickly into Xander's trendy office, pulling the door firmly shut behind him.

"You screwed up big time, man." Xander stated lightly, sitting himself down in a gigantic overstuffed chair near the wide windows. Spike sighed and sat down on the lazyboy next to Xander's.

"So I've been told," Spike responded. His eyes squinted as he looked out at the view of the town, searching the landscape with anguished thought. Xander watched him carefully.

"You look like shit. What have you been up to? We haven't seen you anywhere lately. Not even graduation, and here I thought we were your friends."

Spike let out a sad chuckle and turned his simmering eyes to Xander's concerned ones."Yeh, well...I suppose things change, mate."

"I know what happened. She told Anya everything. And I read the letter. I thought you were strong enough to deal with that heavy stuff," Xander prodded. Spike stood up abruptly and began to pace the office.

"I couldn't! I didn't know how to deal! This is BUFFY, Xand. Not some regular friendly bird, who you shag jus' because you're both hornier an' drunker than a 16 year ol' jock!" Spike shouted, angrily running his fingers through his curls.

"Exactly," Xander emphasized, leaning forward in his chair, "this is BUFFY. You should have stuck around and worked it out. You love her- not the same way she loves you, I know- but you do. You should have opened your arms and held her while you both talked the implications over."

"And led her on?" Spike stopped his crazed walking to stare at his friend.

"She's smarter than to be led on by something like that, and you know it," Xander rebuked, giving Spike a "get real" expression. "She's your best friend, remember? Your better half, and evil twin- all in one package. Buffy and you were the poster children for the perfect friendship. You made even our amazingly close group of friends look bad with how incredible the two of you were. And then she tells you something that means more than you can possibly know. So what if it has to do with her deeper feelings for you? The point is that she poured out her heart, and you stomped on it as gently as you could, and then you ran away. Shame on you, Spike."

Spike stared at Xander, letting his scolding sink into his brain. Then he deflated and collapsed back onto the chair, burying his face in his hands.

"Oh my god..." he nearly gasped, "I screwed up."

"And he sees the light," Xander quipped.

"He sees it too late though," Anya spoke up as she opened the door.

"An, were you listening outside the door?" Xander asked accusingly, but unable to keep the admiration from his voice. She nodded and mouthed "Duh!" before turning her cold eyes back to the tortured Spike. Spike looked up at her.

"Too late?" he repeated, eyebrows low with seriousness. Xander looked sadly at his friend and nodded.

"Yeah. Buffy moved in with her mom after you left. Apparently Mrs. Summers found a job for her in another state, then. Buffy moved out two weeks ago."

"What state?" Spike asked brokenly.

"Pennsylvania. We don't know what city. I think only Will and Mrs. Summers know. They, um…wanted to keep it quiet for a while."

"Bloody hell!" Spike shouted, standing up and resuming his pacing, "What the fuck!?"

"Hey now, you told her that if she gave you space, you'd give her some! You told her to not wait around! She wasn't gonna sit here and wait for you to come back," Anya pointed out, sliding over to Spike's vacated seat and plopping down into the leather cushions.

"So she went all the way to soddin' Pennsylvania!? An' only her mom and Willow know where she is, so I can't even TRY to fix it!?" Spike asked in outrage.

"With all due respect, Spike, I think she deserves to vanish for a while," Xander argued. Spike stopped pacing and turned to glare at him.

"No. She doesn't. She can't just ru-" Spike stopped his words. His throat dried up, and his stomach shriveled in realization as he finished in a tortured whisper "run away...oh god."

"Sounds familiar, doesn't it?" Anya asked critically. Spike nodded weakly, and then raised his tear-filled eyes to the couple.

"I lost her for always, didn't I?" he whispered.

"No. You just lost her for a while. Distance is good. Wait for a while, and then start to bug Mrs. Summers and Willow to find where she is. And then you go back to her, and figure all of this stuff out." Xander stood up and put his hand on Spike's sculpted shoulder, "And don't kill me for saying this, but I think that when you finally work this stuff out with her, you will find that you need her as more than a friend, too."

Spike didn't react to Xander's final thought, he just slowly turned and left the office without another word.

"Well, I think that went very well. Its about time the bastard has all of his shit come back and kick him in the balls." Anya mused with a quirky expression. Xander smiled faintly and just stared at the door his friend had left through. "Yeah. I'm tired of the pain though. I don't know if even I have the patience to give them both time and distance. Buffy better get back on her feet soon."

