Chapter 12

Xander sat alone in his dark hotel room, a bottle of whiskey held loosely in his hand. His face hurt, his abdomen was sore. He could only open one eye without pain, and he hadn't eaten anything since before his ill planned attack on Spike. He was miserable, hurt, and well on his way to being drunk. Jealousy was working its will through him, making him crazy. He ran a hand through his dark hair, countering the pain that caused by taking another swig from the bottle. Grimacing as the bitter liquid poured down his throat, he fought back the tears that stung his eyes.

He had been so sure that finding Buffy had been the right thing to do. He wanted to apologize for the things he had said to her. She'd had enough to deal with, without him being such a jerk. But, whenever it came to the vampires that she had let into her life, he got a chronic case of foot in mouth disease. Angel, well, at least he'd had a soul. Didn't make him any less undead, but it gave him a conscience. Then, there was Spike. One of the most vicious vampires of the last century, who didn't have the benefit of a soul. Who she also had a child with. And now, she wouldn't see Xander, but she was playing family with the evil undead.

Willow. . .Willow was pissed at him. He begrudgingly allowed that she had a reason. She had been his friend forever, and now he was doing a good job of fucking it up. He hadn't meant to make her attraction to Mark seem sordid, but he was upset. No excuse, but true. She had tried to talk to him this morning, but he had refused to open the door, still angry with her for her defense of the vampire, and her lack of defense of him with Mark and Spike.

The more Xander thought about it, the more he got pissed. When exactly had he become the bad guy? When did the tables turn between him and Spike?

Sighing, Xander knew when. The second he had lied about the spell. Nobody had forgiven him for that little stunt. Not Joyce, not Willow, not Giles. He had betrayed her trust, all because of how much he hated Angel. And he did hate the souled flip-side of Angelus, as much as Angelus himself. For tempting Buffy, making her forget her calling as far as he was concerned. Now that forgetfulness extended to his childe.

Tilting the bottle back once more, he thought he should do something to make her see that Spike was still as evil as ever. He'd never believe the vampire could change. He didn't have a soul, a conscience. As far as Xander was concerned, there was nothing redeemable about him. Why should HE get the girl, and the kid?

No, something had to be done. And soon.

~*~*~

Anne smiled as she opened the door, seeing Spike on the other side. But, even through her smile, he could see a bit of annoyance.

"What's the matter?" he asked, coming in and closing the door.

"Me and Willow were going to go out for a girl's night out, but Molly can't come over. Almost as soon as you got me fired," she said with a glare. He had the decency to look sheepish. "She got another job."

"I'll stay with him," he said, a flash of hurt crossing his face that she hadn't thought to ask him. Especially after the night before. Somewhere in the middle of the second movie, Matt had fallen asleep across his parent's laps. Spike had gathered him up, tucking him into bed, and just staring at him for a few minutes. When Anne had come looking for him, she had stood watching him watch his son, a look of pure happiness on her face. Then, after Willow had left, they had spent quite a bit of time snogging on the couch like teenagers. He had thought that she trusted him.

"Are you sure?" As soon as the words fell from her mouth, she wished she could pull them back. A scowl twisted his features, and his eyes turned icy.

"Don't be daft," was all he would allow himself to say. Anything more would result in a fight of apocalyptic proportions.

"I'm sorry," she said, stepping closer to him. He jerked a little when she touched his arm. Sighing, she raised her hand to cup his cheek. "I'm still getting used to this whole other parent around thing. I'm sorry I didn't think of you first." His face softened as he looked down at her, her eyes pleading with him to understand.

"Alright, luv." Her mouth bloomed into a smile, and he leaned down to kiss it. Her thumb stroked his cheek as his lips sipped on hers. Delicious tremors raced down her spine and she struggled to remember WHY they were waiting.

"Daddy!" a tiny voice squealed, causing them to groan with still unfulfilled desire.

"Hello, bit. Feeling up to a night with your dad?" Spike asked, running a hand over Matt's head.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Mum's going out for a while, so it's just us boys."

"Okay. Can we make pawcorn?" Matt asked, blue eyes hopeful. Spike glanced at Anne before answering. She gave a slight nod.

"Sure."

"Yay!" Matt threw his arms around Spike's leg in a quick hug then tore off down the hall. "Be back!" he cried. Anne and Spike watched him go with amused smiles.

"Don't let him try to get anything over on you. He always does with Mark." She was still looking down the hall, and missed his body go ridged at the mention of Mark's involvement in his son's life. By the time she turned to him, he had relaxed.

"We'll be fine," he assured, reaching out to pull her to him. "Hurry back," he whispered, leaning in to feast from her mouth again. "We have unfinished business."

"Spike," she breathed between sweeps of his mouth.

"Sh, kitten. Don't think. Just feel," Spike drawled. "You can feel how right this is." He closed his mouth fully over hers, his tongue sliding in to posses hers. She clutched desperately at his leather clad shoulders, her senses on overload. When he pulled back, he dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose, releasing her when Matt barrelled back into the room. The smell of her arousal wafted to him, and a sensual smile curled his lip. "Have a good time, pet."

"Yeah, bye Mommy," Matt said, smiling up at her. Anne stared blankly at them for a minute. Then, she mentally shook herself back to reality.

"Geez, here's your hat, what's your hurry, huh?" she said with a laugh. "Alright, I shouldn't be late. Bedtime's nine tonight, young man," she said firmly. He scowled in perfect imitation of Spike. She bit back a laugh and leaned down to kiss him. "Be good for Daddy," she whispered. "He's new at this." He giggled, and hugged her, placing a wet kiss on her cheek.

"Okay, Mommy." She stood and looked at Spike, kissing him goodbye as well.

"You be good, too."

"Oh, I'll be very good," he purred, his meaning not lost on her. She felt her skin heat up, and the fresh wave of desire washed over her.

"Jerk," she muttered when he grinned. "Be back in awhile," she said, turning to leave, cursing the sexy vampire.

"So, what first?" Spike asked when the door closed behind her.

"Pawcorn, pawcorn!" Matt cried, jumping up and down.

"Right, then, popcorn it is. Why don't you come show your dad where everything is." Matt's eyes brightened at the opportunity to help.

"Okay, C'mon." He dashed into the kitchen, a chuckling Spike following him after he shook off his duster.

~*~*~

Mark's boots echoed in the quiet night as he climbed the steps to Anne's house. He knew she wasn't home, he had called Willow earlier, and learned that the two women were going out for a night on the town. He decided to use the opportunity to have a little chit chat with Spike. He didn't feel any jealousy over the re-emergence of the vampire. Quite, the contrary, he was happy that Anne was getting her family like she had always wanted. And, Willow was enough to distract him from any romantic feelings he had still been harboring for the tiny woman.

The thought of the redhead brought a smile to his face, and he wished again that they could have seen each other tonight. She was amazing. Smart and funny, with the cutest habit of blushing when she got flustered. She was powerful, yet still shy. He wanted her like he had never wanted another woman, even Anne.

Shaking off the thoughts of the tiny witch, he raised his hand to knock, only to drop it in surprise when the door swung open, revealing a very suspicious Spike.

"What're you doing here?" he asked without preamble.

"Just stopped by," Mark answered, tilting his head to the side. The two men sized each other up, until Matt took notice of his Uncle's presence. Looking freshly bathed and happy, he looked up at the Indian with wide, blue eyes.

"Unca Mark. Mommy went out. Daddy stayin' wif me," Matt exclaimed, proudly. Mark smiled down at the boy, holding his arms out. Matt immediately launched into them. Out of the corner of his eye, the brunette saw Spike stiffen at the way his son acted towards him. "I know Mommy went out. I came to talk to your father." Spike's eyes narrowed into slits, and he stepped away from the door to let Mark and his son back into the house. Mark set Matt back onto his feet, and ran a hand over his damp curls.

"Daddy says it's time for bed," Matt said with a pout, slipping his eyes between his father and uncle, thinking that now he had an ally.

"Well, then, you should listen." Despite himself, Spike's lips quirked. Matt had obviously been expecting Mark to help him out, and by his crestfallen expression, had been foiled.

"Come on, poppet. Your Mum said nine, it's already nine thirty. I'm risking being dusted as we speak," Spike said, scooping Matt off his feet.

"She won't dus' you, Daddy."

"And why not?"

"Cause she likes you too much." Spike grinned at the basic logic of his child.

"Well, that's good. Say goodnight to Mark."

"G'night, Unca Mark." Matt said with a wave as Spike started carrying him down the hall.

"Make yourself at home." You already have for the last four years, he added bitterly to himself. Mark took a deep breath and went into the kitchen to look for the beer Anne usually kept for him. When Spike returned a few minutes later, Mark was sitting on the couch, cigarette smoldering in the hand tapping against his knee, beer sitting on the coffee table in front of him. His long legs were stretched out in front of him, and he looked thoroughly at ease in Anne's home. Ignoring him for the moment, Spike went into he kitchen and got his own beer, then went back and flopped into the easy chair, reaching into the pocket of his red shirt for his own cigarettes. They both sat, silently smoking, contemplating the other man in the room.

"You hurt her," Mark finally said, leaning forward to stab out his smoke. Spike studied the tip of his, then turned his blue eyed gaze to the almost black one of Mark.

"I know," he replied, not feeling the need to go further into it.

"She didn't think you were going to come back, no matter what she told Matt. I could see it, in her eyes. You left her," Mark persisted, his tone accusatory.

"Didn't think I had a choice. Me vampire, her Slayer. S'not exactly destined for happiness. Not to mention we had both just watched the one's we loved get sucked into Hell. Not a good thing to base a relationship on," Spike shot back, taking a long swallow of his beer. "Didn't know I was missin' her until I found myself back in Sunnydale," he said, almost to himself. "Then, it was too late. She was already gone."

"Don't hurt her again." Mark's voice wasn't threatening, it wasn't pitched anyway that could have been assumed as such. It just held a thread of promise of what might happen if Spike did just that. The scarred eyebrow shot up, the crystal blue eyes flashed yellow with a brief shot of anger. Mark just returned his stare, calmly, elbows resting against his knees.

"I don't plan to. But that's between Buffy and me," Spike growled, leaning forward himself to put out the forgotten cigarette.

"She's been my business for a little over four years now. I won't see her hurt. Or Matt." Spike surged to his feet, game face forward. The low warning growl sounding in his chest reverberated around the room.

"They are mine!," he snarled, somehow remembering to keep his voice low so as not to disturb Matt. Mark also rose to his feet, towering over the blonde vamp. They were similar in build, their height the only difference.

