By enigmaticblue  <enigmaticblue@yahoo.com>

Rated: PG-13

Summary: Spike leaves after "Dead Things," wanting nothing more than to get Buffy out of his head. Wesley's still an independent contractor after the events of "Loyalty." And the Slayer's still living in the land of denial.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters featured below except for Nika. She's all mine. And I'm not making any money off of her either, so please don't sue.
 

Chapter 26: Late March 2006
 

"Connor, thanks for coming," Wesley said, greeting the young man with an affectionate handshake and clap on the shoulder. "I don't think Spike's going to be able to come."

Connor frowned. "Is he still not talking?"

"No," Wesley replied, sounding unhappy. "Not even to Danika, and that is most unusual. What about Buffy? Have you seen her?"

Connor nodded. "I went over there with Dawn the other day. She looked tired, but she seemed fine otherwise. Dawn said she won't tell her what their fight was about, just that they'd pretty much broken up."

Wesley sighed. Nika had been worrying about Spike constantly over the last week and a half. If the vampire was emerging from the basement, it was only when he knew he wouldn't see anyone else. Both of them had tried to rouse him from his room, only to be answered by a surly "go away."

Nika said he'd been this way to a certain extent at the very beginning of their acquaintance, but he'd already had a few weeks of getting used to Buffy being gone. Wesley had thought a spot of violence was just what Spike needed, but if it was, he was getting it without the ex-Watcher being present. He'd told his partner—through the bedroom door—of tonight's job and his need for backup, but Spike had yet to show, so he'd given Connor a call.

The younger man shifted slightly, looking towards the basement door. "Maybe I should try."

"No, I don't think it's of any use," Wesley replied. "Spike will come out when he feels like it."

They had turned to leave the kitchen when the creak of the basement door could be heard. "You said you needed me."

Both men turned, but it was Connor who was the first to speak. "You look like shit, Spike."

"Piss off," Spike replied automatically. He was paler than normal, dark circles under his eyes.

Wesley frowned. "How long since you've fed?"

"'m fine," Spike replied, though there was no life in his voice.

"Well, you're not going," Wesley said, sounding frustrated. "Not if you've been drinking. I can't have you at less than your best."

"I haven't touched a drop," Spike replied, nearly snarling the words.

Connor shrugged. "He's telling the truth," he said, responding to Wesley's questioning look. "I can't smell any alcohol on him."

Wesley shook his head. "Very well. If you want to come along, grab a travel mug. We could use your presence, but you won't be of any use at all if you faint from hunger."

"Vampires don't faint." Spike did grab a container of blood from the fridge though, not bothering to heat it. "And 'm not sure I'm of much use to anyone."

"Don't be a stupid git," Wesley reprimanded him. "When you pull your head out of your arse, you can be a great deal of help."

Spike shot him a reproachful look. "You know, 'm in a great deal of pain here. You might be a little more sympathetic, Watcher." The two men locked gazes in a battle of wills. Spike looked away first. "Can we just go an' get this over with?"

"Fine," Wesley said. "Let's go."

~~~~~

It wasn't their typical job. The Verak demon clans were quite well assimilated into human society, and preferred to keep a low profile. Every hundred years or so, however, rival clans would find it impossible to settle their differences peaceably. The last conflict had cost hundreds of lives. This time, they had decided to hire an outside intermediary—Wesley.

The fat check they'd offered in exchange had made the deal sweet enough, but the reasons behind their choice of mediator made Wesley feel good. He was known to be just in the demon world, fair and knowledgeable about demons and their various cultures. Word had gotten out that the human called Wesley could be counted on to be an impartial judge and would live up to his agreements.

Thus, Wesley was going to be doing the negotiating because he knew the language. Spike and Connor were there as his bodyguards. While none of the Veraks were supposed to be armed, to not show up with backup would be a demonstration of weakness.

Connor looked every inch the young warrior, so Wesley wasn't too concerned about the Veraks' perception of the boy. Spike, on the other hand, with his exhausted appearance, could possibly be seen as a weakness.

The ex-Watcher was just happy that the blood Spike drank on the drive over seemed to revive him a bit. By the time they were entering the Veraks' Hall of Judgment, Spike's limp and haggard face made him look more like a seasoned veteran than a vampire with a hangover.

Negotiations went smoothly enough. With Spike and Connor casting imposing shadows to either side of him, no one was willing to risk their wrath. Wesley soon realized that most of the argument had to do with trade agreements that left one clan feeling cheated, so it was merely a matter of reworking the agreements to everyone's satisfaction. Easier said than done, of course, but it could have become much more complicated.

By the time the negotiations were over, and Wesley had received his payment, sunrise was quite close. The look on the vampire's face when he realized how close it was sent a slice of fear into Wesley's heart. He exchanged a glance with Connor, and then took Spike's arm firmly in his grip. "Let's go. We need to get you home."

Spike didn't say anything, merely nodding and wearily climbing into the passenger seat.

The drive back to Nika's house was made in silence. Connor quickly said his goodbyes and headed over to his own car, a refurbished Supernova that he and his father had worked on together for his 21^st birthday. Wesley herded Spike into the house, sitting him down at the kitchen table and beginning to make coffee and heat up a mug of pig's blood.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?"

Spike stared down at the grain in the ancient table, rubbing his thumb along one of the scars in the wood. "Buffy an' I had a fight."

"I had gathered that much," Wesley replied dryly.

He took the mug that Wesley held out and drained it quickly with a grimace. "Hate that stuff."

Wesley sipped his coffee and waited. He knew that Nika wouldn't be home quite yet from her EMT job. She was working overnights three days a week now, and yesterday she'd had to pull a doubleshift. "It was stupid," Spike finally admitted. "We were walkin' after dinner, an' I was trying to get up the nerve to ask her what she wanted from me. Heard some screamin'—of course—an' we sped off to the rescue."

"Vampires?"

"Human bugger," Spike corrected. "Thinkin' he had an easy target. Slayer rushed in there an' knocked the gun out of his hand. I—I dunno, I overreacted. Just kept thinkin' about what would have happened if he'd managed to get a shot off."

Wesley sighed. "So you fought."

"I said somethin' I shouldn't have—'ve got chronic foot-in-mouth syndrome when it comes to Buffy," Spike explained. "An' then she hit me. Maybe I deserved it, but..."

"I see. Did you strike her in return?"

"No. I wanted to, but I didn't. Just walked off. I kept seein' her face in that alley, tellin' me—" He stopped there, unwilling to continue.

Wesley nodded. "Are you going to apologize?"

Spike's chin set stubbornly. "No, 'm not. I shouldn't have said what I did, but I think it might be a little true. An' anyway, she hit me. She's goin' to have to be the one to say she's sorry first. 'm not crawlin' back to the Slayer. Not this time."

Wesley resisted the urge to heave another sigh. It looked as though the next few weeks were going to be miserable, at least until someone came to their senses.

~~~~~

"Why don't you just call him already?" Dawn demanded, getting very tired of her sister's constant long face. "You know you want to."

"No," Buffy said stubbornly. "Not after what he said. He's going to have to say he's sorry first."

Dawn rolled her eyes. "That's really retarded logic. What if neither one of you backs down? You can spend the rest of your life being sorry and stupid, or you can swallow your pride and apologize to Spike. You're the one that hit him."

"I know," Buffy said, frustrated. "What's the point, though, Dawn? If we're always going to end up fighting and mad at each other, why even bother?"

"It's not the fighting," Dawn pointed out. "Connor and I have had our fights. And I've heard Wesley and Nika arguing too, so it's really not that big of a deal. It's just that you and Spike have a lot of baggage surrounding the whole fighting thing, and this time you hit him."

"After what he said—" Buffy started, trying to defend herself.

Dawn fixed her sister with a stern glare. "You know, in my sociology class, they would say that hitting anybody, no matter what the reason, was wrong. You never hit your human boyfriends."

Buffy winced. That was true enough, and Peter had definitely deserved to be hit a lot more than Spike had. Seeing that she had Buffy on the ropes, Dawn continued inexorably. "Besides, I'm wondering if you weren't pissed off because Spike was right, at least a little."

"Fine!" Buffy burst out. "I was horny. Yes, I still want Spike, and he's not going anywhere with that. But that's not what it's all about."

