*************

It was her anger at his outrageous accusation that slowed her response to his announcement.

“What did you say?” Buffy asked. Her head was swimming. The last thing she’d expected after the professions of his letters was to hear Spike turn on her so viciously. Every visible muscle in his body was corded taut, and she could tell that he was dying to lash out with more than just his words.

“You heard me,” he spat. “Don’t go denying it. I can feel it inside you.”

She winced when his hand shot out, grabbing her wrist and twisting her arm so that the flat of her palm was pressed against her stomach. “I don’t care what you think you can feel,” she said, though she didn’t try wrenching away from his grasp. “That’s not possible.”

“So you’re the Holy Slayer, is that it? Sorry, luv, but immaculate, you’re not.”

“Being pregnant requires having sex. And whether you want to believe me or not, I haven’t had sex since---.”

And then she stopped. Because the reality of just who it was she’d last had sex with stood right in front of her. Not in his human state, but him, nonetheless. The explanations from Richard and Willow, about how she’d been in both places at the same time, merged with the memory of the very real cut that had appeared on her thumb out of nowhere when they’d first discovered the truth.

Is it possible?

Then, there was the being sick lately. She’d thought it was just a stomach bug because frankly, the idea of pregnancy never even occurred to her. Though she knew that her experiences with William had been real, there was still a part of her that considered the whole thing too dream-like to accept the more visceral manifestations of their relationship, but Spike’s pronouncement made sense with the facts that she had.

Frantically, her mind raced, trying to remember when she last had her period. It had been prior to going to London, now that she thought about it. But because she was often irregular, she hadn’t given it much thought that she’d gone so long without one. It was just another of those Slayer things she’d come to accept over the years.

Spike was watching her intently, watching the connect-the-dots etch across her face, and as Buffy came to the understanding that yes, her being pregnant was very much possible and by who, his grip on her slackened as he reached the same conclusion with her. Slowly, he curled his fingers beneath her palm so that they touched her bare stomach, and their eyes locked as he seemed to be listening to some unheard melody.

“We didn’t even think of the consequences,” he murmured, and in that moment, he sounded like a lost William, his eyes glistening, though that could’ve just been a trick of the strobe lighting in the club.

“No,” Buffy said tightly, stepping away and breaking the contact. “You have to be wrong.”

Spike shook his head. “Not about this. Knew something smelled different about you when you walked up, but I thought…” He stepped closer, refusing her right to be distant from him. “Is it truth? You haven’t been with someone else since…us?”

Her eyes locked with his. “Have you?”

It was the only answer she was going to give him, but in the aftermath of her questioning, Buffy saw the soft set of his mouth as his gaze returned to her abdomen, the way his hands twitched to touch her again.

“Never thought it would be possible,” Spike whispered. “I dreamed about it when…that night on the banks. When you said you would’ve married me if you could. But since…”

“You have to be wrong,” Buffy repeated, just as subdued. Part of her felt like crying and, irrationally, she wondered if the constant moodiness was another symptom she’d chosen to ignore. “I can’t be pregnant. I just…can’t.”

The way he looked at her was as effective as a caress. “Have you had your monthlies?”

“My what? Oh. You mean my period. No, but that doesn’t mean anything.”

“It means everything.”

“It means I work out too much. I haven’t been regular since I got Chosen, Spike.”

“Don’t you want it?”

The question took her aback. “What?”

Those last few inches between them were devoured when he pressed her to him, and the sigh that escaped her lips when his arm curled around her waist to hold her close was almost inaudible. “Forget the vamp business,” he said softly. “Can you tell me that you wouldn’t want my---wouldn’t want William’s---child?”

“It doesn’t matter what I want, Spike. I’m the Slayer. Guaranteed death sentence, remember? I can’t be bringing a baby into this world, only to get killed before it can walk. That wouldn’t be fair.”

“You wouldn’t be the first to do so, pet. And you didn’t answer my question.”

“Your question is pointless. Because I’m not pregnant.”

She squeaked when he suddenly whirled, pulling her down the rickety catwalk and straight for the stairs. The drunk she’d passed on her arrival protested loudly when Spike shoved him out of their way, but it did nothing to curb their pace. Down the steps, into the cacophony of the club, through the strobing neon. It wasn’t until they were in the alleyway behind the building that Buffy yanked herself away from his grasp.

“What’re you doing?” she demanded.

His jacket made an ebony circle as he whirled to face her. “Goin’ to prove it to you,” he said. “You want me to trust that you haven’t been with another bloke? Then you give me the same courtesy, Buffy. I know what I felt.”

She bit back the retort. “Fine,” she replied. Her voice was tight. “But what happens when I’m right and you’re wrong?”

His teeth gleamed in the darkness as he grinned and grabbed her hand again. “Not goin’ to happen,” he said, resuming his quick pace to the street.

*************

She made him stay out on the sidewalk when she realized what it was he had planned, though Spike insisted on giving her the cash to pay for the test. “Not goin’ to give you the ammunition to take this away from me,” he’d said through veiled lashes, and she’d whirled on her heel to disappear into the overly bright neon of the drugstore.

Every step that took her closer to the family planning aisle added a pound to her already heavy heart, so that by the time Buffy stood before the pregnancy tests, all she wanted was to go back to the beginning of the day and start over. It was easier to try and deal with the reality of Spike’s affection when it wasn’t gazing at her with William’s eyes, and it wasn’t telling her that she was now carrying his child. As hard as it had been trying to process the depth of what he conveyed in his letters, and as much as she’d missed having him to talk to, she was beginning to suspect that that was cake compared to the changes his actual appearance in Sunnydale had brought.

Well, except he hadn’t brought the pregnancy with him. If that was real, that had been there all along.

Her eyes jumped past the rows of condoms before settling on the assortment of tests that were available. Talk about the barn door being open, she mused as she reached for the nearest box. She had no idea what she was looking for. Something fast. Something reliable.

Something that would tell her she wasn’t pregnant.

After what seemed an eternity, Buffy finally settled on one that would give her a result in just a minute, though the urge to distrust something so speedy made her put it back and pick it up again more than once. Holding it close against her chest, she hurried up to the checkout, only to be stopped short when one of the last people she wanted to see rounded the corner of the aisle.

“Buffy,” Wesley said, a smile automatically coming to his mouth. “You’re looking very well.”

Blushing, she tucked the box beneath her arm and fervently prayed that he wouldn’t look too closely. “Hi,” she said, her own smile shaky. “Long time no see.”

“Yes.” He shuffled in place, his fingers fidgeting with his glasses. Regardless of the picture Willow had painted, this was very much like the Watcher she remembered. “I missed you yesterday when I arrived at Giles’. Are you going out to patrol?”

“Just getting done,” she said. “Willow asked me to pick up some…” She looked around desperately, and her free hand darted out to circle around the first thing that made sense. “…shaving cream.”

His brows drew together. “Shaving…cream?”

“For her legs. For the beach. Redheads’ hair is notoriously coarse, you know. Takes the tough ammo to, well, you know.”

“Oh. Yes. I think I’ve heard that.”

Her smile was too bright, too wide, and her eyes darted past his shoulder to the windows that overlooked the front of the store. The blackness outside meant she was looking into a mirror, and panic suddenly rose in Buffy’s throat when all she could see was her own pale face staring back at her. “I better go,” she said, inching around him to place herself between him and the cashier. “Willow’s waiting for me.”

“Of course. Will I see you tomorrow?” At her frown, he added to clarify, “When Willow comes to Giles’. We haven’t exactly started her sessions yet, so I assumed…”

“Probably. Maybe. I don’t know. It depends on what Willow wants, I think.” With an awkward wave, she turned on her heel to go, and then winced when he called out her name.

“I meant what I said,” Wesley offered when she glanced back at him. His smile was genuine. “I’ve never seen you look better, Buffy.”

She didn’t want to consider the ramifications of what he meant, rushing through the payment of her items before slipping back outside. Spike was leaning against the wall, a cigarette dangling from his mouth, but the moment he saw her emerge, tossed the glowing butt into the gutter.

“All sorted?” he asked, nodding toward the bag.

“I will be when this is over.” She took a few steps but when she rounded the corner, she stopped, swiveling to gaze up at Spike with a frown. “Where are we going to do this?”

“You don’t want to go back to your dorm?”

“Willow’s there. And I’d really rather not have to explain this tonight.”

Spike nodded. “Red’s had enough excitement, I’d wager.” He paused, his lashes lowering, and her heart clenched. It was such a characteristically William thing for him to do. This was going to take some getting used to. “Does she know?” he asked, and his voice was dark with untold emotion. “About…the letters?”

She knew it wasn’t really what he meant, but she answered the question he posed anyway. “Most of it. Kind of hard to hide the mail from her when she’s the one who goes and gets it.”

“S’pose not.” Pause. “What about your mum’s place? She hasn’t turned your room into an exercise room yet, has she?”

It wasn’t even worthy of a response. She just cocked her brows to let him know just how wrong and stupid the suggestion was, and the pair lapsed back into silence.

“There’s…another possibility, Buffy. Could just…go back to my place.”

He was shuffling his feet, exhibiting more anxiety in her presence than he had since she’d first seen him at the Factory. He was nervous. Like William had been. It made her throat tight to consider, and damn it, she really had to stop drawing all these comparisons between him and his human self.