"I'm not trying to take your claim on them. I'm just letting you know, that I don't care WHO you are, I don't care WHAT you are. You hurt them, in ANY way, and you will have to deal with me." His voice was low and dangerous, his eyes blazing. Spike almost smirked, ready to remind him that no matter how Mark made his living, he wasn't some redneck cowpoke that couldn't handle his liquor. But, something about the younger man's character made him pause. These weren't words spoken out of prejudice or hate. They were spoken out of love for the woman and the child. Spike suddenly found himself very glad that Buffy and Matt had this man beside them for so long. Sighing heavily, he shook off the demon visage, as well as the jealousy he had been carrying around.

"Fair enough," he acquiesced, settling back down in the chair. Mark blinked, surprised that he had backed down so quickly, knowing that something had just changed between them, but not sure what. He sat down himself, grabbing the bottle he had placed on the coffee table and taking a drink. "Wanna watch some telly?" Spike asked, grabbing the remote.

"Sure." And with that, they settled back to watch some movie full of car chases and explosions, waiting for their women to come home.

~*~*~

About an hour later, Anne stumbled through the door, giggling at like a mad woman. It only got worse when she looked up to see the slightly shocked eyes of the men. She sat down hard in the still open doorway, her laughter raising in volume.

"Sh, pet, You'll wake up bit," Spike admonished. She clamped a hand over her mouth, her giggles reduced to huffs.

"You had better have taken a cab home," Mark warned lightly, getting up to leave. "I assume Willow's not much better." Tears of mirth ran down Anne's cheeks as she shook her head. He shook his head and made a mental note to call the redhead bright and early tomorrow. With a wicked grin, and a half salute to Spike he stepped over Anne and left.

"Bye Mark," she said in a loud whisper, nearly falling over as she leaned out the door. Spike walked over to her, an amused smirk on his face.

"Alright, pet. I think it's time for beddy bye," he crooned, pulling her to her unsteady feet and closing the door.

"Ooh, what a good idea. You naughty vampire you," she slurred, wrapping her arms sloppily around his neck. In search of a quieter way to get her to her room, he swung her up in his arms, cradling her against his chest. The scent of her arousal hit him, and he had to bite back a groan. "I've been thinking about you aaaallll night," she mumbled, as her drunk, yet nimble fingers went to work on the shirt.

"Pet, let's not do this now," he said, trying to hurry down the short hall to the other bedroom. He nearly stumbled when he felt her hot, wet mouth latch onto his nipple. "Jesus," he hissed, the feel of her rough tongue on his skin having the reaction she was seeking. Her nails trailed lightly over the other one, causing him, the Big Bad, to whimper. He pushed the door to her room open, and kicked it closed, thankful it didn't slam when it shut. "Buffy, stop," he ground out.

"Why? Don't you want me?," she asked, petulantly. Her bottom lip stuck out in a pout, and she scowled at him.

"That's not the point, kitten. You're drunk." He dumped her on the bed, not prepared for how quick she could move in her inebriated state. Before he knew it, he was pinned on the bed, a very warm, very willing Slayer straddling his hips and nibbling along his jawline. He groaned, deep in his throat at her actions, and the feel of her heat pressed against his erection.

"I might be drunk, but I know what I want," she told him in a sing-song voice. The vibrations of her lips against his skin nearly had him popping right then. She looked up at him, pout firmly in place. "I'm tired of waiting," she sounded so much like Matt then, he nearly laughed out loud. But, when her hand shimmied between their bodies, and cupped him through the denim, all thoughts of laughing were erased. His hands gripped her hips, nearly bruising them.

"Oh, God, Buffy," he moaned. She gave him a feral smile, and ground her hips against her hand, caressing them both at the same time. Her jean skirt had ridden up, exposing the soft expanse of her thighs. Her heat was pressed tight against her hand, her clit throbbing with the contact.

"Mmmm," she purred, sliding that hand over them both. "I want you to fuck me Spike." His eyes widened at the bluntness of her words, and the feel of what she was doing to both of them with her tiny hand. "I want to feel you, so deep inside of me." She practically came just saying it, the dazed look of drunkenness quickly replaced by the haze of desire. "I want your hands on me, your mouth, your tongue. Every part of you." Her mouth had wandered back to his jaw, nipping and licking her way to his throat. Spike lay helpless beneath her, his body humming with want. All thought of putting her off fled when she bit hard on his throat. His growl made her shiver with anticipation, knowing she had him.

Suddenly, she found herself flipped and pinned beneath him, the swift action causing her vision to swim. She giggled at the sensation, only to have it change to a gasp when his mouth crashed over hers. His tongue pushed in to claim her, as his hips surged forward to grind his hard shaft into her hot center. Teeth, lips and tongue battled, vying for dominance in a battle neither wanted to win. She wrapped her legs around his lean waist, pressing him closer, her hands sliding over his back and shoulders, finally settling to fist in his hair. Spike's hands pulled her white, button down tank top out of the band of her skirt, his cool fingers gliding beneath to tease her skin. He pulled his mouth away from hers, to return the favor of grazing her jaw with his teeth. She writhed beneath him, wanting to feel him, not the clothes. Her fingers plucked uselessly against the smooth material of his shirt, urging him to take it off. He pulled away long enough to do just that, then reached down to unbutton hers. His mouth began to water when he saw her unbound breasts, and he lowered his head to capture one pert tip in his cool mouth.

"Oh, yeessss," she breathed, hooking her fingers through the belt loops of his jeans, forcing him harder against her. She arched her back, begging him to feast. He sucked hard on her nipple, and she squealed in delight. His hands slid under her skirt, ripping her excuse for underwear away. The only thing between them now was his jeans, and she reached between them once more to fumble with the button fly.

He trailed his tongue across the valley of her breasts, to give equal attention to the other soft mound, brushing her probing fingers away from his jeans, so he could do it himself. When she felt the tip brush against her opening, she whimpered, hips pushing up to invite him in. She felt like she would explode any moment, if he didn't quit playing around and get inside of her. When he still hesitated, his thoughts seemingly fixated on her breasts, she whispered hoarsely in his ear.

"Spike, please, now. It's been so long. I need you." He pulled up to look at her, the midnight of his eyes burning her. She felt his body trembling under her hands, realizing how close to losing control he was. Then, inch by agonizing inch, he pushed into her, pausing so they could both adjust. She was practically panting with how good it felt to have his icy shaft stretching her, filling her. Her eyes rolled back and mewling noises mixed with the sound of her breathing.

Spike watched her writhe and pant beneath him, the feel of her heat enveloping him, burning him, making him shake even harder. He'd dreamed of her for so long, had wanted her for so long. And here she was, every ounce of his passion being returned. When he was fully buried, he paused, trying desperately to control himself. But, Anne wouldn't have it. Almost violently, she thrust up, and squeezed he inner muscles, starting to milk him whether he was ready or not. Giving in to her urging, he pulled back until he was almost out of her, then thrust back in hard. Her groan of pleasure spurred him on, and he gripped her butt, holding her up so he could push deeper, harder. Each thrust brought his pelvic bone in contact with her clit, sending electric shocks coursing over her and making her throb. "So fucking hot," he hissed, speeding his already frenzied movements to match hers. She returned every thrust with abandon, wanting the release that hovered just out of reach. Spike buried his face in her throat, knowing he was close, but she wasn't. With a sound between a curse and a roar, he came, shuddering at the intensity. Her hips continued to pump, still seeking her own oblivion. As the last tremor passed through his body, he lifted his head.

"Sorry, pet. It's just been too long," he whispered, claiming her mouth once more. Wanting to give her pleasure, he pulled out of her, and pulled his mouth away from hers, skimming it down her sweat slicked body with his mouth, until he reached her dripping sex. She surged off the bed at the first swipe of his tongue across her sizzling heat, their combined tastes causing his cock to surge back to life. Her fingers dove into his hair, pressing him closer as he sipped from her, and she ground her hips against his face. He greedily drank all she had to offer, wanting more. Sliding his tongue up her slit, he curled it around her clit, using stiff strokes to make her cry out. Harder and faster he did this, holding her to him as she exploded in his mouth. She was practically sobbing when her orgasm crashed over her, and she pressed his face tightly against her, her body shaking with aftershocks.

Pulling her hands away from his head, he moved over her again, sliding into her effortlessly. They rocked together in unison, hands fisting together as their mouths attacked each other once more. Harder, faster they moved, their cries of ecstasy lost in the kiss. Anne arched against him as she came again, every muscle stretched and tense, her core tightening around him. Once, twice, three times he slammed into her, the final time he pushed as far as could, his seed splashing through her inner walls to her womb. Pulling away from her mouth, he buried his face in her hair, and panted heavily against her throat. Her fingers skimmed lightly over his back. A contented sigh slipping from her lips.

"I'm glad you're not hard to convince," she said, giggling. He nipped lightly at her throat, causing her to giggle louder.

"Yeah, well, you practically raped me," he teased. She snorted in response.

"Can't rape the willing," she told him. He chuckled at that, stopping when he noticed the evil gleam in her eye.

"What are you about, kitten?" With a snicker, she switched their positions, his once against hard shaft buried deep. He gripped her hips to steady her, and he looked up at the goddess rising above him.

"I wanna play cowgirl," she said with a silly grin, rocking her hips experimentally, causing them both to moan. This new position thrust him even deeper and she loved it. Running her hands over her own breasts, she did it again, delighting in the growl he let loose.

"Cor, Buffy. Are you trying to kill me?" He gasped, surging up to meet her.

"You're already dead," she said saucily. Then, she began to ride him in earnest. As they flew over the edge again, they fastened their mouths together, instinctively remembering the small child sleeping just across the hall. When the tremors subsided, Spike grabbed the edge of the quilt, and threw it over their still joined forms, and ran his hands lovingly over her back, smiling when he heard her breathing deepen.

"Goodnight, kitten," he purred, brushing a kiss across her temple. A part of him knew he should get up and close the curtains, so she didn't wake up next to a pile of dust, but he couldn't seem to convince himself to move. Praying to whatever deity looked out for creatures like him, he clutched his precious bundle closer, and followed her into sleep.

A/N- Sorry guys, I've been basking in the haze that is James Marsters, and I was having a hard time acclimating myself back to B/S. But, here it is. Not much plot here. Lisa

Trying hard not to groan again, she moved towards the dresser. Opening a drawer, she dug aimlessly through the contents, stopping when she saw it. She brushed her fingers over the soft black cotton of the long forgotten friend, and smiled. Pulling it out, she gave it a good shake, and slipped it over her head. She had worn his t-shirt all through her pregnancy, and for the first year of Matt's life, usually to sleep in. Then, one day, she folded it up and put it away, much like a child puts away his security blanket. She hadn't thought she needed it anymore, the pain of losing Angel, and the aloneness she felt after Spike left had decreased with the birth of Matt. The older he got, the less she wore it, until the day she tucked it into the bottom of her dresser, never to be worn again.