"Are you sure he really knows that?" Dawn asked. "I know you told him you loved him, Buffy, but I don't think Spike really believes that this relationship of yours is going to last very long. After Connor and I had our first fight, I asked Nika what I was supposed to do, because I was pretty sure that it was over for us. She laughed and said that every couple fights, but everybody's got to learn how to bend a little. All Spike has done for you is bend, Buffy, and he's finally learned how to take care of himself. Until he knows he can trust you not to walk at the first sign of trouble, maybe you should be the one that bends."

Dawn gave her sister another stern look. "And you were the one that hit him."

Buffy winced. She sounded close to tears when she finally spoke. "But what if I ruined it?"

"I don't know." Dawn gave her sister a hug. "I guess you'll survive."

Buffy wasn't nearly so sure.

~~~~~

Nika was snuggled up against Wesley on the couch in her living room. "So Spike is okay?"

"I think he will be," Wesley replied, stroking her hair. "We'll have to see what Buffy does." They had both slept the day away, and had risen late, Wesley finally telling Nika what Spike had told him early that morning.

She sighed. "Let's not fight, cariad annwyl. I don't want there to be pain between us."

"'Oh, I think we are too wise to woo peaceably,'" Wesley quoted.

She sighed. "Then promise me we won't go to bed angry, even if we have to stay up all night—or all day—to sort it out."

"That I think I can promise you."

They sat quietly, simply enjoying the peace of the other's presence, when Wesley's phone rang. "Wyndam-Pryce." Nika listened to the one-sided, intense conversation, dread beginning to take over. She had accepted Wesley's job, and had accepted it was a dangerous one, but every time he went out she knew that he might not come back. When he disconnected, she asked, "You have to leave?"

"Soon as I can rouse Spike," Wesley replied. "Apparently, there are a large number of vampires bent on taking over a club tonight. One of the owners got word and decided to call me."

Nika raised an eyebrow. "Why not just shut down the club?"

"They would just choose a different time," Wesley pointed out. "Or a different club, one that we had no warnings for."

"How many?"

"He thought more than a dozen."

"Wesley," Nika began. "Far be it from me to tell you how to do your job, but shouldn't you have more than just Spike?"

Wesley considered it, finally nodding. "You're right. We could probably handle it, but more hands means less chance of anyone getting hurt." He quickly dialed Connor's number, but had to leave a message.

"Call Buffy," Nika suggested.

"Do you think it wise?" Wesley asked, concerned. "Not just with the pregnancy, but with Spike?"

"They have to see each other sometime," Nika pointed out reasonably. "And the pregnancy is still not so far along that it will make it dangerous. From what Dawn has said, Buffy's been going out on her own recently. At least tonight she'll have the two of you with her."

"Of course." Wesley sighed. "Though I'm not sure I'm ready for more drama."

~~~~~

Buffy climbed into the backseat of Wesley's new SUV. "Hey, Wes. I like the new wheels."

"Thank you," he replied politely. "It seems to be coming in handy so far."

"Did you get rid of the Big Dog?"

"No," Wesley replied, smiling a little. "My fiancé informed me that I would not be getting rid of the motorcycle."

"Smart woman," Buffy murmured, sending a cautious look at Spike in the passenger seat. "Hey, Spike."

"Slayer."

There was enough of a chill in Spike's voice to have Buffy sitting back against the seat in silence. No one seemed to have the use of their tongues as they finished the drive to the club. When Wesley pulled up, he gave both of them stern looks. "This is going to be difficult enough without the two of you at odds with each other. We have fifteen minutes before we have to go in. I would suggest you take a moment to ensure we don't go in there and end up getting everyone killed."

There was the slam of the door as he exited the vehicle and then a long silence. "Spike—"

"Forget it," Spike said shortly. "Let's just forget it even happened."

"No," Buffy protested. "I don't want to forget it happened. I wanted to tell you I was sorry."

Spike shook his head, finally twisting in his seat to face her. "No, luv, what I said wasn't fair, but what happened wasn't right. It just showed that we haven't really gone anywhere. I—I'm not sure this is gonna work out."

"Spike, no!" Buffy protested. "We don't have to end this after one fight."

The vampire looked away, profoundly unhappy. "I don't want to end it, luv, but we can't keep doing this."

"What? Fighting?" Buffy asked. "We fight all the time. It's what we do. We—we just have to figure out how to do it better."

Spike glanced down and away, out the window. "Now's not the time," he finally said. "Can we go in there an' do our jobs?"

"Hey, we made a great team when I still hated you," Buffy pointed out.

He smiled. "Yeah, that was fun. Remember the vampires in the magic shop with Angel?"

"Yeah," Buffy met his grin with one of her own. "That was probably more fun for you than me."

Spike reached for the door handle, and Buffy stopped him. "Spike—"