“You have a place already?” she asked carefully.

“Just a hotel room. Nothin’ fancy. But it’s clean, and it’s private, which is what you want, right?”

He had a point, and as wary as the prospect of being alone with him made her, Buffy knew she wouldn’t rest easy until she had an answer to the pregnancy question, once and for all. Even more importantly, it was impossible for her to deny the opportunity to spend more time with him. Though the air between them was tenuous, it rang with such a familiar tenor that denying its pull would’ve been like denying the need to breathe. A few more hours before she had to return to her regular life was all she needed.

She wasn’t even going to consider the parallel to how she’d considered her encounters with William that summer.

“All right,” she said. “Lead the way.”

*************

When he first got the hotel room, he’d never envisioned she’d be sitting on the edge of his bed, hands twisted nervously in her lap, staring at the bathroom door like her life depended on it. Well, not her life. The life of the baby she carried. The one she couldn’t quite believe existed until she had the physical proof in her hands.

But Spike knew. Spike had felt it. And if Buffy was telling the truth about not being with someone---something he realized now he’d only half-believed was even possible, even when he was ranting at her about it; she just wasn’t the type to kiss and tell---then that made it his baby. Theirs.

She didn’t want to talk, not until she had her answer, so Spike left her alone while they waited. Left her alone and just watched. He wasn’t too sure what he’d say to her anyway. It was tough enough suddenly being in her presence again after so long---and that so long was more than the weeks they’d been separated from London, that was a century-long so long that he had to find some way to bridge---but to have this news thrown into the mix as well? It was boggling.

Still…

He couldn’t get over how beautiful she looked. Though he could tell now that sleep hadn’t been as friendly as it could’ve been to her, Spike could also sense the peace she wore like a cloak to shelter her. It was a peace that he remembered from her time with William, those days at the end when they’d accepted each other and took pleasure in what time they could. She’d held onto it in his absence, refusing to revert to the broken young woman she’d been when they’d had the first dream, and Spike couldn’t help but pride himself on being responsible for helping her see that she was stronger than she gave herself credit for.

His eyes flitted to the digital clock on the nightstand. “Been more than a minute, luv,” he said quietly.

She didn’t move. “I’m making sure.”

“You want me to---.”

But she was already up before he could finish the sentence. As he knew she would be.

“Wait here.”

She disappeared into the bathroom, the door not quite latching behind her, and Spike inched over so that he could spy her through the narrow opening she’d left him. He could just see her standing at the sink, the white stick in one hand, the paper instructions in the other, as her gaze darted from one to the next. Then, she froze, and he couldn’t even hear her breathing any more. The silence was murder.

“Well?” he called out. He couldn’t stand it. “Ready to eat that crow yet?”

Maybe mentioning something to eat was the wrong thing to say because she was suddenly hunched over the toilet, the heaving sounds echoing inside the tiled room. In a flash, Spike was there beside her, pulling her hair back from getting entangled and sickening her even more, and he dropped his hand to the small of Buffy’s back to rub it soothingly.

“Water,” she gasped after the vomiting had stopped. She stuck out her hand and waited, not meeting his eyes when he stood and filled a cup at the sink, then gulped in a large mouthful before spitting it out again into the toilet bowl.

“Need anything else?” Spike asked gently.

“I don’t suppose you have a toothbrush?”

He was off and back before she could sit on her heels, handing her his black leather toiletry bag and saying, “Just help yourself, pet. If you fancy a shower---.”

“It’s real.” She was staring at the case she held, her eyes lost. “You were right. I can’t believe you were right.”

“Thought you’d sussed out that that happens more often than naught.” Spike crouched to sit down beside her. “One of these days, you’re goin’ to have to actually start listening to me.”

“What am I going to do?”

When she looked up at him, it struck Spike that he’d never considered she would question it, and the thought that this could get so cruelly ripped away from him made him stiffen, the sudden urge to take Buffy and just cage her up until the baby was born rising in his gullet. “Well, you’re not gettin’ rid of it,” he announced, and realized that his voice was just a little too loud for the small space.

It also served to jar Buffy from her complacency into anger. “I can’t keep it,” she announced. “I’m eighteen. I’m the Slayer. I’m in college. I can’t have a baby. My mom’ll kill me. Giles will kill me.”

“And you can just kill an innocent baby?”

It was a low blow, but it did what he wanted it to.

Buffy blanched. “No,” she whispered. Her eyes were suddenly venomous. “Bastard. This is all your fault.”

“Oh, because William knew exactly what he was doin’. Right, luv. In that little arrangement, you were the voice of experience. You want to lay blame, start lookin’ in the mirror, and just remember which it is of us who has the reflection.”

“But I didn’t know!”

“And neither did I, so don’t be turnin’ this around on me just because it’s tossed you about a bit!”

They glared at each other, but Buffy’s indignation lasted for only seconds before she crumpled before his eyes. Her shoulders fell, the toiletry bag tumbling from her fingers as she seemed to fold into herself, and then she was squeezing her eyes shut as if to block out images that only she could see.

Silently, Spike scooped her into his arms, ready to fight her if she tried to break free. Instead, her cheek turned into his chest, and it muffled her words when she spoke.

“How am I supposed to do this?” Buffy asked.

“It’s not like you’re alone,” he replied. “Got your friends, your mum. Even got Rupert. They’d do just about anything for you. Havin’ a baby isn’t goin’ to change that.”

“And you?”

He hesitated, and then decided to hell with it. “Even if I hadn’t already promised to be here for you,” Spike said, “I don’t walk out on my own. This is mine just as much as it’s yours. I’ll do whatever it takes.” He paused. “Except for the dirty nappies. You can have those. Your nose isn’t as sensitive as mine is.”

She laughed for the first time since they’d encountered at the Factory, and though it was just a small, tinny sound, it warmed Spike in memories of long talks in a sunlit park, longer nights back in his London bed. It was a start. It was a worthy start.

Buffy pulled away from his embrace to look up at him. Her eyes were solemn, but at least they were dry. Even a huge change such as this wasn’t enough to break his girl.

“William would’ve loved this idea,” she said. “He probably would’ve wanted a dozen.”

“William’s just pleased as punch about this one,” Spike replied.

“Why?”

It was barely a whisper.

“Because I’m evil and shouldn’t be fussed about them, right?” But he said it teasingly, hoping against hope that it wouldn’t provoke another fight. “You and I both know the truth of that, don’t we, pet? Done my fair share, but that’s behind me now. And, at the end of the day, there’s not a whole lot in this world I can call my own. Had Dru for a bit, but that was just a bit of ephemeron, as it turns out.” He stopped when she suddenly compressed her lips, stifling a giggle. “What?”

“I can’t decide if that effa-whatever thingamabob is a William word or a Giles word,” she said.

“It’s a perfectly good word, is what it is,” he retorted.

“And it does prove that your vocabulary goes beyond ‘bloody’ when you want it to, so bonus points there.”

His mouth opened to snipe back at her about little girls who’d best keep their mouths shut if they ever wanted another poem written for them again when he realized she was teasing him.

Buffy. Was teasing. Him.

Not William.

She was aiming it straight and true at Spike, and it was amusement with him that was now lighting her face.

Well, that was just…neat.

“Got more of those, you know,” he said with a sly smile. “Not all of them went into your letters.”

When her eyes widened with excitement at the mention of more poetry, it was all Spike could do not to visibly preen. Not only had he managed to divert her attention away from the distractions of the night---the pregnancy, his screw-up in not going to her first, her discovery of his killing---but he’d gained definitive reassurance that his verse still did something for her. Writing had been well and good while he was away, but he’d been creating in a vacuum. He’d forgotten how wonderful it had felt sharing his work with Buffy, how exuberant she got over his many attempts.

Grabbing the toiletry bag from the floor, Spike rose to his feet, pulling Buffy along with him. “Let’s sort you out,” he said. “Clean up, shower, do whatever you want. Have you eaten?” When she shook her head, he nodded as if he hadn’t expected any different. “I’ll run across the way and get you something to nosh then.” Before he could stop himself, Spike leaned in and pressed a hard, quick kiss to Buffy’s mouth. “Got a bit for us to catch up on, don’t we, pet?” he murmured. “Not just a few poems.”

“Are you…I still don’t know why you’ve been gone for so long.”

“I know.” His fingers played with the curled end of her hair. “If you’ll stay, I can tell you. Are you?”

“Staying?”

When her eyes drifted past Spike’s shoulder to the bedroom behind him, alarm began to replace the elation that had fueled his mood. He watched her face intently, ready to begin arguing with her again should she start to run, but kept his grip on her lax.

“I guess…I guess we do have a lot to talk about, huh?”

He wanted to shout out in bloody joy, but settled for a half-smile. “Fifty-three days worth, luv,” he said.

She nodded, glancing at the shower. “Maybe…I’ll just clean up a little,” Buffy said.

He could tell a request for privacy when he heard one. Any other time, and he might be inclined to debate the issue with her. Now, Spike was just glad she was sticking around. With a quick step backward, he said, “Burger and chips all right? Unless you want something else---.”

“A burger’s fine. And, Spike?” She turned away from him and busied herself with the shower, as if meeting his eyes while she said the next would make it impossible to do. “I’m glad you’re back.”

