Chapter 9: December 2003

Wesley stared at the door, feeling conflicted. Over the last months, he had been at Nika’s house often, but he’d always had a reason. He needed to speak to Spike, he needed the vampire’s help, he needed Nika’s skill at first aid… The list could go on, of course. He’d never simply stopped by, however.

The reasoning was simple. Once he stopped by for no reason at all, a line would be crossed. They would go from acquaintances and business partners to friends, at least in Wesley’s mind. He hadn’t any intention of making friends with either of them.

On the other hand, Spike always had something decent around to drink, and Nika was good company, and if he stayed in his apartment, Wesley knew he’d end up drinking alone. He was tired of that. Tired of the emptiness. Tired of various members of the gang coming to him for help. If he wasn’t there, he didn’t have to say no, and he didn’t have to say yes.

Wesley knocked on the door softly, an almost sheepish look on his face when Nika opened it. “Hi, Wesley,” she greeted him. As always, she looked happy to see him. Happy, bordering on delighted. “Come on in. What brings you by tonight?”

“Oh, well, you know,” he said evasively. “I just thought I’d—”

“Stop by?” she asked, sounding amused. “It’s okay for you to drop in, unannounced. Neither of us really mind. There doesn’t even have to be a monster to fight.”

He dropped his head, and then looked up at her. Blue eyes met gray, and he finally smiled. “You’re right, of course. I simply wasn’t sure…”

“Be sure.” Nika slipped her hand through his arm and pulled him into the kitched. “Come on. I’m making curry tonight.”

Wesley’s face lit up. “I like a good curry,” he confessed. “Though I haven’t been able to find a place around here.”

She smiled. “That’s what Spike says. But he likes mine, so hopefully you will too.”

“What do I say, Nika-luv?” Spike emerged from the basement, looking utterly at home. His hair was still mussed, his t-shirt was untucked, and his feet were bare. Wesley thought it a most domestic scene.

He envied that. He envied them—their easy camraderie, so like what he and Cordelia had shared at one point in time. In spite of his limp and his changed loyalties, Spike was confident in a way that Wesley had barely managed. There had been a point, perhaps before Angel had gone dark on them, that Wesley had been that comfortable and content with his place in the world. Not that he had minded the promotion, but the position of leadership had in some ways cut him off from the others. It was the leader who had to make the hard decisions, the decisions that were right, even if they weren’t always “nice.” Wesley had made those decisions in Pylea with the rebels, had needed to warn Gunn after he withheld information, and finally had made the decision to try and thwart the prophecy.

The more command-level decisions he’d made, the more isolated he had felt. Finally, when he had to make the decision of whether or not to try and save Connor by taking him, Wesley hadn’t trusted any of them with that determination. He was their leader; he was the one who had to make the hard choices.

What he’d never realized was the price for his failure if he made a mistake. Wesley’s father had always warned him of his potential for utter inadequacy. Turns out his father had been right.

“So what are we doing tonight?” Nika asked, checking on the rice. “Movie?”

Spike pulled a face. “None of that sentimental shite. I mean it. Only bloody thing on this time of year is that ridiculous Jimmy Stewart movie, an’ ‘m not watchin’ it.” He turned to look at Wesley. “Back me up, mate.”

Wesley blinked, having been pulled forcibly out of his thoughts. “What—? Oh, you mean It’s A Wonderful Life?”

“Yeah, that one,” Spike agreed. “Sentimental tripe, if you ask me. Want a beer?”

Wesley nodded, accepting the Newcastle Brown that Spike handed to him. He had to hand it to his fellow Brit—Spike knew what kind of beer to keep on hand. He glanced over at Nika to see what she would have to say about Spike’s opinions on the old Christmas favorite.

“No one asked you, did they?” happened to be Nika’s sweet reply. She dished up the rice and then the curry in huge bowls. The rich smell filled the kitchen, making his mouth water. He couldn’t remember eating that day. Cordelia had been the one who looked after all of them, making sure he ate—

He was thinking of her too much. He was thinking of all of them too much. He supposed it was that time of the year.

Nika plunked his bowl down in front of him, and then went to sit herself, a beer sitting in front of her place as well. She looked over at him. “So, what do you think, Wesley? Great American classic or sentimental shite?”

He hesitated. There was a part of him that wanted to agree with her, whatever her opinion might be. It was juvenile—to agree with a person one was attracted to in order to gain favor. He was no longer so callow, nor was he willing to give up anything to be with anyone. No matter how much you gave, you ended up with the short end of the stick, in Wesley’s experience.

“I would have to agree with Spike,” he finally said, regretfully. “I’m afraid it’s a bit too optimistic for me.”

Spike was already digging into the curry with apparent relish, talking around a mouth full of rice and chicken. “See, luv? ‘m tellin’ you, the people who wrote that movie had no idea what they were talkin’ about. You can do everythin’ right, you can give your best, an’ all you’re gonna get is the tip of someone’s boot.”

Wesley found himself nodding, half in agreement with the vampire, half in appreciation for the meal. If Nika kept feeding him like this, he might decide to never leave. She looked over at him. “So life sucks, and then you die?”

“No sucking goin’ on here,” Spike pointed out.

Nika rolled her eyes at the bad pun. “Okay, then. Life’s a bitch and then you die?”

“Something like that,” Wesley said softly, thinking about the last couple of years. He took a pull on his beer. “As much as I hate to admit it, I have to agree with Spike. Jimmy Stewart might have been able to do his best and be satisfied, but I have found that the best you have is seldom good enough.”

Nika shook her head. “And yet another vote for ‘life’s a bitch and then you die.’” She thought for a second. “Okay, Spike—question. If you had to pick a motto for your life, what would it be?”

Spike thought for a second, chewing. “What do you mean?”

“If you had a phrase to describe your life, what would it be?”

It didn’t take quite as much time as either Nika or Wesley thought it would. “You give someone your heart, an’ they’re gonna trample on it.”

Nika blinked. It was hard to put a positive spin on that one. She had once played the motto game, many years ago with Danny and some of their friends, back when he was in college. The trick was to come up with something that encapsulated your life experiences without giving too much away. If you weren’t playing with close friends, it could get uncomfortable. If you were playing with people who knew you well, and whom you knew in return, it was well worth the price of admission.

This week had marked the year anniversary of when she and Spike had made love. There was a particular closeness that characterized ex-lovers who had remained friends. She was grateful that they’d managed to not just retain that closeness, but to build on it in the last year. Now, she thought it might be time to hook Wesley into the circle. He was already more than halfway there, but still cautious.

“Wes?” she asked. “What about you?”

“A motto?” Wesley paused. He knew the truth would make him vulnerable. He wanted to throw caution to the winds, but it wasn’t in his nature. And yet—“You will always fail, and to fail means to lose everything you hold dear.”

Spike’s eyebrows went up, even though he knew half of that already. Really, Wesley’s motto wasn’t so different from his own. He looked at Nika. “What’s yours, then, luv? Can’t just leave us hangin’ like that.”

Nika gave them a wistful little smile. “My motto? Everyone you love dies.”

“An’ you thought we were morbid,” Spike said.

“I’m not morbid!” Nika replied, a trifle upset. “At least, it doesn’t have to be morbid. If you know you don’t have much time with someone, then you make the most of the time you do have.”

“Point,” Wesley replied.

Nika shrugged. “Besides, it’s the truth. Everyone dies, including the people you love.”

Spike nodded. “True enough,” he murmured, thinking of watching Buffy fall from the tower, watching his mother turn to dust… “Right. Question for you lot. You could go back an’ change one thing, what would it be?”

Wesley found himself surprised that the vampire was getting into the game, but seeing the look on his face, he began to understand. Spike was comfortable with both of them, and he trusted them with his answers. You couldn’t ask the questions until you were ready for the answers—other people’s and your own.

“One thing?” Nika asked. “I don’t know. I suppose—” She fell silent, considering her answer carefully. “Danny and I saved for years to buy this house, and we finally managed about a year before he died. He wanted to go on a vacation though, back to Wales, and then to Europe, but we didn’t have the extra money. I told him we could go after we bought the house, but now I wish we had gone. Those memories would have been nice to have, and we could have bought it later.”

There was a melancholy sort of silence at the table before she turned to Wesley. “What about you, Wesley? What one thing would you change?”

What would he change? There were so many things, so many mistakes. What if he hadn’t disrupted Angel’s attempt to help Faith? What if he had been a better Watcher to her, and she had never gone off the deep end? Or perhaps it might have been better if he’d never come to L.A. in the first place, or if he’d never taken Connor, or simply if he had told someone else about his suspicions. Or maybe he should have acted on his attraction to Fred that much earlier, and beaten Gunn out. Maybe that would have changed everything.

“’s alright, mate,” Spike said softly, interrupting his stream of regret. “Not the end of the world if you can’t pick one.”

Wesley shook his head. If he had made a different choice at any point along the way, he wouldn’t be here, sitting at this kitchen table, with Spike and Nika. He wished things had turned out better, but he wasn’t sure that he would have traded his place here for all the tea in China.

On the other hand—

“I had an opportunity to study languages, rather than going to the Watcher’s Academy.” Wesley remembered those days, even if they weren’t much happier than his present course. In those days, his father had ruled his life, his destiny had been pre-ordained, and he had been terribly lonely. “I wish I would have taken it. I wish I could have stood up to my father.”

Spike nodded, appreciating Wesley’s choice. They both had special regrets. “I would have made sure Doc took the dive off the tower with me, so Buffy didn’t have to die. I’d make sure she didn’t have to die.” He paused, and then added in a voice that had an edge to it, “Or I’d’ve made sure she stayed in the ground. Either way.”

There was another pregnant pause as they all considered Spike’s regret. Wesley had heard most of the story, both from Spike and from Angel. Not that the older vampire had been all that forthcoming about his meeting with the Slayer, but he had known Buffy was back. From what Spike had said, it was a difficult transition for her to make. And no wonder. In Wesley’s mind, if he knew he could be that happy dead, he would be seriously tempted to get himself back there.

The others turned their heads to look at him, and he realized that it was his turn to ask a question. Wesley wasn’t sure what he wanted to ask, seeing as how he would have to answer the question himself. Finally, he said, “Your happiest moment.”

Spike was the first to respond. “When Buffy invited me into her house again.”

Nika smiled. “The day Danny asked me to marry him.” She suddenly grinned, her smile lighting up her whole face, and then she giggled. The sound called forth smiles on the men’s faces as well, and she closed her eyes, remembering. “There were five other girls in the town I lived in who had their eye on Danny, and they were all prettier than I was. To be honest, I didn’t think I had a chance with him. He was so tall and strong and handsome, and there were so many other girls who would have loved to snag him.

“He gave me the ring, and I asked him to take a walk with me. I made sure that every single one of those girls saw us and the ring that day. I will forever remember the sight of their jealous faces.” There was such a smug, self-satisfied look on her face that Spike chuckled, and Wesley couldn’t help but laugh a little himself.