"I know, luv," he said softly. "I know." Spike could see the words in her eyes, but sometimes love just wasn't enough.

~~~~~

The situation inside the club was as chaotic as they had feared it would be. As seemed to happen so often, they found that the estimated numbers of the enemy had been lower than the actual count. Thankfully, the advance warning had allowed the owner to clear the club before the vampires actually showed up.

With somewhere around eighteen vampires, rather than the estimated twelve, however, it became difficult to keep track of each other. They had tried to stay close, but the vampires' leader was smart, and he'd managed to deploy his minions in such a way as to separate Buffy, Spike, and Wesley into their own corners of the large open room.

In spite of being outnumbered, Spike and Buffy were easily the match for the group, and Wesley made up in experience and brains for what he lacked in strength and speed. Buffy caught a glimpse of her former Watcher several times, and she admired his fighting style, which had much improved.

She was putting a stake through the heart of her last vamp when she heard a cry from behind, and felt a hard body slam into her, throwing her to the ground. Buffy landed with an oomph, and turned her head to see Wesley land next to her, a long piece of pipe straight through his shoulder.

"Bloody hell!" Spike's curse rang out, and Buffy pushed herself off the ground to see him stake the last target. He was at Wesley's side in a moment, checking for a pulse, looking his friend over to ascertain the extent of his injury. "Alright, mate?"

"I've got a bloody pipe sticking through my shoulder. What do you think?" Wesley muttered, not sounding particularly okay. Buffy figured if he was being cranky, he was probably better than he looked.

Spike pulled out his cell and tossed it over to Buffy. "Better call the ambulance, luv." While Buffy punched in the numbers and explained the situation to the operator in a low tone, Spike examined the injury. It looked as though the pipe had gone straight through, missing any vitals. The pipe was only about a quarter inch thick, but its presence was going to make it difficult for the paramedics to take care of him. "Think I might need to yank this out, Wesley," he said in a low voice. "I know they say not to do that, but I think it would hurt more to leave it in an' let them yank it."

"Somehow I'm certain you're correct," Wesley replied. "Do it quickly, Spike."

Spike grasped the pipe as close to the shoulder as he could,withdrawing it in one smooth motion. Wesley gasped in pain, his face becoming even paler, but he made no other sound. "Gotta give you credit," Spike said, laughing shakily. "You got stones, Wesley."

"Thanks." Wesley hissed again as Spike pressed the shirt he'd been wearing over the wound, applying pressure. He winced as he remembered something. "Nika—she's on duty tonight."

"You think—" Spike stopped mid-question. "Of course. That's just our luck." He glanced up at Buffy, who nodded.

"I'll go watch for them." Buffy looked down at the fallen man, an expression of pain flitting across her features. "Thanks, Wes. I owe you."

"One of these days I'll let you pay me back," he promised.

Buffy headed outside to watch for the paramedics, and Spike stayed to continue applying pressure to the wound. "You've got to stop getting hurt on the job."

"That's what I keep telling myself. So far it isn't doing any good."

They let the silence grow. "How bad you think this is?" Spike asked.

"It doesn't feel as bad as the gunshot wound," Wesley replied. There was the sound of sirens outside. "If—you'll call Nika for me?"

"'Course, though knowin' our luck, she'll be here."

Their luck was holding, since Spike could pick up both Buffy and Nika's voices coming from outside, as well as another, unfamiliar voice. The Slayer entered, closely followed by both paramedics. "You ever think about not getting hurt, cariad?" Nika asked, hurrying over to Wesley's side. She turned to her partner. "Ethan, I'd like you to meet my fiancé, Wesley."

"Nice to meet you," the big, red-haired paramedic replied gravely. "We'll get you patched up in no time, Wesley."

Ethan and Nika went to work on the fallen man, quickly getting him up on the gurney. "We'll meet you at the hospital, luv," Spike said quietly. He and Buffy had been standing back, out of the way, not wanting to interfere with their ministrations.

"Thanks, Spike." Nika turned to give him a grateful look, but otherwise her face was blank of all expression. Slayer and vampire watched them leave, and then went out to Wesley's car.

The drive over was as silent and tense as the earlier trip had been. Buffy was the one who finally broke it, just as Spike parked. "I feel like this was my fault."

"Not your fault," Spike murmured.

"But if I'd been paying more attention—"

"We all know the risks, Slayer, Wesley better than anyone. He's going to be fine."

Buffy shook her head. She would never get used to it: watching people she loved get hurt or get killed. Starting with her first Watcher, all the way up through Tara, with so many in between. Maybe Wesley would be okay, but she didn't feel any better about it.

Nika was seated in the waiting room when they got there, and Spike hurried to take a seat next to her. "You doin' okay?"

"Yeah, Ethan told our supervisor about Wesley, and he told me to take the rest of the night off." Nika had been completely professional when she'd arrived with the ambulance at the club, but now her voice shook slightly, and both Buffy and Spike could see the tears that threatened. "He's going to be okay, of course. It's not a life-threatening injury."

"What are they saying about his shoulder?" Buffy asked from Nika's other side, reaching over to hold the woman's hand.

Nika shrugged. "He's in surgery. They won't know for a while. There was definitely some damage done, but that's all the doctor could say."

"You know Wesley, Nika-luv," Spike said gently. "He's tougher than he looks."

She nodded bravely. "I told myself I wouldn't fall apart when he got hurt. This is just part of his job."

Spike put an arm around her shoulders, and Nika leaned into him. Buffy watched with a sense of jealousy. She knew that she didn't need to worry about anything inappropriate in their relationship, but she wanted to be the one leaning on Spike. She wanted to be the one to feel his arms around her. It really wasn't fair.

And then the little voice in the back of her head reminded her that it was perfectly fair, and if she hadn't gone and screwed up a good thing, she would have been the one with her head on his shoulder.

Hours always seemed to pass like days in hospital waiting rooms. Spike kept a surreptitious eye on the Slayer as she sat, or paced, or tried to read some tattered magazine. He had almost lost her tonight, he knew. Had Wesley not seen the vampire throwing the long pipe—part of a metal table—it would have gone right through her throat, or possibly her head. Not even her status as the Slayer would have saved her.

Spike knew that most of his anger from the other night had been born of fear. Like Nika, he had loved and lost before. Unlike Nika, he'd loved, lost, and then regained the same person. He couldn't see himself recovering from Buffy's death again.

He also knew that Buffy's primary way of dealing with anger and hurt was to lash out physically. Spike had long ago realized that there was usually a disconnect between brain and mouth whenever he was around the Slayer; the fight had been a stunning example.

So he'd done a lot of soul-searching—figuratively speaking—over the last couple weeks. Contrary to popular opinion, he hadn't lost himself in a bottle or in violence. This time, Spike really did want to know what the bloody hell he was supposed to do about the Slayer, without the liquor informing his decisions. When he added up his fear, plus the Slayer's right hook, with his mouth for good measure, the equation didn't add up to lasting love and affection.

He'd done the math. It was a recipe for madness and despair.

And it didn't change his desire or love for her one iota. One of these days, however, he'd piss her off even more than he had the other night, and she'd leave him. Or stake him. Spike actually preferred the latter option.

The doctor came out into the waiting room just then, interrupting his gloomy train of thought. "Nika?"

Nika stood quickly. "Is he going to be okay?"

"Why don't we have a seat?" he suggested. Once they were all settled, he said, "Mr. Wyndam-Pryce will be fine. There was some damage to the muscles, of course, and one of the tendons was severed. We were able, however, to repair it. I think he'll make a full recovery."

Nika smiled, and Buffy released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Spike spoke up. "How long's he goin' to be out of commission?"

"That's hard to say, really," the doctor replied. "I've seen a number of these cases come through—not with the exact same injury, of course, but similar. It could be months, or even up to a year before he regains full range of motion, but much of that is dependent upon the individual."

He stood. "I'm afraid they're expecting me in the OR for another patient shortly."

"Can I see him?" Nika asked quickly.

"I don't see why not." The doctor smiled encouragingly. "I'm sure he'd appreciate seeing you there when he wakes up. No other guests until he's moved into another room, though."

Nika glanced at Spike. "I need to—"

"Go, luv. We'll catch some rest and come relieve you tomorrow sometime." Spike glanced at the clock. "Actually, it'll be today after the sun sets." As Nika disappeared down the hall towards the recovery room, Spike turned to Buffy. "I'll give you a ride home. You look about done in."

The Slayer nodded, and then said quietly. "I'm not so tired that we can't talk, Spike, and I think we need to."

"If that's what you want."
 

By enigmaticblue  <enigmaticblue@yahoo.com>

Rated: PG-13

Summary: Spike leaves after "Dead Things," wanting nothing more than to get Buffy out of his head. Wesley's still an independent contractor after the events of "Loyalty." And the Slayer's still living in the land of denial.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters featured below except for Nika. She's all mine. And I'm not making any money off of her either, so please don't sue.
 

Chapter 27: Late March/April 2006
 

Buffy shut the door behind Spike, and then turned to face him. "Do you want something to drink?"

"No, 'm fine."

They seemed to be at an impasse yet again, and both wondered if this was the way it would always be. If words would always hang unspoken between them, if the past would remain a burden. "Did you mean it when you said this wasn't working?" Buffy asked in a small voice.

Spike refused to meet her eyes. "Don't know what else to say, luv."

Buffy had lost enough boyfriends to know the signs, to know the leaden feeling in her gut as one more man walked out of her life. She'd felt it when Angel walked away after they'd defeated the Mayor; she'd felt it watching Riley ascend on that stupid helicopter.

But she'd never felt it with Spike before—Buffy had always been the one to leave Spike. The last time, she'd left him in an alley for the sun to find, and he had disappeared.

"Isn't there something I can say to change your mind?" Buffy asked, her voice breaking.

"What could you say, Slayer?" Spike's shoulders slumped. "What could you possibly say that hasn't been said before? I don't see how we can keep doin' this. 's gonna kill me."

Buffy stared at him. "And it wouldn't kill me? Spike, you're the one that walked away the other night. If you'd stayed—"

"If I'd stayed—what?" he demanded. "We get into a fight an' then we shag? We bring down another bleedin' house so you can run out the next morning? What do you want from me, Buffy? Tell me that, an' maybe we've got a chance, but don't tell me you don't know. Don't tell me you haven't figured out why you want me around yet."

"Spike—"

He continued, relentlessly. "Because I need to know that when your kid comes you aren't goin' to decide that ol' Spike isn't the kind of role model you want 'round your little one. Send me packin' like you did with Dawn, after you got back from the grave. Let me take care of her, love her, an' then tell me I can't see her anymore, 'cause 'm not a good influence."

Buffy blinked, feeling as though she'd been slapped. She hadn't even thought about that. "That hadn't even crossed my mind," she said honestly.

Spike was still staring at her, not saying anything, and Buffy walked past him into the living room. She hugged herself, unwilling to look at him. This is what it came down to. She had never been good with words, preferring to use action instead. "I want a do-over," she whispered suddenly. Whirling to face him, her eyes begged him to understand. "When you're a kid, and you screw up a game, you can ask for a do-over, and then you get to start again with a clean slate. I want to knock down that old house again with you and do things differently this time."

His tone almost gentle, Spike asked, "And why with me, Slayer?"

"Because it's you," Buffy replied. "Because I can't get you out of my head or my heart. It's the way you treat Dawn and Nika, the way you've built this family that I'm so completely envious of. It's your strength and how far you've come since we met in that alley. It's the fact that no one has ever made me quite as miserable, or quite as happy as you do. It's because I can't see myself spending the rest of my life—no matter how long or short it might be—with anyone else."

She was crying now, desperately afraid that what she said wouldn't be enough to tie him to her. That her love wouldn't be enough, just like it had never been enough before. Blinded by her tears, Buffy didn't even see Spike approaching her, but suddenly his arms were there, cradling her gently to his chest. "Hush, now, luv," he murmured. "'m not goin' anywhere. How could I leave my girl?"

Buffy lifted her face to him, her cheeks wet. She was certain that her skin was probably splotchy, and her eyes were red. Spike didn't seem to mind, however, and his lips covered hers, his kiss gradually becoming more insistent. "We won't take down the house," he whispered, "but you've got your do-over, Buffy."

Their hands, their lips, roamed freely. Somehow they managed to stumble up the stairs to Buffy's bedroom. "Don't walk away again," she pleaded. "I'd rather have a knock-down, drag-out fight, and get it figured out, but don't leave."

"You want me to stay?" Spike asked, pausing to look her in the eyes, all motion stilled. "For all of it?"

She smiled. "I was going to ask you to be my birthing coach before our fight." When Spike still looked a little puzzled, Buffy said quietly, "For everything. For always. I love you."

Spike nodded and gave her a little smile. "For always then."

The night was exquisite. Spike had always wondered what it would be like when Buffy finally allowed him to make love to her, and now he knew. They moved as one, their prior experience giving them an intimate knowledge of the other's body. At the same time, it was all different. Both of them had changed, their bodies were just a little different. Spike marveled at the new bulge in the Slayer's abdomen; Buffy kissed each new scar on his milk-white skin.

It was slow and luxurious; it felt like coming home.

Best of all, for Spike at least, when it was all over, Buffy gave a sleepy, contented sigh and snuggled up close. "Don't go tonight."

Spike glanced at her curtains, heavy-duty floor-to-ceiling affairs. Their appearance had taken on new meaning to him now. "I'll stay as long as you like."

"You already know what I like," Buffy said, slipping down into sleep. "Forever."

Spike swallowed, brushing her hair away from her face. "Till the end of the world."

