Chapter 22: Late January 2006

Nika stood in front of the mirror, putting the finishing touches on her hair. "How do I look?"

Enid gave a nod of approval. "You are exquisite, cariad annwyl. I have something for you."

"What is it?" Nika turned to face her grandmother. The older woman held out a chain with a familiar pendant, and Nika pulled back slightly. "Nain, are you sure? That's your amulet."

"It is time," Enid said calmly. "I will retire soon, and when I do, I will come here, to be near you."

Nika smiled tremulously. "Thank you, nain." She bent her head obediently. The amulet had been passed down through her family from generation to generation, always from the hand of one midwife to the next. It's value lay in its simple beauty, and the history behind its various bearers. She let her fingers play over the silver and onyx and turned to look in the mirror again. Its stark beauty was a fitting statement to her own dark hair, pale skin, and the black dress she wore.

"I am so very proud of you, cariad," Enid whispered in Welsh. "So very proud."

Nika smiled, meeting Enid's eyes in the mirror. "I'm glad you like Wesley, nain. I knew you would, but—"

"Danny was a good boy," Enid said stoutly. "Wesley is a solid man. There is depth there that will be a good match for yours. I think he would go to the ends of the earth to make you happy."

"I think you might be right." Nika gave the amulet a final pat and reached down for her purse. "So do you know where he's taking me tonight?" Wesley had called her on her way home from work and told her to get dressed up, but he wouldn't say where it was that they were going, only that it was a surprise.

It wasn't that Nika was nervous about it; she trusted Wesley with her life. This was the first time he'd done something like this, however, and she had no idea what to expect.

"I have no idea what the boy is up to," Enid said innocently, and Nika simply shook her head.

"Just like you have no idea what's happening with Spike and Buffy," Nika stated.

Enid snorted, but there was a twinkle in her eyes. "Am I their mother? Of course not. If I were a betting woman, I would say that young woman finally got her nerve up though."

Nika smiled. "It's about time. Spike's been pining away for her since the day I met him."

"Then perhaps you will get a happy ending, all of you," Enid said gently.

Nika shrugged. "Happy endings are an oxymoron, nain. Endings are rarely anything of the sort."

"Then I will not wish you a happy ending, but a joyful life, no?" Enid laid a wrinkled hand against her cheek. "I have always only wanted your happiness."

"I know," Nika replied. "I think I might manage it." She stepped out of her bedroom to find Wesley waiting for her in a dark gray suit and blue shirt and darker blue tie. "Hello, Wesley."

He stood, paralyzed a moment. "You look beautiful, my love." Their lips met without thought, a gentle embrace with the promise of heat behind it. Wesley ran a hand through her hair. She'd left it down, and it dipped to her lower back.

"If you two don't leave now, you'll end up spending the evening in the bedroom," Enid said from behind them, sounding amused. "And I had plans to catch up on my shows tonight."

They both smiled rather sheepishly. "Of course," Wesley said. "If we don't leave soon, we'll be late for our reservations." He shrugged into a greatcoat, and held Nika's coat out for her, offering his arm.

"Have fun," Enid called cheerfully, waiting until they had gone and sinking down on the couch with a satisfied sigh. She pulled out the pack of cigarettes that she'd nicked from Spike and lit one up. Turning on the TV, she put her feet up on the coffee table.

Finally, she'd gotten them all out of the house. As a woman who had lived on her own for the last decade, Enid valued her quiet. She would have her smoke without Nika chiding her about her health, she would have her drink, and she would have a few hours' peace.

At least until one or the other pair came home and started shagging like crazy. Enid allowed herself a fond smile for the follies of youth, letting herself remember when she too was young and in love and bright with potential.

~~~~~

Nika found herself pleasantly surprised by the restaurant. Not that she doubted Wesley's abilities in any arena, but he hadn't shown this side of himself before. The candlelight, the muted elegance of the atmosphere, the food: all was very satisfactory.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Nika?" Wesley asked after a while.

She smiled in reply. "Of course. I always enjoy myself when I'm with you."

He reached across the table and laid his hand over hers. "I'm afraid you give me too much credit."

"And you give yourself too little," was her rejoinder. She frowned. "We're not going to argue about this, are we?"

"Far be it from me to try and convince you of what a rogue I really am," Wesley said with a small smirk.

Nika smirked in response. "I like rogues."

"Now you tell me," he teased. "I would have acted entirely different around you had I known you felt that way."

She laughed. "So are you going to tell me why we're here tonight?"

"Does there need to be a reason?" he countered.

Nika raised an eyebrow. "Wesly, cariad, you never do anything without a reason."

Wesley considered her statement, finally having to agree that she was right. There was typically some reason backing up each and every thing that he did. "Then maybe my reason was simply to spend time alone with you."

It was possible, but Nika wasn't buying it for a second. "Out with it, love. What is the big secret?"

"No secret," he replied, feeling unaccountably nervous. He had already proposed; Nika had already said yes. Her answer was not in doubt, but Wesley still wondered if she wouldn't come to her senses and change her mind.

He fished around in his breast pocket and pulled out the small, black box. "I wanted to make this official," he started. "Partly because your nain is returning to Wales soon, and partly because I wanted everyone to know that you had agreed to be my wife." Wesley opened the box slowly, grateful that his hands weren't shaking too badly. "I would be honored if you would wear my ring, Danika."

Nika was stunned. They hadn't spoken about making their engagement official, nor had Wesley given her any indication that he planned on giving her a ring. She had expected that it would happen eventually, but it was still a surprise.

Not to mention the fact that the ring was perfect—exactly what she would have picked out for herself. "It's beautiful," she finally managed.

"May I put it on?" he asked.

Nika raised an eyebrow. "Do you even need to ask?"

Wesley smiled in reply, slipping the ring out of the box and onto her finger, then turning her hand over to place a gentle kiss on her palm. "And what shall I give you to tell the world that you are mine?" Nika asked softly. "For I am honored to be yours."

"You have my heart, darling," Wesley said softly. "I would not deny even my soul to you."

An outside observer—Spike, for instance—would probably have been gagging at this point, but for Wesley and Nika the formal endearments seemed a natural outgrowth of their feelings for one another. The simple truth was that neither of them could ever remember being quite as happy as they were at that moment, and so they could be forgiven their sentimentality.

Indeed, the rest of the meal wasn't much better. Casual observers couldn't help but notice the couple, striking in their intensity and their obvious devotion to one another. More than one older couple found themselves looking at their partners in fond remembrance of a time when they had been so passionately in love. Wesley and Nika were unaware; they might have been alone in the restaurant for all they noticed.

When they had fed the last bite of dessert to one another, Wesley stood smoothly. Gone was the klutziness that sometimes plagued him, the uncertainty that at times dominated his movements—tonight he was a god among men with such a woman on his arm. "Would you care to dance?"

"I would love to dance." Nika placed her hand in his, following him through the tables to the dancefloor. There was an string quartet playing in the background, and for a moment Wesley looked a bit self-conscious.

"I'm afraid I must warn you that I'm a very poor dancer."

Nika merely gazed at him, and in her eyes he could tell that she had no doubts. "You have never danced with me."

She was not just talking about waltzing, and Wesley smiled, accepting her challenge. "So very true."

Wesley wasn't quite as bad a dancer as he thought he was, at least not the formal kind. Those steps—the dances where there was a set pattern to the steps—he had learned as a part of his formal education. The Watchers' Academy had been very big on formality.

In one another's arms they found a contentment that had long been missing. "I could die a happy man," Wesley murmured.

"Please don't," Nika replied quietly. "I have far too many plans for you."

Wesley pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "I have far too many plans for us."

"Where will we be in ten years, fy ngharid i?" she asked. "Where do you see us?"

Nika felt him sigh against her. "Ah, sweetheart, a year ago I would have told you that ten years hence would find me in an early grave." A tremor passed through her frame, and Wesley tightened his grip, continuing. "Now? Now I see us in a home, picket fence optional, with a child or two. Perhaps three," he added as an afterthought. "I was an only child. I would like to have more than one."

"I think I would be okay with that," Nika replied, blinking back tears. "Though, maybe an even number would be better."

Wesley chuckled. "Then we try for two with an option for an additional pair?"

Nika laughed. "Only if that's what you want, Wesley. With one condition."

"What's that?"

"That you grow old beside me."

"If it is within my power, Danika," he promised. "If I have my wish, I will be there until the day you breathe your last."

They might have danced forever, but eventually the music ended, the musicians packing away their instruments. Neither of them were in a hurry to leave; Nika had her hand tucked in the crook of Wesley's elbow, leaning against him as they walked. They were so completely engrossed in each other that it took something along the lines of a hydrogen bomb to intrude on their private bubble.

Interestingly enough, the Slayer was probably the only other person in the world that would have counted the presence of Angel as equal to an atomic blast—and the resultant crater.

"Wesley?" From her position on his arm, Nika could sense no increase in tension. Wesley's sinewy forearm was as relaxed under her hand as it had been all evening, and she realized that a demon had finally been exorcised. She wondered if Angel had any idea.

Wesley turned slightly to face Angel and Cordelia who looked as though they were out for a night on the town. "What are you doing here?" Cordelia asked, when their identification was confirmed.

"We were celebrating," Wesley replied with perfect calm.

Angel blinked, looking a bit surprised. "Did you just finish a case?"

Wesley and Nika's eyes met, and they both looked amused. "Actually, no," Nika said. "Wesley asked me to marry him."

"You're getting married?" The disbelief in Cordelia's voice would have been insulting had Wesley not known her so well. As it was, Nika was insulted for him.

As though he could sense what she was thinking, Wesley's hand slipped around her waist, giving her a subtle squeeze. Nika took the opportunity to show off her new ring, as all newly engaged women were wont to do. "Isn't it beautiful?" she asked guilelessly. "Wesley picked it out himself."

The pride in her voice had Wesley looking over at her with a love bordering on awe. Angel watched the exchange, watched as Cordelia obediently admired the ring, realizing with a pang that had he not run into the couple, he wouldn't have known of Wesley's engagement until Connor or Dawn informed him. The man he once would have called his best friend now seemed but a distant acquaintance. While he had never dreamed that Wesley would get married, he once would have been sure that he was the one who would have been best man at the wedding.

Angel somehow knew that Spike would have that honor now.

It was, perhaps, the first time Angel had truly assimilated his loss. He had taken the ex-Watcher's devotion for granted. He had believed that Wesley would always be there, ready to lend a helping hand or his razor-sharp mind to solve a problem. Even after the attempted murder-by-pillow in the hospital three years before, Angel had believed that Wesley would remain a loyal follower, ready to jump to his aid at a moment's notice.

He had been a fool, and he had lost his friend. Cordelia had been right when she had encouraged him to reconcile with Wes. Angel had believed he had all the time in the world when it had already slipped out of his grasp.

"Congratulations to both of you," Angel managed to say when he realized that the others were waiting for his response. "I hope both of you will be very happy together."

Wesley nodded, the knowledge of their friendship's passing present in his eyes. He'd known it was over for a long time now, but he'd had yet to acknowledge it. In this moment, his contentment was enough to drown out any lingering sorrow. It had been nice while it lasted, but he had everything he might have ever wanted in Nika and Spike and any others that might drift into their circle.

"We should go," Wesley said. "It's late."

Nika nodded. "We'll be sure to send you an invitation when we're sure of the date."

"That would be great," Cordelia replied. "It was good to see both of you again."

Everyone present knew that she was lying through her teeth to a certain extent. It was a polite fiction—they were all too uncomfortable around one another to truly appreciate a run-in.

"Likewise," Wesley said politely, and then he and Nika ambled away, quickly becoming lost in their own world again.

Angel watched their retreating forms, finally murmuring, "I never meant—"

"No," Cordelia agreed, knowing what he meant. None of them had meant for things to end that way. No one had suspected their tight circle might be disrupted, short of someone dying. "But it's done, Angel."