“Did they make your life miserable?” Wesley asked. “Afterwards?”

Nika shook her head. “No, they knew Danny would speak to their parents if they did. But before—it got bad a few times. It was worth it though, in the end.” She looked at Wesley. “What about you, cariad? What was your happiest moment?”

Wesley hesitated, trying to think, trying to remember a moment when he was most happy. It would have been before—before Connor, before Billy even. Maybe before he’d even known Fred. He frowned slightly, thinking, and then he said, “There was a girl who liked me. I think—I think perhaps even loved me. We went to a party together, and I knew she was with me, and I thought she was the most beautiful woman there.”

Spike met his eyes, and they both understood one another. There was a kind of pleasure you felt while escorting such a woman, knowing you were the only person she wanted to be with that night. It had happened so rarely for both of them, that they understood perhaps better than anyone. The sweet things in life always tasted better to those who’d only feasted on the bitter.

“You should stay here for Christmas, Wesley,” Nika said quietly. When he looked at her in surprise, she added, “It’s just Spike and me. We won’t mind.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Wouldn’t have asked if it was an imposition, mate,” Spike said softly.

Looking from one to the other, he finally nodded. Last Christmas—and Boxing Day—had been spent in a drunken stupor, trying not to think about being alone. It had been like trying not to think about a polar bear—the more you try not to think about it, the more intrusive the thoughts become.

“Good,” Nika stated. “You haven’t had my scones yet, and I only make them on special occasions.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” Wesley replied.

“You’ll want to stay here overnight,” Spike said. “We open our gifts at midnight.”

Wesley wasn’t given a chance to argue. All three of them started cleaning up the kitchen, Spike and Nika arguing amiably over what movies they were going to watch. Spike wanted something with lots of gore, Nika wanted romance, and Wesley kept insisting he didn’t have an opinion every time they tried to get him in the middle.

In the end, they ended up watching Terminator, since it had both gore and romance. Somewhere in the middle of the movie, with Nika curled up on the couch next to him and Spike sprawled in the armchair, an unfamiliar feeling swept over Wesley. He must have gotten an odd look on his face, because Spike looked over at him in concern. Lifting his scarred eyebrow, he silently asked if the ex-Watcher was alright.

Wesley nodded, as he wasn’t hurting. It was more like—

He was happy. Content. Satisfied with his lot in life. He felt good. It had been so long, he hadn’t even recognized the sensation at first. Relaxing back into the couch, Wesley gave into it. Tomorrow would be soon enough to worry about becoming too attached to this place and these people. He would think about it tomorrow.

~~~~~

Mike slammed the hood down on the old truck and wiped his hands on the rag looped through his belt. “And that’s all there is to it. She should run like a champ for you now, Dawn.”

Dawn leaned on the hood of her (new) old truck, feeling greatly satisfied. Mike was a year older, and had the reputation around school of knowing his way around an engine. They had started talking one day, and Dawn had told him about her old beater of a truck, mentioning that she wanted to know how to do some basic repairs. He had offered to teach her what he could. Dawn wasn’t sure what he was getting out of the deal, but Mike wasn’t complaining. Nor was he demanding any kind of payment, which was a good thing. Dawn had had her fill of guy troubles for a while after that stupid football player. The gossip had finally died down, but it hadn’t been pleasant.

“Thanks, Mike,” she said sincerely. “I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied easily. “I like working on cars, especially like this one. You have to have a computer and special equipment to work on the newer ones. With a truck like this, you can do a lot of the minor repairs, and even some of the major ones yourself.”

She shrugged. “Which is a good thing since I spent all my money getting this hunk o’ junk in the first place.” But she said it affectionately, patting the hood. It felt good to own something like this, to be that much closer to independence.

After Spike had left, Dawn had decided it was time to take charge of her own destiny. If Buffy could be so stupid as to hurt Spike that badly, it was time she started taking care of herself. Dawn had stopped stealing and started working. Babysitting, helping at the Magic Box, whatever small job came her way, she took it. The truck had been cheap, and it had started up immediately after she turned the key, two major points in its favor. According to Mike, she’d gotten a great deal. Even if the body wasn’t in great shape, the owners had put in a new engine recently, and they’d kept it in great shape.

She stole a glance at Mike. Her truck wasn’t the only thing in great shape around. “So what are you doing for Christmas?” her friend asked, leaning next to her.

“I don’t know,” she replied. “Probably just hanging out, you know. That kind of thing. You?”

He shrugged. “My grandma is in Texas. We’ll probably go there. It’s usually fun.” Mike hesitated. “You want to go to the movies sometime?”

“Sure,” Dawn replied. “Though, I swear, if you start spreading nasty rumors about me, I’ll kick your ass.”

Mike smiled. “I wouldn’t dare. The rumors have died down now, though. And most people didn’t pay any attention to them in the first place. I mean, it’s not like anyone ever thought they were true.”

“Oh? The girls didn’t think I was a ho and after all their boyfriends?” Dawn asked with an edge of bitterness to her face. “I know they aren’t saying that anymore, but I wish—”

“What?” Mike asked. “What do you wish?”

Even if it was a bad word, Dawn still used it. “I wish Spike could have been here.”

“Spike?” Mike sounded amused. “That sounds a little scary.”

Dawn smiled. “He can be. He’s like an older brother, you know? Spike took care of me while my sister was gone a couple summers ago. He’s in L.A.”

“You miss him,” Mike said.

Dawn nodded. “Every day.”

“You still see him?”

She shook her head. “No. Not anymore.” Dawn didn’t say that she might not see him ever again.

~~~~~

Buffy sorted through the mail slowly, her pile—all bills—mounting. It was nearly Christmas, and she didn’t see why bills had to keep coming. Wasn’t this the time of the year to be all forgiving and hopeful? Hopeful was one thing she was not when it came to thinking about how she was supposed to pay her bills and make Christmas merry.

She stopped abruptly at one letter, addressed to Dawn in familiar handwriting. Buffy had been terribly curious the first time one of the letters had come, a little over a year ago. She’d had her suspicions about who was sending the letters, but she wasn’t sure. When she finally did ask her sister, Dawn had told her that it was Spike, but her sister hadn’t volunteered any information as to his whereabouts.

The Slayer had to admit that it was a relief to know that he was okay, or at least that he was still undead. Even though she’d tried very hard not to think about it, there had been several nights where she’d woken up dreaming of that night in the alley. Every time she had that dream, she would lie awake for the next few hours, wondering if he’d made it out of there before the sun came up. Knowing he was writing to Dawn was reassuring.

Of course, as soon as she thought that, Buffy remembered that it should have been a relief to have him out of Sunnydale. It should have been a relief to know that he was dust. After all, evil vampire.

Fingering the envelope, Buffy allowed herself to remember. She remembered Spike’s words to her after she’d come back from the dead, remembered how happy he’d looked to see her alive. She remembered the look on his face the first time they’d had sex, thinking they were making love.

She forced the thoughts back into their usual box. Dawn came in the kitchen a few minutes later, looking pink-cheeked from the slightly cooler weather they’d been having. “Hey, Buffy.”

“Dawn? You got a letter today.” She held out the cream colored envelope to her sister, watching as Dawn took it, giving Buffy an odd look.

“Thanks.” Dawn hesitated, obviously torn about something. “Do you think?” She stopped herself. “Nevermind. It doesn’t matter.”

Buffy schooled her face into a properly concerned expression. It was still so hard to make that particular face, still hard to be concerned about anyone’s pain but her own. “What is it, Dawn?”

Dawn wanted to ask if she could try to call Spike in L.A. She wanted to ask if she could get in her truck and drive down to see him. She wanted to ask that her family be as complete as possible, since it might be a long time before they could all be together again. Dawn wanted the moon, the sun and the stars, and she knew it.

Actually, all she really wanted was to see Spike again, but that wasn’t going to happen this century, not under her sister’s roof. Suddenly Dawn was overwhelmingly angry, hurt, disappointed—almost out of nowhere. “It’s nothing,” she replied, the bitterness back in her tone. “It wouldn’t happen anyway.”

Dawn wished she could make Buffy pull her head out of her ass, but that wasn’t going to happen either. In fact, at the rate they were going, it might not ever happen.

Chapter 10: November 2005

Nika walked into the lobby of the Hyperion hotel late Friday afternoon. She, like nearly every other female in America, knew that the Friday after Thanksgiving kicked off the holiday shopping season. This meant that she could be certain of catching Angel at home, since very few males voluntarily stepped foot outside the doors of their homes. If her Danny was any kind of an example, most men chose to spend their Friday-after gorging (again) on leftovers and watching sports.

She glanced around the lobby of the hotel, having no way of knowing if she was seeing what she should be seeing. Wesley still refused to talk much about his time there, which she understood better than he might think. Sometimes, the happy times were more difficult to explore than the hard times. When the good times end, it was hard to go back there, if only because it was impossible to put into words what had been lost. Nika herself had found it terribly difficult to talk about her parents, because to talk about them would be to admit fully that they were gone.

“Can I help you?” A tall black man came out from behind the lobby counter, with an expectant smile.

Nika returned the smile, mentally naming him. “This is Angel Investigations?”

“Yeah, you’ve come to the right place,” he assured her. “I’m Charles Gunn. Somethin’ I can do for you?”

“I was hoping to talk to Angel,” Nika replied. “Is he here?”

Gunn looked surprised at her forthright attitude, but finally nodded. “He’s upstairs.”

“I’ll get him,” Cordy said, coming into the lobby from the office. She’d done her shopping early in the day, wanting to get the good stuff off the racks before anyone else had the chance.

Cordy felt like she recognized the woman in the lobby from somewhere, but she couldn’t quite place the face or the name. She watched as Nika took a seat on one of the round chairs, and started up the stairs. As she approached Angel’s room, she could hear Connor’s voice.

“It’s not that big of a deal, Dad. I just need my own place.” Cordelia stopped by his door, unwilling to interrupt, and wanting to eavesdrop.

“Connor, if this is about you not having girls in your room, including Dawn—”

Cordelia could almost hear Connor rolling his eyes. “This isn’t about Dawn, Dad. If we want to be alone, there are other places we can go. I’m going to be twenty-one in a few months. Most people my age are already on their own. I just want some space.”

“But you do realize that, you know, being with Dawn, there are things—things that you need to know—” As Angel stumbled around, trying to initiate the “birds and the bees” talk, Cordy had to bite back a laugh.

Connor didn’t even try. “I’ve already had this talk.”

“You have?” Angel sounded peculiarly disappointed for someone who was having so much trouble moments before. “With who?”

“With Cordy, when she figured out Dawn and I were interested in each other,” the boy replied. “Oh, and Spike told me he’d kill me if I hurt her, but I feel the same way, so I understood.”