~~~~~

Wesley emerged from the darkness to a familiar feeling of being foggy both from drugs and pain. After a moment, he remembered the fight at the club, the vampires, leaping in front of a flying pipe to keep it from hitting Buffy. Subsequent events got a little fuzzy; Wesley very vaguely remembered a worried Nika telling him he would need surgery, and then—

And then nothing until now. He was almost afraid to open his eyes. The last time he was in the hospital, it had not been a pleasant experience, and not because of his injury either. He was more than half afraid that this newest injury would find Nika doing a runner on him.

"Hey, cariad. You in there?"

It was her voice. Wesley opened his eyes with effort. Lack of both contacts and glasses had her face fuzzy, but it was hers, and she was smiling down at him. He tried to say her name, but it came out as a croak. "You want some water?" Wesley nodded and waited for her to help him drink. "You're going to be fine, you know, but the anesthesia affects everyone differently. Plus, they've got you on the good drugs, with an antibiotics chaser to prevent infection. So if you're feeling doped up, it's a good thing."

"I am," he managed. "How bad is it?"

"Not bad," Nika reassured him. "There was some damage, but nothing permanent." She smiled. "You'll have a nifty new scar though."

"I'm so sorry," he murmured, remembering now that Nika and her partner had been the paramedics on scene.

She frowned. "Don't be stupid, Wesley," Nika said sharply. She could see his worry and his doubt outlined clearly on his face. "I told you I'd accepted the risks, and you're going to be fine."

"But—"

"I love you," she said fiercely. "I wish I wasn't sitting here right now. I wish we were safe and sound at home, in our own bed. But I would rather be with you here in the hospital than anywhere without you."

Wesley blinked back tears. "Thank you."

"Nonsense," Nika said, running a thumb over his cheekbones, pretending not to notice the moisture in his eyes. "As if you wouldn't be in my exact position, were the situation reversed."

Wesley's eyes drooped as the pain meds took affect again. "How long—"

"A few days, at most," she assured him. "I promise to spring you as soon as possible."

"Danika, will you stay?" he asked, hating to sound weak, and yet not wanting to be alone, to wake up alone. He couldn't wake up alone again in a cold hospital room.

Her hand was soothing. "Someone will be here each time you wake, Wesley, fy nghariad i. You are not alone."

Wesley slipped under, comforted by that knowledge.

~~~~~

Spike hadn't slept at all, preferring to watch Buffy sleep. She hadn't stirred all night, staying curled up next to him, her breath coming slowly and evenly. He wasn't quite ready to believe that this was real, that Buffy wouldn't wake up and demand that he leave.

He sighed, although it wasn't altogether a happy one. The Slayer was in his blood again, his heart, his brain. He was drowning in her all over again. If only she would keep her promise. If only it meant forever—but it didn't. It couldn't. Even if she was with him until the day she died, death would still come for her. Again. They said the third time was the charm, and this time Spike wasn't sure he would survive it.

And yet—Spike threw a quick glance at her to make sure she was still asleep, and spread his hand over her warm skin, the rise in her stomach where the baby was. "Guess I'll be around a while," he murmured, wondering if he was an idiot for speaking to an unborn child. "Your mum's got a dangerous job, but 'm goin' to take care of her for you. Told her I'd take care of you, too. So I'll be around a while."

"I like that plan."

Spike glanced up, startled, to see Buffy smiling at him. "Buffy, I—"

She silenced him with a gentle finger to his lips. "Do me a favor and think before you say anything. So far, it's been perfect, and I'd hate to get angry with you."

The vampire smiled around her finger. "Perfect, huh? That right?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Did you mean what you said?" Spike asked, a hopeful note in his voice. "About wantin' me to be your birthin' coach?"

"I meant it." Buffy ran a hand over his sharp cheekbones, and then his mussed hair. "If you don't want to, I'll understand, but I wish you would."

"Don't know how good I'll be, but I'll give it a try, yeah?" He smiled at her, and Buffy was awestruck at the gentleness of him. Not that he was soft in a bad or weak way, but he was different. She wondered if this was how he might have been given a chance by the Scoobies to change in the company of the group.

"If you try, I'm sure it will turn out wonderfully." Buffy tangled her fingers in his curls, finding them irresistible. "How's your leg today? You were limping pretty good last night."

He shrugged off the question. "I was a bit tired. It'll be fine."

Buffy remembered what she'd said to him in the park, demanding to know why he hadn't been faster, and felt shame. "The limp—it's not going to go away?"

"'s been three years," Spike sighed, laying his head down on the bed next to her, relaxing into the feeling of her fingers in his hair. "Nika said it had somethin' to do with brain injuries not healin' in anybody, even vampires. She thought the doc damaged me when he took the chip out."

Buffy was quiet. "Would you feed from me?"

Spike's head snapped up, throwing off her hand. "Are you out of your bleedin' mind?"

She lifted an eyebrow. "It was just a question, Spike. Remember what I said about not getting angry?"

Spike fixed her with a glare. "'s not just a question. You don't know what you're doin' to a vampire when you ask that. An' to answer your question, no. I don't want to bite you. I won't lie and say it wouldn't be nice, but you need all your blood right now."

"I didn't ask you to," she said, a little more sharply than she had intended. Buffy softened her tone. "It would have to be after I had the baby. I was just wondering."

Spike wanted to tell her in very plain language not to wonder things like that, but he hadn't the heart. Truth be told, he'd love to taste Slayer's blood again, this time willingly given. What a rush that would be. But could he stop? Would he even want to? "Dunno," he finally said. "Be a bit dangerous, yeah?"

"Slayer blood, though," Buffy replied softly. "And I trust you."

Spike understood what she was saying, that it was a possibility that his limp would disappear with the influx of Slayer blood. He had to admit it was likely even, but not something he wanted. "Not that I don't 'preciate the offer, luv, but 'm used to it by now. 'sides—" He paused, unsure of how to explain that it was a physical reminder. Vampires changed so little, but Spike was a physical guy. He liked to have tactile reminders of moments of change: his first Slayer and the scar, his second and the coat. Buffy and the chip and this limp, they were all connected. They all reminded him of the road he had traveled. It was impossible to put into words.

"'m okay."

Buffy saw the varying expressions flicker across his face, but couldn't read them. She wasn't going to argue, however. Maybe, after the baby was born, things would be different, but until then she'd have to demonstrate her love in other ways. "You know, I think I could stand to get cleaned up."

Spike pulled back reluctantly, looking over at the curtains. It was daylight outside, and he hadn't any clean clothes at Buffy's house, which meant he was pretty much stuck. "Yeah, you go get cleaned up, Slayer. I'll just—"

"Join me?"

Spike blinked, and a satisfied smile spread over his face. "Now that sounds like a very good plan."

"What can I say?" Buffy said slyly. "I'm all about the water conservation."

~~~~~

Wesley woke several times through the course of the day, each time finding Nika a constant presence by his bedside. He didn't feel quite as groggy as he had when he was first coming around in the recovery room, but the pain medications weren't conducive to being mentally alert or even aware.

The third or fourth time he woke, late in the day, it wasn't Nika he found next to his bed, but Angel.

Wesley knew they were on fairly friendly terms, even if they were not the best of friends, but he couldn't help feel a rush of fear and adrenaline that sharpened his senses. He also knew that Angel couldn't help but sense it. "It's okay, Wes."