~~~~~

They were quiet on the drive home. Nika sat in the passenger's seat, content to allow Wesley to drive. "Are you alright, cariad?" she asked after a while.

"Of course," he replied, the touch of surprise in his tone giving his answer authenticity. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Perhaps because you're usually a bit upset when you see Angel," Nika suggested gently.

Wesley's brow furrowed as he considered the truth of her statement. "I suppose that might be accurate," he admitted. "But not tonight. I suppose I'm too happy to be upset."

A little smile of pleasure curled Nika's lips, knowing that she was responsible for his imperturbable mood—at least in part. "Then you are content?"

It was actually a more potent question than "Are you happy?" Happiness came and went, depending on the circumstances; contentment was a more abiding state, deeper than mere happiness. "More than I ever thought possible," Wesley assured her. "At one point, I would have said that I was happy. Being with you has taught me otherwise. I did not know true joy until I knew you, my love."

They were still riding the high of the evening, still reveling in the general sappiness that comes from being in love. She smiled, recognizing the sentimentality for what it was and enjoying it. "Why, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. You're a romantic. I never would have guessed."

"I do my humble best." Wesley paused. "I think I finally have been able to forgive myself, and it doesn't matter quite so much if Angel does. As Spike might say, I've finally been able to say screw 'em and believe it."

Nika nodded. "Then you have moved on."

"In a sense," Wesley agreed. "More than that—I have been able to accept that I am in a different place now. It was not what I might have hoped for because I didn't know what to hope for. Or, rather, I didn't know to hope for this."

"I didn't either," Nika said softly. "I never knew being with anyone could be like this."

Wesley glanced over at her. "I don't—"

"I loved Danny," she replied to his unspoken question. "I love you, and the loss of my first love makes this new love even stronger, wiser. I know what I could lose, and so I know what it is that I have gained."

"Because each day might be your last, it is all that much more important to enjoy it," Wesley said softly, repeating Nika's motto from so long ago.

"Yes."

Wesley was quiet, simply enjoying her presence, the movement of driving. "I was thinking about getting a car," he said, out of the blue.

"You're not going to get rid of your bike, are you?" Nika asked, sounding rather unenthusiastic about the idea.

Wesley smiled. "I sometimes think you like the bike as much or more than I do."

"I like going for rides with you," she said, sounding a little plaintive.

Wesley smiled, thinking about the last ride they'd taken, and the rather heated make-out session that followed. "I have no desire to get rid of the motorcycle," he said. "On the other hand, I do think that we would benefit from having another vehicle, especially for Spike and I to take out on jobs. It may become necessary at some point to have a different mode of transportation. Perhaps an SUV," he mused.

"Why on earth would you want a monster like that?" Nika asked.

Wesley gave her a half shrug. "There would be more room to carry things."

"Things like children?" Nika asked coyly.

"Perhaps," he teased. "Though I must warn you, I will be dead before I drive a minivan."

~~~~~

Angel was sitting in the dark when Connor came back in from his date with Dawn. They had gone out to a club with a number of her friends, and she had taught him to dance. Well, she'd tried, at least, but as graceful as he was in battle, it didn't seem to translate to dancing. Even so, he was in a great mood. Their six month anniversary was coming up, and Dawn had all but promised him a night of passion. They had taken it slow up to this point, but it looked like his girlfriend was finally ready for the next step.

Connor sighed when he saw his father in his office in full-on brood mode. When Angel had that look on his face, there were only two ways to deal with him—ignore him completely or kick his ass out of it.

Ignoring him seemed like the better idea, so Connor started to head up the stairs. "Connor?"

He sighed. "Yeah, Dad?"

"Did you have a good time tonight?"

Connor wandered into the office. "Sure. Dawn taught me how to dance."

"How did that go?"

Connor shrugged. "Didn't suck." He sat down in the chair across from Angel. "Is there any particular reason you're sitting in the dark, or do you just like it tonight?"

Angel sighed. "Did you know Wesley was getting married?"

"I kind of suspected it might happen sooner or later," Connor admitted. "Why? Did you see him?"

"Tonight," Angel said. "Cordy and I went out and we ran into the both of them. They looked happy."

"I think they are," Connor said. "I guess they're about as happy as anybody can be, you know."

Angel was quiet for a minute. "He's not coming back, is he?"

"Why would you think he would, Dad?" Connor asked. "You let him go."

"Connor, you—"

He stared at his father. "I was back a long time ago. If you'd wanted Wesley to come back, if you'd wanted to forgive him, you should have said something to him. He has his own life now. He had to make his own life."

"With Nika," Angel said quietly.

Connor shrugged. "And Spike. He's really pretty okay for a vampire."

"He's evil," Angel replied, sounding very close to a pout.

Connor gave Angel a dirty look. "It's not what someone is, it's what they do, Dad. You and Cordy taught me that. So did Dawn and Spike, not to mention Wesley. You taught me that it's okay to make mistakes as long as you learn from them. I figure if you can forgive me for sending you to the bottom of the ocean for a few months, and you can forgive Buffy for sending you to hell for a while, then you can get over Wesley doing what he did, because he did it for all the right reasons. Maybe you'll get that eventually, but for right now I think you pretty much just have to accept that you're not in Wesley's life, and he doesn't want you in his. Maybe it'll take him some time to forgive you."

Angel's eyes narrowed. "Forgive me for what?"

"For leaving." Connor looked suddenly much older than his years. "And for giving up. You shouldn't give up on people, Dad."

"Who did you learn that from?"

Connor suddenly looked smug, and very much like his mother. "I figured that one out for myself."

~~~~~

They retreated to Nika's bedroom as soon as they got back to the house. "I'm going to have to clean out a drawer for you."

Wesley tugged his tie off. "Is a drawer important?"

"Of course," Nika said with a smile. "It's for you to stay the night so you don't have to go back and forth to your apartment every day."

"But I'm not moving in yet." It was more of a statement than a question, and he looked slightly amused at the distinction.

"Not yet," she agreed. "We can make it official after—"

"We make it official?" Wesley asked, completing her thought. The tenor of his voice changed subtly, causing Nika's head to snap towards him. He'd tossed the suit jacked carelessly over the small wooden chair that sat by her bed. His shirt and tie both lay on top, and he was proceeding to tug off his t-shirt. Nika's mouth went dry when she saw the look in his blue eyes.

He looked—predatory.

"Tonight, this is about you," he murmured, coming close, bringing his head down to kiss her. His lips were more forceful than they had been before, and she was suddenly quite sure that she was going to be taken for a wild ride. Pun intended.

Wesley's hands were as skillful as his lips, and Nika found herself divested of her dress rather quickly. She felt out of control and well taken care of, all at the same time. Where their first time making love had been her trying to reassure him, tonight Wesley was in charge and doing his best to satisfy her.

Nika ended up very satisfied indeed.

When they lay, sticky and sated, Wesley smiled as his fiance laid her head on his shoulder. "I really hope Spike's not home," she murmured.

He lifted an eyebrow. "Why not, love?"

"Because if he is here, he definitely heard me."

Wesley got a self-satisfied smile. "Sweetheart, it wouldn't take a vampire to hear you. I'm fairly certain that we woke nain."

Nika groaned, though the sound held more than a hint of pleasure. "She'll be the most horrible tease tomorrow."

"Was it worth it?" he asked, somewhat facetiously.

"Worth it?" Nika lifted her head to stare at him incredulously. "It would be worth a thousand scoldings, let alone a little teasing." She sank back down and cuddled up next to him. Wesley relished her weight against his shoulder, the feeling of her arm flung over his waist, her legs entangled with his. "I can't help but be glad that Angel is an idiot," she murmured. "Otherwise I never would have found you."

Wesley smiled. Fate was a tricky thing. He thought perhaps that they would have found one another anyway, but he couldn't help but agree with her. "I love you, Danika."

Her murmured reply in kind followed him down into his dreams, and they were sweet dreams indeed.

Chapter 23: September 2003

Wesley picked up the phone on the fourth ring, just before the answering machine activated. "Hello?"

"Wesley? It's Nika."

The ex-Watcher blinked. He'd known both Spike and Nika for several months now, but Nika had never called him at his apartment. Normally, he either called Spike or simply showed up whenever he needed the vampire's help. "Is something wrong?"

"You might say that," Nika replied cryptically. "Are you busy tonight?"

Wesley somehow doubted she was asking him on a date. "No, I didn't have any plans."

"Then would you mind coming over and getting Spike?"

It was an odd turn of phrase, almost as though she were asking him to babysit a child, which hardly described the vampire. "Getting him...?" Wesley paused. "Are you sure this isn't an emergency?" He rather wanted to know whether he should come over to the house guns blazing (literally speaking), or if it were less urgent than that.

"It's not an emergency," she assured him. "But Spike shouldn't be alone tonight, and I have to be at work in an hour. I think it would be better if he stayed with you."

Well, it was a bit odd, but Wesley had no reason to say no. While he wouldn't call his relationship with the vampire a close one, by this point they had both saved each other's life several times. They might not talk about it, but there was a strong sense of loyalty building in their relationship. "Give me thirty minutes," he said, and then hung up.

It actually took him twenty minutes. Wesley pulled his bike up into Nika's driveway next to Spike's. She met him at the door, opening it before he could knock. Obviously, she'd been waiting for him, and Wesley's level of curiosity ratcheted up another notch.

"He's in the basement," she said quietly, stepping out onto the porch. She was dressed in the dark blue uniform of a paramedic, her brown hair braided and hanging in a thick tail down her back. Wesley thought she looked more severe, more remote than he remembered her being before. Although, it might have simply been the deep circles under her eyes. "I guess—this has something to do with Buffy. Something about the time of year she returned?"