Cordy could hear Angel sputtering at the thought that Spike of all people had spoken to his son of romantic things before he could. “Look, Dad,” Connor continued, running right over what were sure to be more protests from the vampire. “It’s not that I don’t like living here, but I want—I want something normal. I’m actually meeting some of Dawn’s friends, and thinking about going to college maybe, but I can’t bring anyone here. How am I supposed to explain that my dad doesn’t look that much older than me? Or half the things that walk through that door? I want somewhere I can bring people without having to explain my whole life.”

Angel was speechless, and Cordelia sighed. She had known this was coming, and to be honest, she was glad of it. Connor had made leaps and bounds in his adjustment over the last few years, and it was time that he set out on his own, find out what he wanted from this new world he now lived in. It was the right thing, if only Angel could see it.

Apparently, Connor took Angel’s silence the right way—as in, his dad had no clue how to respond. “Just think about it. I’m not asking you to make a decision tonight.”

Connor came out the door of Angel’s room moments later, smiling in a pained way at Cordelia as he passed. She knocked on the doorframe as she entered, watching as Angel gave her the same pained smile. Really, they were both so much alike it was scary sometimes. “How much of that did you hear?” Angel asked.

“Enough,” she replied, with a smile. “He’s growing up, Angel. What did you expect?”

His face darkened. Granted, there wasn’t much of a change in his expression, but Cordelia knew how to read him like a book. “I expected to have more time before we had this conversation.”

Cordy sighed. She’d spent the last couple years trying to get Angel to soften on his stance towards Wesley. So far, nothing doing. This thing between Connor and Dawn however, with the inclusion of Dawn’s friends, could change all of that. “Angel—”

“You knew about Connor and Dawn before I did,” he interrupted, his tone accusatory.

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I did. And before you ask, I didn’t tell you because it wasn’t any of your business. Come on, Angel, just because I want to know everybody’s business doesn’t mean I go around spilling their secrets. I remember what it was like to have a secret boyfriend. That was half the fun for a while.”

He looked frustrated. “But I should have been the one to have that talk.”

“You would have screwed it up,” Cordelia replied bluntly. “Connor needed information, and he needed good information. As a human. From a human. I don’t think you were really ready to discuss condoms.”

She could hear him swallow. “Condoms?”

“That’s right, Angel. Birth control, STD’s, all those things that humans have to worry about and vampires don’t.” Cordy rolled her eyes. “Honestly, what you would do without me—”

She let that sink in a moment before she broached the next topic. “Speaking of which, I’m going to give you a piece of advice. Connor is dating Dawn. Dawn’s friends include Wes. Which means, Connor will probably be hanging around Wesley and Spike quite a bit. If you don’t want to alienate your son, you’ll keep your feelings about both of them to yourself.”

When it looked like Angel was going to protest, she kept talking. “Besides, Angel, it’s been three years. I know Wes screwed up—big time—but you need to get over it.”

Angel looked at her mulishly. “He cost me years with my son, Cordy.”

“Yeah, he did,” Cordy said quietly. “But he had the best intentions, and he cost himself a lot more than that. I’m not saying you have to trust him again, or ask him to come back and work for you, but I think you need to let go of this a little bit. You have Connor back, and you guys are getting along. Don’t jeapordize that over some grudge against a man who once was your best friend.”

Angel’s expression didn’t change, and Cordelia decided not to push. He’d either figure it out or he wouldn’t; there wasn’t much she could do about that. “Moving on—there’s a woman downstairs who’s looking for you. I think she might be a client, so be on your best behavior.”

She followed him downstairs, curious as always. Nika had been talking with Connor, and now faced the vampire as he descended, an odd expression on her face. “Hello, Angel.” She greeted him as though they’d been introduced, and it took him a moment to figure out where he’d seen her before.

“You’re—you were with Wes the other night. At Caritas.” The tone of voice and his body language would have intimidated even the bravest soul, but Nika didn’t even flinch. In fact, all she did was raise an eyebrow, as though to dare him to make something of it.

Connor was the one to remember his manners. “Oh, Dad, this is Nika. Nika, this is my dad, Angel. Nika’s one of Dawn’s friends too,” the boy added pointedly.

Nika smiled gently. “Thank you, Connor. Angel, I need to talk to you, and it might be best if we do it in private.”

Already upset by Cordy’s reference to Wesley—the name that was never mentioned—Angel was not inclined to listen to reason. “Whatever you want to say to me, you can say it to my friends and colleagues.”

There was a moment of silence as Nika looked around the lobby, taking in the wary faces of Fred, Gunn, Connor and Cordelia. She didn’t want to be rude. On the other hand, she was really only concerned for Connor’s sake; she couldn’t care less about Angel’s feelings.

“Very well.” She was well aware that she didn’t look as though she posed much of a threat, and that didn’t bother her. She was fully convinced of the righteousness of her cause, and so was not afraid. “I want you to stay away from Wesley.”

Angel stared at her. “What? I don’t—”

“I understand that he hurt you,” she continued, disregarding his interruption. “And I know what it’s like to lose a loved one. I really do. But because I know what it’s like, I won’t let you hurt him.”

Angel was beginning to feel uncomfortable. It was one thing to try and kill Wes in the heat of the moment. It was another to remain stubbornly angry for a few years. But to have someone come into his hotel and suggest that he would kill a man in cold blood—that was something else altogether. “I would never harm Wes.”

“Wouldn’t you?” she asked softly. “I’m sorry. I don’t trust vampires. At least, I don’t trust the ones I don’t know, and I don’t know you. After your display the other night, I wouldn’t be inclined to trust you even if I did, as it’s clear to me that you’re still angry with him. I’m here to warn you off.”

“Are you threatening him?” Cordy asked angrily. She didn’t know who this woman was, but no one got away with threatening her man.

Nika turned and looked at her, the calm expression on her face at odds with her words. “No, actually, I’d like to bribe him.” She turned back towards Angel, reaching into her bag and pulling out a round orb. Cordelia and Angel recognized it right away.

“An orb of Thessula?” Angel said, frowning. He looked at the woman, who was still regarding them all with such a calm air about her, that it was hard to know how to take her. “I don’t understand.”

Nika smiled. “Your soul still isn’t anchored, is it?” she asked quietly. “I can give you that.”

“In return for leaving Wes alone,” Angel said, beginning to understand.

Nika shrugged. “As to that, you and he will have to work that out on your own. I ask that you not harm him in any way, nor seek his harm in the future. If that means you have no contact, then so be it. But if you could forgive him, I think he’d like that. I want to protect him as best I can.” Her eyes darkened to a stormy gray. “Of course, if you do come after him, I’ll have to hurt you. Fair warning.”

Angel was quiet for a long moment. Having a stranger in fear of him—if not for herself, then for her friend—reminded him that Angelus was never so far away as he would like. And it was very Angelus of him to hold onto a grudge for this long. Hadn’t he been forgiven far greater wrongs? Wasn’t he still seeking redemption?

And this woman was offering to bring him one step closer to that place—was offering to put one more leash on his demon in return for something she shouldn’t have needed to ask for in the first place.

“Let’s go into my office,” he suggested, his countenance softening. “We should talk.”

~~~~~

Spike growled his frustration. This wasn’t going well. He was supposed to meet Buffy, and he still had no idea what he was going to wear.

“You know, clothes are typically of more use while on your back, rather than strewn about the room.” The vampire turned to see Wesley standing in the doorway, with a superior expression on his face.

“Sod off,” he replied, turning back to consider the mess he’d made. The ex-Watcher was right. The contents of his closet were all over the room. Spike sank down onto the bed, the very picture of dejection and nervousness. “Bloody hell,” he muttered, his hands muffling his words.

“Yes, well, I could see why you might feel that way,” Wesley replied. He came into the room, settling down on the bed next to his friend. “You’re meeting Buffy tonight?”

A grunt was his only reply. “Spike, I’m sure it will be fine. After all, she sought you out, and not the other way around. That’s usually a good sign.”

“I’m tired of lookin’ for signs from that bint,” he replied. “What the hell am I doin’, mate?” Spike demanded.

Wesley considered the question for a moment. “Perhaps you are merely getting closure,” he suggested. “You didn’t have much chance for that, from what you’ve told me. I don’t know. Maybe you could even be friends.”

Spike laughed hollowly. “Don’t think so. You don’t make friends with someone you were in love with. Just doesn’t work.”

Wesley thought for a moment. He and Spike had actually become quite close over the past two years. You couldn’t fight side by side, save each other’s life repeatedly, and even share a few beers without coming to know a person rather well. And you didn’t become close without sharing their pain, without wanting to help them bear their burdens.

It was one of the greatest hurts that losing friends had entailed for him; not only was there the loss of the relationships, there was also the knowledge that there would be no one to help you bear your troubles.

Spike felt the bed move as Wesley stood, and while he heard the other man walking around, he didn’t look up. He felt like a teenager about to go on his first date, and it scared him. Not just the feelings, but the fear of what was to come next. He and Buffy’s relationship had never been what anyone would call healthy, and Spike didn’t think he could go back to that now.

“As Buffy was the one who contacted you, perhaps it will be different this time,” Wesley said.

Spike didn’t raise his head. “Dunno. I can’t—I can’t go back to what it was, you know?” He struggled with the words; Wesley thought he might choke on them. Spike, usually so quick witted and sharp tongued, now found it almost impossible to explain what he meant.

The vampire had little difficulty telling others what they were feeling, and in fact, had an almost uncanny ability to identify others’ emotions. Articulating something other than rage, pain, or even love was next to impossible for himself, however. “I haven’t fed off a human in over four years, yeah?” he began. “Other than Nika, an’ that wasn’t much. It’s not about Buffy not bein’ right anymore. ‘s about you lot treatin’ me like a man, an’ not a monster.” He stopped, unsure of how to explain with more clarity, but Wesley understood.

“We are what is expected of us,” he said softly, understanding. “Though, Spike, the changes you have undergone are quite dramatic. I doubt that you could go back to what you were.”

Spike shrugged, doubtful. Wesley had put most of his clothing on hangers, back into the closet. “Maybe. I wonder, sometimes, if it hadn’t been Nika that I met, if I wouldn’t have eventually started feeding again.”

“Perhaps.” Wesley smiled. “I would say that the both of us were lucky bastards to have met her.”

Spike laughed. “I’d give you that one.” He took the clothing that the other man held out to him.

“Be happy,” Wesley advised him. “Whether it is with Buffy or someone else. In either case, at least make sure you are as presentable as possible. It does no good letting the other person see that they have gotten to you.”

“Present a strong front?” Spike asked, with a raised eyebrow, and then nodded slowly. The idea appealed to him, much as the idea of Buffy pursuing him had. Before, he had remade himself in order to impress her. Now, he had remade himself, but not for her. Perhaps it was high time that she saw he could change for reasons other than her happiness. “Thanks, mate.”

“You’re quite welcome,” Wesley replied, and then hesitated, adding slowly. “You know, Spike. There will always be a place for you here.”

Spike’s lips twisted up into a half-smile. “That’s good,” he replied. “Because ‘m not plannin’ on goin’ anywhere.”