She realized now, as she looked back at the sleeping figure of the vampire, that she would always need it. Need him. With another smile, she dropped her skirt to the floor, and went in search of a fresh pair of panties. Relishing the sticky soreness between her legs, she slipped the plain cotton thong over her legs. A sharp wave of arousal sliced through her as memories of the night before flashed through her brain.

She and Willow had gone to the bar that Mark had played, and then proceeded to drink themselves silly, laughing and giggling like school girls the whole way. She had regaled Willow with the one and only time she had seen Mark naked (by accident of course). He had given her a key, not telling her that he had a habit of sleeping nude. She had gone in to wake him and found that he had kicked the blankets off. She hadn't been able to look him in the eye for a week. And Willow'd had her practically rolling on the floor with her tales of Xander's attempts to woo the new Slayer.

Then, when they realized they were both too drunk to drive Anne's car, they'd shared a cab to get home. One look at Spike when she had walked through the door, or stumbled rather, she'd had to have him. Nothing was going to stop her, and she was just glad that he hadn't protested too much. It was better than she remembered. Maybe because it was done out of want instead of grief. That one day had branded them, made them the other's, whether they wanted to admit it or not. There was no life for her without him and Matt. The thought of losing either of them made her head swim, and her stomach turn dangerously. She couldn't help wondering if he felt the same.

Walking slowly towards the bed, she let the desire overtake her again, washing away the sickness that had threatened with that last, terrifying thought. Moving as carefully as she could, she knelt down to unlace his boots, gingerly divesting him of the bottom half of his clothes. He didn't stir while she did this, and the inane thought that he slept like the dead slid through her mind. Stifling the giggle that caused, she moved with the grace of a predator onto the bed, her eyes trained on the thick shaft resting against his thigh. She gently ran her fingertips through the coarse curls at the base, her eyes widening when he jerked. She looked up at him, and found herself pinned by the blue, swirling depths of his eyes. She could almost see forever in those eyes, and the way he was looking at her right now, like she was the only being on the planet, almost made her whimper. Everything was in those eyes, everything he thought, felt. William was in those eyes, forever laid out for the world to see if they just took a minute to look.

She kept her gaze locked with his, fascinated by the subtle darkening that occurred when she ran the tips of her fingers over the velvety soft skin of his now hard shaft. Still keeping eye contact, she fisted her hand around it, while bending over and barely sweeping her tongue over the tip. He hissed in unneeded air at the ghostly feel of her warm, wet tongue on his cool flesh. Blowing ever so lightly on the tip, she watched as those brilliant eyes changed to the dark blue of midnight. Her teeth nipped him next, and he nearly reared off the bed, eyes flashing yellow and a low growl rumbled in his chest. A smile of pure feminine delight curled her lips, and she experimentally flicked her tongue over the slit, tasting the salty pre-cum that had pooled there.

"Jesus, Buffy," he gasped, his voice hoarse, his accent thick. Anne felt a rush of pleasure flow through her at his whispered words. She felt powerful, and in control, with him at her mercy. He made no move to stop her, or encourage her to do more. Just kept watching her with those bottomless eyes that saw straight to her soul, his unneeded breathing shallow.

"What do you want, Spike?" she whispered back, the dampness in her panties growing by the second. Another swipe of her tongue made the growl turn louder, and his hips surge up, begging. "What?"

"Please, pet," Spike purred, feeling like he would die again if he didn't feel her mouth on him, surrounding him, right now. The contrast of her heat against his cool length was driving him insane, and he needed to feel it all. The sight of her in one of his shirts moving him.

"Please what?" She continued to play with him, barely touching him with her tongue, brushing her lips against the shaft with whispered touches. Her hot, tiny hand surrounded him, holding him where she wanted. All the while, their eyes remained locked, as if the spell around them would be broken if they looked away.

"Take it in, kitten. I want to feel your mouth around me," he gasped, coming the closest to begging he ever had in his unlife. She pulled back slightly, studying his face, the harsh planes of his cheeks, the smooth line of his jaw, the high slope of his forehead. Then, a wicked smile spread over her face, making him shiver with the felineness of it. He sighed in relief than nearly choked with pleasure when she finally eased her mouth over him. He finally closed his eyes, his head thrown back as she slid her tongue over the satiny skin of his pulsating member. It was amazing to her, that life could flow from this supposedly dead body. The doctor could never determine what had caused her pregnancy, finally deciding that Slayer and vampire physiology were just compatable. She had forbade Giles from looking for prophecies when she had finally called her mother and told her about her grandchild.

A thought struck her then. What if they had done it again? Neither had even thought about birth control the night before, and here they were getting ready to go again. What if they created another child?

An almost giddy feeling enveloped her then, and she sucked hard on him, her moan answering his. She ran her tongue over the underside of his shaft, just under the tip, making him writhe in ecstasy. His fingers convulsed in the quilt, and his legs were moving restlessly over the bed. She slid him all the way into her mouth, her tongue laving his skin as she went. When she felt him hit the back of her throat, she pulled back, allowing him to almost slip from her mouth, before doing it again.

Spike was sure he was dangerously close to exploding, her hot mouth and tongue burning him. Wave after wave of heat and want hit him, making him dizzy as she continued to devour him like he was her favorite treat. When she moaned again, the vibrating of her throat against him made his sac start to tighten, and he knew he was close.

"Buffy. . ." he tried to warn her, but his voice was lost when she did it again, sucking him so hard her cheeks hollowed out. He arched off the bed as he started to pulse in her mouth, her throat convulsing around him as she swallowed every shot of his cold semen. He growled loudly as the tremors rolled over him, and he saw stars burst behind his eyelids as he slowly came down. When she finally let him slip from her mouth, he reached blindly for her, dragging her up his body to claim her mouth with his, his tongue sliding in to taste the salty taste of his spendings. One hand fisted in her hair as the other sought out her heat, sliding past her panties and pushing two fingers deep inside. She gasped in his mouth, her hips rocking against his hand, pushing his probing fingers deeper still. His thumb circled her clit, turning her moans into mewls as the sensation built in her abdomen, slowly unfurling to explode brightly through her. Her scream was lost in his kiss, as she bucked wildly, her inner muscles clamping hard over his fingers.

While she was still riding the waves of her orgasm, he flipped them, managing to shrug out of his shirt. The kiss never ended, the constant thrust and retreat of their tongues in time with his thrust into her core. Whimpers and moans filled the room, a sensual music for their bodies to dance to. One strong hand gripped her thigh, pulling it up so he could push deeper, the tip of his shaft hitting her inner sweet spot, just as his pelvic bone hit her clit. She nearly sobbed as her second orgasm crashed over her, and she ripped her mouth from his to bury her teeth in his neck, trying to keep her scream inside. The feel of her blunt teeth in his throat, and her heat ruthlessly squeezing him sent him careening after her, and he buried his lips against her throat, the feel of his fangs sending her into her most powerful climax.

They lay trembling in each other's arms, Spike's tongue lazily drawing patterns in the blood on her throat. She nibbled lightly on the teeth marks she'd left in his alabaster skin, soothing it with kisses. When those eyes sought hers out again, she felt herself drowning in them, an unnamed emotion swimming in their depths.

"I love you," he whispered. She felt joy bloom in her chest at his soft confession, the uncertainty in his eyes nearly breaking her heart. Raising a finger to trace over his scarred dark brow, she struggled for a moment to find her own voice, tears leaking from her eyes. He gently kissed them away, concern marring his brow.

"I love you, too," she whispered back, her words so choked with emotion that he almost had to struggle to hear her. Wonder and awe softened his face, making him seem so young. Their arms tightened around each other, faces buried in throats once more as they both trembled, the force of their admissions making them weak.

After a few moments, Spike felt calm enough to raise his head again, and look into the shiny depths of her hazel eyes.

"How long til Matt gets up?" Confusion drew her brows again as she craned her neck to look at the clock.

"About an hour," she said after she cleared her throat. Her breath hitched as he began to rock inside of her again, his blue eyes nearly black.

"Not nearly enough time for me to show you how much I love you. But, it's a start."

~*~*~

Mark raised his hand and knocked loudly on the door, snickering when he heard the mumbled curse on the other side. He crushed his cigarette out under his boot, and smiled wide when Willow opened the door, looking a tad worse for wear. She struggled to focus her eyes on him against the glare of the hot Arizona sun at his back, glaring at him for disturbing her from dying. The glare disappeared when he produced a large cup of coffee under her nose. She snatched it from him, then turned to walk back into the room, leaving him to follow. She didn't care about manners at the moment, her head hurt too bad. Chuckling, he walked inside, closing the door behind him to shut them in the dark interior of the room.

"Good morning," he said in a voice that was way too chipper for the hungover Willow. Grunting in response, she crawled back onto the bed, savoring the hot brew like it was ambrosia. "Somebody not feeling too well this morning?" She glared at him again, whimpering against the pain behind her eyes.

"Shut up," she growled. He pursed his lips to keep the laugh back, not feeling like being turned into something small and slimy.

"Looks like you need a little hair of the dog," he suggested, moving to sit next to her on the bed. She practically turned green.

"No, no hair of the dog. Drinking is bad. I should have learned my lesson the last time," she grumbled.

“What happened last time?” He asked, raising his eyebrows in question. Her pallor changed from pale to a bright crimson when she realized what she had let out. Yes, drinking was definitely bad.

"Nothing," she replied, most of her answer lost in the Styrofoam cup she held. One look at her told him it wasn't nothing.

"What, did you do something really embarrassing?" he goaded, reaching out to pull one tiny foot into his lap and running his thumb over the arch. She hummed in response.

"Sorta," she admitted, hoping to leave it at that.

"Oh, come on. You can tell me. I can assure you, I've done some crazy things in my twenty eight years. I don't judge," he said with a devilish twinkle in his eye.

"Trust me, you don't want to know this," Willow insisted, trying to concentrate on the feel of his hand on her foot, and not the hazy memories of the past.

"What, did you have indiscriminant sex? We all do. Not the most fun to be had, but, it happens." She blanched at that, wondering if Buffy had told him. That was a little too close to the truth. He looked up at her then, and noticed the look on her face. "Ah, that was is it." He grinned a little, delighted that there was a touch of bad girl lurking under her shy facade. He found himself imagining that liaison with him in the starring role with her, knowing full well that he wouldn't have been able to leave it at just once.

"Why do you want to know so bad?" She sounded harsher than she had meant, and his thumb stilled in its ministration.

"You don't have to tell me," he said, sounding a little hurt. Sighing in disgust, she cursed the fragility if male egos.