Wesley suddenly understood. "Buffy was dead. Her friends brought her back." He did remember that much, at least. It had been early fall when Buffy or one of her friends had called and Angel had gone to meet her.

Nika raised an eyebrow. She didn't know what it said about her life that resurrection didn't seem too unbelievable. "He came back completely pissed last night, and pretty beat up. I—" Nika fell silent, not knowing how much she should tell the man about Spike's state of mind. "I think he might do something he'll regret if he's left to himself."

Wesley nodded. "He can stay with me tonight. Anniversaries—" He paused. "Anniversaries can be difficult." Blue eyes met gray, and they exchanged a look of understanding. They both had dates that were hard to remember and impossible to forget.

She nodded in relief. "I'll go get him."

Stepping into the front hall to wait, Wesley leaned up against the wall. He found his current situation interesting, to say the least. He never would have believed that he would find himself in the position of having to take care of a soulless vampire, that was for certain. He wouldn't say that he minded; it was merely—different.

Nika came back out into the hallway, followed closely by Spike. The vampire, who was normally cheerful and cocky to the point of annoyance, was the picture of dejection. Wesley noticed that Spike didn't look up or meet Nika's eyes, even when she tried to catch his attention. Wesley shot her a questioning look, but she shook her head, silently signaling that it wasn't the time. "I'll see you tomorrow, Spike," she said, making it sound much more like a statement than a question.

The ghost of a smile passed over the vampire's lips. "Yeah, luv. I'll see you."

Nika shot Wesley a meaningful glance as they left, though what she was trying to communicate, he had no idea. "I need to kill somethin'," Spike announced as they approached their bikes.

Wesley frowned, trying to think if he knew of a place they could go where they would be guaranteed to run into something nasty. "We could go to the warehouse district. There's usually a nest or two."

"Perfect."

Wesley had a hard time keeping up with the vampire as Spike weaved in and out of traffic. He was a blur of black—black bike, black helmet, black leather. The ex-Watcher gritted his teeth and kept up his speed, hoping that neither of them got pulled over for breaking the traffic laws. Based on Nika's concern and Spike's mood, he feared for anyone brave enough to attempt to stop him.

Wesley finally lost the vampire when forced to stop at a red light. Pushing up the faceplate on his helmet, he sighed, waiting for the light to change. There was still a good chance that he could catch up—Spike liked particular areas of the warehouse district better than others, saying they were more conducive to the breeding of vermin. Wesley just hoped that Spike didn't end up getting himself into more trouble than he could handle. As reckless as the vampire could be, it was entirely possible that he could get himself dusted before Wesley even arrived.

Sure enough, Spike's motorcycle was parked outside one of the empty warehouses that often housed a nest. Wesley knew that in addition to their own for-pay adventures, Spike went out hunting on his own. He had often wondered if it didn't have something to do with Spike's decision not to feed on humans, if his almost-nightly spot of violence was the only thing that kept the bloodlust at bay.

Wesley pulled up next to Spike's ride. He had no idea if Spike had spotted any activity, but he pulled the short ax and a stake from his saddlebags—yet another reason he had no desire to get pulled over by the authorities.

Heaving a sigh, Wesley breathed out a quick prayer to whatever power watched out for wayward vampires and ex-Watchers. If Spike managed to get himself dusted, Nika would never forgive him.

Upon entering the warehouse, he realized that Spike had indeed found a nest and that the vampire was well on his way to taking care of it. In fact, the look on Spike's face was so manic that Wesley simply found a crate to sit on and watched the action unfold.

Spike was a whirlwind of destruction, moving with a fluidity and grace that was a pleasure to view. When all the vampires were dust, Wesley stood. "Will that be enough for the evening, or do we need to find a demon bar and pick a fight?"

Spike snarled wordlessly, turning with mindless ferocity, brushing past Wesley and heading out the door. Wesley considered not following for a moment, but then discarded the idea. It was suddenly quite important that Spike didn't get himself killed. After all, Wesley didn't know that many people who were actually speaking to him that he could afford to lose one.

The vampire had apparently gone on foot, as his bike was still parked out front, and so he followed the sounds of fists on demon flesh. Wesley watched as Spike took out his fury on a rather large demon of indeterminate breeding. It appeared to be a Kashalk demon, but Spike had done enough damage to make the identification difficult.

When the demon finally lay dead in the alley, Spike stood over the body panting unnecessarily. "Spike?" Wesley approached hesitantly, wondering if Spike would turn on him. He moved quickly when he saw that Spike's leg wasn't up to supporting him. Blood dripped down his chin from his nose, and there was a rip in his right leg of his jeans that displayed a nasty gash. "Can you make it back to my place?"

Spike wouldn't look at him. "Yeah."

"Let's go then."

The trip to his apartment was more sedate, Spike following him rather than the other way around. Wesley made sure to follow all the traffic laws—he thought he might set a good example. He watched as Spike limped into his apartment, shutting the door behind them. "Why don't you have a seat? I'll see if I can find something for your leg."

"Vampire here," Spike all but growled. "Doesn't matter."

"I'll be right back," Wesley said, ignoring him. He came back a few minutes later with a first aid kit and two bottles of beer straight from the pantry.

"Ta," Spike muttered, taking the proffered bottle and stretching out his leg in front of him without being asked.

"Would you like to tell me what that was all about?" Wesley asked quietly, ripping the jeans a little further to get better access to the wound. Spike didn't answer immediately, so he amended his question. "Why was Danika so worried? Did you two have a fight?"

"No, she just heard somethin' she didn't want to hear," Spike replied sullenly. He took a pull on his bottle and watched Wesley's movements disinterestedly. "Came home drunk an' said some things I shouldn't've."

"I see." Wesley actually didn't—see, that is. The situation had seemed a little more serious than Spike simply mouthing off when he was drunk. After all, Spike hardly needed alcohol in his system to say something he was going to regret. "What did you say?"

Spike looked away. "Told her I almost ate someone last night."

Wesley managed to hide any alarm caused by his blunt statement. "Any particular reason?"

"Didn't like the look of 'im," Spike said, a sort of grim satisfaction in his voice at seeing the pulse jump in Wesley's throat. "Doesn't matter, since I didn't bloody well eat the bastard."

"Any particular reason you felt tempted last night and not any other night?"

Spike pulled away from Wesley's finishing touches on the bandage. "I was hungry, okay? An' besides, what's the bloody point? Why shouldn't I eat people? 's what I do! 'm a vampire!"

Wesley calmly sat down in his arm chair, fixing Spike with an imperturbable gaze. "Do you want to feed from me?" he asked.

"No!" Spike said angrily, then there was a flash of emotion in his eyes that Wesley had a difficult time interpreting. The vampire sank down lower on the couch. "Bloody hell, yeah. Yeah, I do."

Wesley knew he probably should have been afraid. Perhaps he should have grabbed a weapon and forced Spike out the door of his apartment, done the spell blocking his re-entrance. It was then that he realized how far he'd fallen from the Watcher's Code. It was one thing to work for a vampire with a soul who was searching for redemption. It was another thing entirely to work with a soulless, unchipped bloodsucker who didn't seem to feel any particular guilt over his past crimes. If his father knew the state of things, Wesley knew he wouldn't limit himself to vicious criticism. Rather, Roger Wyndam-Pryce would most likely disinherit him and then refuse to speak to his only son again.

He considered that thought. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to let his father know he was working with William the Bloody. Perhaps the old man would do him a favor and die of apoplexy.

Shaking off his morbid thoughts, Wesley turned his attention back on Spike, suddenly understanding the tension between him and Nika. "And Nika? Do you have a desire to feed from her?"

"'m a vampire, mate," Spike said bitterly. "I want to suck the world dry."

"Then why don't you?" Wesley asked, deliberately tilting his head to the side to give Spike a good look at his bare neck. "You could, you know. I doubt I could stop you." Wesley did have the good sense to wonder if he hadn't picked up a death wish somewhere. He could hardly believe that he was offering Spike his neck, and tried to decide whether or not he really cared whether or not Spike drained him.

He decided he probably didn't care nearly as much as he should.

Spike looked at him incredulously. "What are you? Suicidal?"

"Maybe I am," Wesley admitted. "In any case, it doesn't really matter. You're right. You are a vampire, and vampires by definition kill humans. So why don't you start with me?"

"You wouldn't be nearly as much fun if you were dead, mate," Spike replied with dark humor. "'sides, I want to taste you because 'm hungry, not because I really want to kill you."

Now that Spike was talking about it, Wesley decided to give free rein to his curiosity. He'd been wondering for a while now why it was that Spike didn't need a soul to restrain his bloodlust, whereas Angel would most assuredly turn into a vicious killer the moment he lost his again. "What keeps you from killing everyone around you?"

Spike shrugged and took another pull on his beer. "Dunno. Just don't see humans that way anymore, I guess."

"When was the last time you fed?"

"You mean other than from Nika?" Spike asked, knowing that Wesley had heard the story. "Uh, 'bout two or three years ago." He frowned, remembering the painful circumstances around that little event. He had the same burning pain in his gut now as he had then. "I'd just told Buffy how I felt, right? An' she shot me down—brutally, I might add. Not even the 'let's be friends' speech."

Wesley winced in sympathy. He'd had his own share of rejection. "I thought you had the chip then."

"Did," Spike said briefly. "Dru showed up about that time, an' she said I didn't have to worry 'bout the chip. I could ignore it. An' then we went out an' she killed for me."

"What happened then?" Wesley was more than a little intrigued. He'd never spoken to Angel about his bloodlust before, what it took for him not to feed on humans. Wesley had simply assumed from the vampire's demeanor that such questions weren't acceptable. Their relationship had always been one that was too much that of superior to employee to allow for such an exchange, and Angel hadn't really liked to acknowledge his state of mind anyway.

"I drank," Spike said shortly. "She was dead." There was a long silence. "I didn't want to, though. I did, but I didn't. Does that make any sense at all?" he asked plaintively.

Wesley looked at the other man with a great deal of compassion. "Yes. It makes a great deal of sense, Spike."

"You ever love someone who didn't love you back?" Spike asked. "Or who loved someone else?"

Wesley smiled in a pained manner. "It seems to be a curse of mine."

"What was her name?" Spike asked, wanting to know. They hadn't asked many personal questions; knowing the bare bones of the other's story had been enough. It was different now, though. Spike needed to know how you loved and lost and didn't end up destroying everything else in your pain.

"Fred." At Spike's look of surprise, he clarified. "Her name is Winifred Burkle."

Spike watched him, seeking a hint as to how Wesley had managed. "What happened to her?"

"She fell in love with my best friend."

The vampire winced in sympathy. "What did you do?"