*************

It was Riley’s failure to report in for his first update on the werewolf situation that prompted Maggie to send out the back-up team. The last thing she expected to hear, however, was that Riley and his entire squad had been killed while on the watch. And not by the werewolf, as might be expected.

The puncture wounds on Forrest were enough proof to indicate at least one vampire was involved in the attack.

There was evidence that suggested others had been present, but until she could analyze some of the scans Riley’s team had taken of the area, Maggie wouldn’t know what or how many were involved. What didn’t make sense to her was that none of the men were drained. The bite on Forrest had merely killed him; the lividity in his body testified that there was still plenty of blood left in his system post-mortem.

So, if it wasn’t for food, why was her team so effectively ambushed? They had been armed with the best weaponry currently available. The team contained two of the best soldiers she’d ever seen. Yet, all of them were now dead.

Worse, the werewolf still ran free, not that that had been anything more than a diversionary tactic in the first place.

And most importantly, she’d lost one of her greatest assets in searching for the artifacts on the Hellmouth.

Without Riley, Maggie no longer had a reasonable way of maintaining contact with the Slayer. Under her instruction, he had slowly been insinuating his way into her circle of acquaintances. Already, he was on a friendly basis with Willow Rosenberg, and his last report had stated that he was well on the path to gaining a date with Buffy Summers. He’d been reluctant for the subterfuge at the beginning, but once Maggie had explained the significance of what they were trying to accomplish, and how unorthodox and unpredictable the Slayer had been in the past, he’d agreed that perhaps the deception was necessary in order to gain her trust.

All of that was now moot, though. Riley was dead. Beyond the realm of the classroom, Maggie’s contact with the Slayer was now severed.

The information that the Initiative had already collected indicated that the Slayer was a necessary component to retrieving the artifacts, though what the specifics of that were, they still had no concept. Even though their searches had yet to unearth anything, Maggie could not allow such a trivial detail as this young woman derail all her hard work.

It was time to call in her back-up for Riley.

He would not be happy about it, but his hunger for the decimation of all HST’s exceeded anyone else’s Maggie had ever known. If she explained to him that this was the only way to retrieve the power they needed to further their offensive, he would fall into line.

He had to.

She refused to fail.

The steaming water traced illicit paths down the tiled walls, patterns mirrored on Buffy’s skin, and she stared at the designs it made as her hand rubbed absently at her stomach.

Pregnant.

She was pregnant.

With Spike’s baby.

She squeezed her eyes shut, tilting her head back into the spray to feel it pelt into her scalp.

Not Spike’s. William’s.

That was how she had to think of it. That was the only way she was going to be able to deal with this; it was the only way she was going to be able to sell keeping it to Giles and her mom.

Even if the line between William and Spike was so blurry now as to be almost nonexistent.

He’d terrified her when he’d bluntly asked her if she could kill the baby. Thoughts of terminating the pregnancy had been floating around before that, but the images his question raised had sickened Buffy to the point where the issue was moot. She couldn’t. He knew she couldn’t. She realized he was just making sure she knew that, too.

But keeping the baby carried with it a whole bunch of new problems that made introducing Spike to her life in Sunnydale seem as easy as sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night. A caustic laugh was torn from her throat. If she’d thought telling Xander about Spike was going to be hard, just wait until he heard that she was also pregnant with his baby. There was a very good likelihood that Xander’s head was going to explode from the news.

Willow would be supportive. She understood. She’d seen firsthand just how deeply William had affected her, had seen how Spike had been after he’d regained his memories. She would stand by Buffy no matter what she decided.

But then, there were Giles and her mom.

She was fairly certain the two adjectives to describe their reactions would be “disappointed” and “homicidal.”

And yet…Spike was right. Part of her wanted this baby. Wanted this piece of William, both to have the proof that it had happened and to be able to give back just a little bit to the poet who had helped her heal. Even besides that, there was the distinct possibility that this might be the only shot Buffy got at having one. She hadn’t been kidding about the limited lifespan, and to be honest, having Spike around to constantly remind her of William, Buffy wasn’t too sure how likely it would be she’d be having another serious relationship any time soon.

Unbidden, her gaze strayed downward, settling on the hand that hadn’t left the flat of her stomach since she’d stepped under the showerhead. How long before she would start showing? Maybe it wouldn’t be necessary to tell anyone right away. Maybe she had time to figure out how she could break the news. After all, it wasn’t going to hurt the baby’s feelings if her friends didn’t know about its existence the second she did. If she waited, she could always pretend that she had only just found out.

But Spike would know.

Spike would tell.

Maybe if I asked him not to.

She didn’t know if that would be enough.

William wouldn’t---.

Her eyes stung with sudden tears, and Buffy turned around in the spray to feel the water scoring into her skin before she lost control. William wasn’t here. It didn’t matter what he would or wouldn’t do. It was pointless to speculate because William wasn’t around to say yea or nay.

Except he was, in a way.

The unexpected cry choked in her throat, and she bent her head as the sobs shook her slim frame. God, she was so confused. Seeing Spike had brought it all rushing back, even more so than noting how he was signing off on his letters or how he was using his poetry to try and ease his way into her life. She looked at Spike, and she saw William, and she wasn’t so sure that they were really all that different any more.

And she wasn’t so sure she wanted to think they were.

“Buffy?”

She jerked at the sound of his voice, whirling instinctively in its direction. Through the semi-transparent shower curtain, she saw Spike’s blurry outline in the doorway, and deliberately straightened her shoulders.

“There’s such a thing as knocking, you know.” Her voice’s composure took her by surprise, and she took what strength it offered and held it close. “What do you want?”

There was a pause, and she watched as he took a step further into the room, his features coming into sharper focus through the plastic as he did so. “Heard you crying. You all right?”

Damn it. She was going to have to remember the vampire hearing when she was around Spike now. No letting her guard down for a minute.

“I’m fine,” she replied. “I just…everything just hit me all of a sudden. But I’m fine now. Really.”

That sounded plausible, even to her ears. Pregnant women were notorious for being moody, right? Surely it would be enough to convince Spike to leave her alone, even if he did sound like he was worried about her.

But he didn’t move. Backwards, that is. Instead, he closed the bathroom door, and hopped up onto the counter, looking very much like he was settling in while she showered.

“What’re you doing?” Buffy demanded, poking her head out around the curtain. “Kinda naked here, in case you didn’t notice.”

“I noticed.” His head tilted as he tried to see past the hem of the plastic, sending a rush of heat to a place on Buffy’s body that it was impossible to blame on the hot shower, but all too quickly his eyes were back on her face. “Just thought you might feel like starting our little talk now, is all.”
“I thought you were going to get me some food.”

“It’s got.”

“Oh.” It was too hard to keep up the act with him staring at her, so Buffy ducked back under the water, averting her eyes back to the rivulets running down the tiles. “I’ll be out in a minute then. Let me just…rinse off.”

Continuing the forced nonchalance, she reached for the washcloth and wiped it over her face. When she lowered it, however, a quick glance out of the corner of her eye revealed Spike still sitting on the counter, watching her just as closely as he had when he’d first entered.

“You’re still here.”

“You were crying.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“Liar.”

Buffy exhaled, trying to stem the urge to let the tears flow again. If this was any indication of what her emotional state was going to be like for the next nine months, maybe she needed to reconsider keeping the baby. She didn’t know if she was strong enough to deal with all of this.

“You are, you know.”

His voice was low, muffled by the curtain and the wash of water over her ears. But the certainty with which he spoke made Buffy’s flesh ripple in goosebumps. Spike could still do the mindreading thing when it came to her, it would appear. It had always been freaky the way he could figure out what she was thinking, sometimes before she even did.

Her eyes widened. Was that a remnant of William that had remained after his memory had been taken away? She hadn’t considered that before, but then again, it had been months since she’d been face to face with this side of him.

Spike was still talking.

“Know your vision’s a bit tunneled with the news and all, but that’s just because it’s fresh. There’s not one thing in your life you haven’t beaten, pet. It’s just a matter of gettin’ some perspective.”

“Please tell me you didn’t come to Sunnydale to be my own personal Tony Robbins, because I’m fairly sure that falls well within the death-worthy specs we agreed on.”

“You know why I’m here.”

“Yeah, apparently to thin out the rest of the demon-hunting crowd.”

She silently winced as the barb slipped automatically from her tongue. She knew very well that he’d probably only killed Riley and the others to protect Oz and Willow---and a small matter of self-defense, according to Oz---but that didn’t negate the fact that they were still human and he was still a vampire. If she just sat back and accepted that without question, how could anyone take her seriously as the Slayer? How could she respect herself?

“All right,” Spike said slowly. She could tell he was pissed, but he was doing his best not to lose it. “Not exactly the topic I would’ve chosen to lead with, but if that’s what you want to talk about, so be it. Fire away, Buffy.”

“Did you feed from them?” The question came out before she could stop it. It was the first suspicion that had haunted her, and it was the potential answer that filled her with the most dread. She hadn’t bothered to inspect the bodies, but she suspected that was at least partially due to being scared of what she was going to find.

“No. And to head off the second part of that, no, I didn’t feed while I was gone, either.”

“You…didn’t?”