--- --- --- --- --- ---

Buffy slouched against the wall as she sat on the crinkly paper of the doctor’s office bench, her feet banging against the cabinets under it impatiently. "Come on, Doc, some of us have furniture to buy..." she sighed, glancing at the clock.

Just then the doctor knocked lightly on the door before entering and giving her a reassuring smile.

"Well, Miss Summers, you're medical files just arrived from Sunnydale Family Practice, and we have them in our archives now," he began cheerfully, "And your suspicions were correct- You're pregnant. Congratulations!"

Buffy was suddenly breathless. She was pretty much certain when she came to the doctor that she was pregnant. Spike and her were drunk, they hadn't given a thought to protected sex. In her mind she could handle it, but having the doctor put it into words…well, it was shocking. She was pregnant. With SPIKE'S baby. Spike was the father of her child.

The thoughts swirled tumultuously through her head, reducing the inner voice to short words: Baby. Spike. Father. Child. Mother. Life. Change. Grow. Love. Family. Friendship. Spike. Father. Father. Father. Child. Child. Child.

"Yeah...thanks." Buffy replied, her hazel eyes warring between fear, joy, and a bold feeling that she was going to raise this child by herself.

Chapter Sixteen

Okay, I am very very VERY aware that this is a huge leap of time to jump. But hang in there. According to my beta Lady Anne, and my wonderful friend Hilary (*wavies!*), its O.K. So keep reading, I promise you its fine. Don't let the 9 years scare you. In the words of our sexy blonde vamp: "Do you trust me?"

---- 9 YEARS LATER ----

Buffy sat comfortablly in the driver's seat of her Expedition, basking in the honey-colored sunlight that beamed gently through the tinted windows. She propped some work folders and papers on the steering wheel and hurriedly filled them out, pausing only a moment to tap the horn under them. The side door to her large suburban home swung open and her 8 year old son came scurrying out, flinging his backpack over his shoulder and tossing his head so his curls flew back away from his eyes. He climbed into the car, breathing heavily.

"You didn't have to honk the horn," he panted, pulling the safety belt around his shoulder and fastening it securely. Buffy tucked her papers in her briefcase and turned around as she backed out of the driveway, her eyes drifting to her son briefly to give him a look.

"Sure I didn't," she said sarcastically, "You're lucky you don't take the bus. Buses don't wait like moms do."

"I know," he replied simply, shrugging a slender shoulder. She smiled at him in the rear-view mirror.

"Now, Nicholas William Sheffield, what is so important about this day?" she quizzed him, her eyes scrunching menacingly.

"Wesley's not picking me up at school, you are. And then we are gonna go to the airport to get Gram and Aunt Willow," Nicholas replied, staring at suburban Philadelphia slipping past, "Do they still look the same?"

"Since you last saw them? I hope so. It's been a couple of years though. Do you even remember what they look like?" Buffy asked curiously.

"We have pictures, mom," he said in an obvious voice. Buffy grinned.

"Yeah yeah yeah. None of that attitude once Gram is here, got it, buster?"

"Uh-huh."

Buffy pulled up slowly to the school and slipped the gear into park. She turned in her seat to look at the boy.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing. Just thinkin'," he sighed, unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling his backpack on.

"About...?" Buffy pried, searching her son's beautiful features.

"Will Dad ever come out with them?" he asked suddenly. Buffy blinked and nervously tucked her hair behind her ear.

"Maybe, honey. I told you that things between your daddy and me were not good when I left California. Someday, though, I promise. You deserve to meet him. And he should know about you."

"Did you not tell him about me because you hate him?" he asked with wide-eyed innocence.

"Oh, christ, no. Quite the opposite, Nicholas." She smiled sadly and then reached back and patted his demin-clad knee, "You had better go. Lateness is a bad habit of yours." Buffy winked.

He slid out of the car and waved to her before jogging up the steps to the school.

--- --- ---

Buffy had moved to Philadelphia when she was given a job at a local restaurant after her mom had set up a phone interview. She expected the job to be a positive step forward, starting a new life and making money to make that life good. But what she encountered when she had arrived was quite the opposite.

Rupert Giles, the man who had given her the job, was only the oppressed and mistreated manager, and the owner of the establishment, Quentin Travers, was the nazi-like owner. Giles and Buffy had instantly formed a bond which led to their conspiring to eventually buy the restaurant from Mr. Travers, and make it the successful Bar and Grill it had the potential to be. Four years after the birth of Nicholas, Giles and Buffy had done just that. They renamed the place Rustic Bend, and were soon joined by Giles's daughter Winifred, who became manager, and his nephew Wesley, who handled the finances and the inventory, therefore creating a happy foursome with a successful business.