"Nothing," Wesley said softly. "There was nothing I could do." He let the silence ride, and then asked again, "What happened, Spike?"

"Got a letter from Dawn," Spike said in a low voice. "She was talkin' 'bout Buffy's new boyfriend. Seems she hasn't asked about me yet. She didn't even care that I left town."

Wesley nodded. "Is that why you wanted to eat someone?"

"What's the point?" Spike muttered disconsolately. "If she's never even gonna know that I got the chip out and can still control myself, then what's the point of it all anyway?"

"Perhaps it has nothing to do with Buffy," Wesley suggested. "Perhaps it has more to do with you." When Spike looked up, startled, he continued. "I believe that if you've made it this far, there's no point in going back, Spike. If you should want to, however, I think it might be wise to start with me. I don't particularly want to have to kill you." He left unspoken the fact that he had already lost enough friends.

Spike stared at the other man. "Why do you treat me like a man?"

"Because you act like one."

Wesley watched as Spike swallowed and then took a deep breath. He marveled at his humanity. Although Angel hadn't wanted to talk about his nature but had seemed to continually remind everyone of what he was, Spike was different. Half the time Wesley didn't even remember that his partner was a vampire. "Right," Spike finally managed.

Wesley decided it was time to change the subject. "Do you know how to play Risk?"

Spike blinked, then frowned. "That the game where you're strivin' for world domination?" At Wesley's nod, Spike smirked. "Look who you're talkin' to, mate. Think I wouldn't know how to play a game that was all about takin' over as much territory as you can?"

"How silly of me," Wesley said dryly. "Would you like to play?" He hadn't pulled the game out since he and Gunn had played it at Cordelia's apartment. It had been a very long time since he'd felt like playing any games at all.

Spike regarded him intently, finally nodding slowly. "Yeah, let's play then. Better than thinkin' about what 'm not doin' tonight."

~~~~~

The apartment was quiet, but Spike could hear Wesley's slow, steady breathing. He stood in the doorway of the other man's bedroom, watching the still figure on the bed. Wesley had done alright by him, Spike had to admit. So had Nika, for that matter. He'd expected either or both of them to get on his case for coming as close as he had to killing again. Nevermind that the man had been an arsehole of the highest caliber; Spike knew that it would have been a move in the wrong direction to give into the temptation.

The desire to feed, to kill, to throw it all to the wind had been so strong, though. The time of year had something to do with it, of course. Two years ago he had stood at the bottom of the stairs and watched Buffy descend with a feeling of awe and wonder. She had returned, and if he'd had a thrice-cursed soul, he'd have lost it right then.

Spike wished Buffy had stayed in her grave.

He turned away from his contemplation of Wesley's sleeping form, returning to the couch and settling down. It had just hit him when he'd gotten Dawn's letter that it was all over. Any hope that he might have had that Buffy would eventually ask after him, that she would care to know what had become of him, had been lost. Nika had given him hope that he could live without her. She had given him a glimpse of what a real relationship might look like.

That didn't mean he'd given up all hope of someday having a real relationship with Buffy.

If she had stayed in her coffin, his hope would have remained buried with her. Spike never would have thought that anything could become of his love, as she was, after all, dead. After that kiss at the back of the Bronze with the music, after he'd thought they might be able to make something of their relationship, to lose her—

Spike buried his face in his pillow. He'd never wanted to let her go. Screwing his eyes shut, he forced himself to remember why he had left, why he refused to go back. He thought about the way Nika and Wesley had always treated him, then compared it to the way Buffy and her super-friends had acted.

Then, at last, he let go of any hope that had remained long past its expiration date.

~~~~~

Buffy was cleaning when she found it. Peter was coming over, and as it would be his first impression of her abilities as a housekeeper, she wanted it to be a good one. Since first-time guests got the grand tour, he'd end up seeing Dawn's room too, and Buffy just thought she'd straighten up.

She certainly had never thought to discover his coat.

"What are you doing?" Dawn's voice was icy.

Buffy dropped the leather duster as though it had burned her. "I—Peter is coming over tonight. I wanted to clean things up."

"Next time ask me to do it," Dawn replied haughtily. "You don't have any right to go through my things."

"I wasn't going through your things!" Buffy protested vehemently. "It was sitting right there in your closet."

"Yeah, so?" Dawn challenged. "Sometimes I like to wear it."

Buffy stared at her sister, feeling strangely violated, as though Dawn hadn't any right to that coat. If anyone had the right to keep it, it would be her. She had been—"How did you get it, Dawn?"

"It's none of your business, Buffy," Dawn said, her voice hard. She sounded like a very pissed off woman, and not like the girl that she was. "Besides, you didn't ask the right question."

Suddenly Buffy wanted very badly to know what her sister knew about Spike's disappearance. She wanted to know where he was and what he was doing and if he was ever coming back. Most days she could convince herself that she didn't care, but right then she cared very much. It didn't matter that a new guy was coming over for the first time, or that she hadn't asked about Spike's whereabouts before.

Buffy opened her mouth to ask the question, and then snapped it shut again. No. He was gone. That was all that mattered. Good riddance to bad rubbish. That was what Xander had said when he realized Spike was gone and (hopefully) wasn't coming back, and her friend had been correct. One less vampire to worry about, right? She'd slept with him, so it wasn't beyond the realm of possibility that she might wonder about him, but that was it.
She didn't have to act on it.

Dawn watched the play of emotions over her sister's expressive face, and she knew exactly when Buffy had decided not to ask the question. The Slayer picked up the coat handed it back to her stiffly. "Peter will be here in about an hour."

"I won't be," Dawn replied coolly. "I'm going out with some friends tonight."

Buffy frowned. "Dawn, it wouldn't hurt you to be friendly."

"No, actually, it would probably kill me," Dawn said snidely. "I didn't get the memo that said I have to be nice to your boyfriends, Buffy. Besides, Peter's a jerk."

"He is not!" Buffy replied heatedly. "Fine. Look, if you don't want to be here, don't be here, then. You've got a curfew, though." She turned on her heel and stomped out the door.

Dawn sank down on her bed, the duster cradled in her arms. Resolutely, she stood, shaking out the coat and hanging it carefully in her closet. "I miss you, Spike," she whispered as though the vampire might suddenly appear, filling out the leather duster. "I wish you were here."

And then she shut the closet door.

Chapter 24: February 2006
 

Wesley hefted another box and reminded himself that he was present as Spike's proxy and not to punch Xander in the nose, no matter how tempted he might be. He passed Nika as he went inside, and she leaned in close to him. "If that boy makes one more comment about the 'Evil Undead,' I'm going to do something he'll regret."

He bit back a chuckle. "But you wouldn't regret it?"

Nika raised an eyebrow. "No, I can honestly say I wouldn't." She shot the box he held a look. "Better get that inside before you drop it, cariad."

Wesley walked inside, heading towards the kitchen since that was the label on the box. It had been pretty quiet the last couple of weeks. Enid had left to return to Wales shortly after he and Nika had made their engagement official. She'd taken an evening flight, so they had all gone to take her to the airport.

They'd put the farewells off for as long as possible, but finally it was time to say goodbye at the security check. Of all of them, Enid had probably been the one with the most composure. Even Spike's eyes had looked suspiciously moist.

"Nain," Nika had mumured as her grandmother enveloped her in her arms.

"Danika," Enid replied. In Welsh, she'd spoken in the younger woman's ear. "You take care of that man of yours, cariad, and you let him take care of you too. I'm so proud of you."

"Dw i'n dy garu di," Nika said, tears choking her voice. "I love you."

Enid patted her on the cheek, and then gave her a kiss. It was Wesley's turn next, and Enid pulled him down for a hug, his lean form dwarfing her diminutive frame. "You're a good man, Wesley. You take care of her, you hear?"

"Always," he replied, smiling at her fondly. "Hurry back, Nain."

She smiled in return, kissing him on both cheeks. She looked over at Spike, who was hanging back slightly from the others. "William." She pulled him into a hug as well, whispering in a low voice so the others would not hear. "You go after that Slayer of yours and—" She offered a suggestion that would have had Spike turning bright red had he still been able to blush.

"Nain!" he protested, a delighted grin spreading out over his face. "'ve been a terrible influence on you!"

"Nonsense," she replied with a small smile. "I think you'll find it's a bit of the other way around. You take care of her, William. She needs a good man."

Spike's expression turned sheepish, and he gave her a shy peck on the cheek. "You're a bit of alright, luv."

"You're not so bad yourself, William," she returned. There was one last hug for Wesley and Nika, and then she disappeared into the crowd.

They all missed her, of course. Enid had filled a place in their hearts that had been empty for a long time for all of them. As Nika had said soon after she left, "You never know how much you need a mother until she's gone." In Wesley's case, at least, he hadn't known how much he needed a mother until he had one. He hadn't known that kind of warmth ever before, and its sudden absence was painful.

Life went on, however, and they had settled back down into their respective routines. Nika had begun working more hours as a paramedic, taking a friend's place while she was on maternity leave. Spike was much more relaxed and less broody than he had been about his relationship with Buffy, and the Slayer's house had sold much faster than anyone had expected.

So now it was moving day, and Spike had sent Nika and Wesley in his place to help, at least until after dark. As Buffy hadn't had the opportunity to get window coverings yet, the vampire couldn't help until the sun went down.

Wesley headed out for another box, doing his best to ignore Xander. The younger man had apparently found out about Spike and Buffy's burgeoning relationship, and he was making frequent loud comments on the danger of vampires and rogue Watchers. So far Wesley had been able to bite his tongue, but his restraint wasn't going to hold out for much longer. "I would just think someone who's been trained to kill vampires wouldn't be working for one," Xander said as Wesley passed.

Willow grabbed his arm and tugged him out the door before he could say anything. "Just ignore him," she advised wisely. "I know he's being stupid, but he's just upset that Buffy decided to move to L.A. instead of staying in Sunnydale."

"I suppose I can understand that," Wesley said carefully. "What are your plans, Willow?" He had found over the course of several hours of moving boxes that he quite liked the young witch. Wesley remembered her being an engaging young girl, but he was more than impressed with the mature, centered woman in front of him.

"I start teaching at the high school next fall," Willow replied. "But until then I'm just doing some free-lance computer work and getting the Sunnydale coven off the ground. Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that."

Wesley was a little surprised. "I'm hardly qualified to become part of a coven."

"No," she replied, sounding amused. "But you have a lot of connections here in L.A. I was hoping you could direct me to some reputable people in the area, suppliers, that sort of thing. Plus, both Buffy and Dawn seem to think you're a walking occult encyclopedia."

Wesley blinked, feeling absurdly honored. "I'd be happy to give you any help you need," he said sincerely.