"Look, it was Xander. Not exactly something I like to admit. I had just gotten dumped, he was still hurting from Cordy leaving, and we got drunk. I don't remember much, other than waking up in the morning feeling like I had just slept with my brother. Not altogether a pleasant feeling," she snapped, trying to pull her foot out of his lap. He tightened his hand over her ankle, waiting for her to meet his eyes. When she finally did, he started to stroke the soft flesh of her ankle.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed," he said, sounding sincere. She felt her ire deflate, and offered him a tight smile.

"No, I'm sorry. It still kinda squicks me out, and I don't like to remember it so much," Willow told him. He smiled at that, running his hand higher up her leg. When she shivered, she became acutely aware that she was only dressed in a pair of old boxer shorts and a tank top. She had managed to change before falling into bed, and she had grabbed the first thing she could find. Heat coursed from the spot under his hand straight the very center of her. Her emerald eyes shot to his, and she saw the burning desire shining in their black depths.

"Mark," she began, finding her voice lost when his fingers grazed the inner side of her knee. He didn't say anything, just kept up the light strokes, venturing ever higher, idly wondering if she was going to stop him. She whimpered when he reached the bottom of her shorts, feeling her nipples pebble in response. She watched in fascination as he raised her leg, and brushed his lips across her ankle. "Ah" was all she could manage as his hand continued forward while his tongue darted out to taste her skin. She hadn't realized he had moved closer, her already cloudy mind becoming even more fuddled with his touch. When his searching fingers brushed against the cotton of her panties, her hips surged forward, desperately seeking his touch.

"Willow," he gasped, raising to one knee, and turning his long frame towards her. She was laying back against the pillow, her skin hot and cold at the same time, her heart galloping in her chest. This was it, she knew somewhere in her conscious. This was her decision. Did she tell him to stop and walk away, or did she take a chance, and allow him into her life? Staring up into the black pools of his eyes, she suddenly realized that she had never had a choice. He was everything.

"Mark, please. . .touch me," she breathed, sighing in relief when he did just that. Two long, guitar roughened fingers slipped past the barrier of cotton and plunged deep inside her tight, wet core. She cried out in pleasure as he stroked her, her entire body trembling as he brought her to a swift, long overdue orgasm. His name fell from her lips as she writhed helplessly against the bed. She cried out when he pulled his fingers away, only to hiss in a desperate breath when he quickly stripped her of her shorts and panties. Rearing up, she pulled her shirt over her head, exposing the creamy, rose tipped softness of her full breasts. He groaned in response, reaching one hand up to the collar of his shirt to pull it off. He stood to kick off his boots. She watched in avid interest as each inch of bronze skin was exposed. Hard planes, and long length defined him, from the tight muscled of his calves and thighs, over his flat, ridged stomach, to the well defined pecks. Her eyes widened when she finally allowed them to drift to the very obvious evidence of his want for her. Long and thick, she had a moments panic at whether or not she could take it. Then, his mouth was on hers and it didn't matter any more. She accepted him between her thighs, feeling as if they were made to fit together.

He was pressed against her, his lips feasting on hers, his tongue urgent and demanding. The tip of his shaft rested at the opening of her tight entrance, his hands claimed her breasts, teasing and pulling on the nipples until they peaked even tighter, sending pulses along her nerves, making her moan. Her fingers tangled in the long length of his hair, then coursed restlessly over his back, her hips grinding against him, begging him to take her. He tore his mouth away from hers, to stare deep into the dark emerald of her eyes, as he slowly began to enter her. Inch by agonizing inch he slid inside, allowing her to adjust to his girth, struggling not to just pound into her until they were both a quivering mass of nerve endings.

She arched into him, urging him to move quicker, fill her more. When he was finally buried to the hilt, he lowered his head to capture a dusky nipple in his mouth, laving it with his tongue and gently grazing it with his teeth. She rocked against him, her beautiful dark warrior, wanting to be with him, inside of him, filling him with the same incredible feeling he was filling her with. She brought her legs up and hooked them behind his back, thrusting up with her hips, telling him silently that she wasn't waiting anymore. He never ceased his feasting on her flesh, just moved to the other soft mound, while he began to move, his body taut with his fight for control. She was so tight, so hot, the taste of her skin so sweet. She ran her hands through his hair, and over his back, then up again, her body moving rhythmically beneath him, trying to race towards release. Responding to her urging, he pumped harder, faster, longer pushing them both closer and closer to the edge. She met him, thrust for thrust, soft moans and groans filling the air around them.

Suddenly, heat exploded around her, through her, and she keened long and high, his name almost like a prayer on her lips. With her moans echoing in his ears, and her body clenching around him, he roared against her skin, thrusting as far as he could, his shaft pulsing deep within her. They lay, wrapped around each other while the tremors ran their course, a peace like they had never felt before settling over them.

Exhausted and sated for the moment, Willow slumped over his chest, her tiny body shaking as he wrapped her in his strong embrace.

After a few moments, his whispered question made her giggle.

"Hangover gone?"

"Why are we here, Mommy?" Matt asked, watching his mother as she knocked on the door. He wanted to go home and see Daddy, not stop and talk to Willow.

Once she had returned home, the day was spent with more love making. Anne was surprised that she could still walk at this point, and it was an uncomfortable chore. Then, she had picked Matt up and went to Willow's hotel hoping to get her to drive her car home. Now that she saw Mark was there, she was going to con him into driving the DeSoto home. *If they ever answer* she thought testily, pounding on the door this time. Finally, she heard some muffled cursing, and a grin split her face. *Oh, yeah. Something was definitely up, alright*

When the door swung open, she was presented with the very surly face of her manly best friend. His long locks were in disarray, and he only had on his jeans. A quick peek around him showed that the room was empty, so she assumed that Willow was in the bathroom.

"What?" he practically growled. Anne just grinned at him.

"Hi, Unca Mark. What're you doin here? And where's your shirt?" Matt asked, confusion marring his brow. Anne snorted, turning it into a cough when Mark glared at her. Her eyes were dancing while she looked at him, wondering how he would answer the innocent question.

"I spilled something on it," he answered, smiling down at the boy. Luckily he seemed to accept it. "What are you guys doing here? Come to see Spike and decided to stop by?"

"Nah, Daddy's at home. He was there when I woke up." Mark's eyebrows shot up, and he gave Anne his own grin, snickering at the red staining her cheeks.

"Did he spill something on his shirt too?" Mark asked, biting his lip to keep his laugh back.

"Yeah, something like that. Want to help do car duty?" She asked, hoping to shift the conversation. Just then, Willow emerged, dressed in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Her face was flaming, and she had that glow. Anne couldn't have been happier for her friend. "Hi, Will."

"Hi. What's up?" she asked, pushing her red hair out of her face.

"Came to see who wants to help me get my car back to my house." She looked between them expectantly. Mark sighed, and went to pull on his shirt.

"Why don't we all go. That way, nobody's stuck. Can you drive a stick?" He looked at Willow, ignoring the snorting Anne was doing.

"Now, that's a loaded question," she mumbled, delighting in the flustered face of Willow, and the glaring face of Mark. Matt stared between the three adults, wondering what his mommy was laughing at, and why Mark was putting his shirt back on if it was dirty. "We'll just wait over here," she said with a snicker, pulling Matt with her back to Spike's car. Just as their door slammed, the one next to it opened, and Anne froze. There, looking for all the world like he had been on a three day bender, was Xander. They just stared at each other for a long moment, each noting the differences that were evident in the other. Xander was more muscular then she remembered, and his hair was cut shorter than he used to keep it. He was dressed in his usual blue jeans and weird shirt combo, with heavy work boots on his feet. He looked pale, save for the swollen nose, and the two sick looking black eyes. Anne felt her anger grow as she looked at him, the reason he had those bruises coming back to her.

Mark and Willow exited the room, just as the tension got to be unbearable. They had been smiling like teenagers, but almost as soon as they saw the stricken look on Anne's face, they sobered.

"Oh, goddess," Willow murmured, as she looked between her two friends. Matt ran over to Mark, not liking the feeling he was getting from his mommy and the stranger with the hurt face. Mark immediately handed Matt to Willow, who in turn, took the boy back into her room, whispering to him quietly.

"Xander." Anne finally found her voice, the word coming out sharp and angry. He flinched a bit, but took a step forward. Mark just watched them both, waiting.

"Buffy." He ducked his head a bit, his dark eyes imploring her to say something. She stood rod straight, one hand braced on the hood of the DeSoto, the other fisted at her side.

"I don't know what you expect me to say to you," she said, tilting her head to the side, her dark hair falling over her shoulder. Her hazel eyes were snapping with hurt, and anger, her jaw set tight.

"Nothing. I don't expect you to say anything," he said, hazarding another step. He felt like he was in the tiger's cage at the zoo, and he had to approach carefully or risk getting mauled. She just watched him, her stance prepared for anything.

"Then why did you come?" Xander sighed, thankful that she was going to listen to him, before she reminded him that she was the Slayer, and finished the job Spike started.

"I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry. So sorry for what happened," he started.

"Sorry for what?" she bit out, cutting him off. "For telling me my child was a freak, or for attacking Spike while his back was turned?" Anger flared across his face before he could reign it back. She merely arched a brow, waiting for his excuses.

"I never told you your child was a freak," he defended, deciding to stay away from the Spike issue for a moment.

"Didn't you?" Her voice was mocking, and she crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at him. "Maybe not in so many words. But, I definitely think the phrase 'it doesn't have to ruin your life' could be construed that way. And that still doesn't explain what happened with Spike," she reminded him, not letting him off the hook.

"Look, I'm sorry for what I said about that. I just hadn't expected you to actually WANT a child of a vampire. Especially if that vampire wasn't Angel." Anne shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her.

"You never really knew me, did you?" she asked quietly, glancing over at Mark, her constant champion, and then back to Xander, her constant judge. "He gave me a life. A life I was never supposed to have. I was supposed to keep saving the world until it killed me. Most likely before I turned eighteen. And it almost did. He was there when the one I thought I could trust wasn't." She looked pointedly at him, glad that he hung his head in shame. "He helped me when you didn't. And when I found out that I was pregnant, after the initial WTF wore off, I was thrilled. It didn't matter to me what Spike was, or wasn't. He was the father of my child, and that's all that mattered. The world isn't as black and white as you like to make it."

"Oh, and you're trying to tell me that Spike is all good now? He's SOULLESS Buffy. He can't be the only soulless demon walking around that doesn't like to do evil," Xander shot back.

"How do you know? Have you walked up and personally asked any?" He didn't answer her, and she heaved a weary sigh. "I don't know what makes him different than all the others, Xander. Nor do I care. I just know that he is."

"How?" he shot back.

"Because he loves me," she replied defiantly. When Xander laughed, she nearly launched at him.