~~~~~

“Okay, so how do I look?” Buffy asked her sister, standing and slowly twirling for her.

Dawn couldn’t keep the amusement off her face. Buffy had been running around like a madwoman for the last two hours, trying to get ready. And every time Angel or one of his crew asked her what was going on she’d given them the look of death and replied that it was none of their business. Of course, this time it wasn’t about hiding her relationship with Spike. Buffy really believed that it was no one else’s business.

Laughingly, Dawn said, “Buffy, you look great. You looked great in the last three outfits you tried on. I don’t see what the problem is.”

Buffy sat down on the bed next to her sister. “I’m just—scared, I guess. Last time, things with Spike got so twisted, so out of control. I can’t do that again, and I can’t seem to let him go either.”

Dawn sighed quietly. “Buffy, you do realize that just because he may still have feelings for you, doesn’t mean he’s going to want to be with you, right?”

Buffy laughed sourly. “After what I did to him, I’m surprised he even agreed to meet me tonight. It’s just—I feel as though I’ve gotten closure with Angel. I got it with Riley, last time he came to town. And now—”

“Now Spike’s the last one left,” Dawn murmured.

Buffy shook her head. “Something like that. Spike was in my heart, and he never knew it. He’s still there.”

That particular statement rendered Dawn speechless. “Buffy—”

The Slayer shrugged as though it was of no concern. “I let Angel go, Dawnie, and it was the hardest thing I ever thought I would have to do. If I have to let Spike go, I will. But I need to know one way or the other.”

Dawn didn’t say anything in reply, feeling suddenly both very old and very young. She wanted to give comfort, but didn’t have the words. “Are you going to tell him you’re pregnant?”

Buffy shrugged. She had told only those closest to her—in heart, if not in distance. Her closest friends, Dawn, and that was pretty much it. She hadn’t even told Angel yet, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to. Maybe over the Christmas holidays, part of which she would spend in L.A. But Giles had promised to come for New Years, and Willow was going to come back to Sunnydale with him. Even Xander was going to stay put for a while.

The Slayer was grateful for their support, and even for their willingness to put down everything and come running, as though this pregnancy was the next apocalypse. She couldn’t help but think that there was only one person she really wanted there, however. One person she knew would be up to the challenges of keeping the demon population down without her.

“If it comes up, I will,” she finally replied. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell him, it’s that I don’t know how to say it. ‘Oh, by the way, Spike, while you were gone, I got myself knocked up.’”

Dawn looked away, saying in a low voice, “You could get un-knocked up, if you wanted to.”

“I’ve thought about it,” Buffy admitted. “It’s not just being pregnant and single, but also being the Slayer. There’s a chance I won’t even be able to carry to term, you know. One wrong step while out on patrol—I know it might be smarter.”

She smiled suddenly. “On that other hand, that’s what Peter wanted, and I’m not real interested in giving in to him. Plus, this could be my only chance.”

Dawn nodded, feeling relieved. She hadn’t been sure Buffy really wanted this baby, but it seemed that she did after all. “Good luck tonight, Buffy.”