“Won’t lie and say I didn’t want to or that it wasn’t a ball-buster to stick to a bagged diet, but yeah, I didn’t. Made you that promise, didn’t I? How many times am I goin’ to have to make it clear that I don’t go back on my word before you start believing me?”

She risked stealing a glance through the curtain but only saw the fuzzy white of his bowed head. The realization that he was hurt she wasn’t trusting him made her guilt return with a fiery vengeance.

“I’m trying,” she said, and wondered if her voice was so low that he wouldn’t understand her. “Do you know how hard this is for me? What you want, it’s not going to happen overnight, Spike. This isn’t just about me. This is about my friends, and my family, and---.”

“Our baby.”

That word. Our. Like they were a couple. He used it so freely, like he believed in it. Did Buffy? Could Buffy? It was taking all she had to wrap her brain around the pregnancy, and here he was, taking it all in stride, as if his whole world hadn’t just turned upside down with the announcement.

She wasn’t ready to talk about that just yet with him. Better to go back and talk about the other.

“Why did you do it? Kill them, I mean.”

“Heard the lot talkin’ how they were goin’ to take Red’s wolfboy in. I couldn’t very well let that happen, now could I?”

“You didn’t have to kill them. You could’ve just incapacitated them.”

“I was outnumbered four to one, luv.” He sounded exasperated, like he was having to explain to a child. “That’s not usually bad odds for me, but these blokes were armed to the gills. It was me or them. I picked me.”

That was what Oz had said. Was it an attitude she could really blame?

“And I only killed that last one because he pulled a blade on me,” Spike was saying. “Red and the other---.”

“Oz.”

“---seemed to know who he was. So, if you want to get your knickers in a twist ‘bout this, be my guest, but don’t be tellin’ me you wouldn’t have done the exact same thing. I’ve seen you with your friends. You’re like a mother lion when it comes to protecting them, even if they don’t need it.”

“The difference is, you got off on killing them, didn’t you?”

“Well, yeah. Still a vampire, last time I checked.”

She sighed. He was going to have an answer to all of her arguments, and worse, more than half of them were likely to be good ones. This wasn’t a battle she was going to win tonight, if ever.

“If you’re not goin’ to wash, why don’t you get out, pet? This convo will be a bit more comfortable in the other room, I’d reckon.”

His words sparked her to start scrubbing at her skin again. “I’m washing! See? This is me being Miss Clean.”

“I think you’re stalling. If you didn’t want to face me, why the hell did you stay?”

Good question. Because I didn’t really want to go. Because I missed you.

“Because we have things to talk about.”

She was a coward to the nth degree.

She heard Spike sigh in disgust, hopping down from his perch on the counter and start pacing in the tiny space. “This isn’t talkin’, Buffy,” he said. “This is you and me, goin’ around in circles. I’m not interested in circles any more. Been around this rock more times than you can imagine, and I’d finally thought I was comin’ home. To you. And now here I am, and all I can bloody think about is---.”

He cut himself off, and Buffy held her breath while she waited for him to finish what he was going to say. She was about to prompt him to continue when she heard the unmistakable sound of a zipper being pulled down.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice panicked.

“You’re obviously not comin’ out,” he said. “So I guess I’m comin’ in.”

“No!” Her fingers scrabbled for the faucets, trying to turn off the water. “I’m coming out! Stay there! And for god’s sake, keep your pants on!”
From the far end of the tub, a cool rush of air tickled Buffy’s bare bottom, and she whirled to see Spike stepping into the shower. Her arms lifted to automatically cover her breasts, but the rest of her froze as her eyes fell over his pale form.

Time had been good to Spike. Very good. It was as if someone had taken William and carved away the rest of the softness of his muscles, sculpting powerful arms, lean thighs, that taut stomach. There was one part of him, however, that was completely the same, and Buffy jerked her eyes away from his semi-erect cock to stare at him in stunned disbelief.

He wasn’t being nearly as discreet as she had been in looking her over. As she watched, his head tilted, his gaze insinuating across her hidden breasts, lingering on the flat of her abdomen before devouring the length of her legs. By the time his eyes returned to hers, the blue of Spike’s irises had been swallowed by the pupils, and there was no mistaking the tension now tightening his jaw.

“Do you ever dream about the last time we were like this?” he murmured. He reached forward to stroke the golden curve of her shoulder. “It’s not exactly the same, but…God, you’re just so beautiful.”

Keeping him at a distance was much easier when he’d been safely on the other side of the shower curtain, not to mention clothed. Now, Buffy was having a hard time remembering why she’d been so determined not to tell him what had been bothering her.

“This isn’t talking,” she said. “This is touching.”

His hand dropped, and he leaned against the wall. “Right,” he said. “So I s’pose I’m goin’ to go first in our little tete-a-tete here.”

“You don’t---.”

“I was lookin’ for Rose.”

The blunt admission shocked her into silence, and Buffy immediately forgot that she was standing naked in front of him. “Why?” she finally managed.

Spike shrugged. “Thought she could give me something to bring back for you. I always thought there was more to her bein’ around Richard and bein’ so protective of you than she let on. I guess…I thought I could convince her to tell me what it was she was hiding. Maybe let me in on something that might help you out.”

“Did you…did you find her?”

His hesitation spoke volumes. “She was in Barcelona. Turns out we were too late, though. Someone else got to her before we did. Don’t think she even saw it coming.”

He was using the same “we” that he’d been using in his letters. “You weren’t alone.”

“No.” He paused, though his gaze never left hers. “Asked that Watcher bird to help me find her.”

It took a second for it to register just who it was he referring to, but when it did, Buffy’s jaw dropped. “You were with Lydia?”

“It was just a business arrangement---.”

“She’s obsessed with you!”

“Well, yeah, I’d say she fancies me a bit---.”

“A bit is the understatement of the century. I can’t believe you were with Lydia! Did you know she was ready to sell out the Council just to get a little more information from me about you? She’s not exactly someone you can trust, Spike.”

“She had resources I needed. And, she was the reason I found Rose in the first place. And…are you jealous, luv?”

“What? No! I mean, there’s no reason for me to be jealous. It’s just…” Buffy’s voice faded. No wonder Spike had never mentioned it before now. Her stomach flipflopped at the prospect of his involvement with the Watcher. Had he? Of course, he had. He’d been alone with her for weeks, and Lydia was completely in love with him. What guy wouldn’t take advantage of that?

“It was just a business arrangement, Buffy.” His voice was soft, coaxing her to look at him again. “Nothin’ happened between us. She’s not you.”

The last drove her head back up, and she chastised herself for the burning in her eyes. I’m not going to cry in front of him, she said. I’m being stupid. There’s nothing for me to be jealous about because there’s nothing going on between me and Spike.

Which, of course, is why I’m standing naked in a shower with him.

Damn it.

Taking a small step toward her, Spike lifted a hand to cup her face, his thumb brushing away some of the moisture that clung to her cheek. “Know we’ve got a fair bit to learn yet ‘bout what’s been goin’ on,” he said, “but there’s some things that haven’t changed. I still love you. As soon as I realized I wasn’t goin’ to get what I wanted with Rose, I was on a plane to California so I could be with you again. I didn’t even bother to wait for Lydia at the airport. For all I know, she’s still in LA, tryin’ to suss out what exactly happened to me.”

She couldn’t help the quirk of her lips. “You ditched Lydia?”

“Bloody right I did. She probably would’ve tried detouring us through the Grand Canyon on our way here, and I didn’t need anything that was goin’ to keep me from my promise any more than I already had.”

Her stomach turned again, but this time it wasn’t because of her roiling emotions. It was because of the gentle way he was sliding his hand through her wet hair, letting his fingers comb through the long locks, watching them drop and cling to her damp skin with a barely disguised hunger to take their place.

“I still can’t believe you’re here,” she said.

His palm ghosted over the swell of her breast, not touching but shaping the sultry air around it as if he was molding it to Buffy’s form. “Did you really miss me?” Spike asked.

“Yes.” It was pointless to deny it. “Nobody else…” She swallowed. “Nobody else understands me like you do. I missed…my friend.”

His hand floated over her stomach now, and after a moment of hesitation, he pressed it flat to her, closing his eyes. She knew he was listening to the baby; she only wished she could hear what he was hearing.

“You’re the only one who ever thought I was worth anything.” There was a catch to his voice, thicker than the one that had been there when he’d posed his previous question. “Outside of my mum, you’re the only one who ever gave me a chance.”

“What about---?”

But he stopped her before she could say the name.

“I was just a distraction for Dru,” Spike said. “Someone to keep an eye on her when Angelus and Darla couldn’t be bothered. Took decades for me to get her to myself.”

“But…she loved you.”

“Yeah. But apparently, not enough.” He looked up then, his hand still over her stomach. “Not like you do.”

Though he used the present tense, and though her mouth opened to contradict the truthfulness of his statement, Buffy found that she couldn’t, not while he was looking at her with such undisguised need. Not while those were William’s eyes begging her not to spurn him like the others.

Not while he was right.

“It’s not going to be easy,” she said instead.

“Good things never are.”

“I’m serious. People are going to wig when they hear you’re back in town. And this thing with the baby? I’d seriously start thinking about buying a crash helmet of some kind because I’ve got a feeling my mom is going to be dragging out her axe again when she finds out. And then there’s---.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m here now. I’m not goin’ anywhere. People are just goin’ to have to either come to terms with that or bugger off.”