"He can't love, Buffy. He's a demon. It's only a matter of time before he remembers that you're the Slayer and tries to kill you again. And your son." Rage twisted her face at his words, and it almost blinded her with it's white hot intensity.

"He's been looking for me for FOUR AND A HALF YEARS Xander. Because he couldn't stop thinking about me. He wants me, and his child. NOT for a snack. He's had plenty of opportunity to kill me, and Matt, and he hasn't. Don't sit there and tell me things that you THINK you know." Mark watched the exchange with a growing dislike for the man, wanting to pummel him himself.

"He's just lulling you into a false sense of security."

"Man, do you EVER change your tune?" Mark's voice was dripping with disgust. Xander just glared at him, then turned his attention back to Anne,

"He's a VAMPIRE, Buff. No sunlight, no parent-teacher meetings. No taking the kid to the park for a game of catch. What kind of father can he be after dark?" he asked her, deciding to change tactics. He could tell he had hit on something that she had worried about herself, when she shifted away from him slightly. "How do you plan to explain that to your son?"

"He already knows," she shot back. She nearly laughed at the way Xander's eyes bugged. Although, the busted vessels in the whites made it look grisly.

"You told him?"

"No, he guessed. We just confirmed. Want me to lie to him?" She took a step forward, keeping her arms crossed so as not to be tempted to add to the destruction of his face.

"No, but isn't it scary for him? God, he must be terrified." Xander's heart contracted for the tiny child.

"You just saw him, did he look terrified? He thinks it's cool." She and Mark shared a smile over that one. Willow chose that moment to come out, motioning for Mark to go inside with Matt. These were her friends, and she knew their history. She felt that she should be the one moderating, and Matt was more comfortable with Mark. The tall Indian glared at Xander one last time, before slipping into the room. Willow turned to her friends, anger and guilt crossing her features. Xander now found himself faced with the two women that he loved more than anything, who were looking at him with such contempt it hurt.

"Xander, enough. You can't make her decisions for her anymore than you an make mine. If you want even a slim chance at staying in her life, you're just going to have to get over it. Spike is in their lives, to stay. Deal with it, or go back to Sunnydale," Willow said, walking closer to them.

"What about you? Just going to stay here and play house with the Indian? What about school? And the Hellmouth? Or are you just going to conveniently forget evil, too?" She flinched back like he had struck her, and her eyes widened.

"Don't start that. I don't know what's going to happen. But you can't expect it to be the three of us, only, forever. You fucked it up with Cordelia because you couldn't let go. You haven't been in a decent relationship since. All because of your fixation on Buffy. If her Watcher can get over the fact that she had a baby by a vampire, why can't you?" She asked, huffing at the end. Anne watched the two, waiting for Xander's reply.

"Because, Giles has gotten wrapped up in Joyce's emotions, and all they want is Buffy back. They can't seem to realize that what happened was just WRONG."

"No, what's wrong is you. You said you were my friend. You said you loved me, but apparently it comes with a price, doesn't it? I had to stay the perfect Slayer. Fight evil, kill vampires, protect the world from evil. Certainly never fall in love with not just one, but two of the beings I'm supposed to slay. Well, tough. It happened, and I'm not going to let you, or anyone, tell me how to live my life. Or what I'm supposed to be fighting for. My son, and my family is all I care about. And if you don't chill out, and get over this. . .prejudice, you have no place in my life," Anne told him, closing the circle so they were all within arm's reach of each other.

"I don't know if I can do that," he admitted quietly. Willow's heart went out to him then, but she didn't reach for him. He had to deal with this, and realize that he had been wrong.

"Then, I guess this is it. Don't try to be something you can't be, Xander. But don't try to apply your way of thinking to everything I do. It's my life, and I have been living pretty well for the last five years. I have everything I need, right here. And that includes Spike." Anne looked at him for a long minute, then turned to go get her son. Xander stood with his head hung low, tears sliding silently down his cheeks. He jerked when Willow touched his arm, his eyes wary.

"You going to let me have it now?" he asked, miserably.

"No. I love you, Xan. But, it's time to let go." She squeezed his arm, then turned away to join the others in her room. Xander stood there, watching her back disappear, hurt that it seemed they didn't need him anymore. Then again, when had anybody really needed him? Fighting back the wave of pain that threatened to cripple him, he went back to his room. He still had another bottle to finish.

~*~*~

"Daddy!" Matt ran through the door, and straight into the arms of his father. Giggling as he was spun around, he whispered into Spike's ear when he came to a stop. "Mommy's sad." Spike raised his scarred brow, and turned towards the adults that were filing inside. Anne was carrying his duffle bag from the hotel, her eyes tired and just a little gloomy. Willow followed her, her face an exact replica of Anne's. Mark took up the rear, anger clearly etched on his dark features.

"Well, did you have a party without me? Looks like I missed out on all the fun," he quipped, setting Matt on his feet to draw Anne into his arms.

"I saw Xander" was all she said, her arms banding tight around him. She felt him go rigid, and she ran her hands down his back, trying to ease his tension.

"I didn't like him, Daddy. He looked mean," Matt interjected. Spike grinned down at the boy, giving him a wink.

"Smart boy we have there," Mark grunted in agreement, dropping tiredly onto the couch. Willow curled up next to him, her head on his chest. Spike watched them, biting back his smirk. From the looks on their faces, and the smell that drifted towards him, they must have had as productive a morning as he and Anne. But, there was a child in the room, so he kept his mouth shut.

"Matt, go play for a bit, okay?" Anne said, ruffling his dark curls. He nodded and scampered off, still not liking the feelings he was getting from the adults. Spike drew Anne towards the recliner, settling his long frame into it, then pulling her into his lap. She sighed contentedly as his coolness and scent surrounded her, making her feel complete. Xander just had no idea what real love was, she decided, drinking in the feeling as it permeated the air around them.

"Was it bad?" Spike murmured into her hair. She shrugged a bit, her eyes locking with Willow's.

"It could have been worse, I suppose. He's still so angry," she said, sadly.

"That's his problem, not yours," Mark supplied, draping his arm around Willow. She snuggled closer to him, her mind revolving around the doubt Xander had planted. What kind of a future did they have? She wondered. He lived in Arizona, and seemed very content to be here. Her life was in California. How would they make it work? She snaked an arm around his waist, holding him tight. She was halfway close to admitting that she was in love with him, how could she go back to her life without him? Too many questions with no answers.

"Tonto's right. Can't let the way other people think affect your judgement. It's your life, you have to what's right for you," Spike said, holding her closer.

"I know. I didn't let him influence me before, I'm not going to now. I just feel so sorry for him," she answered with a sigh. Nobody said anything to that, because really, there was nothing to say. They stayed like that, wrapped around each other, until Matt returned wanting to watch tv. Then, they spent the remainder of the day each lost in their own thoughts, while Matt happily chattered away.

Chapter 15

"Buffy, I'm so sorry," Willow said as the girls moved around the kitchen, making something to eat.

"For what? I hope not Xander. His prejudice isn't your fault," Anne said, pulling a mug out from the cabinet. She then cut open the blood packet and dumped the contents inside. Willow waited until she had put the mug in the microwave and turned back to her before speaking again.

"No, not that. It's just. . ." she looked out the window into the fading day, and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Willow." Anne walked over to her friend, and placed a hand on her arm. "What is it?" A tear slid from Willow's eye, and she brushed it away.

"I think, that I'm partially to blame for Spike taking so long to find you," she whispered.

"What do you mean?" Willow looked at her again, and sighed.

"The last time Spike came to town, I knew you had a son. I didn't know who his father was, I swear. But, Joyce told us that if Spike came through again, to tell him that she wanted to see him." Anne's eyes widened at that. Her mother, was trying to help her? Guilt and love warred inside of her, but she shook them away to listen to Willow's confession.

"I'm guessing you didn't?" There was no accusation in the tone, merely curiosity. Willow shook her head, pressing her lips together to hold back her tears.

"Xander convinced me not to. Said it would only cause unneeded trouble. And, I just went along with him. After that, was when I found your mother with the picture. It was all I could do not to chase Spike myself. If I'd have know, Buffy, I would've told him. Especially since it was so obvious that Joyce wanted him to know. I'm sorry." The last was said so quietly, that Anne had to struggle to hear her. Willow squeezed her friend back when she felt the strong arms surround her.

"It's okay, honey. You didn't know. I didn't exactly send out announcements when he was born. You, at least, were acting on the information that you knew. I'm sure Xander didn't tell you that Spike was the father for his own selfish reasons." Anne pulled back, and wiped the tears away from her friend's cheeks.

"I just. . .So much wasted time. I don't see how he's not seething with jealousy and anger at Mark for being there since the beginning, and Xander and me for not telling. I would be," Willow said with a sniff. Anne snorted a little.

"I'm sure he was jealous of Mark. Actually, I KNOW he was. But, they seemed to work it out. I mean look." The women moved to the open area over the kitchen bar and looked into the loving room. There, the two males were smoking, and discussing the merits and differences of each of their country's versions of football, Matt sitting on Spike's lap and hanging on every word. Spike was a steadfast soccer fan. And Mark was a diehard football fan. Both made Anne and Willow cringe. Chuckling, they turned away from the male bonding and started to gather the sandwiches they had made for dinner. "As for the pissed off part. I'm sure he is, at Xander. He would probably understand your involvement, because you have been so accepting of him now."

"Buffy?"

"Yeah?" She turned back towards the redhead, smiling at the lines of worry that still marred her smooth brow.

"Do you ever worry about what the future will bring? I mean since Spike got here," she finished quickly. A frown formed on Anne's face as she thought about it.

"Yeah. I have. I mean, this is so not the norm. He's a vampire and I was the Slayer. Not supposed to be mixy. But, I gotta say, SOMEBODY must have some greater plan for us, if they allowed a child to come from us. Maybe this is how it was always supposed to be. A Slayer and a vampire. I don't know. I'm scared that he might decide to leave. Not like the family thing and go back to the killing. I don't think he will. He hasn't killed in five years, but eternity is a long time. Who knows? Then, there's that. Me and Matt won't live forever. How is he going to handle watching us grow old and die, while he's forever young? I just don't know, Will. And I try not to think about it. The here and now is what's important. Why do you ask?" Anne could sense that there was something else behind the question. Could tell by the look in the clear, green eyes staring back at her. Willow ducked her head, so her bright hair hid her face.

"What Xander said this afternoon, about me and Mark. He's right. My life is in California. Mark's is here. How do we make that work?" Anne walked over to her friend and wrapped her in her arms once more.

"All I can say is talk to him. He's a pretty terrific guy. Who knows, he just may decide that life on the Hellmouth could be fun," she said with a smile. "Are you in love with him?" Willow's eyes shot to hers, and the look in them gave her her answer.