Her sister smiled, gave her a hug, and walked out the door, head high.

~~~~~

Buffy wanted to get to the coffee house early for a number of reasons. She didn’t want Spike to think for a moment that she’d stood him up, for one. She also wanted to watch him walk in, as she hadn’t gotten much of a chance to observe him in Caritas. And part of it was that she would feel more comfortable being nervous and antsy with a mocha in her hands rather than at the hotel. Besides, Angel kept giving her weird looks. She needed to get out of there.

Not for an instant did she think that Spike might not show. He had always kept his promises, and then some. She took a sip of her drink and smoothed down the front of her pink sweater. It had been torture to find something to wear that wasn’t too flirty but still looked good.

She pushed up the sleeves, and then pulled them down again, always keeping an eye on the door. Buffy knew she hadn’t been this nervous before a date since—since sophomore year of high school with Owen. And look how well that had turned out.

On that rather sarcastic thought, the door swung open and Spike strode in. It didn’t help Buffy to realize that every woman’s eye was instantly on him. And why not? In dark gray and black, with his curly hair and uneven gait, he looked dangerous and vulnerable all at the same time.

Buffy took a deep breath. Oh yeah. The attraction was still there.

Spike spotted her immediately, slightly surprised to find her there early and obviously waiting for him. Not even noticing the other women who were watching him, he moved through the tables as smoothly as he could. A few days without any action meant that his leg was working as well as it ever did. He liked to think that Buffy wouldn’t notice his awkwardness.

“H’lo,” he said, unsure of what to say.

She smiled tentatively in turn. “Hi. Do you want something to drink? Hot chocolate?”

“I can get it,” Spike replied, but she was already up.

“It’s okay, I wanted another drink,” Buffy called over her shoulder as she headed for the counter.

Spike sat, feeling more than a little off balance. He didn’t remember ever doing this before. The last time they had even come close to sitting together amiably, sharing a drink, was that night in the Bronze, before she died. The night he had told her how he’d killed the Slayers. And that night, he’d had to cajole her into, well, everything. She hadn’t wanted to be there.

Tonight, Spike wasn’t sure he wanted to be here.

Oh, he wanted to be with her, but he didn’t want to all at the same time. Watching her wait in line at the counter, she looked different. She’d grown her hair out again, and it cascaded down her back the way he’d always loved. She looked like your typical southern California girl, out for a cup of coffee.

Spike frowned. He couldn’t figure out what this was—a date, a business meeting, friends… The meaning behind this little tête-à-tête matterd more than he cared to admit.

Buffy looked happier at least, and her figure was fuller, as though she’d actually put on some weight. There was a light in her eyes that hadn’t been there since before she’d died, even though she still looked more serious than a girl—woman—her age should. But she looked better in general, and Spike knew he wasn’t the one responsible for putting the life back into her.

That was all he’d wanted, was to give her a little life back.

Buffy set his drink down in front of him, sitting down gingerly in her chair. Now that he was close, Spike sensed that something was different about her. He hadn’t a clue as to what it was, but it was a deep, fundamental change.

He pulled the plastic lid off his cup and stared at the melting whipped cream on top, not really wanting to look at the Slayer. “They didn’t have marshmallows,” she said softly. “I asked.”

Spike’s lips curved up into a half-smile. “That right? You remembered?”

“I remember everything.” There was a long silence before Buffy added, “Spike, I’m sorry.”

“I got your letter, Slayer.” His tone was more gentle than his words.

She was silent, not knowing what else to say, and Spike was the one to finally speak. “So what’s going on with you, Buffy?”

It would have been an ordinary question if the person asking it wasn’t Spike, or if the woman sitting across from him wasn’t Buffy. The two of them didn’t ask or answer questions like that, not with each other, and yet it hung between them like some rare jewel.

Buffy laughed. “You know, I was supposed to ask you that. Ask you what’s going on with you now.”

He shrugged. “It’s alright, luv. You can answer.”

“No, you first,” Buffy replied stubbornly, wanting to try to do this the right way. Somewhere in her mind she’d decided that “the right way” meant finding out how Spike was doing, putting him first, not making it all about Buffy.

Spike looked amused. She looked imperious and intent and—like she actually cared. It was the last that got him talking. “Got the chip out.”

“Dawn told me,” Buffy said, when he seemed to be waiting for her reaction. “She said you weren’t hunting humans either. How come?”

Spike took a sip of his chocolate, hardly noticing the heat or the taste. He wasn’t sure he could taste anything but her scent on the air. “At first? I didn’t want you to be right.”

Buffy laughed ruefully. “Well, I was wrong, if that’s what you wanted to hear.” She looked away, a touch of shyness in her expression. “I’m glad.”

At her words, Spike felt some of the tension melt away. “After that, after I met Nika an’ Wesley, it was because they treated me like a man, an’ I couldn’t betray that.”

A stricken look flashed across Buffy’s face, and was quickly wiped away. Spike had already seen it, however, and he knew she was thinking about that night in the alley, thinking about what she had said to him. He went on, wanting to ignore the elephant in the room, not wanting to address the issue of how sorry she was.

Spike didn’t want to have to try and figure out if he had forgiven her yet.

“Wes an’ I fight demons for money. We get along alright. I live in Nika’s basement.” He managed to shrug without moving, the gesture contained only in his eyes. “Not much else to tell.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Buffy said, laughing a little.

Spike’s eyes narrowed. “What? That there isn’t much else to tell, or that I get on with anyone?”

She hesitated as she realized that she meant both. “I—I don’t know, Spike. I think there’s probably more to the story, but if that’s all you want to tell me, that’s okay.”

“But you think it odd that I get along with someone who’s not you, yeah?” he asked, suddenly feeling the need to attack. “Or maybe anyone who’s human.”

Buffy didn’t want to be honest. She really, really didn’t. Truth hurt, as Spike had demonstrated a number of times with his cutting remarks. “It surprises me,” she admitted reluctantly. “Maybe it shouldn’t, since you’ve always got along well with mom and Dawn. It’s just—it’s obvious you belong here, and—I’ve never seen that before.”

“Maybe that’s because you weren’t willing to look hard enough,” Spike replied, an edge to his tone.

“Maybe,” she conceded.

He sighed. Spike hadn’t come to fight, no matter how crazy she might make him. “What about you?” he asked, wanting to change the subject. Knowledge was power, and he didn’t want to tell her so much about this new life of his that she would have more power over him. She still held his unbeating heart in her hands.

Buffy shrugged, suddenly unwilling to talk about her life with its myriad issues. She could still remember a time when she told him all her problems, but that was because he didn’t count, as he’d sung so eloquently. “Not much to tell,” she said reluctantly. “I slay, I work, I try not to die.”

“You still working at that hell-hole?” he asked.

“The Hellmouth?”

“The cow-hat place,” Spike replied, sounding both annoyed at her deliberate obtuseness and amused at the same time.

Buffy shrugged. “Receptionist and part-time claims adjustor for an insurance company. I actually like both jobs, and they pay more.”

“You going to go back to school?” he asked, drawing her out, prying her open with questions as he’d often been able to do with silence.

Buffy sighed. “Maybe, someday. When I can afford it, or when Dawn’s out of college, or never. At this stage, never is looking a lot more likely.”

Spike wanted to take her in his arms and tell her everything was going to be okay. He wanted to pull the world off her shoulders. He wanted to offer up his undead body as a sacrifice on her altar.

It pissed him off.

He had worked hard at forgetting her for so long, and now he felt like he was sliding right back to where he started. “What the bloody hell is this, Slayer?” he demanded, his voice harsh and gravelly. “Why now? Why are you comin’ to me three years later?”

The words came rapid-fire, hitting Buffy like a series of bullets. If she was honest with herself, what she wanted from him was forgiveness. She wanted to say she was sorry, and she wanted him to say that it was forgiven a long time ago, and then—What? Walk off into the sunset together? Part as friends? She hadn’t a clue.

That was what she wanted, but she had promised herself that she would answer his questions, submit to his demands, up to a certain point. She owed him that much. “I broke up with my boyfriend about a month ago.”

“What does that have to do with me?” he demanded, interrupting her.

A little of the old Buffy came into her eyes. “Would you just let me finish?” she asked, starting to get frustrated. This meeting wasn’t going how she thought it would. Not that she’d known how it was going to go, but this wasn’t it. “I—when he broke up with me, what he said, I could hear myself in his words.”

She took a deep breath. Vocalizing her own emotions wasn’t easy at the best of times, and this definitely wasn’t the best of times. “He was a jerk, and I’m not sorry he left. But I started looking back on all the guys I’ve dated, and I think that what I regret most, happened with you.”

He took it the wrong way, and not the way she meant it. Buffy could see Spike’s face harden, his eyes turn icy. “That’s right. You shouldn’t have slept with a dead thing, Slayer. Excuse me.”

He got up to go, but Buffy’s hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, stilling his movement. “No, not sleeping with you. My biggest regret is that I slept with you for all the wrong reasons, and that I hurt you. That’s what I regret.”

Spike was still under her hand, the normal responses of a body absent. Not even his chest moved in the rhythm of breathing that was still so much of a habit for him, though not a necessity. They stood in their tableau of longing—Buffy’s hand, Spike’s face, and anyone who looked could see they had been lovers. It was just that obvious.

Slowly, he took his seat again, feeling both relieved and bereft when Buffy pulled her hand back. “So, the wanker left. Any particular reason why, or was he just a jerk?” Spike wasn’t sure why it was important, but it was.

“Both.” Buffy hesitated. She still wasn’t sure she should tell Spike about her pregnancy, but she wanted to. She could still remember a time when he might have been the first she told, if only because she could be certain of trusting him with the information. “I’m pregnant.”

Chapter 11: February 2005

“You have to admit it was funny, Spike,” Nika said, trying to get through the vampire’s macho front. “I know I heard you laugh a couple times.”

“I did no such thing,” Spike replied indignantly, though with a small smile. “It was a bloody stupid movie, an’ he was a complete ponce.”

Nika laughed. “That was supposed to be part of his charm!” she protested.

“No one is charmed by a ponce,” Spike replied, a hint of seriousness coming through his voice. “They get laughed at. Consistently.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I found him charming.” She gave him a naughty little smile. “In point of fact, I find you charming.”

Spike’s eyes widened. “Take that back! ‘m not a ponce!”

“Oh, no?” Nika replied coyly. “Prove it then.” She started running, giggling madly. Spike wasn’t working too hard at catching her. They’d decided to go out to the movies together, not a date, just a night out. Nika had wanted some entertainment, and since Wesley didn’t seem to be making any moves in her direction, she’d gone for the next best thing and asked her best friend.

Spike loved to see Nika happy and laughing like this. It was all too rare an occurrence to see her acting like a giddy school-girl. She was usually so calm and controlled. So he was happily engaged in her merry little game when pulled up short by a demon coming in front of him with a wooden pike.

“Nika!” he called. The vampire was rewarded in a few moments by her appearance, flanked by two more demons of the same species. One was chattering away at her in a language Spike didn’t recognize, and he had no idea what he was supposed to do. There was no way to get to her without being impaled. “What—”

The pike jabbed him in the chest, and Spike took a step back, away from Nika and the demons. “No, it’s okay,” she said, reaching out to grab the arm of the one threatening him. “He’s a friend.” They said something else, and she frowned, insisting, “No, really, it’s okay.”

She looked at Spike. “I need you to get Wesley. I can understand them a little, enough to know they want me to come with them and help deliver a baby, but I need his language expertise.”

Spike sighed. The demon had put down his very long stake and was regarding him with suspicion. “Are you sure, luv? This lot doesn’t look very friendly.”

She shrugged. “They’ve been watching for me all evening, and then they saw a vampire chasing me. What would you think?”

“Then where are they takin’ you, Sweet?” Spike asked. He took a step towards her, but the demon raised its pike again. They weren’t a bad looking lot, if not very friendly. Mostly humanoid, with bluish skin and purple eyes. But they had Nika, and so Spike wasn’t feeling very comfortable.

Nika grimaced. “I’m not really sure. But if you can get Wes here in the next thirty minutes, they’ll wait for him. I hope.”

He hesitated for another moment, and then took off.

Spike would have given anything for a cell phone as his feet pounded pavement and grass. In the face of more people and more traffic, he practically flew up the side of a building using the fire escape and went by roof-top the rest of the way. With his vampire speed, going full out, it took him fifteen minutes to reach the ex-Watcher’s apartment. Too much time.

He pounded on the door of 105, waiting a few seconds, and then pounded frantically again. “Wesley! Open up!”

The door swung open to reveal a rumpled looking man in hastily thrown on jeans and a sweater. “What the bloody hell do you want, Spike? And will you keep it down? The neighbors will call the police otherwise.”

“It’s Nika,” Spike said, ignoring his irritation, and moving on to the important topic. “We went to a show and got stopped on the way home. She says they want her to deliver a baby, but she doesn’t speak the language an’ if we don’t get back there in—” He checked his watch. “—ten mintues now, they’re gonna leave without you.”

Wesley didn’t hesitate once he understood the seriousness of the situation. Quickly pulling on a pair of shoes, he grabbed a jacket and an ax, and followed Spike out the door. They took his motorcycle, since Wesley couldn’t move at vampire speed, and Spike was limping badly from the exertion.

It was a mark of Spike’s worry over Nika that he didn’t even protest the pink helmet. They made it to the park in ten minutes by virtue of some very scary driving by Wesley, but Nika and her demon escorts had already gone.

Both of them nearly tumbled off the bike in their haste to get to her. Spike took a deep whiff of air and homed in on the direction they had taken with little effort. “That way.”

A hundred yards deeper into the park, and they spotted the little group. Spike called out to Nika, and the demons spun, weapons at the ready. Nika called out to both of them. “No, it’s really okay.” She looked at Wesley in relief. “Please tell me you know their language.”

Wesley hesitated briefly, and then began speaking in the same odd click-clack language that the demons had been chattering on in earlier. The one with the pike replied quickly, brandishing his weapon and looking menacingly at Spike. The ex-Watcher nodded, and finally sighed. “Apparently, one of their seers told them to expect a healer tonight, and told them she would be with a vampire. A member of their clan is in childbirth, and it isn’t going well.”

Nika nodded. “That’s what I thought. Are they going to let you come along?”

“I think they might, especially as I can speak the language. Spike is going to have to stay behind, however.”

As Wesley had expected, his announcement was greeted with a vociferous protest from the vampire. “Not on your life, mate! ‘m not lettin’ them just take her like that.”

“They promise not to harm her, Spike,” Wesley explained patiently. “But the Lidraki don’t like vampires, and they’d sooner stake you than let you see where they live. I’m sorry.”

“Spike, really, it’s okay,” Nika assured him. “Wesley can stay with me. I’ll be fine.”

He let out a growl of frustration, his eyes sparking yellow. “Bloody hell,” he muttered.

Wesley passed over the keys to his bike. “Take the motorcycle back to Nika’s,” he instructed. “That leg of yours is in no shape to be walking home right now. I’ll make sure she gets back safely.”

Spike hesitated, and then sighed. It was a mark of his trust for the other man that he acquiesced. There weren’t many people that he trusted to look after those he cared about, but he trusted Wesley. The ex-Watcher would look after Nika and see her safely home, or he would die in the attempt. From the looks on the other demons’ faces, they would make sure Spike was dust before they let him come one more step closer. “Meet you back there, then. Take care of her.”

Wesley watched him stalk away, the effect only slightly muted by his limp. He could see the tension in the lines of Spike’s shoulders, and relaxed as the Lidraki lowered their weapons and motioned for him to walk with them. Placing a supportive hand on Nika’s elbow, he moved close to her. “Alright there, Nika?”

“I’m okay,” she replied softly. “Though, I was a bit nervous until you showed up.”

Wesley smiled. It felt good to be relied upon, to have a friend say she felt safer when he was near. “How did you know I would be able to speak their language?”

Nika smiled. “I didn’t know there was a language you don’t speak.”

She was exaggerating, but not by much. Wesley’s linguistic skills were outstanding to say the least. “There are a few,” he replied, slightly embarrassed by the implied compliment. They walked along silently after that, the demons murmuring to each other softly, Wesley’s hand at her elbow, then her back.

Nika felt the fear drain out of her. It was difficult to be afraid with Wesley walking so close, his unruffled competence radiating out of his lean form. Nika had always gotten the sense from him that there was little to worry about if he were taking care of matters. Really, that was why he and Spike made such good partners. The vampire’s impulsiveness kept the ex-Watcher on his toes. Wesley’s almost preternatural calm often got them out of trouble.

In a situation such as this one, Nika couldn’t help but be grateful for his presence. She stole a glance at him, and he caught her eye, smiling in a reassuring manner. She moved just a little closer in response; they might have been lovers out for a walk. No gap could be seen between their bodies, and his hand pressed just a little more firmly at her back.

Eventually, they found themselves in front of a dilapidated old apartment building. The brick-work was crumbling, and there was grafitti in the front entrance, but the demons seemed to relax as soon as they entered. “It’s the demon Projects,” Nika murmured, and was rewarded by a quirk of Wesley’s lips.

The demons led them up a set of rickety stairs to an apartment redolent with the scents of blood, herbs, and other matter that was best left unknown. A female Lidraki came up to them, chattering away. Wesley listened intently to her drawn-out explanation, finally turning to Nika. “She says that the mother did not perform the proper rituals in the last month, and that’s why she’s having problems with the birth.” He hesitated slightly and then added, “She also says that the baby’s father was not Lidraki, and it’s having trouble fighting its way out of the birthsac.”

“Where is she?” Nika asked, becoming all business. Wesley translated the question, and the female led them through a curtained doorway. There was a blue-skinned, pregnant Lidraki on a mattress that lay on the floor. The room was hardly what she could call clean, and certainly not the ideal place to give birth, but Nika knew she would have to work with what she was given.

She knelt down by the mother, wordlessly asking permission with her eyes. The demon nodded, and Nika felt along her abdomen, feeling the contractions rippling across the taut skin. It wasn’t terribly different from a human mother, and Nika was oddly reassured by this. “Wesley, what do you know about these rituals?”

He had squatted down on his heels next to her, watching with an intensity that it seemed only Wesley and Spike could ever produce. “Not much, I’m afraid,” he replied. “However, from what the woman said, Lidraki use the rituals to soften the placenta—for lack of a better term—as it is unusually tough. The rituals, whatever they might be, coupled with the outgrowths on the backs of their hands, help the baby fight its way out into the world.”

Nika’s face softened. “Poor kid. No rituals and a half-breed means that he’s having trouble.”

“Something like that,” Wesley agreed. His eyes met hers. “What would you like me to do?” He looked so capable in that moment that Nika found herself more than a little bit in love with him. She had loved her husband, but he’d have turned green and run in a situation like this.

“Have you ever been present at a birth before?” she asked.

Pain flashed across his face, then he went stoic again. “I know a little bit about delivering a child, yes.”

“You know a little bit about everything, don’t you?” Her tone was amused, and Wesley looked up at her sharply, trying to decide if she were making fun of him. But her face was admiring, and he could tell she found his seemingly endless store of knowledge reassuring, rather than annoying.

He shrugged. “I try.”

“Ask her if she’ll bring clean, hot water and a sharp knife. Or maybe like a big knitting needle. If the birthsac needs to be broken, we’re going to have to help the child out.” Nika looked at the laboring Lidraki. “I don’t know that we’ll be in time to save the baby, but if we don’t do something soon, we’ll definitely lose the mother.”

Wesley asked for what they needed, and the other demon left the room, leaving Nika to continue her examination. Over the next few hours as they both worked to deliver the unborn child, she found herself thankful for Wesley’s presence. He fetched what she needed, translated her questions and reassurances, and comforted the mother tirelessly.

When she found herself with both hands busy and sweat dripping down her nose, he pulled a clean handkerchief from somewhere and wiped her face. At no point did he show an inclination to run, nor any kind of impatience.

Finally, Nika managed to guide a blue-skinned baby out into the warm air. Normally, that kind of color would have alarmed her, but as the child—obviously a male—began to scream, it seemed that he would survive. The baby was noticeably more human-looking than his mother, and Nika couldn’t help but feel a pang. Danny had been a half-breed as well.

Wesley took the child from her, wrapping him in a blanket that the older female gave to him, placing him against his mother’s breast. The whole time he was murmuring something in that click-clack language that she’d be willing to bet were assurances that her baby was large and healthy and remarkably attractive. There was awe and wonder and a hint of longing in his eyes that tugged at Nika’s heart.

Now that the child was born, there were female Lidraki streaming into the room, hovering about the mother and beginning to chant and chatter, cleaning the mother and child and making both more comfortable.

The female Lidraki who had greeted them now ushered them out the door, chattering in what was obviously relief, pressing something into Nika’s hands. She looked down at the present and saw a necklace that glinted with what was obviously precious stones and metals. “Oh, no, I can’t,” she protested, thinking of the squalid surroundings.

Wesley grasped her arm, stilling her words, smiling and speaking in the demon-language. He looked over at her intently. “The child you just saved was important to them, more important than what you hold. To refuse it would be a grave insult.”

Nika nodded, closing her fingers around the necklace again. “Tell her thank you, then, Wesley.”

He did so, the words tripping off his lips so easily it amazed her. Nika thought about the first time he had spoken to her in Welsh, the familiar words of her childhood flowing so readily. She thought perhaps that was the moment she first began to fall in love.

Wesley led her quickly out of the apartment building, and both of them could see the first fingers of dawn thrusting up into the sky. “I’ll walk you home.”

“I would hope so. You have to get your bike anyway, right?” Nika paused thoughtfully. “Maybe you should stay at my place today. You’re tired. I’d hate for you to fall asleep on your way home.”

Wesley seemed to freeze, become terribly still under her fingers as though her suggestion were terribly improper for some reason. And then he relaxed slightly. “Alright. That’s probably wise.”

He seemed to have forgotten that there was no more danger, offering her the support of his arm as though she still needed it. Wesley could feel her warmth even through the double layer of shirt sleeve and jacket, smell her—a mixture of faint perfume and sweat. It wasn’t unpleasant.

“So what were you and Spike doing when the Lidraki found you?” he asked quietly, striving for pleasant small talk and hopefully keeping the jealousy out of his voice.

“We went to see a movie,” Nika replied with a smile, thinking of her and Spike’s teasing on the way home. “It was one of those sappy romances; I made him take me.”

Wesley smiled in return, but there was a hint of pain there. “That’s good, that you have someone to take you to a show.”

In spite of his efforts, Nika caught a hint of emotion in his tone that didn’t belong there. “We didn’t think you’d want to come, Wesley,” she admitted. “You’ve both been so busy lately, I thought you could use an evening to yourself without the two of us around.”

“I don’t mind the two of you around,” he admitted in a low voice, as though she’d dragged the confession out of him. “And—and I don’t mind just…”

As he trailed off, Nika reached over and grabbed the hand that had been at her waist, giving it a squeeze. “When the bloody hell will you realize that we like having you around?” she demanded. “It’s no chore to be with you, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. Whatever, or whoever, put that idiotic idea into your head ought to be shot.”

His lips twitched in amusement at her vehemence. “Is that right?”

“That’s absolutely right,” Nika replied, a touch of anger still in her voice. “Wesley, you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. And, just so you don’t need to ask, Spike and I were not on a date tonight. We’re very good friends, and that’s it.”

“But you and he…” Wesley stopped, not wanting to give away the fact that he’d actually asked the vampire what his relationship with Nika entailed.

Nika rolled her eyes. “Yes, we did, and it was a long time ago. It was just the one time, and it happened because we were both lonely and needed some comfort. I told you when we first met that’s what Spike’s relationship to me was. Misery and comfort.”

“And then?” Wesley couldn’t help but ask, a bit of bite in his tone.

She smiled. “And then we discovered that we didn’t just understand each other, we also liked each other. Not unlike you and him. Or you and I.”

Wesley recognized the kindness—and the truth—in her tone, but he wanted something more from her than that. He wanted to be more than understood and understanding, more than liked. He’d been slowly coming to care for Nika, but tonight had clinched it for him. She wasn’t beautiful in the traditional sense, but she was pretty, and brave, and compassionate. The way she had helped that Lidraki mother, even though she was a demon, even though Nika must have been frightened—Wesley was struck by it. By her heart, in every sense of the word.

After he had lost Fred, after she had chosen Gunn, Wesley had promised himself that he wouldn’t go there again. He didn’t want to fall in love. Lilah Morgan had been perfect for his needs—there was sex, but not enough true attraction to keep him. Perhaps eventually there might have been more, if either of them had been able to bend just a little, to move just a little closer together on their continuum of gray.

Nika was a bad bet, though. Wesley was absolutely certain that if he made a bid for her affections, he would find that she’d fallen for Spike. They had a closeness that he envied, a closeness that he could never hope to match.

As if reading his thoughts and the tension they engendered, Nika’s arm slipped through his, holding on firmly. “I’m glad you were with me tonight, Wesley,” she said softly, and again almost reading his thoughts, added, “And not just because you speak the language either.”

She sighed. “You make me feel safe.”

Wesley wondered if she understood what a precious gift those words were to him.