"Where's Danika?"

"She left to get some dinner. I wanted to see you, and she said I could wait here while she went to the cafeteria." Angel looked uncomfortable. "I'm sorry if I startled you."

"No, it's fine," Wesley lied. He wanted Nika, and he was hardly able to believe that she would leave him with Angel.

The lines in the vampire's face deepened. "Look, Wes, I'm sorry. I didn't realize me being here would be that much of a disturbance. I can go."

Wesley took a deep breath. "No, really, Angel. I'll be fine. You just—startled me, is all."

"I'm sorry."

"Would you quit saying that?" Wesley snapped. "There's nothing for you to be sorry for."

Angel looked at him steadily. "Actually, there is."

Opening his mouth to reply, Wesley checked himself. He still owed the vampire, after all. If Angel needed closure, who was he to deny it to him? Angel realized the injured man was planning on remaining silent and forged ahead. "Connor told me about what happened. I guess Buffy told Dawn earlier, and she told him. I wanted—I just realized that this might be the best time I would have to talk to you alone."

"What did you want to say, Angel?"

Angel was relieved by Wesley's almost gentle tone. "I know it's too late," he admitted quietly. "I always thought that I could come to you whenever I felt like it, whenever I was ready, and one day I realized that you'd moved on." Angel sighed. "I wanted to tell you that I know why you took Connor, but now I can understand. I can accept and I can forgive, because I've realized what you did, you did out of love. I've done worse and had no good reason."

Wesley hadn't thought having Angel's forgiveness would mean anything. It had been so long, and he had come so far. In fact, he had been able to tell himself that he didn't need Angel's forgiveness or anything else. Now that absolution had been offered, Wesley found himself trying to choke back tears.

"Angel—"

"Are we still friends, Wes?" Angel asked wistfully. "I'm not saying things are ever going to be the same, but are we okay?"

There was a small, spiteful part of Wesley that wanted to throw Angel's words back in his teeth, to make him realize that nothing would ever make up for a murder attempt and years of exile.

But that was just it. Nothing would make up for it, just as nothing would make up for his taking Connor. As Nika had said not so long ago, Angel being an idiot had led him to her and to Spike. "We're okay, Angel."

"He botherin' you, Wesley?" Spike had appeared in the doorway, looking better than he'd looked in two weeks. He was scowling at the larger vampire as though he was ready to start a fight in Wesley's hospital room.

Wesley smiled. "No, Spike. Angel was just keeping me company until Nika got back."

Spike frowned, disappointed that he wasn't going to be allowed to kick Angel's ass. "Right then. I sent Nika home. Ran into her in the hall, an' she was lookin' pretty drug out."

"I should go," Angel said, standing. "If Spike's going to be here."

The two vampires eyed each other as Spike moved slightly to let Angel pass. "Take care of him, will you, Spike?"

Spike glared at Angel suspiciously and then unbent enough to nod. "I try." He watched until he was certain Angel was gone, and then sat down in the chair next to Wesley's bed. "You feelin' alright, mate?"

"Much better, thank you," Wesley replied. "And you?"

Spike tried to look nonchalant, but couldn't quite manage it. "Buffy an' I made up," he confessed. "We spent the day together."

"You got some sleep I hope," Wesley said, a touch of acid in his tone, although he didn't mean it.

"We took a nap this afternoon," was all Spike would admit to. "She asked me to be there when the baby's born, be her birthin' coach or some such."

"That's wonderful, Spike," Wesley replied sincerely.

Spike hesitated. "You an' Angel... You're not goin' back are you?"

"Going back to Angel Investigations would be like you going back to Sunnydale," Wesley said softly. "That isn't who we are anymore." He frowned. "Where is Buffy, by the way? I would think you two wouldn't want to lose sight of each other. Besides, you hardly have to stay. I'm quite alright."

Spike shrugged, lifting an eyebrow. "Nika said you didn't want to be alone, an' this is fine. Buffy's out in the hall. Think she wanted to talk to Angel for a minute."

"You don't sound too concerned." Not that Wesley thought Spike ought to be worried, but it surprised him that the vampire didn't seem to mind.

"You're not hearin' what I'm hearin'."

~~~~~

Buffy sighed. Every time she'd seen Angel recently he'd given her the same speech, wondering why she would want to be with Spike. It was like Xander all over again, only with more leather. "Spike and I are together. Get over it, Angel."

Angel frowned. "But, Buffy, he doesn't have a soul."

"And there were certainly times when I had my doubts about Cordelia having one," Buffy replied, more than a touch of sarcasm in her voice. "We've been over for a long time now. We've both moved on. Who we moved on to is our business and no one else's."

"Can he really make you happy?"

"He already has." Buffy glanced down the hall towards Wesley's room. Spike was there, and her ex-Watcher who was becoming a good friend, and Nika, who was like having an older sister of her own. It was a family, a new one, and Buffy thought about the only other family she had in L.A. Not Dawn—Dawn as her family was as much a choice as Spike or any of the others. No, she was talking blood relation, and she thought it might be time to lay that particular demon to rest.

Buffy looked at Angel, realizing with a sense of relief that they were done. What was left of their relationship was a bare glimmer compared to what she and Spike shared. It was really and truly over. "I should go see Wesley," she said quietly. "It was good to see you again, Angel. Feel free to call sometime if you and Cordelia want to go on a double date with Spike and me."

It was a tongue-in-cheek offer, as Buffy knew he'd never take her up on it, but Angel surprised her by smiling. "I might just do that one of these days. Bye, Buffy."

"Goodbye, Angel."

They both recognized the ending for what it was.

~~~~~

"Okay, so you're doin' alright, then?" Spike asked Wesley. "You don't need anything else?"

"I'm fine, Spike," he replied with well-concealed impatience. "Why don't you go see Buffy?"

Spike shrugged. "She's comin' over here. We're watchin' movies tonight, if you want to join us." Nika had left earlier, but she had left strict instructions for the care of ex-Watchers. It had only been a week since Wesley had been released from the hospital, and she was still a little overprotective. Wesley sighed. He understood her concern, but he was getting just a little tired of being looked after. "Buffy's bringin' the ice cream," Spike added. "An' Connor an' Dawn are comin' too."

"Why the party?" he asked suspiciously.

The vampire gave every appearance of complete innocence. "No reason."

"Spike, you know I don't like surprises."

Spike grinned at the severe tone. "Which is why 'm givin' you a heads-up. Thought we'd put together a little welcome-home party, knowin' how much you love bein' in hospital."

Wesley was stunned. "A—what?"

Spike sighed, explaining patiently. "Look, mate, we all know this wasn't nearly as serious as it could have been, but it was still a bit scary. We wanted to make sure you knew how much we'd hate losin' you. Nika said we could have a party, but she made us wait till you were feelin' a bit stronger so you'd be up for it." He grinned. "She even got the night off. In fact, she's pickin' up the pizza even as we speak."

Wesley stared at him, and then smiled. "So this was supposed to be a surprise party?"

"Not really," Spike replied. "Bit more low-key, you know. 's just s'posed to be us, an' some movies, but we're celebratin'. Also thought I should let you know that Connor volunteered his time to take over for you on the physical. We'll still need your great squishy frontal lobes, of course, but you'll need to take it easy for a while, an' I know you wouldn't be happy if I went out without backup."

"Angel—"

"Can do without the boy," Spike said firmly. "'sides, we're payin' him a bit, an' Angel isn't. Connor said he wanted a summer job 'fore he starts college, an' this was good as any. Better, really, considerin' the boy's skills."

Wesley wasn't sure what to say, how to respond. No one had ever thrown him a party before, not even Angel or the others. He had always supposed that he wasn't the sort people had parties for; he was usually on the planning committee. Plus, he'd been worried about how Spike would cope without him, as he wouldn't be able to go out in the field for a while, and he'd been feeling just a little useless as a result. Now—"Spike..."

"No need," the vampire said gently. Really, he hadn't told Wesley because he knew the other man didn't like surprises. It was more because Spike knew how much he hated getting emotional in front of others. He could relate. "We take care of each other, Wesley. 's what we do."

Wesley took a deep breath, moving his good arm to clasp Spike's shoulder. "Yes, it is."
 

By enigmaticblue  <enigmaticblue@yahoo.com>

Rated: PG-13

Summary: Spike leaves after "Dead Things," wanting nothing more than to get Buffy out of his head. Wesley's still an independent contractor after the events of "Loyalty." And the Slayer's still living in the land of denial.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters featured below except for Nika. She's all mine. And I'm not making any money off of her either, so please don't sue.
 