"I think so," Willow admitted quietly. Anne's smile was huge.

"Then, you do everything possible to stay together," she said with finality.

"HEY! Where's the food?!" Spike's voice reached them from the living room. Rolling their eyes, the girls disentangled themselves from each other. Willow grabbed the tray with the food, and Anne grabbed Spike's mug from the microwave. Together, they walked back into the living room, to the cheers of the men.

~*~*~

With flourish, Mark pushed open the door of his apartment, and watched Willow as she preceded him inside. She moved to the center of the room, arms wrapped around herself as she waited for him to follow her. Throwing his keys onto the table by the entrance, he flipped the lightswitch and bathed the room in the soft light of three lamps. Willow took in her surroundings, liking the way his apartment looked. The front door opened into the rather large living room/ dining area. To the left was the dark oak dining table and chairs. As well as guitar stand, complete with guitar and amp. The living room was on the right. A large, comfy looking hunter green couch was turned facing the right wall where the entertainment center was standing. Two matching chairs flanked that. The coffee table and end tables were made to look rustic and woodsy, like a frontiersman had built them out of sticks they found in the forest. One lamp sat on each end table, the clay bottom reminiscent of Indian pottery. The third lamp was sitting on top of the tv. Around the room, she could see the evidence of his Indian heritage. Pictures of tribal rituals adorned the walls, as well as a painted portrait of an Indian maiden in full regalia. Next to it, was a picture of Mark, and an old woman. Moving closer, Willow inspected it.

The old woman was much shorter than Mark, barely reaching his stomach. Her long, gray and black hair hung over her shoulder in a braid. Life and laugh lines etched her face, and her eyes sparkled merrily, making her seem much younger than her obvious years. She carried the aura of good living, and Willow found herself instinctively liking the woman in the picture.

"Old Indian grandmother?" she asked with a smile. Mark had been watching her from his position by the door as she took in his belongings. A part of him recognized how much she belonged there. With him. He pushed himself away from the wall and walked over to her, sliding his hands over her shoulders and peering down at the picture himself. Willow sighed and leaned back into him.

"Yep. That's her. That was taken last year at her birthday." He smiled fondly at the memory. Rose Lynch looked at aging as a badge of honor. Every line and every grey hair had a story to tell, she often said. She had turned seventy that day, and she was as beautiful to Mark then, as she had been in her youth.

"What happened to your parents?" she asked. He had never mentioned them, and she had a feeling it wasn't good. A sad smile touched his lips, but she didn't see, she was still looking at the picture.

"Car crash. I was five." She turned in his arms then, and wrapped hers around his waist. Her green eyes raised to meet his, sympathy swimming in their depths.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. He smiled, and raised a hand to run it over her hair.

"It's alright. It was a long time ago. And, I got to be raised by my grandparents. Gramps was determined to turn me into the proper warrior. Of course, he was baffled that I was more interested in playing the guitar than learning how to properly hunt a deer." He chuckled a bit. Her own laugh joined his. "Poor old man never did quite know what to do with me." A look of fond remembrance crossed his features, and he smiled down at Willow.

"I'd like to meet them," she said, resting her cheek against his chest, the sound of his heartbeat, and the feel of him in her arms dispelling any doubts she had been harboring. They would find a way.

"Well, Rose is no problem. She would love to get a hold of you and tell you all my dirty secrets." She snorted at that. "Harry, though. Harry I'm afraid went to meet the Great Spirit five years ago. Heart attack." She didn't say I'm sorry again, but, it was written all over her expressive face when she looked up at him. "What about your folks?" he asked. Immediately regretting it when a cloud flooded her eyes.

"They've spent the better part of the last twenty two years alternating between ignoring me and studying me," she said, a trace of bitterness lacing her words. "Kinda like an animal in the zoo." He reached up and cupped her cheek, sliding his thumb along her skin. The black of his eyes traveled over her face, a flare of anger at her parents' stupidity flashing through them.

"They're fools. How could they not know the treasure that God had given them?" Her eyes swam at that, the hurt her parents had unleashed on her over the years threatening to spill over. "Sh," he crooned, leaning down to tease her lips with his. She returned the gentle caresses with her own, seeking the hot tingles that only he could elicit. Her arms moved from his waist to his shoulders, her fingers playing in the silk of his hair as she crushed herself along his hard body. He tightened his arms around her, the kiss turning more passionate. Tongues, lips and teeth battled and soothed, heat coursing through their bodies.

In a grand gesture that rivaled any done by Rhett Butler to Scarlett O'Hara, Mark swept her up in his arms and carried her back to his bedroom. Once they were there, clothes came of swiftly, as if their passion would consume them in its fiery embrace. Once she was naked, and her pale, almost translucent skin was bathed in nothing but the moonlight filtering in from the windows, Mark laid her back on the bed. The first touch of his mouth to her heaving breast caused her to moan loudly. Her fingers fisted in his hair, as he nibbled slowly on the hard peak, his mustache tickling her skin and sending delicious shivers racing over her and straight to the very center of her being. His fingers danced along her flesh, the roughened digits memorizing every silken curve. He trailed his tongue across the valley of her breasts, to the other soft mound, giving it equal attention. She mewled softly when his fingers brushed the soft curls of her sex, and she surged her hips up to urge him on. She gasped when his tongue slid lazily down her stomach, dipping playful into her belly button, and then lower. There eyes locked when he kneeled on the floor between her thighs, his large, warm hands sliding between the bed and her buttocks. He gently kneaded the swells of her ass, his black eyes burning hers before he dipped his head to taste.

She reared off the bed at the first swipe of his tongue across her heated core. Her legs came up to wrap around his neck as he feasted greedily on her juices. Her fingers plucked uselessly on the comforter, her breaths came in shallow gasps as the throb in her center mirrored the strokes of his tongue on her sex. Alternating between her clit and her entrance, Mark slowly, langorioulsy brought her to the edge. When she was writhing beneath him, her hands desperately trying to push him closer to her, he stiffened his tongue and attacked her with a ferocity like no other. The sound of his name, followed by several 'Oh God's' broke his own hold on his control. While she was still trembling from the force of her climax, his nude body skimmed over hers, his shaft sliding effortlessly into her tight, fluttering heat.

They both groaned as he filled her, their joining seeming to be the one thing that could bring them peace. He kissed her deeply as he began to move, his hands gripping her knees and spreading her wide to his plundering thrusts. Her nails dug into the strong muscles of his shoulders, her hips grinding against his. Thrust for thrust, stroke for stroke they met, equal in passion. As he felt his orgasm start to take over, he tore his mouth away from hers, and buried his face in her hair. One of his hands moved between their sweat slicked bodies to find the hard nubbin. With a gentle twist, they crashed over the edge together.

"I love you, Willow," he gasped into her hair, shuddering violently with the force of his climax. She was just as moved beneath him, the strength of his words lightening her heart. When he raised his head to look at her, she ran her fingers through his hair, her eyes shining with unshed tears. He brushed a thumb over her lashes, gathering the moisture.

"I love you, too." She smiled at his slightly dumbfounded expression, and leaned up to kiss his surprise softened mouth. Slowly, they began to move together again, the force of their feelings pushing them to reiterate it, over and over. The room filled with soft moans and whispers of love as they fell into oblivion once more.

~*~*~

Spike moved through the house, silently turning off the lights and checking the locks. Anne was putting Matt to bed, and he could hear her quiet voice drift out of the room as he approached.

"Goodnight, honey," Anne said, leaning down to brush a kiss across his forehead.

"G'night Mommy. G'night Daddy," Matt said, turning his bright blue eyes on the blonde vampire. Spike moved into the room, and wrapped his child in his arms. It amazed him that the child never shied away from the coolness of his body. He often wondered what he, a soulless demon, had done to deserve these treasures. The love of the Slayer, and the miracle of a child.

"Goodnight, bit," he said, ruffling his hair. They stood together, and left the room, Anne flipping off the light as they left.

Moving into her room, they closed the door and fell into each other's arms. Gentle kisses and soft touches slid across skin as it was revealed to their hungry gazes. Sighs of contentment filled the air as he pushed slowly, reverently into her heat. Warm, silken limbs entwined with cool, smooth, muscular ones as they moved together in the dance of the ages. Movements became more urgent as their release approached, and with soft keens of love, they fell over into bliss. Afterwards, they curled around each other, the sound of his purr filling the air.

Arizona (continued)

Everything went unbelievably well over the next few days. Anne, Spike and Matt settled into family life, the transition amazingly easy for the vampire. Nothing meant more to him than his woman and his child, and he wanted to do everything he could to make sure they were taken care of. On Thursday, she had dumped the month's bills in his lap, a smirk curling her lip when she also told him it was time to go grocery shopping. He didn't object, after all, it was his fault she was jobless, and it was his responsibility. He simply put in a call to his lawyer, and had all his funds transferred to her account. That way, should anything happen to him, she would never have to struggle again. He paid off her car and her house, eagerly awaiting the day when the titles arrived and her could present them to her. They were hers, and no one else's.

"You got me fired. No need for any of this anymore," she explained, tossing the leather back in the box. Spike merely smirked, and retrieved it, along with a couple of others.

"Oh, I think we can find a use for a couple of them," he'd purred, and then they had proceeded to do just that.

Matt loved having his family together, and had brought home a picture that he had drawn in school. It had Anne, him and Spike holding hands, standing in front of their house at night. Willow and Mark were also in the picture, their stick arms wrapped around each other. Matt liked the pretty lady with the bright hair. She was always nice to him, and she did cool card tricks. She made Unca Mark happy, too. He knew that, because the couple had been over practically every night that week.

Mark and Willow were moving along at a good pace as well. After their first morning in his apartment, he had taken her back to the hotel long enough to collect her stuff, then promptly deposited it at his place. Willow seemed to be constantly walking around on a high, her expression almost matching Anne's. She was still worried about what would come when she had to return home, however. She'd been too afraid to bring it up, but she had the distinct impression that Mark wouldn't let her go easily. What that meant, was a mystery to her.

None of them heard from Xander. Anne hoped he'd gone back to Sunnydale, and Mark and Spike didn't much care where he went. Willow hoped that he was alright, but she didn't seek him out, feeling he needed time to come to terms with the things that had been said to him. She hoped he finally got over it, and accepted his friends' choices. Then, maybe, he could rebuild his own life.