~~~~~

Spike was waiting inside for them, as the early morning light made it difficult for him to keep watch from the porch. He stood as they entered, watching the both of them with wary eyes, relief creeping in when he saw they were unharmed. He couldn’t smell any human blood, and he felt the worry seep out of his bones. Wesley had kept her safe, as he’d promised.

“Get the little nipper all safely delivered then, Nika-luv?” Spike asked. He saw a tightening of Wesley’s jaw when he used the endearment, and filed that observation away for future use.

She smiled at him. “It was a boy. Wesley was a huge help.”

“More help than I would have been,” Spike admitted cheerfully. “Don’t know the least bit ‘bout deliverin’ babies. Good job he went with you then.” He could be tactful when he wanted to be.

“See my payment?” she asked, holding out the necklace to him.

Spike, who was a near-expert at identifying and appraising treasure, whistled under his breath. “This is a fair treasure, Sweet. My guess, it’s something along the lines of a family heirloom.”

“They said the child was important, but not why,” Wesley said, his voice hoarse with exhaustion.

Spike threw him a worried look, and then took a closer look at the both of them. They were clearly tired and covered in birthing fluids and grime. “You both need to get cleaned up and get to bed.” Turning to Wesley, he said, “You can use my shower, mate. Couch downstairs folds out.”

Wesley blinked. He was still unused to these little gestures from Spike, the marks of caring that belied his often callous, brash attitude towards those around him. Every so often Spike would act more like a nursemaid than a vampire, and it shocked the hell out of him.

“I have some clothing you can borrow,” Nika said, her words punctuated by a huge yawn. “I’ll grab them for you, but then I’m going to take Spike’s advice.” She went into her bedroom, coming out a few moments later with a bundle of clothing, which she handed to Wesley. Much to his bemusement, she leaned up and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, cariad.”

The ex-Watcher stood there for a long moment, not quite knowing how to respond to that. He felt Spike’s hand on his shoulder, steering him towards the basement stairs. “Time for all good boys to be in bed,” the vampire rumbled, obviously amused. “And next time, mate? Turn your head a bit. You’ll catch her on the lips.”

Chapter 12: November 2005

“I wonder how Spike is doing,” Wesley said, thinking out loud. Nika cast him an amused look over the kitchen table. He was actually relaxing for once, reading a new adventure novel while Nika read her mail. She had laughed the first time she’d seen him with a non-research book. He never read quite what she would expect him to—usually mass-market paperbacks with spies and gadgets, or murder mysteries.

Her reserved ex-Watcher read blow-em-up books; Spike read poetry. It seemed an oxymoron, but Nika had long since realized that they were two sides of the same coin, her guys.

“You sound like a mother hen,” she said. Wesley looked up sharply, trying to see whether she was teasing him. He could never tell any more. He’d so often been on the sharp side of someone’s tongue, it was hard to know whether such joking was meant in good fun or not. Slowly, but surely, he was coming to be comfortable with Nika and Spike’s good-natured snarking, but it was taking some time.

He smiled slightly, some of her humor reflecting in his eyes as well. “I suppose, but—”

“You worry,” she finished for him. Nika gave him her special smile, the one reserved only for Wesley, though he hardly knew it yet. “We all worry about each other Wesley; it’s what families do.” She went back to her mail, saying as she did so, “I’m sure Spike’s fine. From the letter Buffy sent him, she’s hardly planning on harming him.”

There was another long silence as they went back to their reading, the smells of the stew and fresh bread Nika had made filtering through the kitchen. It was a comfortable, domesticated scene, and if Wesley thought about it too hard, he could hardly believe that he was here.

Nika let slip a curse that had Wesley blinking and looking up. Even if he didn’t speak Welsh, he would have known what she was saying just from her tone of voice. “Love?”

She looked up, surprised at the endearment, and not fully aware that she had spoken aloud. When she realized that she had, a light flush lit her cheeks. “Sorry, Wesley.”

“Has something disturbed you?” he pressed.

Nika sighed. “Nain is coming to visit over Christmas.”

Wesley might have understood her outburst if it had been his parents. He hadn’t spoken to them since last Christmas, and was still debating over whether or not to call this year. On the other hand, he’d been under the impression that Nika and her grandmother got along quite well. “I thought you two were close.”