He said it so matter-of-factly, like it was an unalterable truth along the lines of the earth being round or pashminas being so last year. Then she realized…he believed it.

And all her fears washed away.

“I was crying because I was so glad you were back,” she confessed. “And it scared me.”

Gently, Spike let his hand slip from her stomach, around her hip to the small of her back, and he tugged her flush against him. “Know how much you hate that,” he murmured.

His eyes were fixed on her mouth, and his cock was thickening against her stomach. Slowly, Buffy lifted her fingers to his face, outlining his cheekbones with the fragile grace of someone who was afraid to forget, tracing the scar in his eyebrow with growing curiosity, sketching the slope of his nose. Though their bodies barely touched, she could already feel the bonds entangling them further, and knew that they’d been doing so ever since that first night she’d drunk Willow’s tea and met a shy young poet desperate for love. If she struggled against them, she would end up strangled. The only hope she had to survive was to concede to their strength.

“We got back to touching again,” she said softly. When he stiffened slightly against her, muscles tense to pull away, Buffy slipped her arm around his neck to stop the motion. “Maybe it’s time we did that instead of talk.”

Slowly, she saw the rush of delight come to Spike’s eyes, but he soon dropped his gaze again to her mouth, lowering his head at the same until their lips brushed against each other. The insistent water pelting onto her back was forgotten as Buffy dissolved against him, shedding the ghosts of everything in the outside world to focus on this man and this time.

A growl escaped Spike’s throat as he buried his mouth in her neck, sucking and biting at the tender flesh it found while his hands explored the canvas of the rest of her body. “Too long,” he murmured. “Been dreamin’ about you, Buffy. Been in my head, in my gut. Felt you under my hands every night, but it wasn’t like this.”

Unseen, she couldn’t help but smile as her eyes fluttered shut. Some things were definitely different, but one thing had remained the same; he still loved to talk while making love to her. Would he start spouting poetry, too?

She almost hoped yes.

His endearments continued as he held her close, mouth cool against her hot, slippery skin, tattooing its path along her shoulders, across her collarbone, down between her breasts. He dropped to his knees, hands falling to steady her hips, and Buffy held her breath while she waited to feel what path his tongue was going to take.

Below the swell of her right breast.

Along her ribs.

Then, stopping on her stomach.

The seconds stretched into one minute, and then two, as she felt his mouth along her abdomen. “Bloody miracle,” he kept saying. “You have any idea how beautiful you’re goin’ to be? Not goin’ to let anyone else touch you, either. Mine, you are. Hard and sweet, and don’t you ever forget that. Know you want to, know it’s hard, luv, but this, this is just proof that we’ve both been given another chance, right? Bloody miracle.”

She wondered if he was even aware of what he was saying. When she looked down at the tousled curls, all she could see were his dark lashes against his pale skin, his lips constantly moving against her, kissing and licking and whispering his words like he’d been storing them up and was grateful for the release of the dam that had held them in. “Spike,” she said quietly, but her voice was drowned out by the noise of the water hitting the white tiles.

“Spike,” she said louder, and this time, he looked up, his mouth red and wet and glistening. Wordlessly, she tugged him back to his feet and turned so that her back was to the wall. With her arms around his shoulders, she lifted herself until her legs were wrapped around his waist, the tip of his hard cock pressing into her inner thigh.

“Are you sure?” he asked, and the softening of his accent revealed for Buffy more than his actual question.

Her reply was to slide her hips down, letting his thick shaft penetrate inch by inch into her soaking slit. Spike groaned as her muscles stretched and squeezed around him, his head dropping so that their brows rested on each other, and dug his fingers into her hips, silently imploring her not to stop, not to pull away, not to leave him. When he was completely buried inside, she held him there, allowing her to get adjusted to his girth, allowing him to get used to her heat, and let her lips caress the contour of his cheek.

She knew this was reckless of her. She knew that yielding to her desire for him, conceding to her love for the man he’d been, was not something she could’ve done in the light of day, or in familiar surroundings, or anywhere, anywhen that wasn’t here and now. Unlocking her heart so carelessly was like inviting a strange vamp into her dorm room, and yet, this wasn’t a stranger.

Deep down, she knew Spike. She may only be aware of slivers of his demon existence, but beneath it all, Buffy knew the man he’d been, and could see it even now.

Maybe not so reckless after all.

His lips were a waterfall touch along her neck as he began pumping in and out of her, sensations so familiar that they made Buffy want to weep. The hot shower masked the true temperature of his body, and with her eyes shut, she could almost imagine herself in the tub with William, remember the ravenous appetite he’d exhibited as he’d fucked her against the ceramic.

And then Spike spoke.

“Look at me, luv.”

Reluctantly, she opened her eyes, and saw him gazing down at her. His lids were heavy, his eyes black, but the craving for her within their depths was unmistakable.

“This is me,” he said softly, and released his deathgrip on her left hip to push back a piece of hair that had glued to her cheek. “I know…I know you wish it wasn’t, but I’d rather…” His pelvis stilled, his cock still buried inside her. “…if you don’t want to be here, with me, right now, I’d rather we stop this before you can regret it. I can’t…I don’t want…”

She silenced him with a kiss. “I know,” she whispered when she broke away. She began riding his length again, slow and sweet as their gazes locked. “I know.”

She didn’t know how long they lasted like that. Longer than she’d ever gone with William. Minutes. An hour. Forever. It didn’t matter.

When Spike finally came, he held her so tightly against him that for a few seconds, Buffy felt like she couldn’t breathe. The jerking of his cock as he shot deep inside her pulsed against her clit, making her come for the third time since they’d begun their dance, and she cried out his name as her nails dug into his back. The wonder when he turned his head to her was quickly followed by his lips on hers, and he kissed her more thoroughly than he had since their encounter at the Factory.

“I knew touching would be better than talking,” she said as she slid off his body.

Spike’s arms came around her to help guide the washcloth she’d grabbed to clean off. “Does this mean you’re takin’ off now?”

“I should.” But it was a reluctant reply. “I’m sure Oz has told Willow about you being back, and she’s probably worried. I shouldn’t make her night worse for her than it already has been.”

“’Course.” He rubbed the washcloth over her stomach, every once in awhile dipping to her wet curls but mostly concentrating on the flat of her abdomen. “Nothin’ says you can’t just lie down for a bit before you go, though, does it?”

The prospect of lying in his arms, of hearing his voice in her ear again, was suddenly too irresistible to deny. “Just a little bit,” Buffy said, keeping her voice as neutral as possible. “But then I really have to go.”

Spike pressed his mouth to the curve of her neck. “Of course,” he murmured.

*************

With a heavy sigh, Giles closed the book he was reading and tossed his glasses onto the desk. He couldn’t concentrate. Misgivings about his decision to allow Esme to meet with Willow the following day were plaguing his every thought, and it was impossible to focus on the text Wesley had brought from the coven in England. He had dropped the pair off at the hotel they were staying at with barely two words to the witch and instructions to Wesley to pick up some items for the following day, hoping that he would be able to return to his flat and resume some of his reading without worry. He couldn’t. His conscience was betraying him.

It was Willow’s decision, of course. However, after the incidents in London, Giles feared the worst. Esme had been primarily benevolent in her dealings with Willow, but that was because she didn’t have her powers. She still didn’t have her powers, a small voice inside his head reminded him. But that didn’t negate how rabid Esme had been when it came to April and to Slayers in general. If Buffy discovered the truth about Esme’s presence, Giles wasn’t sure how she would respond. Esme was responsible for much, if not all, of the troubles in England.

Of course, she was also responsible for introducing Buffy to William, and inadvertently bringing Spike back into her life. It was likely that might soften the antagonism.

The thought made Giles weary.

He was still mulling over the repercussions of Esme’s presence in Sunnydale when a soft knock came at his flat door. Rising from his seat, he glanced at his watch as he went to answer it. Quarter to twelve. It was likely Buffy checking in from patrol.

It was a blonde on the other side of the door, but not the one he expected.

“Lydia,” he said. His gaze swept over her disheveled form, before glancing over her shoulder to see if she was alone. “What are you doing here?”

“Didn’t you get my message? I left you one when I was in Barcelona about our return to the States.”

“Yes, but…” Crossing his threshold, Giles frowned as he noted the empty courtyard. “You’re alone. Where’s Spike? Did you leave him at a hotel?”

His direct queries prompted her to duck her eyes, and her hand came up to brush nervously at her hair. “Yes, well, about that---.”

“This better not be bad news, Lydia.”

She took a deep breath. “I lost Spike in Los Angeles.”

“You what?” His voice echoed in the midnight air, and Giles grew immediately aware of the late hour. Stepping back inside his flat, he held the door open wider. “Get in here.”

He waited until she was sitting on the edge of his couch, her hands knotted tightly together in her lap, before speaking again. “What happened?” he asked. His nails were digging into his palms in his efforts not to lose his temper.

Quickly, she told the story, only occasionally meeting his eyes during the tale. By the time she was done, Giles felt as if his head was going to implode.

“I asked you to do one thing,” he said. “Monitor Spike’s movements.”

“Technically, you asked for two as I had to let you know where we were---.”