Morning sunlight streamed in the wide stylish windows of Rustic Bend, causing the glass of the table tops and the glossy surface of the bar to radiate. Buffy smiled as she entered the room, hearing Fred and Wesley trading British insults in the kitchen good-naturedly. Giles sat humming as he typed away on his laptop at the bar directly in front of her. Buffy sidled up to him, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

"Hey papa," she said sweetly, giving him a peck on his temple before sliding onto the stool next to him. Giles beamed and closed the laptop to give her his complete attention.

"I didn't think you'd be coming in today, Buffy," he said, his fatherly smile still firmly in place.

"Yeah, I just wanted to stop by before I head back home to get it clean for my mom."

"Your home is always clean. I don't think you can get it any cleaner, dear," Giles teased.

"Yea-up, well, that's me: the overachiever." Buffy grinned and drummed her fingernails on the bar as her eyes wandered admiringly around the restaurant, "I can't wait to show mom this place. And Willow too. They'll be so impressed."

"They saw it the last time they were here, did they not?"

"Yeah, but it wasn't renovated yet. And we weren't successful yet. It was only a year after we bought it. Things didn't take off until 2 years ago. And now..."

"...Rustic Bend is the premiere bar and finest grill in Philadelphia," Giles finished proudly. Buffy nodded in enthusiastic agreement.

"Hello, Buffy! Excited to see your mother and chum?" Wesley asked, pushing through the kitchen doors quickly to avoid the spray of water his cousin was attacking him with.

"Mm, yeah. You two aren't making a mess of my kitchen are you?" Buffy asked with suspicion. Wesley turned red and straightened his tie.

"Certainly not," he stuttered. Then Fred pushed her way through and climbed up on the bar, a falsely innocent expression on her pretty face. Buffy gave them both an amused smirk, and then gathered her things and started for the door.

"Well, guys, try not to burn the place down before my mom swoons about how proud she is of me. And Wes, remember, I'm picking up my kid today."

"I had remembered!" Wesley called after her. She blew them all a kiss and exited her restaurant with a bounce in her step.

--- --- ---

Nicholas sat in awe of his grandmother, mother, and mother's best friend's ability to talk and laugh with such speed the whole way back to their house. Now he continued to be overwhelmed with the women's chatter as they all sat in the family room. Suddenly they all shrieked with laughter, Buffy setting down the tray of coffee and cookies before she collapsed on the couch in a fit of giggles. Nicholas couldn't help but smile- her family and friends from California always made her the happiest.

"So anyway, we brought some pictures!" Willow announced with flair, grabbing her purse and pulling out a large envelope.

"Guys, you send me pictures all the time online!" Buffy groaned, passing her mother a large mug of hazelnut coffee, "Why do I need to see more?"

"Hush. Look at them," Willow commanded sternly, tossing the envelope to her friend. Buffy flipped through them, a wistful smile on her face. Nicholas moved over to the couch and sat down next to her.

"That's Xander and Anya and their kid Dawn and new baby Janice," Buffy told Nicholas, showing him the glossy paper with a smiling dark-haired man holding a tiny baby next to a perky looking blonde with her arms around a girl with impossibly huge blue eyes.

"And this is Faith, my cousin, at Gram's house in Sunnydale, with...Angel!?" Buffy's eyes shot up to Willow.

"Yeah, they are engaged or something. It wasn't my idea," Willow said darkly, her face twisting in disgust.

"Oh well. Hey, look on the bright side! We'll be cousins-in-law!" Buffy offered enthusiastically. Willow grinned.

"Keep looking through the pictures," she urged. Buffy began to flip through them again.

"This is the Bronze, the club where I used to work with your daddy," she told the curious Nicholas, "And here is Tara and Oz performing with their band BlackCharis. Still going strong, huh?" Buffy asked Willow.

"Who, me and Oz? or BlackCharis?"

"I KNOW you and Oz are fine. I heard your squeals after he proposed from all the way over here on the East Coast. And I see that humongous rock on your finger."

Willow had the decency to look slightly embarrassed before answering, "Yeah, well, you know how it is...And BlackCharis is doing great! And so is Tara. She's been dating a male nurse named Ben."