"Great!" Willow replied enthusiastically. "It will be nice to have a connection here in L.A., other than Buffy, and to know that she's got people looking out for her." At Wesley's expression, the witch hastened to clarify. "I know that Spike will take care of her, but you can fight with your significant other, you know, and then it's nice to have someone else around."

Wesley supposed that was true, although he and Nika had yet to have their first fight. They'd had a few disagreements over little things, but they were well-enough matched that they hadn't blown up. Wesley couldn't help but hope they never would, although it was probably inevitable.

"Hey, Wesley!" Connor came outside. "I've been looking for you."

Willow gave him a parting smile and then went to get another box. "Something I can help you with, Connor?"

The boy shrugged. "It's not real important, but I'm finishing up my entrance essays for UCLA, and I was hoping you'd look over them for me."

Wesley nodded. He'd been a bit surprised that only Connor was present out of Angel's gang. He'd thought that Gunn or Fred might show up, but he had to admit that he was relieved when they didn't. He wondered if they weren't present because they hadn't thought to come or because Buffy had said they didn't need to be there. Wesley only wished she could have made certain that Xander was gone as well.

"Of course," Wesley replied. "Just let me know when and we'll work something out."

Connor beamed. "Thanks, Wesley. I really appreciate that."

Wesley watched him go and wondered how it was that he could have such a good relationship with Angel's son and not Angel. He sighed and went to pick up another box, checking the sun's position in the sky. Only a couple hours now until Spike would be over, and Wesley found that he was relieved. He would feel more comfortable with Spike present.

And who would have ever thought he'd feel more comfortable in the presence of a soulless vampire?

~~~~~

Spike was looking forward to seeing Buffy again, more than he really wanted to admit. Having her here in L.A., close by, was more than he'd ever hoped for. The fact that at least part of the reason she was moving to town was because of him gave him warm fuzzies, as Dawn might say.

What Spike was displeased about was the presence of the Scoobies. Before, when Buffy came up to see Dawn—and him—she had come by herself. Now that she had her own place, Willow and Xander would most assuredly be underfoot all the time, constantly getting in the way and causing problems because he dared to come around the Slayer.

He sighed as he pulled off his helmet. It might not be quite that bad; Giles was back in England, though the Watcher had been almost cordial at New Years. Willow had been nice too, and hadn't seemed as though she were terribly upset by his presence. Xander was a different story, however, and Spike hadn't any hope at all that they might actually learn to get along. It hadn't been so bad the summer that Buffy had been gone. They hadn't fought—much—and had even played pool together a few times. After the Slayer's resurrection everything had changed, and Spike still remembered the look on the boy's face when Spike had confronted him outside her house.

They hadn't told him, and he had fought side-by-side with them that summer. They had kicked him to the curb when Buffy was back, so sure he'd "start up his little obsession again," so sure that she didn't need him.

Well, she had needed him. Buffy had needed him for all the wrong things, and he'd given her everything because he was convinced he could pull her out of it, bring her up to him.

It was Wesley who'd finally convinced Spike that people didn't have to come down to him; he could go up to them—Wesley and Nika.

But that didn't mean he was going back to being a punching bag for the Slayer's Superfriends. If either Red or the Whelp tried anything, he'd show them what it was like to mess with an unchipped Master Vampire, Slayer be damned. That was just one of the things that had to change if things were to be different this time around.

Spike had thought he knew what it was like to belong to a group; he now knew what it was like to belong to a family.

Buffy came out to meet him, looking several years younger than she was. She wore only a touch of make-up, jeans, and an old Sunnydale High t-shirt that had seen better days, and her bright hair was bound up in a bandanna. "Hey there," she greeted him. "Thought I heard your bike."

"You mean you don't have another motorcycle-ridin' boyfriend?" he asked teasingly.

She grinned. "Nope. Just you."

Spike blinked. Somehow it was one thing to hear the Slayer say she loved him, another to have her admit that there was something between them, but having her call him her boyfriend was definitely icing on the cake. He smiled, the expression almost shy. "'s good to see you, luv."

"It's good to see you too." Buffy leaned in, her face turned up for a kiss, with which he obliged her. "Mmm. Lips of Spike."

A wry smile tugged at his mouth. "Don't think that was quite the tone you used last time, Buffy."

"I'm older," she said, her tone fake-haughty. "I'm allowed to be wiser too."

His tongue curled up behind his teeth, he raised an eyebrow and grinned. "That right? You wise up then, Slayer?"

"I certainly hope so," she replied. Buffy looked over at the empty U-Haul. "I hope you don't mind, but we didn't leave you anything. Connor and I got most everything heavy, with some help from Wesley and company."

"Gang's all here, then," Spike murmured, not much wanting to go inside.

Buffy nodded, not looking all that happy about it herself. "Look, Spike, all I'm going to ask of you is that you don't kill anybody, okay? I put down a deposit and blood's a bitch to get out of the carpet."

She was trying for humor, and Spike found himself feeling a surge of affection for her acknowledging that this meeting could get difficult. "Promise I won't eat anybody."

"Thanks." His word was good as gold, as Buffy well knew. "Pizza's on its way, so we should be eating soon. Dawn and I have some blood for you in a cooler if you get really hungry, and the microwave is working."

"Thanks, luv," Spike said. "You didn't have to, though. Ate before I came."

Buffy tucked her hand through his elbow. "I wanted you to feel at home. You know you have an open invitation, anytime you want to come over." She made sure she said it before they reached the door so that Spike never felt the barrier—she wanted no barriers to come between them.

He recognized the gesture for what it was and gave her hand an affectionate squeeze in reply. "I need to go find kitchen-stuff so we can eat," she told him. "I think Wesley's helping Connor and Xander set up beds and all."

She left him to his own devices, heading off in the direction of what could only be the kitchen. Spike could hear Nika and Dawn's voices, and he took a half-step in that direction, not wanting to meet up with the Scoobies. Willow's voice came through clearly then, from up the stairs, and she and Xander wandered into sight moments later.

"Well, if it isn't Deadboy Jr.," Xander said snidely. "Kill any good demons lately? Or are you starting to work on people yet?"

Spike opened his mouth to say something, but Wesley's hand clamped down over his arm. "I need Spike's help in the master suite," he said politely. "I need his strength to set up the bed."

The vampire took the hint and allowed Wesley to pull him up the stairs. "Xander's been making an arse of himself all day," Wesley muttered in a low voice. "He keeps making comments about unchipped vampires, rogue Watchers, and traitors." His grim smile held no humor. "I'm fairly certain he didn't mean what I might have first thought he meant by that, as it was followed by another statement about how Watchers should know to stake a vampire and not let hormones get in the way."

"I'll kill him," Spike muttered, knowing how much the comment on traitors must have stung, even if Xander wasn't referring to the Connor fiasco.

Wesley chuckled darkly. "No, it was quite funny really, seeing as how his next comment was about how perhaps we were letting our hormones get the best of us—or rather that I was letting my hormones get the best of me."

Spike stopped in the hallway, processing that comment, letting out a snort of laughter when Xander's meaning finally sunk in. "You mean—you an' me?" He started laughing in earnest, leaning up against the wall. "Oh, bloody hell," he muttered. "What a git. Not that you wouldn't be my type if I swung that way, mate, but—"

"Point taken," Wesley said, a smile lighting up his own expression, making it a bit less grim. He shook his head, starting to laugh as well. "As if he didn't know Nika and I are together."

"Maybe he thinks we have orgies or some such," Spike said, standing upright and heading back down the hallway to the master bedroom. "Wanker's probably jealous."

"I think you're right, though not about that," Wesley half-agreed. "Willow said she thought he might be upset that Buffy is moving to L.A., instead of staying in Sunnydale."

Spike nodded. "Thought that might be it," he admitted. "Knew I was going to have trouble with 'im. Be interestin' to see how the Slayer handles it."

"Did she say anythin' to you about it?"

Spike shrugged. "Told me not to kill anybody, 'cause it's too hard to get blood out of the carpet, an' she has a deposit down."

Wesley smiled. "Well, that's promising."

"Maybe," Spike replied, looking glum. "You haven't seen 'em when they really get goin' though."

For a while, it looked as though Wesley might not get an opportunity to see a full-on game of "Kick the Spike." Someone had obviously given Xander a good talking-to, since the young man was quiet, though sullen, all through the meal. The others talked around him, trying valiantly to ignore his bad mood and worse manners, but the storm was bound to break at some point.

Xander finally broke when Spike reached teasingly for the last slice of pizza, snatching it right out from under Connor's questing hand. "Sorry, Hell-Boy," Spike teased good-naturedly. "Looks like you lost out."

"Like you're one to be talking, Spike," Xander burst out.

All eyes swung to stare at him. "What are you talking about?" Spike asked, his tone dangerous. It looked like Xander had forgotten the practical implications of the vampire's chip being gone.

"Calling him 'Hell-Boy.' You're the demon." Xander's words were snarled out, his face twisted in an ugly glare. Buffy opened her mouth to reprimand him, but Dawn put her hand over her sister's, giving a quick shake of her head. She knew that Spike needed to handle this himself, and he needed for Buffy not to take any sides at all.

Spike gazed at him evenly. "'s a term of endearment, Harris," he finally said as politely as he could manage. "I happen to be fond of the lad."

"Sure, you are," Xander challenged, standing. "I'll bet you're just waiting for a chance to eat Angel's son. We all know the chip is out, Spike. It's just a matter of time before you start hunting humans again. Buffy might have issues staking vampires, but I don't, and I won't."

"You've never liked me," Spike acknowledged. "I get that. I even get why. But I have never hurt somebody I cared about, Whelp. You should know that, seein' as how I babysat the Niblet all that summer Buffy was gone. You didn't seem to mind me stayin' with her while you lot figured out how to rip the Slayer out of heaven."

Xander turned purple with rage. Spike was standing to face him now, while the others remained in their spots. Wesley readied himself to leap to Spike's defense if necessary, as did Buffy, but neither actually moved. Everyone seemed rooted to their spots.

"We didn't know!" he ground out. "We needed the Slayer."

Spike stared at him. "Yeah, so what? Doesn't matter, Harris. Can we just agree that we hate each other an' be done with it?"

"You're a vampire!" Xander said, looking around at the faces that surrounded him. "We're talking about a bleached bloodsucker that tried to kill us all more than once. Why can't anybody else see that he needs to be taken down? Put out of all our misery?"

Spike's face hardened, his gaze flinty. He went still, as though he'd been carved from a single block of marble. "Why don't you try it?" he asked softly. When Xander turned to stare at him, Spike continued. "I'm not quite the 'Chipless Wonder,' anymore. Why don't you try to stake me? I'll rip your throat out, an' I'll call it self-defense." His demon came to the fore, amber eyes glowing maliciously. "An' I've got witnesses."

Xander looked almost manic. "Why don't you bite me, Spike? Show everyone what an animal you really are?"

Spike's demon visage changed almost imperceptibly, and then he shook it off, returning to his human guise. "You're not worth it," he said coldly. "An' you probably taste like sawdust." He started patting his pockets, feeling for his pack of cigarettes. Dawn handed him a pack, his lighter tucked inside the cellophane. "Thanks, Bit," he muttered, turning to go out through the sliding doors to the back patio.

Wesley stood to go to him, but Willow put a hand on his shoulder. "This is a Scooby mess," she said quietly, sharing a look with Buffy, who nodded silently.

The witch headed out after Spike, and the Slayer turned to face one of her oldest friends. "You couldn't let it go, could you, Xander?" she asked. "You had to try and goad Spike into biting you so I'd have to stake him. Do you have something against me being happy or what?"

Xander got a sick expression on his face as he realized that the plan had majorly backfired. He'd really believed that he could force Spike into taking action that would require Buffy to stake him. Not only had Spike kept his cool, but he'd wound up looking like an idiot.

And Buffy looked like she might hate him.

"Buffy—"

"Spike is welcome in this house," Buffy said quietly. "I asked you to be nice. I asked you to treat him just like you would treat any human guy I was interested in. It would have been fine if you'd teased him, Xander. I would have put up with the two of you sniping each other because you always do that. However, trying to get me to kill a friend is beyond the pale. I think you have an apology to make."

"Buffy, I'm sorry," Xander managed. "But Spike—"

"Not to me," Buffy replied coldly. "I'm angry, and I don't think Willow's very happy with you right now, either, but in case you haven't noticed everyone else here is more Spike's friend than mine or yours."

Xander gaped, and looked around him, suddenly realizing the truth behind Buffy's statement. Spike didn't have friends; he didn't have people who stood up for him or cared if others were a little mean to him. He suddenly realized that he was outnumbered, and it gave him a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Spike's a vampire!" Xander protested, unwilling to let go of that point—vampires were evil. End of story.

"I think I speak for everyone here when I say I don't care," Wesley said coldly. He'd perfected that facial expression over the last few years. It felt rather good to use it to protect someone else rather than his own hurt feelings. "It's not what a person is, it's what he does. I don't particularly want to see you again, Xander. I'm sorry."

The ex-Watcher turned to go outside after Spike, and Xander looked over at Buffy and Dawn, both of whom had identical expressions on their faces. "Buffy—"

"I'm sorry, Xander," Buffy said quietly. "You're one of my best friends, and you always will be. If you're trying to make me choose between you and Spike, then congratulations, you've won."

As an expression of relief passed over Xander's face, Buffy hastened on. "I choose Spike. He's welcome in this house, and you will be again just as soon as you can treat him like a person. Maybe you won't ever like him, but he's due a little respect. Until you can give him that, I think it's best that you leave."

Xander realized that Willow was perhaps the only person who might have taken his side at that point, to plead his case for him with Buffy, and she had deliberately gone after Spike. "I—I'm sorry, Buffy. I just—I can't."

Buffy's nod was oddly compassionate. "I know, Xander. I wish it could be different."

There was nothing more to be said.