“Is it so difficult to lose a bleached English vampire in the middle of the day in one of the sunniest places in the world?” He began to pace, no longer able to contain the frenetic energy coursing through his veins. “And if your sources are correct, he’s likely already on his way here. How on earth am I going to intercept his first meeting with Buffy if I don’t even know when he’s going to arrive?”

“I tried---.”

“You didn’t try hard enough.”

She jerked her chin at that, eyes suddenly cold. “I did everything you ever asked of me, Rupert, and not once did I balk, even when I thought you were being a controlling, manipulative bastard. You wanted to know the contents of William’s letters? I broke his confidence and steamed them open so that you could have copies. You wanted me to slow down his arrival in Sunnydale? I planted false leads for him to follow that would delay our coming. Don’t tell me I didn’t try hard enough. I did more than enough.”

“And yet you still managed to lose sight of him before you reached Sunnydale. Funny, that.”

“I came here to tell you, didn’t I? I haven’t even checked into my hotel yet. My bags are still outside in the rental car.”

“Then I must thank you for making me your top priority.” The sarcasm pulled at his nerves, his frustration driving him to sink into the chair opposite her. “He’s going to go straight to Buffy. I’m going to have to warn her.”

“And tell her what? If you say one word, she’s going to know of your involvement. I thought that’s why you asked me to keep an eye on him, so that you could keep your hands clean of the matter.”

She had a point. Rubbing at his eyes, Giles felt his exhaustion begin to return, the shot of adrenaline her news had brought to his system already waning.

“I thought you agreed with me about William.” Lydia was still talking. “I thought we agreed that it seemed his intent was honorable.”

Of course, she would bring that up. When it came to romanticizing Spike, Lydia was the worst.

“I said, it would appear that he had residual feelings for Buffy,” Giles said.

“You also told me you rather liked William when you met him.”

The woman had the memory of an elephant.

“That’s not the point---.”

It was her turn to interrupt him. “I think it is, Rupert. You had no problems with William coming to Sunnydale. You were just concerned about the time frame. Deny it all you wish, but you were just as swayed as I was by the passion in his letters. Can you sit there and tell me that you truly believe he’s a threat to her any longer?”

Arguing with her was pointless. They’d had many conversations regarding the contents of Spike’s letters to Buffy. Lydia was well aware that Giles would never have given her his Slayer’s dorm address if he didn’t think that she was safe from the vampire. He would be a hypocrite to say otherwise.

“Still,” he said, “I’m going to have to bring it up to Buffy in some fashion. She’s not been entirely well lately and since she’s not been in contact with Spike---.”

“Yes, she has.” At his confused frown, she added, “William received a note from her just before we left Barcelona. She said…that she missed him.”

Well. That certainly answered some of his questions. Like why Spike had given up on his search for Rose. Like why he’d been so quick to lose Lydia once he’d finished his use of her. Telling Spike she missed him was as good as begging him to come back to her.

Suddenly, he felt completely drained. Between this and Esme’s arrival, it would seem that his life had just taken a much more dramatic turn, and not necessarily for the better.

“Would you care for a drink?” he asked, rising again to his feet. “Frankly, I need one right about now, and after hearing what I’ve had to endure the last twenty-four hours, I think you might, too.”

*************

Her body was screaming.

Fire ripped through her back as she clung to the side of the cavern wall. Grit was ground beneath her short fingernails, and she’d scraped the inside of her knee when she’d rappelled over the edge into the chasm, but Havi was doing her best to ignore the discomfort. It wasn’t anything she hadn’t experienced before. It was just in a different locale.

Sweat dripped into her eyes, forcing her to blink rapidly to clear her vision. A quick glance down showed the bottom only a few more yards away. Jumpable. She’d done worse. Still, her body was tired from the flight from Barcelona. She didn’t want to risk pushing herself too hard. It was going to be a long night as it was.

When her feet touched the dirt floor, Havi unhooked herself from the rope and let the bag she carried slip from her shoulder. She tilted her head, cracking her neck, and felt the distinct pinch of the piercings in her nape. The pain was a good kind, though. Reassuring. The pain reminded her of who she was when sometimes, she could feel the fog of forgetting threatening to overwhelm her.

The cavern feasted on any stray light that managed to come down the slim chasm, leaving her in a comfortable blackness until her eyes were more adjusted to the lack of illumination. Slowly, Havi’s gaze swung around the small space, finding the yawning hole she was searching for. Everything she’d been told so far was correct; for that, she was grateful. This trip to Sunnydale was hard enough on her nerves not to have to worry about silly details such as new directions.

Grabbing her bag, she navigated the carved-out corridor, following its twists and bends into the inner chamber she sought. A light grew at the end of the path, and she stepped from the blackness to see the stone pool in the middle of the circular room. The light it provided cast the room in shades of silver and violet, and quickly, she strode to its side, kneeling before the crystalline water and closing her eyes as she bowed her head in prayer.

Her chant was almost too soft to be heard, a soft whisper that could’ve been a breeze as easily as it was a human voice. As she spoke, ripples began to form across the surface of the water, growing in intensity, abounding in strength, until its lapping against the stone sides drowned Havi out.

“Welcome, Child of Life. We have been expecting you.”

The soft chiming of the voice emanated from the water, halting Havi’s chant as she lifted her head to gaze into the mirrored surface. Though she had been around such power since she’d been told she would never be Chosen, feeling its silken touch gliding in and around her on such a close and intimate level unnerved her.

“I am here,” she said, and her voice was shockingly clear to her. “I await your further instruction.”

regarding the baby and their future…

*************

She slipped out some time in the night. It wasn’t a surprise; Spike had expected her to leave at some point, even as she’d agreed to just being held after her shower. Frankly, he was more than a little shocked Buffy had agreed to stay at all, but he’d been floating too high on the euphoria of the way she’d so deliberately given herself to him, the knowledge that she had every intention of keeping the baby even though it was his, to question it. Pulling on her clothes, she’d lain with him atop the blankets and almost immediately fallen asleep, and Spike had stayed up as long as he could just to watch her.

The entire experience was different from the memories he had of his time with her as a human. He’d been just as fascinated by watching her sleep then, too, he remembered, but now, being a vampire, Spike was far more greatly attuned to the rhythms of her body as she rested, soothed by the hypnotic beat of her pulse, warmed by the growing heat of her flesh. Upon climbing onto the bed, Buffy had automatically spooned back against him, and though his cock stirred back to life at the soft feel of her ass pressing around it, he was more driven by the way she pulled his arm around her waist, deliberately letting his hand come to rest on the flat of her abdomen.

They were having a baby.

His brain was still having difficulty wrapping itself around the concept.

During the time, they’d never worried about protection, not realizing until it was too late that Buffy’s body was on both planes at the same time. And Spike hadn’t been as aware as he should’ve been when he’d smelled the semen on the Slayer’s skin that first time he’d happened across her in the hotel room. Even after his memories had been returned, he hadn’t put two and two together to consider the possibility.

But now here it was.

He could feel it.

It was too early in the pregnancy for him to hear the baby’s heartbeat, though Spike suspected that if he pressed his ear to Buffy’s stomach, he might be able to manage it. But he could feel it beneath her skin, feel the tiny echoes it created as it breathed and moved and just was. This was his, more than anything else had ever been, and the depth of that rooted him beside the sleeping Slayer more firmly than his love for her did.

Of course, simmering on the surface of that was the indulgent I did that. Even he recognized the prideful boast of his inner voice.

And then there was Buffy. His golden girl. Willing to see the demon in spite of the man. Missing him.

Letting him love her.

When she hadn’t automatically staked him for killing the soldier boy, Spike knew he’d had a chance. She was bending her usual rule to allow him the opportunity to explain himself, and though he didn’t believe he’d done anything wrong, Spike was more than willing to accommodate her. She may not be willing to admit it, and there may be more than a bit for them to catch up on, but deep down, Buffy knew him better than anyone. He was ready to do whatever it took to make sure she remembered that.

He hadn’t wanted to fall asleep, but jet lag and a pervading sense of peace had finally won. He knew from the crack of light beneath his curtain that he hadn’t slept long, but it was enough time for Buffy to rise and make her escape. It hadn’t been for long. Her side of the bed was still warm.

Reaching for her pillow, Spike was about to bury his nose in its thin casing when the sheet of hotel stationery fluttered to the floor. He bent to pick up the folded piece of paper, and the knot that had formed in his gut at the realization she was gone eased as he read it.

*************

Dear Spike,

Part of me wishes I had the guts to stick around long enough not to have to leave a note. Believe it or not, this is the third note I’ve started. Don’t believe me, just check the wastebasket.

Last night wasn’t what I expected, and I don’t just mean the whole pregnancy thing. I’m not saying it’s bad, because it wasn’t. It was good, very good. Great, even. But we both know it shouldn’t have happened so soon. I’m not blaming you; I wanted it just as much. But maybe, on your first night here, when there was so much for us to talk about, we should’ve done more of that instead. We could always talk, and even though I probably acted like Buffy the Vampire Slut last night by jumping you in the shower, I miss the talking part of what we had just as much. I told you; I miss my friend. You have no idea how glad I am that he’s back.

There are things I have to do today, but I’m hoping that I can see you tonight. I’ll be back at sunset. Want to help me patrol? I figure we can talk and kill things at the same time. That’s one kind of multi-tasking I’m actually really good at.