"That cutie from Sunnydale Family Practice? Wow, I didn't think he was her type. Guess you never know," Buffy mused, turning to the next picture. Suddenly she stopped and stared with shock at the picture.

Of course it was a picture of Spike. She had a few on her computer, but rarely looked at them, and never let Nicholas see them. This was a photograph of just him, his guitar strapped to his torso, and his arms hanging loosely next to his body, the veins and muscles slightly shadowed so they were visible. The black tank he wore seemed painted on his torso, and his hair was gelled in dark curls with sharp white tips. He had a look of seriousness on his face as he stared fixedly at the camera, his pale and fiery blue eyes piercing her soul. Buffy's gaze shot to Nicholas.

"Is that him?" Nicholas asked quietly. Buffy could do nothing but nod. "I look like him," he continued simply.

Joyce and Willow shared a concerned look when Buffy's glistening eyes turned to them.

"Why did you put this picture in here? You know I-" she stopped when her voice cracked.

"We just wanted to put him into your head. Remind you that he is still out there, waiting," Willow explained shyly.

"Oh, Willow, he is always in my head. I am constantly reminded. Look around you." Buffy waved her arm to indicate all of Spike's artwork that surrounded them and adorned the house, "Plus, I am kinda raising his son."

All eyes turned to Nicholas. He brought his knees up to his chest and set his chin atop them and stared firmly back.

"Honey, it's late. Why don't you head to bed?" Buffy urged Nicholas, doing her best to mask the emotion in her voice. Nicholas nodded obediently and kissed his mother's smooth cheek, gave his grandmother a hug, and waved to Willow before climbing the stairs. Buffy breathed a deep sigh and busied herself by gathering the dishes and carrying them to the kitchen. Joyce assisted her, her face a picture of anxious loving.

"Buffy, he's still waiting," she repeated, her warm motherly tones breaking the silence of the kitchen. Buffy had her back to her, but Joyce could see her deflate, her hands clutching the counter for support.

"After nine years, mom? He should be married, with a kid, and a dog, and a house where they eat Kellogg's and like to ride bikes. Not waiting for his best friend to return," Buffy replied.

"And yet he waits. He's Spike. He never moves on, remember?" Joyce joked lightly and put her hand on her daughter's back, "At least let us give you his e-mail address or phone number. You need to talk to him. He needs to know about his son, Buffy Anne Summers."

"I don't want him to," Buffy whimpered selfishly.

"If you didn't want him to know, you wouldn't have given Nicholas the middle name 'William' and the last name 'Sheffield'," Joyce pointed out gently. Buffy turned to face her, eyes full of glassy tears.

"Oh mom," she cried brokenly, wrapping her arms around Joyce and burying her head in her mother's neck. "I still love him so much. What if he rejects us again? It's all so ripped apart, I don't..."

Joyce held her tightly, and kissed her head. "Sweetie, its time to mend the rip. Try again. Time has made you both older and wiser and more mature about such matters," she said wisely, pulling back so she could look into Buffy's tear stained face. Buffy nodded miserably, her lips curled into an enormous pout. "I'll give you his phone number, but you must promise to call him. Tonight. Got it?"

Buffy nodded again, although her eyes displayed that she had no intention of doing so. Joyce sighed and wrote Spike's name and phone number down neatly on a piece of paper and stuck it on the refrigerator. She gave her daughter a lingering and encouraging glance before setting a goodnight kiss on her forehead and heading to the guest room.

Buffy stared at the phone. And continued to stare. Then she shut off the lights, and went to bed herself, her mind so full that she never even fell asleep.

--- --- ---

*RING, RING*

Spike stared at the phone for a moment before getting up from his canvas and putting the receiver to his ear.

"'ullo?" he mumbled into it, his eyes still watching the canvas.

"Spike, it's Joyce," the female voice crackled over the line. Spike's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Yeah, what can I do for you, Mrs. Summers?" he asked warily.

"Look, I know I haven't been particularly giving to you over the past 9 years. Buffy asked me not to disclose her location to you, and I respected her wishes, even though it hurt you. But it is my feeling that enough time has gone by, and she isn't quite brave enough to fix things, which is understandable, but sad. Anyway, the point is, I leave here in 3 days. Make your move then," she said with intent. Spike held the phone more securely, as if trying to grasp the words Joyce had just said to him.

"Wha' ?" is all he could reply.

"Look at your caller ID," she commanded cryptically, and then hung up.

Spike's eyes shot to the tiny white box next to his phone.