Chapter 28: April 2006
 

"You sure you don't want me to go with you, luv?" Spike was watching Buffy with a concerned look on his face. "I don't mind."

"I know you don't," she replied, smiling at him. They were over at his place, in the basement. Connor was supposed to accompany Spike later that evening on a job, and he was driving Dawn over. Buffy and her sister were meeting their father for dinner.

Although a couple of weeks had passed since Wesley's injury, Spike and the others were making certain that he didn't have a chance to hurt himself again. The doctors were pleased with the healing process, but Wesley was only human, and was nowhere near ready to be risking his shoulder. The ex-Watcher didn't like to admit it, but it would probably be August or September before he was ready for fieldwork.

Buffy's pregnancy had progressed enough that she was being a lot more cautious about what slaying she did. That left Spike and Connor to take up most of the slack, with Dawn providing occasional back-up. Wesley might not be pleased to be stuck home with the books, but he wasn't arguing about it either.

The Slayer had been planning this meeting with her dad for the last couple weeks, ever since seeing Angel in the hospital. She'd managed to achieve a kind of closure there, and with most of the other guys who had left her. Her father was a different story though, and he had been the first. Dawn had wanted to see him as well, as she had no memories of him other than those the monks had given her. Buffy had yet to let him know of her pregnancy—or, at least he hadn't known until she'd spoken with him on the phone to arrange a meeting.

Spike had offered to accompany her several times, but Buffy kept refusing. This was something she and Dawn had to do by themselves. "It's not that I'm ashamed of our relationship, Spike," she reassured him now. "It's just that it's going to be difficult enough with just Dawn and me."

"I know, luv," he replied quickly. Buffy had been open with her friends, her Watcher, everyone in her life who mattered. Spike personally didn't feel her father rated even a phone call, but if she felt that's what she needed to do, he wasn't going to stand in her way. "Just thought you might let me eat the wanker."

Buffy laughed. "So I could collect the insurance money?" she teased, her grin broadening when she saw Spike's shocked look. He was always surprised when she didn't react to his eating-people comments. "No, I've got the pension from the Council now, so it's not like I need it. Besides, I have a feeling that he's going to be so disappointed to find out that his unwed daughter's pregnant, that I probably won't see him again." She frowned. "Not like he's been involved in our lives in recent history."

Spike stood, pulling her in close. "He's a first-rate tosser, that one. How he could leave not one, but three Summers women. I'll never understand."

"Because you're the one who stays," Buffy murmured, returning the embrace. A tattered paperback, half-hidden by the sofa cushion, caught her eye. "What's this?" she asked, scooting around him to investigate. She held up the book, reading the title out loud. "What to Expect When You're Expecting? Spike—"

"Nika gave it to me," he mumbled quickly.

Buffy raised a skeptical eyebrow, quickly flipping through the pages. She'd read the same book herself, and realized that Spike's copy included highlighted segments and notes in the margin. Notes in the same handwriting that had arrived on the envelopes for Dawn every other week for three years. "Uh huh."

"So I asked her to get it," Spike said, snatching the book away, his grumbling belied by the amused look in his eyes. Buffy realized that he was almost relieved at being caught out. "She said it might help if I read somethin'."

The Slayer smiled at him softly. "I think it's great. The classes are starting next week, so it's a good idea."

Spike swallowed. "Still don't see why you want me, Buffy," he confessed.

She raised an eyebrow. "There isn't anyone else I'd rather have to watch my back. It's a little different situation than usual, but it doesn't change how I feel."

"Good to know," Spike replied, trying to sound as though it didn't matter, and failing miserably. They both heard Connor and Dawn from above. "We both need to go."

"Be careful." Buffy gave him a quick kiss, drawing on his love to get her through the evening. "I'll see you later tonight."

"Of course." As they mounted the stairs, Spike, knowing her fears, whispered, "'m not goin' anywhere, luv."

~~~~~

The first thing both girls thought when they saw Hank Summers in the restaurant was that he looked old. Although it had been years since they had seen him, he looked older than they'd expected. Somehow, they both couldn't help thinking that Joyce wouldn't have appeared that old.

Hank didn't look at all thrilled to be there. You might think a father would show some enthusiasm in meeting the daughters he hadn't seen in eight years or more, but if he felt anything but faint discomfort, it wasn't showing. Instead, the greetings were wary, and the conversation was stilted. Hank tried to tell Buffy how good she looked without sounding snide about her pregnancy, but he couldn't quite pull it off. He was much more excited about Dawn and her scholarship to UCLA, however, and both Buffy and Dawn noticed the favoritism that he was displaying. He asked a number of questions about Dawn's major, the people she was meeting, and made a number of comments about how proud he was of her, while not saying much of anything to Buffy.

All three had ordered their food and had begun eating by the time Hank had finished talking about his work and latest girlfriend after Dawn's stiff answers shut down his line of questioning. "So, Buffy," he began, "where's the father?"

Buffy hid a wince. She was getting a little tired of answering that question. It might be the 21^st century, but it seemed it still had to be asked by everyone she knew. "He's not in the picture."

"What?" Hank stared at her. "Have you spoken to a lawyer, Buffy?"

Buffy shook her head, determined to get through this. Seeing that her sister was about to say something—probably not something very nice—she sent Dawn a warning look. "It's not necessary, Dad. We agreed that it's for the best. I have some good friends in town that will help me."

Hank looked scandalized. "Buffy, he can't just abandon you. If nothing else, he should be paying child support."

"What, like you did?" Dawn said, not quite under her breath. Buffy stepped down hard on her foot under the table.

"We agreed, Dad. I signed the papers. Like I said, I have friends who are going to help me, and I would rather my child have no father than someone who isn't going to be there for her."

Her statement came out more sharply than Buffy had intended, and on the tail of Dawn's comment, she could tell that it cut deeply. "Buffy—"

"It's okay," she said quickly. "I wasn't trying to point fingers or anything like that, really. This was my decision, and I'm okay with it."

Hank nodded, his face still tight with anger. "Of course. As long as you're going to be taken care of."

"No thanks to you."

"Dawn!"

Both Hank and Buffy spoke at once, but Dawn didn't look as though she wanted to back down any time soon. "What? It's true." She glared at her father. "It's not like you've done anything for us since the divorce. I don't see where you get off telling Buffy her ex is a loser. Pot, kettle, much?"

Hank cleared his throat. "Dawn, you don't understand. It's complicated. These are adult things, and—"

"And I'm not an adult?" she asked incredulously. When Buffy tried to catch her eye, Dawn shook her head. "No, Buffy, I'm tired of this. I'm tired of sitting here and hoping things will get better because Dad finally decides we're worth something to him. Well, Dad, guess what? I had to grow up pretty quick when you left and Mom died. There wasn't much of a choice."

Hank looked around uncomfortably. "Dawn, this isn't the time."

"I think it is," Dawn said firmly. "Because I don't think I'm going to have any desire to see you after this. I have some really good guys in my life right now who are there for me. You left. You didn't even come back for the funeral. There wasn't any money, because you weren't going to help us out. Buffy had to drop out of school. If I hadn't gotten a scholarship, I probably wouldn't have been able to go to college."

She stood, setting her napkin down on her plate, which was still half-full. "Newsflash, Dad. I don't need you. I'm doing pretty good on my own." Dawn looked at her sister. "I'm going to call Wesley to pick me up. I don't think I want to stay."

"That's fine, Dawnie," Buffy said softly, knowing that her sister was old enough to make that decision on her own.

"Dawn—"

Dawn looked at Hank, who seemed to want to do something so that the evening didn't end on such a sour note. "Sorry, Dad. I'm not going to hug you just to make you feel better."

Buffy watched as she walked out of the restaurant, her head held high. "Buffy!" Hank looked betrayed. "She can't talk to me that way. I'm her father."

She laughed wearily. "No, Dad. I think you gave up that right a long time ago." At the look on his face, she raised an eyebrow. "What? Are you going to blame Dawn's behavior on me? I did my best, but I'm not her mom."

"Buffy, you know I'm sorry about missing your mother's funeral. I just couldn't get back." Hank wouldn't quite meet her eyes.

"I understand, Dad. I really do," Buffy replied. "That doesn't change the fact that what Dawn said is true." She took a deep breath. "I thought you might want to know that you're going to be a grandfather. I wasn't expecting anything from you, though."

"Buffy..." Hank stopped. "I'm glad you told me. Are you really okay?"

"I have someone in my life right now who is very important to me," Buffy replied. "We take care of each other."

"A new man?" Hank asked before he could stop himself.

"No, actually an old one," Buffy said with a smile. "We've known each other for a long time, and he's been in love with me for a long time now. It's good, and he's ready to help me with the baby. We're not ready to be parents, of course, but I don't think anyone ever is." She stood slowly. "I'll give you my address. You can stop by sometime if you'd like. I wouldn't mind seeing you, but if you get too busy, I'll understand."

Hank sighed. "Buffy, I'm sorry for how things turned out."

"So am I."

She left her father sitting at the table and walked outside, her arms hugging her sides. Buffy knew they'd drawn several stares in the restaurant, but she understood Dawn's anger. Her sister had been a lot younger when Hank had left, and had fewer memories of the good times. It probably didn't help that Dawn knew her memories had been fabricated. With Buffy and Joyce and the others, it hadn't mattered so much after a while; they'd made new memories of their own, good and bad. With her father, there had been no such opportunity, mostly as a result of his own selfishness.

Dawn was already gone by the time Buffy got outside, and she wasn't sure whether to be disappointed or relieved. In some ways, she was grateful to her sister for cutting through the bullshit and stating how she really felt. On the other hand, hoping Hank Summers would one day come to his senses had been a cherished fantasy of hers for years.

Buffy sighed. She wasn't looking forward to the drive home. It would be a long, lonely ride, since she'd let her dad pick the restaurant for his convenience and not hers.

"Hello, luv."

She'd known he was there when she stepped outside. Buffy always knew when Spike was close. "Hey." She turned to see him emerging from the darkness, like a shadow detaching itself from the night. Buffy never could understand how he managed to hide himself with that bright hair. "What are you doing here? I thought you and Connor—"

"Didn't take us long," Spike explained, coming to stand beside her. "I'd just gotten back from droppin' him off when the Bit called Wesley. Thought I'd catch a ride over here with him an' then keep you company tonight."

"That was quick," Buffy commented, talking about the speed at which they'd dispatched their evening's assignment.

Spike shrugged. "Hell-Boy's a good partner. You should see that lad with an ax. 's somethin' to behold."

Buffy looked over at him, hearing the pride in his voice and seeing it in his face. She suddenly caught a glimpse of him in the future, talking about her child, speaking like a proud parent. He would dote, of course, because he didn't know how to do anything else. With Spike, it was an all or nothing love, and it would be all, she was certain of it.

Even if it was the only thing in her life she could be certain of.

"Here," he said gently, holding out his hand. "Why don't you let me drive you home, Buffy?"

She handed him the keys without protest, and then let him take her hand. No one made her feel protected the way Spike did; no one else allowed her to be weak without making her feel guilty. He was a perfect gentleman, opening her car door for her, waiting until she was seated before closing it. Once he was in the driver's seat and had pulled out of the parking lot, Spike reached over and took her hand again, somehow understanding her need for physical contact.

"Was Dawn okay?" she asked, breaking the silence.

Spike nodded. "Looked a bit upset, but she'll be fine. Wesley'll take care of her."

Oddly enough, Buffy didn't have any doubt of it. She laughed shortly at that realization—the idea that Wesley Wyndam-Pryce was fully capable of taking care of an upset 19 year old would have been laughable at one point. These days, she'd say Wesley was equipped to handle about anything. When Spike shot her a questioning look, Buffy explained, "You didn't know Wes back in Sunnydale. That Wes probably would have run screaming from a crying female. He wasn't capable of much of anything."

"People change."

"Yeah, they do." Buffy took a firmer grip on Spike's hand and let herself drift away to the sound of tires on pavement. "Sometimes even for the better," she murmured.