Thank you for just holding me while I slept. I’ve missed that, too.

Love,

Buffy

PS: Try not to kill anybody else I know before I get back tonight. Ha ha.

*************

In the way of morning after letters, it probably wasn’t the most uplifting, but Spike couldn’t help the smile that curled his lips as he rose and crossed to his bag on the chair. She’d said enough. More importantly, she’d done one thing in this letter that she hadn’t done for either of her two previous.

Tucking the note in with the two he already had safe in his stationery box, Spike pulled out the spare clothing he’d left in the bag. Might as well unpack. Buffy’d be around that night to continue where they’d left off, so he was staying at least another day. His cash wouldn’t hold up for too much longer, though, so he was going to have to get out at some point and nick some more. There was also the matter of blood to arrange. Perhaps he could talk Buffy into swinging by Willy’s after their patrol.

Unless they got otherwise occupied. That was a possibility, too.

He settled back in bed with a grin and a hard-on, his hand wrapping automatically around the rigid shaft and stroking in tandem with his thoughts. Yeah, shagging out at Restfield after a nice spot of violence. Ripping his way past her panties and plowing into her from behind before flipping her over and finishing the job. Then, back to the hotel where he could make love to her proper.

Spike’s eyes drifted shut with the images that played inside his head. He was looking forward to seeing her again that night; even if she didn’t realize it, they’d already taken a huge step forward in their relationship, and he didn’t mean the baby.

After all, Buffy had finally admitted to loving him. She’d said so in the sign-off of her letter. With that out of the way, anything was possible.

*************

This was impossible. She was crazy to think this was a good idea.

Hesitating on the doorstep, Buffy’s fingers played with the crisp folds in the white bag she carried, staring at the doorknob as if it was going to leap off and beat her over the head if she dared to turn it. She had a class this morning; really, she should be back on campus getting ready for that. Of course, she shouldn’t have spent most of the night in Spike’s hotel room, either, but the moment she’d felt his arms wrap around her, the familiarity of the weight had lulled her into sleep, and she’d slipped into one of the soundest nights’ rest she’d had in weeks.

He’d been asleep when she woke before dawn, and she’d extricated herself from his embrace, only faltering once when his grip tightened momentarily around her waist. For a long minute, Buffy had been tempted to stay, but her mind was already made up about what she had to do, so she’d written her note---or three of them, depending on how she looked at it---and left.

Of course, that same mind was now trying to convince her that this wasn’t something that had to happen right away, that maybe she should just go to her classes and pretend nothing had changed until she was in a better place to talk about it.

She wasn’t so sure she was ever going to be in a better place.

Taking a deep breath, Buffy plastered a bright smile on her face and pushed the door open. “Mom!” she called out, stepping across the threshold to listen to the sounds inside.

“In the kitchen!”

She followed her mother’s voice to find her standing at the island, buttering a piece of toast. Joyce looked up when she entered, a questioning smile on her lips.

“Well, that looks too small to be laundry,” Joyce commented, gesturing toward the white bag in Buffy’s hand with her butter knife. “So you must be here for money instead.”

“What? I can’t just want to have breakfast with my mom?” She set the bag between them and leaned against the counter. “They’re still warm, even.”

Cautiously, Joyce peeked into the bag, all the while watchful of Buffy. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch. Crullers. See?”

“Don’t you have class this morning?”

“Later. I just thought we could catch up. We haven’t talked in a while. Aren’t you curious about how school is going?”

Joyce’s eyes narrowed, but she reached behind her to grab a second plate, doling out the crullers before pushing one closer to Buffy. “So, how is school going?”

“Good. I’ve even managed not to miss a class so far, though that’s partially the result of an unexpected fear factor. Turns out my psych prof makes Snyder look like Mr. Rogers.” Her fingers flitted around the edge of her plate, unable to settle. “Could we…go eat in the dining room? Sit down? I hear breakfast is supposed to be one of those civilized meals.”

She was having troubles meeting her mother’s gaze, but Buffy knew that her behavior was already garnering the wrong kind of attention she’d had in mind. Instead of waiting for the question to come, however, she picked up her plate and headed for the other room, hoping against hope that her mom would just follow.

Buffy was picking at the glazed sugar on the cruller when Joyce appeared in the entranceway.

“Now, I know something’s wrong,” Joyce said as she took the chair opposite. “As much as I love the idea that you’d just pop by to say hi to your lonely old mother, I’ve got this sneaky suspicion that there’s something on your mind. So, spill. What’s wrong?”

There was no easy way for her to say. As badly as Buffy wanted to just curl up in her mom’s lap and beg her to fix it, she knew that she was too far beyond that now.

Carefully, Buffy withdrew the wrinkled envelope she’d shoved into her purse upon leaving Spike’s hotel room. Not able to meet Joyce’s eyes, she set it on the table and pushed it toward the older woman. She chewed at her lip while her mother picked it up, her already roiling stomach spitting in protest even more at the added worry. She swallowed when Joyce pulled out the pregnancy test.

Time stopped. And then…

“Tell me you found this in Willow’s trash and she’s too afraid to talk to her own mother about it.”

Buffy shrank into herself. “It’s mine.”

Joyce’s nostrils flared. “How far along are you?”

“About eight weeks.”

“Eight…? This happened while you were in England?” Her voice was steadily rising in volume. “Does Rupert know about this?”

“No! You’re the first person I’ve told.” OK, so it was a lie, but no way was Buffy going to bring Spike into it at this stage of the game. And technically, it was true if she went on the theory that Spike was a demon, not a person. “I just took the test last night. I haven’t been feeling well and I just wanted to rule out---.”

“Is it that William who was writing you? Is he the father?”

Numb, Buffy nodded.

“I don’t believe this! What were you thinking, Buffy? London was supposed to be about getting over graduation, not jumping into the bed of the first cute boy you saw---.”

“It wasn’t like that!” It came out far too sharp, making both of them wince, and she took a deep breath as Joyce deliberately slid the white stick back across the table. “I wouldn’t do that,” she said again, this time more calmly. “Not after Angel. Trust me to have a little more sense than that, Mom. Please?”

Maybe it was the entreaty she added without even thinking that made her mother pause before speaking again. “Tell me at least that you didn’t fall for some line about him being sterile or something. I’d rather think you were forgetful, not foolish.”

Buffy held her tongue at that. There was no way to explain what had happened in England, though there was a strong likelihood that it would have to occur at some point. Preferably a point when the bulk of the fallout had settled. Instead, she said, “All we cared about was being there for each other. William…he helped me sort my head out. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“No, teenaged mothers rarely do.” Joyce sighed. “I know it’s a little early to ask this, but…have you decided what you’re going to do about it?”

Buffy swallowed. “I’m keeping it.”

The only reaction from her mother was a tightening around her mouth. “There are a lot of repercussions to that decision, you know. Babies are expensive, which means you’ll have to get a job. Very likely, you’ll have to cut back on your classes. And---.”

“I can’t have an abortion, Mom. I kill things every night. I can’t kill this. I can’t.”

Her eyes were shiny as she regarded her mother. She didn’t want to cry in front of her; she had to show that she was responsible enough to be making this kind of decision and sobbing like a little girl would only screw that up. But part of the reason she’d come to her mom first was because Buffy needed her support on this. She didn’t want to be alone.

Joyce’s hand settled over Buffy’s, and for the first time since the news had been broken, smiled softly. “I know,” she said. “But there’s always the possibility of adoption. You don’t have to---.”

“Yes, I do.” She took a deep breath. “I love him, Mom. I couldn’t hurt him that way by giving away his baby. And…I want it.” It was really the first time she’d uttered the desire out loud, but in that second, Buffy knew it to be true. She wanted this child. It might be her only chance to have one.

“When are you going to tell him?”

“Soon.” Another lie. She hated that she was so good at lying to her mother.

“How do you think he’s going to react? Is he going to help support the baby?”

“I think…yeah. He’s very…loyal in that way.” She’d almost said “responsible,” but that had been a word she attached to William, not Spike. She wasn’t sure yet if that was going to be applicable. “He’s going to definitely want to be a part of the baby’s life.”

“Well, that might be difficult if he lives in England.”

“Something tells me he might come to live in Sunnydale if he knew he had a child here.” Or might already be here.

Joyce’s smile faded slightly. “You don’t have to marry him for the baby’s sake, Buffy. You know that, right? Just because two people have a child together, doesn’t mean that they necessarily---.”

“This is the divorce talk, Mom. I can recite this one in my sleep. Bet you never guessed it would be a multi-purpose kind of talk, though, huh?”

It was a feeble joke, but it served to cut some of the tension, and both women relaxed as they lapsed into thought. Finally, Joyce said, “My baby’s having a baby. I’m going to be a grandmother.” She grimaced. “I’m too young to be a grandmother. I still read Cosmo.”

Buffy couldn’t help but laugh.

It was a start.

*************

They talked for what felt like hours, and though there were moments where Buffy could sense her mother’s disappointment regarding the pregnancy, the older woman surprised her by mostly holding her tongue. Instead, she went straight into Mom mode, calling into the gallery so that she and Buffy could sit and discuss the entire situation in detail.

In great detail.

She even dragged out a notebook for Buffy to take notes about what she would have to do.