By the time Friday came around, Matt was so excited about taking his father to the carnival that night, that Anne had to scold him more than once. Spike jumped in a time or two, letting the child know that there would be no divide and conquer tactics allowed. Anne was amazed at how easily he had acclimated to fatherhood. He joked with her that after dealing with the idiocy of minions, a four year old was a breeze. They never mentioned Dru, or Angel, or their time in Sunnydale. The future was also a taboo subject, since they didn't want to contemplate the time when it would only be Spike left. Spike, himself was petrified of that time. It had never been something to worry about before, as his relationships with humans had been more of the eat and run variety. Now, two very fragile lives were part of his unlife. Four if you counted Mark and Willow. And he found that the thought of life without them was scarier than holy water and stakes to the heart combined. So, he chose not to think about it, and he and Anne did a good job of ignoring it. Matt, blissfully, was oblivious.

"Hi," Anne said, pulling open the door to let Mark and Willow inside. The setting sun cast the sky in a rainbow of red, violet and pink behind them. Anne hugged Willow, delighting in the changes in her friend. Her pale skin was sun kissed, and her brilliant hair seemed redder from the hours she spent in the sun. A silver necklace with a turquoise cross hung around her slim throat, a gift from Mark. Large silver hoop earrings adorned her ears, and two thick silver bangles jangled on her wrists. She was wearing a pair of jean shorts, sandals, and a white, billowing blouse that exposed her shoulders. Mark was dressed in his usual faded jeans and boots. His t-shirt was replaced with a crisp, white button down, the top few buttons undone to expose his copper skinned chest. The sleeves were rolled up to just below his elbows. His long hair was captured in a tie at the base of his neck. Anne studied them, thinking they made a striking couple.

"Hey, we're here, and fully prepared for the over consumption of sugar and lard, followed closely by the threat of tossing our cookies on all those whiplash rides," Mark said, leaning down to brush his warm lips across Anne's cheek.

"Hey, Tonto, watch your lips," Spike said good naturedly as he was pulled down the hall by the overexcited Matt.

"Whatever you say, Lestat," Mark threw back, smiling at the scowl that crossed Spike's chiseled features. "Turnabout's fair play," he said with a grin. The blonde vampire's lips quirked at that, and he nodded.

"Touche," he said, leaning in to kiss Willow on her cheek. The redhead's cheeks colored bright at that. Anne rolled her eyes, and lightly punched Spike in the arm, as Mark's face clouded briefly.

"Turnabout and all that," Spike reminded him, hefting Matt up into his arms. The little boy squealed in delight.

"Can we go now?" he demanded, wrapping his arms around his father's neck.

"In a few minutes. Soon as the sun goes down," he told him. Matt pouted a little, his chin dipping to touch the front of his Shaggy t-shirt. "Hey now, none of that," Spike said, tucking a finger under his chin. Matt giggled when his father tickled his chin, and he smiled wide.

"Matt, go get your shoes on," Anne told him as Spike set him back on his feet.

"K!" he cried, taking off down the hall. The adults laughed as he disappeared. Spike turned towards Anne, his blue eyes traveling over her slim form. She was dressed in a pair of denim capris, a pair of white keds on her feet. A pink tank top highlighted her golden skin. A simple gold chain hung around her neck. Her dark, shiny hair was twisted into a thick braid that hung down her back. Simple gold balls decorated her ears. He thought she looked delicious.

Anne was having similar thoughts about him. She had forced him to go shopping the night before, deciding she'd had enough of the black. In it's place were a pair of blue jeans (he refused to buy anything but denim to adorn his lower half), and a t-shirt the color of his eyes. She couldn't make him veer from the style, but at least she got him to see that color could be a good thing. She also insisted that he leave the duster at home. It would get in the way on the rides, not to mention that it stood out like the proverbial sore thumb in a state that was hotter than most.

"So, are we ready?" Spike asked, as Matt flew back down the hall.

"I think so. You got money, right?" Anne answered with a bright smile. Spike rolled his eyes, and nodded his head.

"You going to follow us?" Mark asked as they filed out of the house.

"That's fine," Anne answered, locking the door. "Let's get this show on the road."

"Come on, Daddy," Matt said, dragging Spike down the stairs. Anne followed them to her car, and Mark and Willow went to his. As they pulled out of her driveway, none of them noticed the truck at the end of the street.

Xander waited until they were turning onto the main drag, before starting the truck and following them.

~*~*~

Anne smiled from her spot on the ground. Spike and Matt were on the merry-go-round, waving each time they came back around to her.

"Mommy, look at us," Matt demanded, smiling wide.

"I see, baby," Anne called back, returning his grin. They had been there an hour already, and Matt didn't look anywhere close to tiring. He had dragged Spike to each of his favorite rides, then proceeded to con his father into buying him cotton candy and funnel cakes. Spike was having the time of his unlife, happiness expanding his undead heart. Anne didn't ride too much, her tastes running more to the fast rides, but Matt couldn't go on those. Mark and Willow wandered around, riding what they wanted, then returning to the family. Willow found herself slightly envious of her friend, and she realized that she wanted what Anne had as well. She found herself imaging little dark haired children running around, while her and Mark cuddled on the couch. The thought thrilled and terrified her at the same time. Mark found himself having similar thoughts, only the children in his mind were exact duplicates of Willow. He shoved a hand in his pocket, and fingered the velvet box he had placed there earlier. His heart hammered in his chest as he thought of its contents. He could hardly believe that it had been just over a week ago that she had stumbled into his life. He felt like he had waited forever for her, and he had no intention of letting her go. He planned on asking her, when they got back to his place, if she would share forever with him.

Willow turned away form the merry-go-round, and smiled at Mark. Her smile diminished and her brows drew together when she thought she caught a glimpse of a very familiar dark head.

"What's the matter?" Mark asked, wrapping an arm around her waist. Willow glanced at him, then looked back to where she thought she saw Xander. Seeing nothing, she smiled again.

"Nothing. Want to go be manly and win me something cute and cuddly?" she asked, leaning her cheek against his chest.

"I thought I was cute and cuddly," he teased, his black eyes sparkling. She leaned up to brush her lips across his.

"I can think of a few different words than cute and cuddly to describe you," she said, giving him a saucy look.

"Really?" he purred, pulling her back against him. "And what might those be?"

"God, get a room," Anne teased, coming up next to them with Spike and Matt.

"Yeah, impressionable young eyes here," Spike said, indicating himself and not the little boy staring curiously at the adults. That comment elicited a chorus of snorts from the younger ones.

"If you're impressionable, I'll do a naked rain dance right here," Mark said, causing Spike to grin wickedly.

"That would almost be worth the price of admission," he sneered. Willow and Anne giggled at the way Mark's faced blanched at that. Mark didn't know whether to be insulted or afraid, or flattered.

"It's okay, honey. It's a vampire thing," Willow said, chuckling again.

"Yeah, but don't worry, not interested," Spike couldn't help but shoot out. The look of fear that hit the tall Indian's face was priceless.

"Alright, I think on that note, me and Willow are going over there. Away from you," he said, pointing at the vampire.

"Aw, too bad. Just when I was hoping we could bond," Spike leered, deliberately dragging his eyes over Mark. He couldn't hold his laughter back anymore when Mark practically dragged Willow away from them. Anne looked over at him, amusement warring with stern reproach on her face. Matt, luckily, hadn't understood most of the conversation.

"Good job. I don't think I've seen Mark that particular shade of green since I gave birth," she said, with a tilt of her eyebrow. Spike just chuckled.

"Wha? He started it," the blonde tried to defend. "What's next, bit?"

"Bafroom," he answered.

"Aw, that sounds like a man chore. I'll be over with Willow and Mark, kay?" Anne said, leaning in to accept Spike's kiss.

"Be back in a few," Spike answered, picking up Matt and heading in the direction of the loo. Anne watched them go, the contrast of dark and light making her heart squeeze. With a smile, she turned and walked to her friends, not seeing the dark haired man filing through the crowd after the vampire.

~*~*~

"Daddy, I don' feel good," Matt said, clutching his stomach when he came out of the bathroom.

"Well, after all that junk you ate, I'm not surprised," Spike answered, picking up his son once more and cradling him in his arms. The boy's skin was a sickly white, and a light sheen of sweat dotted his forehead. The smell of sickness reached Spike, and he chuckled a bit. "Let's go find Mum, and go home, shall we?" Matt only nodded, snuggling deeper into his father's cool chest. Spike smiled again, and started back towards the crowds to find Anne.

"Hold it, vampire," a slurred voice from behind him said. Spike stilled, then turned, blue eyes flashing yellow as they settled on Xander. The brunette stood unsteadily about ten feet away, a small crossbow trained at Spike.

"What are you doing, whelp?" he growled, keeping his voice soft to not disturb the fitfully sleeping child in his arms.

"I was about to ask you that. Looks like you've got yourself a tasty little snack there," Xander said.

"Don't be a git. This is my son," Spike returned.

"Oh, and all that sweet young blood isn't calling to you? I find that hard to believe," the brunette sneered. The crossbow never wavered, even though Xander looked worse for wear. Spike angled his body so that the bolt wouldn't hit Matt should the idiot accidentally shoot it. He glanced around the area, seeing that it was mostly deserted since most of the people were over at the carnival. His mind sped, as he tried to think of a way out of this situation, and not get Matt hurt in the process. Xander had obviously gone round the bend.

"I don't care what you believe. And I don't believe that you'll shoot. Wouldn't want a brassed off Slayer after you, now would you?" Spike asked, hazarding to turn. A growl erupted from his chest when the sharp sting of wood pierced his shoulder. He struggled to keep his grip on his precious bundle.

"Wanna try again?" Xander asked, reloading quickly. "Why don't you put the boy down, then we can finish this in private," he suggested. Spike looked down at Matt, and cursed when he saw the bright blue orbs open.

"Daddy?" he asked weakly. His stomach was hurting, and he felt hot. He wasn't afraid of the vampiric ridges of his father's face. What scared him was the look of pain in his yellow eyes, and the cold voice speaking to Spike.

"Sh, bit. Quiet now," he whispered, struggling to return to his human features.

"Isn't that sweet?" Xander crooned, his voice mocking. Finally, Spike managed to push his demon back, and smiled down at his child.

"I'm going to put you down, now, poppet. Run to your mum." He spoke softly, hoping to ease the scared boy.

"Daddy, that's the man that made Mommy mad," Matt whispered back.

"I know." Spike answered, slowly lowering him to the ground. "When I say, you run, alright?" Matt nodded, sliding his wide blue eyes to the man behind his father.

"Hope you aren't planning on running Spike. I'm not as stupid as you think."

*That's a matter of opinion,* Spike thought with a grimace. The bolt in his shoulder hurt like fire, and he wondered if the brunette had treated it with something.

"Run!" Spike hissed, pushing the boy to get him started. Matt moved as fast as his little legs would carry him. Spike waited a beat, long enough for Matt to disappear into the crowd before rounding on Xander. Full game face on, he started to lunge, only to collapse when Xander let another bolt loose into his stomach. That one was definitely treated, as the skin around it started to smoke.