~~~~~

Dawn shot Spike a grateful smile as he got out and held the door for her while she took his place in the passenger seat. Spike would take care of Buffy when she emerged from the restaurant. Wesley didn't say anything as he pulled away from the curb. It wasn't until they'd reached the first red light that he broke the silence. "I take it the meeting didn't go well."

"You could say that," Dawn sighed, leaning her head against the window, catching a glimpse of herself. She looked like a girl on the verge of tears, which was appropriate. "It was just—Buffy was always Dad's favorite, you know? I mean, it wasn't a big deal, really. She was just a daddy's girl, and I wasn't as much. And tonight, he kept looking at me like I was special, and he was hardly talking to her at all. Then, he starts in on her about Peter, and it just pissed me off. I mean, like he has room to talk. He was the one who left us."

Wesley looked over at the girl next to him. Over the last months of knowing both Summers girls, he'd gotten a fairly good handle on their personalities. Buffy might be the Slayer, but in some ways, Dawn was the spunkier of the two, and she had matured quickly. "Let me guess. You gave him a piece of your mind."

"Yeah." Dawn let the silence stretch on. "I couldn't stand him talking to Buffy like that. It was stupid. He was being stupid."

Wesley considered her words for a moment. Somehow he knew she was waiting for him to placate her, to tell her that things would be better, that she could still make up with her dad. He didn't think that was what she wanted, however, and it wasn't what he was thinking. "I admire you."

"Huh?" Dawn's head snapped over to look at him.

"I admire you," Wesley repeated. "Sometimes it takes more bravery to end an important relationship than it does to keep it going. I wish I had your courage."

Wesley's words had been meant to comfort, and they did, but Dawn's tears perversely started to flow. His words told her that he understood conflicted feelings about fathers, and it was always easier to cry in the presence of someone who understood.

Wesley carefully took the steering wheel with the hand that emerged from his sling and reached into his pocket for a handkerchief with his good hand. Handing it to her, he simply waited until she could get herself under control.

Dawn gave a shaky laugh at the emergence of the hanky. It seemed that English gentlemen were never without their handkerchiefs, even if they were rumpled expatriates. She wiped at her eyes and then blew her nose. "Where are we?" she asked shakily, realizing she had no clue as to where they were going.

Wesley got a sheepish look on his face. "I thought—well, I thought perhaps you might like some ice cream. I've heard that's a necessity in moments of great emotional upheaval."

Dawn started laughing. Only Wesley could say something like that and get away with it. "Yeah. Ice cream is definitely in order. And Wes?"

"Yes, Dawn?"

"You're a really good guy to have around in moments of great emotional upheaval."

~~~~~

Buffy had been sound asleep for the last thirty minutes, so Spike pulled into her driveway carefully, not wanting to wake her. Hesitating, he debated the merits of carrying her inside, and then decided against it. Spike still wasn't quite sure how much Buffy appreciated being pampered, and that might put him over the line. "Buffy-luv, we're here. Gotta wake up now."

She came awake slowly, blinking at him blearily. "Spike? Where—"

"Home." He watched as the information sank in, and Buffy gave him a rueful smile. "Sorry. I guess I wasn't the best company."

Spike shrugged. "Just bein' with you is a gift, Buffy. Doesn't matter if you're sleepin' or awake." He didn't add that the fact that she trusted him enough to see her safely home was also a gift. It wasn't so long ago that she probably wouldn't have even let him drive—at least, that's how he felt.

Buffy sighed. "I should call Dawn and make sure she's okay."

"She called 'bout fifteen minutes ago," Spike reassured her. "She said to tell you she's fine, an' that she was goin' out for ice cream with Wesley an' then back to her dorm." At Buffy's questioning look, he explained, "I had it on silent ring."

"Oh." Buffy sat in the passenger seat. She didn't want to move, didn't want to go inside to her empty house, and at the same time she didn't want to ask Spike to stay. She thought she would end up sounding like a needy child, like she wasn't strong enough to carry this burden.

"Do you want me to stay tonight, pet?" Spike asked softly. "Because if not, I can call for a ride."

Buffy turned to meet his eyes, seeing in his eyes that he knew her conflicting feelings. Spike always seemed to know. "Yeah. I'll give you a ride home tomorrow. I just—"

"Not goin' anywhere," he said. "Remember?"

"Till the end of the world," Buffy agreed. "You promised both of us." She could let herself believe him now, tonight. She knew that it would be a long time before she didn't need his reassurance, but for tonight she could believe.

~~~~~

"Are you certain you'll be alright, Dawn?" Wesley asked, leaning over to look at her through the passenger window. "If you'd like, you're welcome to stay the night at Nika's."