She repeated her sigh. “We are. It’s just that she has certain expectations which I haven’t yet fulfilled, and she’ll ask me why I haven’t.” Nika gave him a weak smile. “I’m the last, you see. Nain doesn’t have any other children or grandchildren, and she’s waiting for me to remarry and have babies.”

“I see,” Wesley said carefully, because he did. It wasn’t just his utter failure as a Watcher that disappointed his father; it was also his failure to marry an appropriate woman and carry on the family name. Of course, by the time he’d been of an age to attempt such a feat, he was of no mind to do things the way his father had. Nor had he any intention of forcing his progeny into the Council, whatever their surname. “Do you want children?”

This time her smile was infinitely sad. “Yes. Ever since I was very little, I had three goals in life: to be a midwife like nain, to marry, and to have children. It might be silly and old-fashioned, but that’s what I wanted. I managed the first two, but Danny and I wanted to wait for a few years before starting a family. When we tried to get pregnant, nothing happened.”

Nika got up, moving around briskly, as though to dispel the memories. “We went to specialists, human and demon, and they all told us the same thing. Danny couldn’t. Something to do with being a half-breed, you know?”

“So you couldn’t have children,” Wesley murmured, feeling a pang of sympathy.

“No, we couldn’t,” she replied, stirring the stew and checking on the bread, finally turning to look Wesley in the eye. “And since about a year after he died, nain’s been asking when I was going to start dating again. She’s kind enough, but I know what she wants from me. To be honest, I’d love to give it to her, for both our sakes.”

Wesley stared at her. He wanted to ask if she’d ever consider a failed Watcher as husband and father material. Sitting in this kitchen, as he had so many times in the past, he almost believed it possible. Almost. “Would you—” He stopped, unwilling to put himself more at risk than he was already.

Nika looked at him with a searching gaze, her normally gentle eyes piercing. “Would I what, cariad?”

He shook his head, and she came to stand next to his chair, looking down into his troubled eyes. “What is it, Wesley?”

“I—I just thought we might—go out.”

The hesitancy in his voice told Nika everything she needed to know. She could see both the longing and the fear. “Who was she, Wesley?”

“Who was who?” he asked hoarsely.

“Who was the woman who convinced you that you couldn’t win? Who rejected you?” Nika stroked his face with a gentle hand, feeling the stubble like soft sandpaper. “Who made you think that I would say no?”

Wesley swallowed, hypnotized by her words and her gaze. “You and Spike—”

“Spike, as you will notice, is out with Buffy, and will forever be pining after her.” She ran a gentle hand through his hair. “Spike and I are like very close friends, or siblings. I always wanted a brother, you know. Though that idea throws a certain ‘ick-factor’ on our brief affair, as Dawn might say. My feelings for you are on a different plane entirely.” Nika sighed. “What was her name, Wesley? Let us once and for all exorcise this ghost you insist upon haunting you.”

He blinked. “Her name—her name was Fred. I—She’s with Gunn. After what happened, with Connor, she told me not to come back to the hotel.”

Nika kissed him. It was the first time their lips had touched, the first time she had so openly declared her affection for him. Taking Spike’s words to heart, she had decided that she would not wait on Wesley. When she pulled back from the kiss, she said quietly, but so intensely he could not doubt her, “She was daft. I choose you, Wesley. Just you.”

At her words, Wesley could feel long-open wounds healing. She salved his heart with her declaration. No one had ever chosen him before; even the Council, making the decision to appoint him as Faith’s Watcher, had bowed to his high marks and his father’s pressure. No one had ever marked him as their own—except perhaps Virginia, and she had not realized the cost. She had left because of it.

Nika not only knew, she had already paid the price.

Something inside him cracked open, broke, released. For a spectacular moment he felt utterly free. He felt special. Wesley had never really felt special before.

He guided her face back down to his, taking his time. There was no hurry—she had chosen him. Wesley thought she tasted both sweet and bitter, and he could feel both her urgency and her patience. Her motto and its meaning flitted through his mind, and he understood that they had all the time in the world, and no time at all. This woman played for keeps, because it was the only way she knew.

And she had chosen him.

The buzzer on the oven went off, finally bringing them back to reality. Nika pulled back, resting her forehead against his ever-so-briefly as she went to pull the bread out of the oven. “Are you still hungry?” she teased, a light in her eyes.

Wesley smiled in turn, and his stomach growled, answering her question. They both laughed, and Nika suddenly looked shy. “Are you—I mean, if you don’t want—”

“You’re what I want,” he replied quietly. Wesley wasn’t sure if he was jumping in too quickly or not, but he went ahead anyway. “I’ve been in love with you since that night we delivered the baby.”

Nika glared at him, going from sweet to angry in no time flat. “And you didn’t say anything!”

“I wasn’t sure you felt the same way,” he explained, defensiveness creeping in. “I thought—you and Spike…”

Nika rolled her eyes. “I know you knew better than that,” she replied. “Besides which, you could have died—”

She broke off, busying herself at the stove, and Wesley asked tentatively, “Are you certain you’re okay with this, Danika? I know that what I do is dangerous…”

“What you do makes a difference,” she said quietly. “What I do makes a difference too. I won’t tell you that I don’t worry, that I’m not scared nearly to death of losing you too, but I will not let that fear stop me from going forward. I fell in love with you, and part of you is your job.”

“It’s what I’m good at,” he explained.

Nika turned to smile at him, her eyes joyful and sad all at the same time. “No, Wesley. You’re good at a great many things. But this is what makes you happy, and I have no business denying you that.” She placed a plate of freshly baked bread on the table, pausing to touch his shoulder. “Please promise you will not take any chances that are unnecessary. I understand the necessary ones, but…”

“Do you think I’m anxious to leave you?” he replied, standing and pulling her into his arms. Wesley stood there for a moment, relishing the feel of her body pressed against his, her head buried in his shoulder, her arms around his waist. “Are you sure this is what you want?” Wesley asked wistfully after a few moments. “You could have anyone.”