~~~~~

"Come out here to turn me into a toad, Red?" Spike asked sardonically as Willow came through the sliding glass door.

She seated herself gingerly next to him. "Nope, I've sworn off toad-turning. You end up with way too many toads way too fast."

Spike rewarded her with a small smile. "Then you've come to tell me to back off the Slayer, I don't deserve her, all that?"

"Nope," Willow replied cheerfully. "I've sworn off trying to control other people's lives. I've managed to screw up my own badly enough that I don't want to be in charge of anybody else's."

"Been there," Spike said softly. "What did you come out here for, pet?"

Willow thought about that question. "Well, I have to admit it was partly to avoid seeing Xander making an even bigger idiot out of himself. But the other part was to let you know that not all of Buffy's friends hate you or want you dead—" She made a face. "—er."

"I 'preciate the sentiment," Spike said honestly. "Didn't think any of you lot would ever—" He broke off abruptly.

Willow sighed. "Spike, I came pretty damn close to ending the world. I'm hardly going to be casting blame or throwing stones or, well, anything else remotely metaphor-y. I think it's pretty amazing that you've been able to go from cold-blooded killer to a decent guy, even if you won't ever be going to the beach with us."

Spike thought about that. "You know, Red, 'm sorry 'bout all that—with the kidnappin' and the threats with the bottle." He looked over at her, and Willow could read the truth in his eyes. He really did feel bad about it, though not the sort of guilt Angel might feel with his soul. Spike would never feel true guilt about his past wrongs. He would never feel the general sort of empathy for the whole human race that she or Buffy might—but he would fight for the people he cared about, and he would avoid doing harm to those who didn't harm him.

Willow had to admit that Spike was doing a lot better in the area of morality than most humans she knew. (Peter-the-jerk kept springing to mind.)

"It's okay," she said airily, waving a hand as though it were all too far in the past for her to remember. "Though, I'll warn you, if you hurt Buffy I will turn you into a—a—fluffy kitten."

Spike gasped in mock horror, his hand over his unbeating heart. "Red! Thought you said you were swearin' off that kind of thing!"

She gave him a coy smile, standing and looking down at him as Wesley came outside. "I said I'd sworn off the toad-turning, because it's really easy to have too many toads. You can never have too many kitties, though." Willow turned back towards Wesley, who gallantly held the door open for her.

He folded his long frame down next to Spike and waited for the vampire to speak. "Is he still inside?"

Wesley hesitated, and then shook his head. "I don't think so. At least, the Slayer was getting ready to kick him out when I left."

"I really wanted to bite him," Spike admitted. "Or punch him or somethin'."

Wesley smiled. "I did too."

"Buffy—" Spike hesitated. "She's not mad at me for that little display in there, is she?"

"I can honestly say that I don't believe that any of Buffy's anger is directed your way. No one is very happy with Xander at the moment." Wesley looked over at the smaller man, and he realized that the vampire looked terribly vulnerable. "Are you alright, Spike?"

"She really does love me, doesn't she?" Spike asked in a very small voice. "I never thought—if it came down to me or her friends..." he trailed off. "I never thought she'd pick me."

Wesley knew that Spike was more than old enough to be his grandfather, but in that moment he felt very much towards Spike like one would towards a younger brother. Tentatively, because their relationship was not a physically demonstrative one, he put his arm around Spike's shoulders. "I really think she does care for you, Spike," Wesley agreed.

He pretended to ignore it when Spike made a swipe at his face with the back of his hand. "'m turnin' into a bloody poof."

"Should I fear for my virtue, then?" Wesley joked, earning a mock-glare from the vampire.

The vampire suddenly laughed. "Not while that girl of yours could take me out, mate."

Wesley chuckled. "Personally, I would be more concerned about your girl."

Spike threw an involuntary look over his shoulder. "She is my girl."

Wesley stood, holding out a hand. Spike looked at him for a moment, and then accepted his help. "Thanks, Wesley." It was about more than the hand up, and Wesley knew it.

"You're quite welcome."

~~~~~

It was late before everyone else left, leaving Buffy and Spike by themselves, leaning against each other on the couch. "You could stay," Buffy suggested softly. "I've already put blankets up over the windows in my room."

"Don't think so, luv," Spike said regretfully. "None of your other windows are covered, an' as nice as it sounds, don't think we're ready to spend an entire day in bed."

"No," Buffy agreed, biting back a sigh. Spike had said he wanted to go slow, but she'd hoped that her little display with Xander would get him moving in the right direction. She took another drink from her bottle of water as Spike took another sip of his beer. "Though, maybe you've had too many beers to drive," she suggested hopefully.

"That's the nice thing 'bout vampire constitutions," he replied with a soft smile. "Take a lot more than a couple of bottles to impair me."

Buffy had used the last of her ammunition, and out of habit, she rested her hand on her steadily growing pooch. The doctor had told her that it wasn't abnormal for someone of her size not to start really showing until the fifth or sixth month, though Buffy had thought she'd be huge long before then. Her OB/GYN had assured her that she would soon be much bigger than she probably wanted, though.

A cautious excitement was beginning to build surrounding the pregnancy. There was also a deep sense of sadness that her mom wouldn't be there for the birth of her first grandchild. Even the sadness was being eclipsed by the anticipation and sheer terror of being a mother herself. As though her thoughts had stimulated the growing baby, she felt a movement. "Oh."

"What's that, luv?" Spike asked, raising his head and looking over at her with drowsy concern. He was just content to be with Buffy, appreciating her presence with no hurry to leave.

"Here." She grabbed his hand and placed it over the slight bulge in her abdomen.

Spike's eyebrows went straight up. "Buffy? What—Are you okay? Is—" He stopped as he felt the movement against his hand. His blue eyes widened in delight, and he looked up at the Slayer. "Is that—?"

"That's it," she said, watching the look on his face with the same delight he was showing at the movement within her. He was as excited to feel the baby move as she hoped he might be.

Spike grinned. "That's just...neat." He moved his hand slightly. "Does it do that a lot?"

"Not much yet, but I have every confidence that it'll get really old by the due date," Buffy replied.

Spike's hand stayed where it was. "Why anyone would want to miss this..." he murmured.

Buffy put her hand over his. "Thank you for being here."

"Why would I want to be anywhere else?" Spike asked softly. For a moment, Buffy thought he might kiss her, but instead he leaned down and pressed his lips to the back of her hand where it rested over his on her stomach. "I should go, luv."

"Yeah, it's late," she agreed, not moving.

Gently, Spike tugged his hand away. "Good night, Buffy." This time he did kiss her, a long slow kiss that rapidly grew in intensity. When he finally pulled back, the Slayer knew her eyes were probably glazed over. "Better lock up behind me," he suggested. Kissing her cheek, he whispered in her ear, "If I haven't already told you, Summers, pregnancy agrees with you. You're beautiful."

Buffy walked him to the door, resisting the urge to grab him and jump his bones right there on the living room floor. She wanted to take down a house again and do a retake of the next morning. "I love you, Spike," Buffy sighed as he left.

"Love you, Slayer."

Buffy closed and locked the door after he'd left, leaning back against the wood and listening for the sound of his bike roaring to life and heading off into the distance. "Well, Buf," she said wryly, talking to herself and wishing that Spike's self-control hadn't improved so dramatically over the last three years. "They do say that abstinence makes the heart grow fonder."
 

Part V: Reasons Revisited
 

"This is my life/It's not what it was before/All these feelings I've shared/And these are my dreams/That I'd never lived before/Somebody shake me 'cause I/I must be sleeping/Now that we're here/It's so far away/All the struggle we thought was in vain/All the mistakes, one life contained/They all finally start to go away/Now that we're here/it's so far away/I feel like I can face the day/I can forgive, and I'm not ashamed/To be the person that I am today/These are my words/That I've never said before/I think I'm doing okay/And this is the smile/That I've never shown before/Somebody shake me 'cause I must be sleeping/I'm so afraid of waking/Please don't shake me." ~Staind, "So Far Away"
 

Chapter 25: March 2006
 

The hardwood floor of Buffy's living room seemed to glow in the dim lamplight as she and Nika chatted amiably, both curled up on the couch. The Slayer had decided to keep most of her mother's furniture, partly to save money, but also because she still wanted reminders of their old house. Even in this new place, with her mom's things surrounding her, Buffy sensed Joyce's presence. It was comforting.

"This place looks really good, Buffy," Nika complimented. They were having their first meeting to discuss Buffy's pregnancy and Lamaze classes, which Nika was teaching. Nika usually required her first-time clients to take some kind of classes, feeling that it let them know what to expect.

Buffy looked around the living room herself, smiling. "It's been fun to get things fixed the way I want them," she admitted. "It's the first time I've had the opportunity to do that."

"And Dawn?" Nika asked. "Is she going to be staying here?"

"This summer," Buffy said. "Dawn promised to help me with the baby for the first few months, but she's going to get her own place after that."

Nika gave Buffy a knowing smile. "With Connor?"

"No, thank goodness," Buffy replied, laughing a little. "Which means I can hold onto the fantasy that my sister isn't having sex yet. On the other hand, I have it from a very reliable source that they're planning on getting apartments in the same complex."

Nika laughed. "I take it that the fantasy is weakening."

"Oh, no, I'm holding onto it with both hands," Buffy replied. "Just like Spike is. He told me he didn't want to know for fear he'd have to do something about it."

Nika burst out laughing. "I wondered why he hadn't gotten overprotective yet."

"Yeah, it's because he's refusing to be observant," Buffy said wryly. "That, and I think he didn't want Dawn to feel like she had to choose between him and Connor." The Slayer turned pensive. "Spike's lost out too many times to want to chance it."

The other woman didn't respond to Buffy's obviously self-directed comment. "How have you been feeling lately?"

Buffy shrugged, knowing that Nika was referring to her pregnancy. "Good. I mean, I'm not getting morning sickness anymore. The mood swings aren't a lot of fun, but I'm dealing. So far everything's pretty normal."

"Have you decided if you want to know the sex yet?"

Buffy smiled. "It isn't up to me, apparently. Everytime I go in for an ultrasound, the baby's moved so they can't tell whether it's a boy or a girl."

Nika laughed. "That can definitely happen at times. Have you decided on a birthing coach yet?"

"I—I don't know," Buffy said hesitantly. "I mean, it's a lot to ask."

"I'm sure Willow or even Dawn would be happy do do that for you," Nika said gently. At the look on Buffy's face, she said softly, "And that's not who you want to ask."

"No," Buffy agreed. "How wrong would it be to ask him?"

Nika shook her head. "I don't think it would be wrong, Buffy. The worst he could do is say no."

"Yeah, that wouldn't be so bad," Buffy murmured her tone slightly sarcastic. "I don't even know how big a part he wants to play in this. We're taking things slow, but being with me comes with an entirely different kind of baggage now. I don't even know if Spike likes kids, let alone babies."

Nika gave her a look. "I think you're overlooking something."

"What's that?"

"That it doesn't matter how Spike feels about kids in general, or even about babies. It matters how he feels about your baby." Nika sighed. "You're worried that he'll decide you aren't worth the effort?"

"It's not his child," Buffy said. "Human guys run from pregnant women. What's a vampire going to do?"