Summers, Buffy Anne
Philadelphia, PA
215-555-6526

His heart started pounding in his chest. He found her. No more running away, on either of their parts.

A/N: Thanks so much everyone for the e-mail reviews!!! They totally brighten up my day! Keep em coming, if you feel inclined! Nothing like glowing compliments (or your wonderful rantings and ravings, LOL) to keep the Inspiration Gnome running around in my head.

Chapter 17:

Five days with sleepless nights later, Spike was cruising down the highway in his rented car, heading for the upper-class suburban area of Philadelphia. He glanced down at the tiny post-it note on the dashboard for the hundredth time in the last hour.

Buffy Summers
4620 Dogwood Avenue

Spike smiled. Dogwood Avenue. Sounded like it was out of a storybook, and the perfect place for Buffy to live. With her golden hair, and rosy complexion, he imagined her sitting in the lacy sunlight beaming through the branches of a great oak tree in the backyard of her beautiful home...

Stop it, Spike, he scolded himself. The more time that had passed since her departure, the more exquisite and unreal Buffy had become to him. Like some goddess that he couldn't touch, and most certainly wasn't worthy to even attempt to touch, therefore, by extension, had no right to romanticize. He had destroyed what they had. It was HIS fault. Time to make it right. He gritted his teeth and grasped the steering wheel more tightly and followed the directions that his palm pilot displayed for him.

---

There it was. 4620 Dogwood Avenue, the elegant brass numbers and letters curling up the brick beside the enormous front door. It was a two-story home, with wide old fashioned windows and two gigantic maple trees that dominated the front yard. Spike stood on the flagstone front walk, and whistled low in admiration of the luxury of the place. She had certainly done something right to live in a home like this. He took a deep breath and adjusted his short leather jacket, pulled off his sunglasses, swallowed his fear and raised his hand to ring the doorbell. It chimed through the house. No answer. Spike let out the breath he didn't know he was holding. Okay, so she wasn't inside. But it was a nice day, perhaps she was out back. He tentatively stepped off the porch and wandered around the side of the brick home, noticing the flowers and the ivy climbing up the walls, cut carefully around the windows.

The backyard was long and wide, with a hill covered with trees before an old wood fence cut it off. The back porch stretched out fifteen feet, making space for a swing, table and chairs, a grill, and a hot tub, all covered with a trellis of trumpet vine. Spike sighed again with awe. And then he stopped abruptly.

A swingset. A sandbox. A tree house with a pirate's flag waving boldly in the breeze. Mats set up in a small baseball diamond. A large concrete pad behind the garage with a basketball hoop. A large trampoline.

Spike was so blinded by the elegant beauty of Buffy's home that he hadn't even noticed these things at first. And now they all crashed into him at once.

Buffy, HIS Buffy, had children.

--- --- ---

"An' see, that’s the beauty of it all. I tol' her to give me space. Well, she bloody well gave me space. She bloody well got married an' had kids. Mum didn't tell me tha' when she called. No siree. Sent me here to break my heart again, she did. Didn't know it would break my heart though, since I'm the cold fuckin' wanker who left 'er first. Right?"

The bartender nodded sympathetically before serving another guest. It was nearly closing time, and there were only four pathetic men still left drinking. This Spike guy had been hanging out all evening, alternating between playing pool and wallowing in his sorrows.

"Doyle, you're nearly ready to close, correct?" Fred asked the bartender from the kitchen.

"Yes, ma'am," Doyle replied, wiping down the counter. "Just have to ring a few taxi's. Got a couple of drunks tonight."

Fred nodded and disappeared into the kitchen again. Doyle turned back to Spike, whose head rested drunkenly on the surface of the bar, drool leaking from his lips. Doyle shook his head and reached for the phone when someone caught his eye.

"Ms. Summers, what are you doing here so late?" he asked his employer cheerily. Buffy smiled as she pulled on her jacket and walked towards the bar.

"Hey Doyle. I just had some stuff to talk to Giles about, but lost track of time as usual. Gotta get home to my kid now. You almost re-" she stopped talking when her eyes fell on the head with bleached-tipped black curls that rested on the counter.

"Another drunk guy. He's not a regular though. I think he just passed out. I was about to call a taxi for him," Doyle explained when he saw where Buffy's gaze lay.

Buffy walked forward, her knees feeling weak with disbelief as she moved to get a better view of his sleeping features. Her blood rushed with recognition as her fingers moved on their own accord to touch his cheek. Smooth and sharp, just as she remembered.