Dawn shook her head. "Thanks, Wesley, but I think the ice cream did the trick. I'll be fine." The ice cream had been good. He'd taken her to a small, out of the way place that had the best ice cream she'd ever had, and Dawn had laughed at his expression when he saw her concoction of raspberry fudge ripple, strawberries, whipped cream, and a cherry on top. Wesley had stuck to a sedate chocolate cone.

But he'd kept her in stitches the whole time with his dry humor, telling stories of when he'd been with Angel, and some of the vampire's more embarrassing moments, plus a few more of Spike's. Wesley had spun tales of the Watcher's Academy, and his final test, which though gruesome, had been pretty tame compared to a normal day in Sunnydale. It was no wonder he'd been over his head.

In short, Wesley had done a bang-up job in making sure that her evening hadn't been completely ruined. "Really," she assured him again, her smile genuine. "I'm good."

"Don't hesitate to call if you need anything," he replied.

Dawn assured him that she wouldn't and then headed off for her dorm, hearing the sound of Wesley's SUV pulling out behind her. Her shoulders slumped as she walked across campus, though. Spike would take care of Buffy, and Wesley had Nika, but Connor was probably in bed and asleep by now. Either that, or out fighting vampires and demons with Angel. She knew he'd come over if she asked—she could have even had Wesley drop her at the Hyperion—but she hated to sound as if she couldn't take care of herself.

She was surprised to discover that the door to her room was unlocked, since her roommate spent most nights at her boyfriend's place. She was more surprised to see Connor lounging on her bed, a battered paperback she recognized from one of her English classes in hand. "Hey."

"Hey," she replied. "How'd you get in?"

"Your roommate let me in before she left. She said she was going to be out all night with what's-his-name, and that I could stay till you got home. I was about ready to call you to make sure you were coming back though."

Dawn came to sit next to him on the bed as Connor put down The Tempest and swung his legs over to the floor. "I thought you were going to be out with Spike all night."

"It was a piece of cake," he replied, smiling a little. "Besides, dads can really suck sometimes."

Dawn stared, sighing at the understanding in his eyes. "I'm glad you came."

"Hey," Connor said, grinning. "I brought The Matrix. I figured we could maybe watch a movie, and I could just stick around for a while."

"All night?"

"That might have been the plan," he acknowledged. "Was it bad?"

"Yeah," Dawn replied. "But being with you makes it better."

~~~~~

"Absolutely not," Nika said sternly. "You'll make the call with me present or not at all."

Wesley glared at her. This was the first real disagreement they'd had to date, and it was centered around him calling his father for the annual birthday call. He wanted to take the call at his apartment, in private, where he had easy access to a bottle of bourbon afterward. Nika said she wasn't going to let him brood about it because his father wasn't worth it. Wesley disliked being told what he could and couldn't do, even by Nika.

Sometimes, especially by Nika.

"I am not a child, Danika," he said coldly. "And I am perfectly capable of speaking with my father alone."

"No, you're not," she said bluntly. "I'm sorry, Wesley, but we both know what's going to happen. Your father will end up being a git, and you'll withdraw into yourself for the next couple of days. Forgive me, but I would rather not lose the pleasure of your company over your father's birthday."

When she put it that way, Wesley found it difficult to be angry, but he was still irritated. "Nika, I'm a grown man. You can't always protect me."

"But I will protect you when I can," she said heatedly. "If our roles were reversed, what would you do?" His silence was all the answer she needed. "Cariad, make your call in whatever privacy you need, but please don't run from me after. I would not let him touch you at all, had I anything to say about it."

Wesley sighed. "I wish he couldn't." Sitting with Dawn the previous week after her disastrous visit with her father had reminded him of his annual duty. It had also reminded him that people were never free of the burdens their parents placed upon them. Even if he managed to rid himself of the weight of his childhood, Wesley knew he would never be free of the scars. "I wish I were as strong as Dawn and could simply walk away, but I cannot, Nika. It's not in me."

"No, duty and loyalty are too much a part of you for you to so easily renounce your father," Nika murmured. "But you do not have to fight alone."

His anger spent—most of it had been anxiety about making the call anyway—Wesley pulled her in for a hug. "Fine. You win. I'll make the phone call with you present."

"Iawn da," Nika said, satisfaction in her voice. "Because I will hex him should he say anything mean."

"I don't think you can throw a hex that far," Wesley replied.

Nika smiled. "I've never tried, but it would be an interesting experiment." He shot her a reproving look, but she merely smiled and handed him the cordless. "And just think, cariad, you can tell him you're using a friend's line and cut the conversation short. I'm giving you a rather lovely excuse."

Wesley hadn't thought about that. "I suppose that's true." He dialed the familiar number, Nika puttering with pie crust in the background, listened as it rang. There was a rather large piece of him that hoped his father wasn't home and he could leave a message. Something along the lines of, "Happy birthday, Father. I've gotten engaged. We'll send you an invitation." That would do quite nicely he thought.

No such luck. "Hello, Mother. Yes, it's good to hear your voice. I, uh, was calling to talk to Father, actually...Good. I'm doing well...I do have some news, though. I've gotten engaged...She's a very nice girl...Certainly, yes, I would like to speak to him...Hello, Father."

Nika glanced over at him, noting that he'd unconsciously straightened himself, his accent got just a little more precise, and he was rubbing his jeans with the hand not holding the phone. She sighed, keeping an ear open for sounds of distress. "Yes, happy birthday, Father...No, I'm still an independent contractor...It's actually going quite well...No, I do feel like I'm performing my duty. I'm helping—No, of course. You're right. I don't have the resources of the Council...Yes, I am getting married... She's an American, actually, though she's spent quite a bit of time in Wales...She's a very nice...No, no, I realize that I'm very lucky to have her..."

It was that tone in his voice again. Wesley sounded almost—defeated, and Nika pulled the phone out of his grip. Wesley shot her an alarmed look, but she wasn't handing the phone back any time soon. "Mr. Wyndam-Pryce? This is Danika Owen, your son's fiancé. I'm so sorry we have to meet over the phones like this. It's hardly ideal."

Nika listened to the old man splutter a little bit, telling her how nice it was that his son was finally doing his duty by the family in getting married, and hoping that she wasn't pregnant and they weren't rushing into things. "We've known each other for years now," Nika said quickly, stifling any of his thinly disguised insinuations. "In fact, Wesley has been such a tower of strength for me. I really never thought I would fall in love again after the death of my husband. Vampires, you know."

Wesley's eyes were wide as he listened to her lay it on thick. His father was a gentleman, whatever else he might be, and there was no way he would make any more insinuations of that sort to a genuine widow. "Oh, yes, Wesley saved my life. I wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for him. Well, both he and Spike."

Wesley put his head into his hands, not knowing whether to despair or to hope that his father would have that heart attack he'd sometimes wished for. "Oh, you know Spike. William the Bloody? He and Wesley are partners. They hunt demons together. They're becoming quite well known. I've been told Wesley is Death incarnate with an ax."

By this point, Wesley was laughing weakly. Only Nika—and perhaps Spike—could so skillfully work the conversation around to make him look like a saint in the worst possible way in his father's eyes. "No, he's not evil. He lives in my basement." She flashed Wesley a cheeky grin, and he could hear his father sputtering over the line. "Oh, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce, the line is breaking up. I should really let you go, but it was certainly nice talking with you. I do hope you can come to the wedding. Angel and Spike will both be there, you know. I'm sure you won't pass up a chance to meet two famous vampires. Ta-ta!"

Wesley wiped tears from his eyes. "My love, that was absolutely brilliant. My only regret is that I wasn't able to see his face."

"My only regret is that you really can't throw a hex through the phone lines," Nika said, though she was smiling. Her look grew somber after a moment though. "As fun as it might be to tweak the old man, Wesley, we haven't heard the last from him or the Council. Our children—"

"Do not have a destiny," Wesley replied quietly. "Should they spontaneously decide to become Watchers, I will not stop them, but I won't encourage them in that direction either. Though, I have heard from Buffy that the Council has loosened up through the years. It did me no favors, however, and there is no room with them for the gray areas."

"For people like Spike and Angel?" Nika asked knowingly, sitting in his lap and putting her head on his shoulder. "I won't say I hadn't thought about it. I know that Watchers are very heavily into tradition, after all. Your father will want a Wyndam-Pryce to carry on the name."

"The name, yes. The role in the Council, probably not." Wesley smiled, and it was a strange mixture of grim and hopeful. "I hope to entirely ruin our children. If I have anything to say about it, they will take after your side of the family."

Nika laughed. "As long as they also take after you, cariad annwyl. That would be quite perfect."