“I’ll get an appointment for you at Dr. Gray’s as soon as possible. I know you’re in great shape, but pregnancy’s a whole ‘nother ball of wax. Write that down.”

“Ball of wax?”

“Not funny, young lady.”

And…

“I know you’ve already made up your mind, but I want you to know what you’re getting yourself into, Buffy. You should talk to some other girls who had a baby at such a young age and kept it. We’ll go down to Planned Parenthood. I’m sure there’s some sort of support group you can sign up for. Write that down.”

And then the one she was dreading…

“What about your slaying? I know it’s not something you can just pick up and drop on a whim, but there’s going to come a point where it’s going to be too dangerous for you to continue. I’m sure Rupert will agree with me.” Pause. “When are you going to tell him?”

Buffy sighed. “Do I have to? I can’t just wear baggy clothes and tell him it’s the newest fashion? It’s Giles. He won’t know any different.” She sagged under her mother’s knowing look. “I know, I know. I just…telling you was easy compared to what telling him is going to be like. I mean, is this something they teach in Watcher school? What if his head explodes?”

“It’s not going to explode,” Joyce reassured. “It might fizzle a little bit, but that’s just because he cares about what happens to you.”

“Maybe you can tell him,” she suggested with a wide smile. “Right after I get out of the state. I’m thinking Wisconsin. That’s pretty far away and they’ve got cheese.”

“You want to prove to me you’re responsible to have this baby? This is where you start. However…” She took a deep breath. “If you want me to be there when you tell him---.”

“Yes!” Buffy jumped at the offer. There were so many things that could go wrong, but maybe with a buffer… “Oh, god, yes!”

With a definitive nod, Joyce rose from her chair. “No time like the present then,” she announced.

“…Present?”

“As in now.”

“How about, present as in after I go back to the dorm and change?” She was stalling. She really didn’t want to do this.

Joyce frowned. “Why would you change?”

She glanced down at her clothes. Crap. Her mom didn’t realize Buffy’d been wearing the same clothes the previous night.

“Did I say change? I meant, talk to Willow. So she can get any assignments I might miss when I miss class today.”

It sounded lame, and Joyce still looked skeptical. “Well, I’m only agreeing to this because I don’t want you to miss out on any of your schoolwork. After you talk to Willow, we’re going to straight to Rupert’s.”

*************

She was just picking up her notebook from her desk when Willow heard a key turn in the lock, lifting her head just in time to see Buffy slip inside.

“Hey,” she said with a small smile. She tried not to notice that her friend was wearing the same clothes as yesterday and failed miserably. “I was wondering if you were going to show up in time to go to class.”

“I won’t be there,” came the reply. “Can I…talk to you for a sec?”

Willow frowned as she followed her to their beds, sitting on her own while Buffy perched on the edge of hers. Besides the clothes that were distinctly not fresh, Buffy’s cheeks were pale, her eyes dark with some unknown worry. She didn’t look tired, though, which meant that Willow’s suspicion about where she’d spent the night was most likely true.

When she’d woken up back in her dorm room and not in Restfield, Oz had told her what happened, including the detail about Spike showing up and killing Riley. Willow had felt a pang of sorrow at the loss of the young TA, but it had been squelched when she remembered that he was part of Buffy’s mysterious vigilante group, and that he’d just been about to take Oz away because he was a werewolf. That was the theory according to Oz and Spike, at least. And it made sense to her.

But when she’d lain awake until almost three o’clock, and Buffy still hadn’t showed up after leaving Oz at the cemetery, Willow had known she’d gone looking for Spike. She hadn’t really expected her to stay out all night, but considering how much history was between them, it wasn’t really a surprise. She figured now Buffy was going to tell her what had happened between them.

“I don’t know how to say this,” Buffy was saying.

“It’s OK,” Willow cut in. “I know. Oz told me.”

Buffy frowned. “How does Oz know?”

“He was there. He told you about Spike, remember?”

A moment of understanding flickered behind Buffy’s eyes, and she shook her head. “That’s not what I was…” She took a deep breath. “I saw him last night, though. Spike. He was at the Factory, and then, I kind of…spent the night with him. He’s got a room out at The Arms.”

“Yeah. I figured.”

“There’s more. He…when we…I went and…” She flopped back onto her mattress, her eyes closing. “God, I should just carry that damn stick around. It does all the talking for me.”

“Stick? You have a new weapon?”

Buffy laughed, a brittle sound that was far from cheerful. “That’s one way of putting it,” she said. Her eyes opened and she turned a bleak gaze toward Willow. “There’s a reason I haven’t been feeling very well lately, and apparently it took Spike and his bionic vampire hands to figure it out for me.”

“Buffy, I really don’t need to hear about your---.”

“I’m pregnant.”

The two words hung between them, and Willow’s jaw dropped. OK, not what she was expecting to hear. When Buffy had said bionic vampire hands, Willow had immediately assumed it was some sexual thing that she was now feeling guilty about. But this…this was huge. Well, tiny. Her eyes flitted to Buffy’s flat stomach. Microscopic at this stage. She wasn’t even showing yet. In fact, she couldn’t be more than---.

“Oh my god, it’s Spike’s, isn’t it?”

Buffy bolted upward at that, suddenly come to life again. “It’s William’s,” she stressed. “It’s biologically impossible for vampires to reproduce.”

She sounded like she was quoting from one of Giles’ vampire books, but there was no way Willow was going to argue the semantics of it with her. “Maybe Spike is wrong, though,” she said instead. “If he just---oh. You said stick. You meant a pregnancy test, didn’t you?”

A nod. “I left it in the car. I didn’t even think---.”

“Car?”

“Mom’s. That’s why I’m going to miss class this morning. Mom’s coming along as moral support for when I tell Giles. And maybe a blockade in case he decides to kill me.”

“So…you told her?” Willow listened as Buffy relayed the events of the morning, and while she felt relief that Mrs. Summers hadn’t been as bitter about it as she could’ve been, it made her nervous that so much was still being unsaid.

“And if I don’t get back down there, she’s going to send out a search party.” Buffy rose to her feet, going to her closet and quickly changing out of her clothes and into jeans and a t-shirt, all the while babbling about the things Mrs. Summers was making her do about the baby. She didn’t let Willow get a word in edgewise, and it wasn’t until she was pulling her hair up into a ponytail that she even looked back at the bed.

“Please tell me you’re not disappointed in me.” Her eyes were slightly shiny, and Willow realized that Buffy was walking the edge of her nerves, desperately in search of someone to just accept what had happened without judging her morality for it.

“Of course I’m not.” Quickly, she crossed and gave Buffy a tight hug. “I just want you to be OK.”

“I am. I am.”

“But, Buffy…” She was frowning when her friend pulled away. “Do you think it’s right about not telling your mom the truth about the father? I mean, from everything that happened in England, and from what you’ve said, Spike could be a really good ally for you to have in all this. He loves you---.”

“I can’t. Not now. It’s too hard.” And the walls that had been around Buffy upon her arrival were back up, and she was pulling away, back to the door and off to what she considered the British firing squad. “You’ll get the assignment, right?”

Willow nodded, waving half-heartedly when Buffy shot her a quick smile and vanished out the exit. Before the door had even clicked shut, however, she was stepping across the floor and punching in the numbers on the telephone as she picked up the receiver.

“Oz?” she said when the other end of the line picked up. “I need you. And bring the van.”

*************

She picked up the ringing phone without blinking an eye. “Dr. Walsh.”

“Are you out of your mind?”

The sound of his voice made her pen slip slightly across the page, and Maggie frowned at the downward curve on the C she’d been placing on the paper. “So good to hear from you, General Martin. I can’t imagine what could be so important that you’d break protocol and contact me here, though. It’s not a secure line, remember?”

“This couldn’t wait until you get back tonight. I have your requisition in front of me. You can’t think that I’m going to approve this!”

“I don’t think you have much of a choice. Finn was killed in the line of duty last night and I require a replacement for him.”

“I understand that. What I don’t understand is why you require a civilian to fill that role.”

She wasn’t going to get any more grading done until this conversation was over. Setting down her pen, Maggie held in her sigh as she leaned back in her chair. “I need someone I can trust.”

“Which means you recruit from within the ranks.”

“Excuse me for saying so, sir, but the fact that Finn was taken out speaks a lot for the danger of the situation. I need the best, and frankly, that’s who I asked for. His credentials are impeccable and his training has been topnotch. He was one of the best students I ever had back East, and he brings knowledge to the table that nobody else within the Initiative has. I need this man.”

“He’s not military. He’s not one of us.”

“He is in spirit. Trust me, General. Have I ever let you down?”

There was no way he could argue with her on that point, and they both knew it. With a heavy sigh, he said, “I’m making a note in your file that this was done against my better discretion. And this civilian’s life will be your responsibility, Maggie. If something happens to him---.”

“Nothing will. He can take care of himself. Very well, I might add.”

She had a smile on her face when she replaced the phone on its cradle. She’d never doubted she would get what she wanted; this was her operation and General Martin knew better than to question her capability in fulfilling it. The loss of Riley might sting, but in the long run, it allowed her to pull in someone who was infinitely more qualified to accomplish what she needed.

Now she only had to wait until he arrived.

To be continued in Chapter 13: Truth Needs No Color…