"Know 'im?" Doyle asked in his Irish lilt. Buffy nodded absently, still staring into the face of her lover. Doyle cleared his throat uncomfortably, pulling Buffy from her thoughts. She jerked her hand back and looked up at Doyle.

"Yeah, he's an old friend from California. Don't worry about the taxi. I'll take him home with me."

--- --- ---

Buffy half carried, half dragged Spike up the curving staircase of her home, and placed his body carefully on the bed of the guest room before going back downstairs to pay the babysitter. She sighed as she locked the door behind the departing girl, and turned off the lights.

Spike was upstairs. She could hardly believe it. It seemed too good to be true, and too terrible to contemplate all at one time. Nicholas was sound asleep, and he slept like the dead, so Buffy was confident that he didn't hear his mother put his drunken father in the guest room.

She climbed the stairs slowly, her mind so full it made her heart ache. Kissing her son softly on the head, she pulled his door shut before moving to the room that enclosed the love of her life, her ex-best friend.

Spike lay in the light that streamed in from the hallway. Buffy smiled at her bittersweet nostalgia as she put a large glass of water, a bottle of aspirin, and a bucket of ice with two beers in it on the bedside stand for him when he woke up. Then she bent down gently and brushed a kiss across his scarred eyebrow.

"Goodnight, Spike. I love you, still. Always," she smiled sadly into his skin before pulling away. "See you in the morning."

And she pulled the door shut and went to bed herself, a peace settling over her that both of her most cherished men were safe asleep under one roof.

Chapter 18:

Spike awoke with the entire Naval Drum Corps in his head, and the sunlight beaming sharply between the blinds didn't help either. He groaned pathetically and grabbed a pillow to smother his head with. Then he noticed the feel, smell, and color of the pillow. Where the hell was he? He sat up abruptly, only to regret it a second later and collapse back into the pillows.

Way to intensify your headache, mate, he sarcastically congratulated himself, clenching his teeth and squinting his eyes shut desperately to ward off the pain. Rolling slightly to his side, he opened his eyes cautiously to get a feel for his surroundings. A bucket of cold water with two beers, a bottle of aspirin, and a glass of water with a note taped to the side greeted him. The scrawled handwriting that read "Spike" on the outside of the note confirmed his disbelieving, but hopeful suspicions. He tentatively reached out and pulled the paper from its place and opened it in the warm light of the afternoon.

Spike smiled slightly, and ran his finger over her signature. Then he slowly swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up carefully, so as not to jar himself again. He downed the beers, water, and aspirin in several moments, eager in a scared sort of way to see Buffy again. The sound of a dirt devil reached his ears and he ran his hands over his face and curls before standing up and moving towards the closed door.

His door opened into a wide hallway, one side lined with doors, and the other, the part in front of him, lined with a railing that overlooked the foyer and led to the gigantic staircase. Buffy was on the staircase, her hair pulled back with a bandanna and headphones overtop. She was vacuuming the carpet that ran down the hardwood steps, bobbing her head to her music, and mouthing along. Spike bit back a smile and approached nervously. She didn't notice him stepping down the stairs as she continued her work. He reached out and brushed her bare shoulder with the tips of his shaking fingers.

Buffy whirled around, startled, and then was instantly pinned by two hot, rain-washed blue eyes. She dropped the cordless vacuum in surprise and blushed instantly when it went crashing down the steps. Spike's eyebrow arched amusedly and he reached out again to pull the blaring headphones away from her ears. Buffy's face flared even brighter and she quickly tugged them off herself, wanting his touch desperately, but not wanting it even more. Her fingers found the stop button on the discman. Silence settled over the foyer as Buffy and Spike looked into each other's eyes for the first time in 9 years.

"Hi," Buffy breathed, hand over her tanktop-clad chest and rapidly beating heart.

"Hi," Spike responded, resisting the urge to pull her into his arms. Oh, what the hell...he thought before speaking again, "May I hug you?"

Buffy's eyes grew wider and she nodded stupidly. He put his arms around her waist, ever so slowly, and pulled her against his chest. She let herself grow weak in his arms, and closed her eyes to keep herself from crying with the utter joy and sorrow of being in his embrace again. Spike dropped his head to her shoulder and breathed in the scent of her hair and skin. She shuddered and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, putting her nose into the folds of his leather jacket that she hadn't bothered to remove from him the night before.

She pulled away when the emotion in her body almost caused her to collapse completely into his strength. She wiped her nose and smiled nervously.