“Which is why I want you,” she replied stubbornly. “Now, you need to eat.” Nika grinned up at him. “If things go well, you’ll need your energy later.”

~~~~~

“You’re what?” Spike asked, feeling as though he were choking on the words. “Who is he?” He thought he should have known. The demon in him had sensed the changes, but he’d refused to name them, lest by naming it he made it real. Buffy’s implications were obvious. Whoever the father was, he’d left her on her own. Wanker.

Buffy raised an eyebrow, looking amused at the shadow of jealousy that flared in his blue eyes. She felt a thrill of joy as she realized that not only was it jealousy, but anger—anger that this unknown man had gotten her pregnant and left. “I’m not going to give you his name just so you can go rip his throat out.”

He didn’t bother to deny that the impulse had been there. “Why are you tellin’ me this?”

“I don’t know, Spike,” Buffy admitted. “I just wanted you to know.”

Spike stood abruptly, and she was suddenly frightened that he was going to run off again—leave and never come back. This time, she would have no reason for searching him out. “Let’s walk.”

Buffy didn’t ask. She simply stood in one fluid motion and followed him out of the café. There was the flare of his lighter, and she could smell smoke as Spike lit a cigarette with practiced ease. Strolling along the street, Buffy had to keep biting her tongue. She wanted to beg, to demand, cajole and coax him into sharing his thoughts.

It was pointless, wrong even. She had lost any rights to him that night in the alley.

“Are you okay?” he asked eventually. His words floated out into the noise of L.A. after dark, and she could almost see them hanging in the light from the streetlamp.

“Huh?”

“Are you okay?” Spike repeated patiently. “Seein’ the doc, gettin’ all those pregnant-lady vitamins, all that.”

Buffy frowned. How the hell did he know what a pregnant woman needed? “Spike, what do you know about being pregnant?” she asked, careful to keep all emotion out of her tone.

Apparently, she wasn’t as successful as she might have liked to be, since she could see his lips quirk upward. “Nika’s a midwife. ‘ve picked up a bit, livin’ with her.”

“Oh.” Buffy desperately wanted to know what his relationship with this Nika person entailed, but again, she hadn’t the right. She was having another man’s baby.

“We’re not ‘together,’” Spike said softly, reading her mind, the expression on her face, the stiffness of her posture. “Just friends, is all. Like me an’ Dawn.”

“Oh,” Buffy said again, feeling incredibly lame for being unable to come up with something more interesting to say. “I’m so sorry, Spike,” she whispered, suddenly drowning in regret. She couldn’t seem to come up with anything else, circling around the night she’d hurt him like the moon around the earth. “God, I’m so sorry.”

She stood in the circle of the streetlight, and Spike turned to see her rigid form. Her eyes were wide and filled with tears. He was reminded suddenly, forcibly, of the night he’d come to kill her, shotgun in hand. It seemed that this night was a distant echo of that one.

Except that three years separated his humiliation in an alley and her tearful eyes this time, instead of mere hours. That, and he didn’t need a weapon to kill her anymore.

Spike didn’t allow himself to think about what he was doing. He’d gotten much better at comforting humans the past few years, gotten himself back into the habit of touching shoulders, speaking words with as much tact as truth. Now, ignoring the voice in his head that told him this was a bad idea, reminded him of where it would eventually lead, Spike took Buffy in his arms, allowing her to bury her face in his shoulder.

With her cradled gently in his embrace, her scent overwhelming his senses, Spike had no words for how he was feeling. Like he’d come home, maybe. Relieved. Angry that he was here again. Hopeful. Hopeless. When he felt her crying stop, Spike pulled back from her. “You alright, pet?”

It was perhaps the most innocuous of his nicknames for people. Spike used “pet” the way women from the south used “hon.” He wasn’t quite sure that Buffy got that, however.

She sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. She still didn’t carry around essentials like tissues, though she could be trusted not to leave the house without a stake. “Yeah, I think so. I’m sorry about that, Spike. It’s these hormones, I think. I didn’t want to cry on your shoulder.”

This time he took her assertion the way she meant it. Of course, Buffy never meant to break down in front of anyone. He wondered if she’d shown as much of herself to her friends and Watcher as she had to him. “’s alright, really. What are you goin’ to do?”

Buffy knew what he was asking, and thought that it was odd. Out of all the people she knew, all the people she had told her secret, he was the first to ask that question, other than Dawn. Everyone else had assumed she would get rid of the baby, or they had advised her to do so. Even Giles, though she could hear the anguish and gravity in his voice, had wondered aloud if it wouldn’t be better to “take care of things now.”

Oh, of course, they had all pledged to support her once she told them she was keeping the baby. The Scoobies were nothing if not loyal to their own. But the unspoken question had been there: how could she hope to care for a baby when she was the Slayer, and barely able to take care of herself?

Spike was still watching her with that stolid, wary expression that gave no hint as to his feelings on the matter. He might have been a statue for all the movement he made. “I’m keeping the baby,” she replied, “but I don’t know if it will work out. I’m the Slayer, Spike. I might not even be alive in a couple years. Sometimes I wonder if having a baby wouldn’t be irresponsible.”

Nika’s face when she talked about having a child sprang to mind. “If this is what you want, luv, then you should do it. May not get another chance, an’ you’ve got friends to help.”

“Not like I used to,” she murmured, sighing. “Seriously, though, I had no plans on getting your shirt soggy. I mean, here I was going to give you a nice apology, a short update, and then leave you to your regularly scheduled unlife.”

Spike regarded her seriously. He had never been more unsure of what he wanted. “Is that what you wanted, Slayer? To come here and then leave again?”

“I have no clue.” Buffy went to lean against the building, out of the light so that darkness mostly hid her face and form. “What do you want?”

“No soddin’ clue.” After a moment of silence, Spike added, “I can’t leave Wes to his own devices though. We’re partners.”

“I understand,” Buffy said, and she really did. Of course, there was a huge part of her that wanted Spike to go down on one knee and declare himself her willing slave, but that voice was largely silent these days. Maybe she was growing up after all.

Spike went on. “I can’t go back to what we were.” It was a flat statement, no room for argument or debate. Buffy had no intention of arguing, however. The last few weeks, thinking about what had gone on between the two of them, she had come to the conclusion that if Spike hadn’t left, somebody would have ended up dead or dusted. He had been right to leave.

She hadn’t the strength to say it.

“I can’t either,” she replied. “I don’t—I’m not saying we ‘go back’ to anything.”

“Then what?”

“What do you want?”

Spike laughed, and there was real humor in the sound. “You. I wanted to get over you, but never made it.”

“Me neither,” Buffy confessed, feeling an attack of honesty coming on. “I mean, I told myself it didn’t matter, that you didn’t matter, but it was a lie.”

Spike smiled slightly, looking over at her through the darkness. “So where does that leave us, luv? I’m here in L.A., an’ I’m not leavin’. You’re there in Sunnydale, an’ you’re not leavin’. What’s the point of even startin’ somethin’ we can’t finish?”

“I don’t know,” Buffy replied, sighing. “I just—I don’t know, Spike. And to be perfectly honest, I’m feeling kinda anti-man right now.”

Now he did laugh, and it was a sound Buffy didn’t think she’d ever heard from him. It was free and easy and oh, so natural. She wished she were the one that had released it. “Good thing for you ‘m not a man, strictly speakin’.” Spike grinned at her, and then offered his arm. “Why don’t you walk home with me? You can meet Nika and Wes all proper-like.” It was the reason he’d chosen this particular café, though he’d hardly dared hope that their meeting would go so well.

She smiled in return, almost shyly. “I’d like that. Dawn’s told me so much about them, and I don’t feel that I hardly know Wesley anymore. I just wasn’t sure you’d actually want me to know where you lived.”

Spike’s smile softened, and he bent slightly to kiss her on the forehead in a kind of benediction. “Think I can trust you not to barge in at all hours,” he murmured.

They walked next to each other, and this time Buffy found the silence easy. “What happened to your leg?” she asked after a while, feeling his hitching gait through the hand she’d placed on his arm.

“Chip. When I got it out, I mean.” His eyes darkened with remembered days, wondering if he’d ever be able to really walk again. “Was a lot worse, once.”

“Then I’m glad it’s better,” Buffy replied.

Spike hesitated, wanting to ask the question, but not knowing if he wanted to hear the answer. “Why’d you change your mind, Buffy? Why write that letter at all?”

Her grip tightened on his arm, as though to reassure herself that he was still there, that he wasn’t running away. Everyone ran away. “Do you remember when I first came back, and I had all those nightmares?” she asked, a wistful note in her voice. At his nod, she continued. “You were the only one I could stand to be around. I told myself that it was wrong, that I should have wanted to be with my friends, but it wasn’t. Wrong, I mean.”

“’m not sure I understand,” he said when she stopped.

Buffy smiled. “I don’t know that I understand. I just—if I hadn’t been uber-Bitch, you wouldn’t have left.”

Spike read between the lines, and he knew what she was saying. Everyone left, except Spike. He might have stayed, if she hadn’t chased him off. Spike just couldn’t believe that she was actually saying it, saying that she hadn’t wanted him to leave. “Uber-Bitch, huh?”

Rolling her eyes, Buffy shot him a look. “And no comments. I can admit it.”

They were on a residential street now, the small, neat houses lined up on a well-lit street. Buffy had forgotten places like this existed in L.A. Spike was looking thoughtful. “Dunno if this is a good idea,” he said suddenly, pausing. At first he had wondered if it wasn’t a bad plan because he had an inkling that they might be interrupting something between Nika and Wesley. Now, he was wondering because there was a black convertible parked in Nika’s driveway, and he was fairly certain he knew whose car it was.

“That’s Angel’s car,” Buffy said, confirming his suspicions. She looked over at Spike. “It’s up to you,” she said softly. “We don’t have to go in if you don’t want to.”

“What are you going to tell him if we do go in?” Spike asked, a challenge in his voice. He was suddenly touchy again, and Buffy knew she could make or break their fledgling connection with the wrong response.

She shrugged. “First of all, it’s none of his business where I am or what I’m doing. I’m not seeing Angel anymore. Second, I was out having a cup of coffee with you. That’s what I’m going to tell him.”

It wasn’t everything he’d hoped for, but it was enough for Spike. It was more than she’d ever told her friends. “Alright. Let’s make sure he’s not givin’ Wesley a hard time then.”

Spike walked through the door, Buffy just behind him, to see Angel seated awkwardly on the couch. Wesley was standing in a corner of the room, as far away from the other occupants as he could get, and Nika was looking annoyed and uncomfortable. “What’s goin’ on, Wesley?” Spike asked, addressing the one person he was worried for. Angel wouldn’t harm Nika, and she hadn’t the emotional scars from the other vampire that Wesley did.

“Angel came to say hello,” the ex-Watcher replied, his voice dull.

“Well, isn’t that nice?” Spike smirked.

Angel’s eye had caught Buffy. “Buffy? What are you doing here?”

“I was out with Spike,” she said, not bothering to qualify their night out with any kind of explanation. “What’s going on, Angel?”

He looked even more uncomfortable, if that were possible. “I just wanted to talk to Wes. Be sure he was—you know.”

It was obvious to everyone in the room that whatever attempts at reconciliation had been made, they were over. With the presence of Spike and Buffy, all privacy was gone, and Angel was unwilling to make a public apology, not in front of Spike. “Maybe we could talk some other time,” Angel suggested.

“If you’d like,” Wesley replied, managing to sound indifferent to the idea.

If Angel was taken aback by the man’s coolness, he gave no sign. “Buffy? Do you want a ride back to the hotel?”

“No, I think I’ll hang here for a while,” Buffy replied, sounding breezy and terribly unconcerned. Spike had to work to hide a smile; when the Slayer sounded that much like a dumb blonde, her brain was typically working over-time.

The big vampire hesitated, then nodded, mumbling a general good-bye before heading out the door. Wesley turned and looked at Nika as soon as he’d gone. “What did you do?”

“I bribed him,” she replied, unrepentant. “I’m sorry, Wesley, but I told you, I don’t want to lose you. If I can do anything to keep you safe, I will. This time, keeping you safe meant bribing Angel. Deal with it.”

Spike was sensing tension in the room, and he started to back off towards the kitchen, motioning Buffy to come along with him. “Oh, it’s quite alright, Spike,” Wesley said irritably. “You needn’t leave. I’m just going—”

“Where?” Nika asked. “Wesley—”

“Stop!” Spike didn’t often give orders. Even when he was in control, he wasn’t much on giving orders, preferring instead to let the chips fall where they might. Fists, fangs, and sod all else. But this situation was a little different. “Nika, what exactly did you do?”

“I anchored Angel’s soul in return for him not coming after Wesley,” she replied, still not sorry. “I was going to tell him, but we got—busy.”

Spike could just imagine. “You really have a problem with that, Watcher?”

“No, of course not, it’s just…” The man trailed off, coming over to sit down on the couch. Spike could see the self-righteousness drain out of him. “It’s not Nika I’m upset with,” he mumbled into his hands. “Angel interrupted us.”

Spike could understand that feeling all too well. “Then we’ll let you get back to it,” he said. “I just thought I’d show Buffy my place.” This was all said with a studied non-chalance that had the Slayer hiding a smile. That, and the thought of Wesley having a moment with anyone. She still remembered the horribly starched young Watcher who had screwed things up so badly. This Wesley, on the other hand, was slightly rumpled, stubbled, and could probably give Spike a run for his money on the attractiveness scale.

He was older, and more scarred, and obviously had just had old wounds reopened by Angel’s presence. And the way Nika was looking at him, it was apparent that she was exactly what he needed right now. “It was good to see both of you again,” she said, a little uncertainly.

Wesley glanced up at her, and Nika’s eyes met hers for a moment. There was a flash of understanding, woman-to-woman, and Buffy nodded in response to the unspoken question. “You ought to come over sometime for dinner,” Nika suggested softly. “It would be nice for all of us to reconnect.”

“Sure, next time I’m in L.A.” Buffy turned and followed Spike into the kitchen, looking back to see that Nika was now sitting next to Wesley on the couch, pulling him into her arms. She was taking care of him.

“’s down here,” Spike explained, flipping the stairwell light on, waiting for Buffy to precede him down the stairs.

Whatever Buffy had expected, this wasn’t it. That seemed to be the theme of the evening. Nothing was as she had thought. “This is nice, Spike.” She tried to keep the surprise out of her tone, and apparently was successful, because he simply smiled.

“Nicer than the crypt for sure,” he agreed. Spike hesitated. “If you want to stay, couch folds out.”

Buffy wasn’t sure that was a good idea. Was it moving to fast? Did it matter that whatever she might have said to him, she still wanted him? Standing in this basement apartment, with its neat décor and decent furnishings, she wondered if she’d ever really known him at all. Had Spike always been capable of this—living in an actual house, making friends, becoming a part of something? It drove home how much she might have missed out on.

“Can we talk?” she asked, suddenly uncertain. “I mean, can you just tell me what you’ve been doing? What demon did you fight last week? Do you like living here? Are you—” she faltered. “Are you happy?”

“Happy as I can be,” Spike replied, answering her last question first. “An’ we can talk, about whatever you like.”

Buffy swallowed. “Then I want to talk about you.” Taking a tentative step closer, she whispered, “I want to know who you are, because I’m not sure I recognize the man in front of me.”

“That’s because I’m a vampire,” he replied, trying for humor.

She shook her head. “No, that’s what I thought too. That’s why I don’t recognize the man that’s with me now.”

“I know I’m a monster, but you treat me like a man, and that’s—” The words seemed to echo in the silence they had created.

Spike sank down onto the couch, waiting until Buffy sat down next to him. “It took me a few weeks to find a doctor who’d take the chip out,” he began, telling her everything. And they talked all night.

Next