~~~~~

"It's just that I don't know what she wants," Spike lamented. "Don't even know if she wants me."

Wesley raised an eyebrow, certain that most of Spike's mood could be blamed on his typical melodramatic self where it concerned Buffy. "Spike, she kicked one of her oldest friends out the door for you. Why on earth would you think she didn't want you?"

"'s the baby," Spike finally admitted in a low tone. "I don't know anythin' 'bout babies, unless you count the best way to eat 'em, an' that's not goin' to cut it. She could get a human guy, an' maybe—maybe it would be better."

Wesley sighed, wondering if Nika was having any better luck counseling the Slayer. He'd never thought he would be handing out relationship advice; it was ridiculous when you thought about his history. (Except for Nika, and he blamed extraordinarily good luck for that.) "Do you want the child?" he asked patiently.

Spike gave him a sharp glance. "What has that got to do with anything?"

"If you're going to be with Buffy, you're also going to be with her child," Wesley pointed out. "The question isn't, 'are you prepared now?' It's 'do you want to be prepared?'"

Spike frowned, staring into his beer as if the liquid held the answers to all his questions. "Dunno. But I want to be with Buffy."

"Then if you're honest, that's the answer to your question," Wesley said gently.

Spike shook his head. "Even if she wants me to stick around—an' I'm not entirely sure she does—" he said, holding up a hand to forestall Wesley's arguments. "'m not daddy material. Once she figures that out..."

Wesley laughed. "And I am?" he asked, looking at Spike in disbelief. "If Nika believes that I can be a father to a child, Buffy certainly might think the same of you. Besides which, you've already proven that you can handle an adolescent. I've heard they're worse than babies."

"'m a vampire, mate," Spike reminded him, his tone a touch rueful. "It's just like bein' a teen."

Wesley gave him a knowing look. "Then perhaps you've started to grow up." He stood. "Come. Our informant just arrived. If we're lucky, we can get this job done tonight."

~~~~~

They were finishing that night's job when Spike asked, "So what do you think I should do?"

"About what?" Wesley asked, wiping his ax-blade on one of the demon's shirts.

"About Buffy."

Wesley sighed. He couldn't help but long for the days when Buffy was a distant memory, and Spike was trying to get over her. At least then the conversation didn't always revolve around the blonde Slayer. "I don't know, Spike," he replied, as patiently as he was able. "Why don't you ask her?"

Spike looked unsure. "You think?"

"I don't think. I know." Wesley faced the vampire and gave him a stern look. "If Nika and I had actually talked to one another about our feelings, rather than assuming and dancing around the issue, we might have been coming up on a year anniversary."

He let the unspoken insinuation hang. If he and Nika had wasted a year, then Spike and Buffy had wasted three times as much time. Spike nodded. "Right. Talk." He hesitated. "How?"

"Take her out to a nice dinner, man!" Wesley exclaimed. "Wear a tie, make a reservation, bring her flowers. Then ask her what she wants from you where it concerns the baby. It shouldn't be that hard."

"You don't know Buffy," Spike muttered, thinking about the other times he'd tried to talk to her. It had never ended well.

Wesley shook his head at the other man's obtuseness. "Just do something, will you, and then move on to another topic?"

Spike smiled wryly. "Sorry, mate. Didn't realize I was borin' you."

"You aren't 'boring' me," Wesley quickly replied. "On the other hand, it would be nice to talk about something other than the Slayer and how she feels about you."

He chuckled. "Yeah. Been a bit of a broken record, haven't I?" It was a rhetorical question. "I'll try something. Don't know what yet, but I'll get it figured out.

~~~~~

Getting it figured out wasn't easy. It wasn't as though Spike didn't know what women wanted. He'd seen the movie, watched TV, even been around women his entire existence. (Both alive and dead.) The difficulty lay in the fact that he'd loved precisely three women in his long life, and the bulk of the time had been spent with Drusilla. Romance for her had been a fresh human heart; she had completely disregarded his necklace, which was probably a more typical token of affection.

(Although, perhaps her glee over Angel's gift had more to do with her fascination with Angelus, or perhaps she was just crazy enough to prefer a bleeding heart to something pretty. With Dru, it was hard to tell.)

It was the same thing when he had chained Buffy up in the crypt. He'd been smarting over her rejection, and then he'd had to make a split second decision when Dru had tasered her. Impulsive acts never turned out well for him. Spike could make a plan and carry it out with the best of them—after all, he'd gotten the Gem of Amarra, hadn't he?—but when he got impatient and scrapped the plan, things fell apart.

So the chains had been a really bad idea, but they weren't really meant to hurt or scare her. Spike had just wanted the Slayer to stay in one place for long enough to hear him out, instead of walking away in a huff. It had worked with Dru, after all.

What did a human boyfriend do anyway?

When he put the question to Dawn, the girl shrugged. "I don't know, Spike. You do whatever you want to do. Do something she likes."

Spike gave the girl a look. "Somethin' she likes? Patrolling?"

"No!" Dawn said quickly. "Something different. Special."

The vampire still wasn't exactly sure what that was supposed to mean. Dawn gave him an exasperated look. "Do the same thing with Buffy that you would do with me, Spike. You seem to have a handle on friendships. It's the same thing, basically, only with more kissing."

"The only things Buffy an' I have done in the past is shag and fight," Spike said, a touch of bitterness in his tone. "What the bloody hell am I supposed to think?"

Dawn had to admit he had a point. Her sister's repertoire of conversation seemed to be fairly well limited. "You guys do okay talking," she said, trying to be encouraging. "That's all you've been doing lately."

"But—" Spike paused. "'s different. "I need to ask her something, an' I want to set it up right."

Dawn tried to hide a grin. Personally, she found Spike's dithering rather adorable. He was so confident and cocky in other situations that seeing him so unsure now just told her how important it was to him. "Make reservations and take her out to dinner then," she advised. "She'll like that, especially since she's eating for two now."

"I'll give it a shot then, luv," Spike replied. "You and Connor still doin' okay?"

"Oh, yeah," Dawn replied, the dreamy smile on her face telling Spike exactly how "okay" she was doing. "It's going really well."

He gave her a slightly sour look, belied by the twinkle in his eyes. "You two aren't up to anythin' that's goin' to make me go postal, are you?"

"That's none of your business," Dawn replied pertly. "Suffice it to say that Connor and I made it through our first fight intact, which is saying something."

"Not that I don't like the boy, but—"

"What do I like about him?" Dawn asked thoughtfully. "Well, he's cute. Big plus there," she said grinning. Spike rolled his eyes at her, and she replied by sticking out her tongue. "Other than that, it's mostly that we have a lot in common. We like the same kinds of things, and he's really nice. Oh, and we both understand having a freaky family. We can talk to each other about things that are going on without sounding completely psycho."

Spike smiled. "That sounds like enough reason to me."

Dawn was quiet for a moment. "Spike?"

"Yeah, luv?"

"I love you."

He looked over at her, surprised. "Love you too, Bit, but what was that for?"

"Showing me an example of the kind of guy I want so I knew a good one when I saw him."