"So...how are you feeling this morning?" she asked him, uncomfortably playing with the curled ends of her ponytail that lay over her shoulder.

"Better. I need to take a shower though. I smell like a soddin' drunk. How'd you find me?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you the same thing?" she said with a pointed look, then shook her head and waved her hand in the air, "Never mind that. We'll talk about that when you aren't in a hangover state. Well, it just so happens that the bar you decided to drink at is the bar I happen to co-own. Rustic Bend is mine."

Spike's eyes lit up with respect and astonishment, "Wow, way to go. It was a nice place. Wha' I remember of it was nice, I mean," he joked, eyes flitting down the staircase to look around curiously, "So you live here with your family?"

Buffy took a deep breath, "Spike, again, I think we should talk about this later. Why don't you go get a shower and stuff? Dinner will be ready in about an hour and a half. You slept the day away."

He nodded, dreading finding out about her family when they talked. It was the whole reason he’d gotten drunk, after all. He turned to head up the stairs again when he saw a gigantic painting on the wall next to the door to the guest room. When he looked down more of the hall that was visible, he saw more like it. He turned back to Buffy, a delighted light in his eyes.

"Those are mine," he stated softly, a warm feeling spreading through his chest that she was displaying his artwork even after all these years.

Buffy looked down bashfully, "Yeah, well, you left them. I kept them. And then Mom told me that you stepped out of your shell and started sending your work to her gallery, so every Christmas since then she has sent me a piece for my gift," she explained, shrugging her shoulders, "Just because you and I have problems, doesn't mean I hate what you have made. They are beautiful."

Spike turned back at her mention of their problems, and looked at her with emotional eyes.

"Buffy," he started beseechingly. Buffy raised her hand again to cut him off.

"Forget it, Spike. We'll talk about it later. Go get cleaned up. My friend Wesley from the Bend is gonna bring by your rental car in a couple of minutes, and I'm assuming your suitcase is in there, so I'll bring it up and put it outside the bathroom door for you, okay?"

He nodded slowly and gave her one last lingering look before climbing the top few stairs and disappearing into the guest room.

--- --- ---

"Mom! Wes said that Dad was here!" Nicholas exclaimed, bursting into the kitchen where Buffy was preparing dinner. Wesley followed close behind.

"Yes, he is. But I don't believe it was Wes's news to tell," she replied, giving Wesley a fiery look. He blushed slightly and sat on the stool that sat opposite of the huge, gleaming kitchen.

"Terribly sorry, Buffy. I didn't realize that he didn't know. I was under the impression that he would have found out about William since he spent the night," Wesley explained, looking at Buffy through his oval glasses.

"Dad was here all night!?" Nicholas shouted, dropping his backpack on the counter and putting his hands on his hips. Buffy shot Wes another look before looking down at her son.

"Yes, he was. But he was completely passed out. He's upstairs taking a shower in the guest room right now, you'll meet him at dinner. Now take your hands off your hips- you look like your mom when you do that," Buffy scolded good-naturedly, pulling the backpack off the counter and thrusting it back into Nicholas's hands. "Wes, could you take Spike's suitcase up to the guest bathroom and just put it outside the door for me?"

Wesley nodded and grabbed the large leather duffle and bounded clumsily up the staircase.

"How's Wes getting home?" Buffy asked Nicholas as she began to cut up carrots for the salad.

"Giles is gonna be here in a coupla minutes t'get him," Nicholas mumbled, searching through the pantry for an after-baseball-practice snack. Buffy frowned and picked up a carrot piece, tossing it at the boy's mop of raven-colored curly hair. He turned around abruptly and gave his mom a pouty look.

"That was for getting into the snacks when we are gonna have dinner in 20 minutes. Go upstairs and start your homework. I have a feeling that once you meet your Dad, you won't want to do it anymore," she ordered, pointing at the steps with the knife. Nicholas stuck his bottom lip out even more, but obeyed his mother's command. Wes passed him on the way into the kitchen, just as Giles opened the storm door from the garage and stepped in.

"Buffy, it smells absolutely divine in here," Giles commented, putting his arm around her small shoulders and squeezing lightly.

"We have this recipe at the Bend, Uncle Rupert, we just haven't put it on the menu yet," Wesley said, reaching over the bar and putting his finger in the spicy chicken sauce, and then licking it off. Buffy smacked his hand.

"Thank-you, Giles. And Wes, stay outta there. Yes, this recipe is at the Bend. We should put it on the menu next month. It tastes like a Buffalo wing sauce, only better. Very summer-y. We have to change the menu for summer. It will put a nice twist on everything for our regulars. But then we gotta return to our original menu because I hate it when you have a dish you really like, and then a restaurant changes everything and you never get the dish you want ever again. And-"

"Buffy, dear, you are babbling," Giles interrupted her perky rant. Buffy's eyes filled with shameful realization and she nodded weakly.

"Can you tell I'm nervous?" she whispered, looking up at Giles timidly.

"And you have every right to be. This is a nerve-wracking event: your son is meeting his father for the first time, and you need to discuss with Spike everything that went wrong back then, and what has happened since then. You both need to find out if you still need each other, and what Nicholas needs," Giles said softly, putting both hands on Buffy's shoulders and turning her towards him. She looked down at her shoes as he spoke. Then he tucked his finger under her chin and urged her to look up at him, "But Buffy, through it all, you know you will always have us."

Buffy smiled weakly, and nodded before throwing her arms around his neck and letting him hug her like her father never did.

"So tell us simply everything about him," Wesley said eagerly when Buffy pulled away from Giles.

"No," she said simply, but smiling.

"Oh come on now, dear, we want to know every dirty tidbit about this man who has your love, and why he has it. And be sure to tell us his shoe size," Giles prodded teasingly, trying to lift her nervous spirits.

"I don't ask you for every detail about Jenny, Giles," Buffy answered, raising her eyebrow at him before looking at Wesley, "And I don't ask you everything about Lilah. So keep your filthy, metaphorical paws off my details of my relationship with Spike."

Wesley heaved a great sigh and slid off his stool, walking around the island to stand next to his uncle. "Very well, then. I guess we are doomed to ignorance until we get to know him ourselves."

"Darn tootin'," Buffy grinned weakly, and then shooed them out of the kitchen, "Now, please leave. Its time for the Sheffield boys and the Summers girl to see what happens next without the British commentary."

"Isn't Spike British?" Giles asked knowingly, even while Buffy was backing him out the door.

"Yes. But I meant you and your annoying nephew. Now goodbye," she said pleasantly, and shut the door in their faces.

Buffy smiled when she heard them beep the horn as they pulled out of the driveway, and drive off into the twilight. The salad was done, the table set. It wasn't too fancy, but nicer than the normal dinners she shared with Nicholas. She didn't want it to make it seem like a huge deal that Spike was there, even though it was. In fact, Buffy was more angry at Spike as the day went on, wondering how in the world he found her, and why. She just hoped that meeting Nicholas would...would what? She didn't know. She just hoped it wouldn't be a messy disaster.

Creeping over to the foyer, she cocked her head to listen to the noise carrying from upstairs. Nicholas had his music on, some band he was obsessed with called Four Star Mary, so she couldn't hear what was going on in the guest room, but she could tell that the water was off, so Spike should be down soon. She ducked back into the kitchen when she heard Nicholas thunder down the steps.

"I'm hungry!" he announced, tearing through the kitchen as only boys do. Buffy laughed and smacked him with the edge of a hand towel that had been laying on the counter. He whirled around as he slid on the hardwood floor, and shot his mom a wicked look. She squealed when he grabbed an oven mitt and hurled it at her.

"Oooh, I'm gonna get you for that!" she warned, turning on the faucet and sticking her fingers under the water. Then she pulled them away and flicked droplets of cold water at her rambunctious eight year old. He giggled and fell to the floor, crawling around the side of the island. She stopped and listened to see where he went, when just then, he jumped up onto the bar, grabbed the sprayer and held the lever down on it, causing the water from the faucet to transfer to the spray nozzle.

"Take this, Mama!" he shouted, giving his best version of an evil laugh of doom. Buffy shrieked when the cold spray hit her bare arms that she held over her face to protect herself.

"You're in trouble now, Nicholas William Sheffield!! I'm so gonna ground you for that," she laughed, lunging forward and wrenching the nozzle from his grasp. They were both laughing and breathing hard when the man in the doorway caught their attention. Buffy's face paled as she let the nozzle fall into the sink, and turned off the water.

"Nicholas...William....Sheffield..." Spike repeated in utter disbelief and awe, staring at the black curls, bright hazel eyes, and defined facial structure of the wet boy sitting on the counter. Nicholas and Buffy shared a look, before both turning back to Spike.

"Hi, Dad!" Nicholas broke the silence perkily, and jumped into the astonished arms of William Sheffield.

Next