Spike was rendered speechless. All he could do was smile softly and touch Dawn's cheek in wordless thanks.

~~~~~

"Hey, Nika."

Nika turned to see Dawn entering the kitchen from the basement. "Hello, cariad. Did you stay the night?"

Dawn shrugged. "Yeah. It had been a while, and Spike and I had a lot to catch up on." She sat down at the kitchen table. "Besides, Connor had some sort of family deal last night, and I didn't really want to spend my evening with Angel."

Nika put a cup of coffee down in front of the girl, her eyebrows raised in question. "He's better than he was," Dawn explained, "but he's still all broody. And he keeps asking both of us about you and Wesley."

"He's asking about us?" Nika inquired sharply.

Dawn nodded. "Not in a bad way. Just asking if you guys are doing okay, and if Wesley has killed any big bads. That kind of thing. Like he wants to be friends."

Nika gave an indelicate snort. "Too bad."

They sipped their coffee in companionable silence for a while. "Nika? Can I ask you a personal question?"

The other woman looked across the table at Dawn, weighing her request with due consideration. "Of course, Dawn, though I won't promise to answer."

"How do you know when you should have sex with somebody?"

"Is this about Connor?"

"Kind of." A little line appeared between Dawn's brows. "I mean, we're definitely headed in that direction, but Buffy—watching my sister has made me just a little cautious. I just thought you might—I don't know, have some ideas."

Nika sighed, thinking for a moment, taking a sip of her coffee to give herself time to think. "I will tell you what I believe, cariad, but this is something every woman must determine for herself. Your sexuality, your body, is a gift that you give to your lover, whomever he might be. Between two people who care for each other, sex can be an incredible gift. It can also be merely physical, and it can become sorely twisted. You must decide what sex will be for you in your relationship with Connor. Is it something that he will appreciate and treasure, or is it something he feels is his due?"

Dawn smiled. "I think it would be a gift, you know. We haven't said 'I love you' yet, but it's coming. Even if it doesn't last, I think I'll always love him."

Nika reached across the table to grasp Dawn's hand, giving it a squeeze. "It is a difficult decision, love, though not everyone would agree with me. I have loved three men in my life, and I have not regretted any of it. That is something I am quite proud of."

"You and Spike were together, weren't you?" Dawn asked.

"Yes," Nika said quietly. "We both needed something from the other. I needed to feel as though I was not alone, and Spike needed to know he was cherished. It was good."

"And you and Wesley?" Dawn asked. "How did you know you loved him?"

Nika sighed. "I knew I loved him when I realized what it would cost me to lose him. It is not a method of finding the truth that I would wish on anyone."

"No," Dawn agreed, thinking about her own losses and the pain they had brought. Losing Connor would be a pain all its own. "No. That would be a really sucky way to figure it out."

~~~~~

Buffy cast a cautious glance over at Spike, thinking about what a strange evening this had been. She wasn't having a horrible time, but there was a thinly disguised undercurrent of tension all through dinner and beyond. She knew why she was nervous—she hadn't yet asked him to join her as her birthing coach. Buffy hadn't the least idea why Spike should be so tense, however, as she thought he had himself and his life pretty well sorted out.

Maybe it was just the circumstances of their date. Buffy had done the dinner and conversation thing with most of her boyfriends, the human ones anyway. She and Spike had never gone out together, dated, or whatever you wanted to call it, though. The closest they had come was when he'd come up to Sunnydale when she'd signed the papers for Peter. She and Spike hadn't had time to get used to doing the boyfriend/girlfriend thing, even if that's technically what they were.

Though, it did seem stupid to call a century-old vampire her "boyfriend." The moniker just didn't seem to fit. Buffy sighed.

"You alright, luv?" Spike asked, breaking the silence. The park was quiet after dark except for the slight buzzing of the street lamps that he figured only he could hear. "Are you cold?"

"Huh?" Buffy was startled out of her thoughts. "Oh, no. Not really."

Spike took a deep, unneeded breath. He'd thought that by going for a walk he would work up the nerve to have "the talk," but it wasn't going so well. "You know, Buffy—"

"Spike, I think we need to—"

They both stopped, laughing nervously at having started speaking at the same time.

"You go ahead," Spike said graciously.

Buffy looked away. "It's just, I have to take these childbirth classes, and I thought maybe—" She was interrupted this time not by Spike, but by a scream. They acted together as one, splitting up and running to flank the area from which the disturbance was coming. In spite of being nearly six months pregnant, Buffy was still moving at full Slayer-speed, nearly flying across the ground.

Spike, who was normally exquisitely graceful, found himself stumbling over a tree root that seemed to come up out of nowhere. With a growl, his demon appeared, yellow eyes glowing, easily picking out the scene.

The mugger was human, Buffy realized in the split second she had to assess the situation. He was human and he had a gun, which he was using to threaten a young woman. If the Slayer had had the chance to really think about it, she probably would have realized that Spike was a better choice to take down the thief, especially as the vampire couldn't be killed by bullets. She didn't have time to think, however, and she hadn't really had the chance to witness Spike in action since he had his chip out. Most of the time she forgot that he could now hurt humans. So it seemed logical for her to step in and stop the guy.

After all, she had the element of surprise on her side, and the mugger certainly wasn't expecting a pregnant woman to come out of nowhere and snap his wrist like a twig.

There was a sharp crack as the bones broke, and the gun went flying. Spike was there in the next instant, human face firmly in place. He grabbed the mugger's arms roughly, taking a second to toss his cellphone at Buffy. "Better call the police," he said curtly.

Buffy could hear the tension in his tone, but she didn't have time to figure out the cause. She quickly dialed 911, pausing to comfort the girl, barely more than a teen, who was beginning to sob in reaction. Spike kept hold of the man, and Buffy glanced over at him, realizing that he was planning on taking credit for the capture. It made more sense, of course. The cops were hardly going to believe that a pregnant lady had managed to take down a full-grown man twice her size.

Sure enough, Spike succintly explained the situation to the cops when they arrived. The cops took their statements, glanced over their identification, and said they'd call if they needed anything else, leaving the two of them free to go.

Spike waited until they were out of earshot before speaking. "What the bloody hell were you thinking, Slayer?"

His voice was low, but intense, and Buffy's head snapped around at his barely contained rage. "What are you talking about, Spike?"

"Why didn't you let me handle it?" he demanded. "That bastard had a gun, and in case you've forgotten, you're not the one immune to bullets."

"He was human!" Buffy protested, realizing belatedly that was no longer a handicap for the vampire. "Okay, so I forgot the chip is gone, Spike. I didn't have a chance to think about it."

"That's no excuse."

"Spike!" Buffy was getting pissed off. He was being unreasonable. "What's your issue?"

"You could have been hurt," he pointed out. "You an' the baby. Thought you said you didn't have a deathwish, Slayer."

"I don't!" Buffy protested, her own temper steadily rising. "Look, Spike, I may be pregnant, but I'm still the Slayer, and I'm still perfectly capable of taking care of myself. If you wanted to take the guy down, maybe you should have moved a little faster."

Spike was beyond angry at this point, and he could feel his control slipping. He knew he was being irrational; he was well aware that he was dangerously close to saying something he was going to regret. Seeing Buffy take down the mugger, seeing the gun fly, he knew that if something had gone wrong he could have lost her in an instant. She'd been shot before, and Spike knew that the Slayer was not immune to bullets.

He was angry at her for being so seemingly careless, angry at himself for not moving faster, scared to death that he was going to lose her again, one way or another. "I was movin' as fast as I could," he replied, a hot bolt of shame sliding through him at his own weakness. "I don't see why you couldn't have waited a few more seconds."

"So you could play overprotective boyfriend?" Buffy demanded. "You don't have the right, Spike."

It wasn't what she meant to say, not really. Spike was as much her boyfriend as anything else, though that wasn't the title she'd give him. Buffy was angry and hormonal and just a little aroused as the fight escalated. In short, she was ready to have it out with all of their old passion.

Spike's blue eyes darkened until they were almost black, and his lips curled back in a sneer. "So is this it, Slayer? I haven't scratched your itch, so I mean nothing to you? Are we back to me bein' your toy?"

His accusation wouldn't have hurt so much if there hadn't been just a smidgeon of truth there. It wasn't all he was, but Buffy was a little tired of taking it slow. The fight had her, as Faith had often said, all revved up. Her right cross came out of nowhere, snapping his head back with force.

Spike's own fist came up and stopped. He stood, trembling, staring at her. His face stung where she'd hit him, but it hadn't really hurt. What had hurt was that they seemed to be back where they had started. He had promised they weren't going there again. Spike had sworn he wasn't going to be the Slayer's punching bag or her sex toy anymore.

Lowering his fist with effort, Spike took a step backward. Buffy felt as shocked as the vampire looked, and she was almost disappointed when he didn't hit back. If he had hit her, Buffy might have managed to feel justified after the fact.

"No," he said hoarsely, taking another step back. "'m not doin' this again. 's done." Turning on his heel, Spike called back over his shoulder. "You can see yourself home, Slayer, if you're so good at takin' care of yourself."

Buffy reached up to wipe silent tears from her cheeks. In one stupid move, she'd taken them right back to the alley, where they always seemed to end up. They had seemed to come so far, and she had screwed it all up again.

~~~~~

Dawn wasn't quite sure what made sex so special. Her first time had been nice, but it definitely wasn't like the movies or the books either. There had been a lot of fumbling from inexperienced hands, awkward gropings, and giggling as things didn't quite work as they'd expected.

This, on the other hand, was very nice.

Connor was watching her, propped up on his elbow, a little smile on his lips. "I love you."

She scooted herself over so she was spooned against him. "I love you too," she sighed.

"Was it—" he stuttered a little, seeming suddenly insecure. "Was it okay?"

"It was good."

Connor was quiet. "I've never done this before, you know."

"I know. Me neither."

"This is nice, though." He stroked her cheek with his thumb, letting out a yawn. "I like being with you."

"Same goes," Dawn replied, yawning herself. She waited until Connor had settled himself back on the pillow before resting her head on his chest, feeling pleasantly sleepy.

"We're probably doomed, you know," Connor muttered. "When you think about it, your sister, my dad. We're completely screwed up."
 

"I'm okay with that, if you are," Dawn replied.

"Love you anyway," Connor murmured.

Dawn smiled. As she followed him down, she thought to herself, 'My love life could hardly get as screwed up as Buffy's.'

~~~~~

Wesley woke to the slamming of the front door. He pushed himself up slowly, wondering if it was a sound he needed to investigate.

"It's just Spike," Nika said, pulling him back down. "Probably angry about something."

The second bang, this time of the basement door being slammed, supported her theory. "Should we—?"

"No, not tonight," Nika replied. "We'll talk to him in the morning. It's best to let him cool off for a while first."

Wesley hesitated, thinking about it. He knew there were plenty of times when he had preferred to brood for a while before being inundated with questions and concerns. "Tomorrow then," he agreed, settling back down into sleep. His last thoughts were of the woman beside him, a grateful recognition of the security of their love.
 

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