"Bloody hell," he gasped, as searing pain lanced through him. Another bolt hit the front of his shoulder, inches from his heart. The one in his back pierced all the way through when he landed on it. Spike reached up to pull that one out first, tears of pain misting his eyes. He threw it away, and struggled up to his knees, leveling yellow eyes on his nemesis. Xander still had the crossbow aimed at him, a fresh bolt ready to go.

"Get up, Spike. Let's take this somewhere we can talk," he said, amicably. Spike took a deep breath and pushed himself up. He was losing blood quickly, and he wondered what exactly was on the wood. "Holy water. Keeps the wounds from closing too quickly," Xander supplied, as if reading his mind. "Now, move!" He jerked the crossbow, letting Spike know which direction to go. With one last, longing look at the bright, colorful lights of the carnival, the blonde started to move.

~*~*~

Anne, Mark and Willow were standing in front of the dart game, laughing at Mark's attempts to win Willow the giant panda. After the tenth try, he gave up, turning to kiss Willow's smiling mouth.

"Pool's more my game, sweets," he said apologetically.

"Oh well. I still have you to snuggle with," she replied, brushing her thumb across his cheek.

"Speaking of snuggling. Haven't Spike and Matt been gone a while?" Anne asked, turning to scan the crowd.

"MOMMY!" A tiny voice carried over the din, causing Anne's heart to jump into her throat. She raced in the direction of the sound, Willow and Mark on her heels. Matt broke through the crowd and launched into Anne's arms.

"Matt, what happened? Where's your father?" she asked, wiping his tears away. Matt was breathing heavy, and sweaty, the smell of sickness in the air around him.

"Da-daddy took me to the bafroom, I got sick. He was comin' to fine you, and then he stopped. That bad man from Sunday was there. He shot Daddy. Daddy tole me to run and find you. Why did he hurt Daddy, Mommy?" Matt had deteriorated into sobs as he told her what happened. Two feelings hit Anne at once. Relief that Matt was alright, and fear for Spike.

"Oh, goddess," Willow gasped, gripping Mark's arm. The Indian immediately started to scan the edges of the crowd, looking for the tell-tale white head.

"Matt, honey, can you tell me which way they went?" He shook his head wildly, clutching his mother with all the force he had in him. Anne closed her eyes and hugged him close, her minding visiting every death that she herself had bestowed on vampires.

"Let's go check by the bathrooms," Mark said, already heading that way. Willow and Anne followed him, terror clutching them. Willow's mind had shut down, her disbelief making it hard to think. She never would have thought that Xander would go this far. She thanked anybody that she could think of that he let Matt go.

Mark moved with the stealth and speed that rivaled any vampire. Thousands of years of Native American heritage flowed through his veins as he started to track the pair. When they reached the bathrooms, he immediately veered left, following the trail into the clearing beyond. Every few feet, he would see blood in the light from the moon, and he guessed correctly that it was Spike's. Just as they reached the side of the road, Xander's beat up old truck tore off onto the highway. They were too far away from their cars to even think about giving chase. Willow began to scan the surrounding area for obvious piles of dust.

"He's not dead," Anne said with conviction, realizing what her friend was looking for. "I'd feel it if he were." Matt continued to sob in her arms, and she squeezed him tightly. "Sh, baby. We'll find him."

"I can do a location spell. I just need something of his," Willow said, hope flaring in her eyes.

"Then let's go back to my house. Everything is there."

"We need to stop by Mark's first, so I can get my supplies." Anne gave a curt nod and started back towards the crowds. The smell of sweet stuff was nauseating, and the laughter was grating. She strode silently to the other side where her car was parked, her arms wrapped around her child, her heart refusing to believe that she would lose Spike. Not now, after they finally found each other. She vowed, as she slid her terrified son into his seat in her car, that Xander would pay for fucking with what was hers.

A/N: Well, I guess I couldn't keep old Xan man from going loopy in this one. Oh well.

AN:-for those that are a little shocked at my Xander treatment, I have issues, and I am working through them. Those at Crumbling Walls know this, and accept it. Lol. However, if it bothers you too much, read Speedway, I treat him much better there (end shameless plug). Lisa

Spike came awake with a groan, two things apparent almost immediately. One, his body was one white hot throb of pain. Two, his arms were tied above his head, his sockets burning with the strain of holding his body weight. He tried to pry his eyes open, but the pain in his head was nearly unbearable. The last thing he remembered was the dizzying walk to Xander's old jalopy. Then, when they had reached it, the blinding lights that had exploded behind his eyes, before blackness over took him.

Forgetting about seeing for the moment, he tried to center himself so he could pick up the sounds in the room. He had to single out the roar in his head, and push it aside, desperately searching for the sound of Xander's heartbeat. He finally heard it, behind him. Along with the sound of wood hitting metal. For the first time in five years, Spike felt fear. Not since Dru attached herself to her daddy and ventured into hell had he felt terror like this. He was tied up, lightheaded, and nauseous, with no immediate means of escape. He thanked the God that had forsaken him that Matt had gotten away. He found himself begging that same God to get him out of this. He wanted his life, his woman and his child. Maybe he didn't deserve them, but he had been blessed for a reason, and he couldn't believe that it would all be snatched away from him. Or, maybe that was the price he had to pay. His life for theirs.

Finally prying his eyes open, he ventured a look around. They seemed to be in some sort of abandoned barn, the interior empty and dim, even though Spike could smell sunrise coming. He looked down the length of his body, noticing for the first time that he was only wearing his jeans, the blood from his wounds staining his chest, stomach and the denim down to his knees. The angry hole in his stomach was finally starting to close, and he could feel the one in his back and chest starting to as well. His head throbbed, every time he tried to move it, making his vision swim black. He forced himself to stay awake, wanting to face his death head on.

"Whelp," he croaked, trying to turn to see behind him. He heard a clatter like something being dropped on a table.

"Spike. You're awake! Wanna drink?" Xander let out a giggle that would have had Spike smirking if it weren't for the crossbow waiving around dangerously in his hand. A bottle of Jack was in his other hand, the contents half gone. He reeked of booze and sweat.

"No thanks. Got a bit of a headache," Spike answered, wincing when the brunette giggled again.

"That's funny. Too bad you're evil, we coulda been friends," he said with a snort, before tipping the bottle back again. Spike raised his scarred brow at that.

"You have me at a disadvantage, mate. What are you planning to do?" Xander shrugged a flannel clad shoulder, and sat down hard on the floor. Amazingly, he didn't drop either of the two objects in his hands, even though he tipped dangerously to the side.

"Not sure. Had a few ideas. Thought 'bout bleeding you, seeing if you would turn to dust when you were empty. Like me, empty, empty. No love, no friends." He snorted again, tears sliding sown his cheeks. "Even thought about just staking you. Thought that lacked. . ." He waved the bottle around as he searched for a word. "Poetry." Another burst of laughter followed that. "Now, I thought, that I would bring in a tasty little morsle for you to chew on. Let you stew for a while. Let the bloodlust build up. But, I know that wouldn't work, cause, I know my Willow. Such a pretty little Willow. She's going to find us." Spike felt hope bloom at those words.

"Then, why haven't you taken care of me yet? Seems a touch sloppy on your part." Spike knew he probably shouldn't have said that when a bolt let loose and imbedded in his knee. "Augh." He twisted in the chains, the smell of fresh blood assailing him. "Bloody hell." Agony sliced up his leg, and his vision swam.

"Oops," came the comment from the floor. "Just slipped." Laughter again, cut off by the sloshing of liquor against glass. Xander pushed up from the floor, and staggered out of Spike's sight again.

"Fuck!" Spike spat when he felt burning liquid sear his flesh.

"Ya know, Spike. I just don't get it," Xander started, his tone friendly. He let loose another stream of holy water from the water pistol in his hand, watching the burns form odd patterns. "What is it about vampires? You're evil. Okay, so you have the benefit of being eternally young, which I will admit is cool. But, the whole blood drinking, sleeping with an animated corpse thing. I just don't understand. And WHY would the Gods give you a child?" Confusion coated his words, as he started to walk in a circle around Spike, occasionally pulling the trigger to release more of the deadly liquid. The vampire struggled to stay quiet, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of any sound at all.

"Cause I'm so charming, maybe?" he offered, quirking a brow.

"Humph. Whatever." Xander rolled his eyes, the action causing him to stagger a bit.

"Why aren't you killing me, boy?"

"Eager to die?" Xander stopped, and turned his drunken eyes on the blonde.

"Not really, done it once, can't say it was pleasant. I just can't figure out what this is all about. You didn't traumatize my son to keep me alive. Or, did you not plan ahead?" Guilt crossed Xander's face at the mention of Matt, and the ramifications of what his actions at the carnival would have on the youngster.

"I didn't want to hurt him. Or scare him. I just thought. . .they had to know that you couldn't change. It's impossible."

"Who says? The Council of Wankers? They don't know the first thing about vampires," Spike snorted.

"Oh, so, you're all just a bunch of regular Joe's who just happen to think that world destruction is a fun past time, and that blood makes an excellent after dinner drink?" the brunette quipped, his face calm.

"No. Most of 'em are evil. There are a few that aren't. And not because they're cursed," Spike said. He was starting to get the distinct impression that Xander wasn't going to kill him. He was stalling, and the blonde couldn't figure out why.

"Really?" Xander seemed to consider this. "Why then? What makes you so special?"

"Has a lot to do with who you were before you got turned. Liam was a bastard to begin with, that just transferred to Angelus. Darla was a whore. Dru, well, Dru was innocent. Angel tainted her before he turned her."

"What about YOU? What about you makes it concrete that you won't ever kill again?"

"Lost the taste for it," Spike said, honestly. He never fully understood himself, why he had given it up. Part of him thought that maybe it had something to do with the bite that he had given Buffy, like maybe he had linked into her soul, and it kept him from doing it. "I love her, Xander. You can turn it however many different directions you want. It won't change. Dru turned me, Buffy saved me."

"But that doesn't explain WHY," the brunette whined.

"What do you want me to say, whelp? I haven't quite figured out myself. I lived for over a century, doing exactly what vampires are supposed to do, and enjoying it. One day with Buffy and everything changes. ONE DAY! I don't know why, I don't know how. Nor, do I particularly care. It just is." Spike jerked hard on his restraints when he felt the blade of a knife slice into his kidney.

"It just is? IT JUST IS? That's all you can come up with? I don't get it. She's the vampire SLAYER. She's not supposed to fall in love with you. Leave behind her friends, her mother. Especially her mother."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't exactly supposed to fall in love with her, either." Spike blinked, struggling to stay conscious, as Xander carelessly inflicted new wounds. He needed blood, soon, or all Buffy would find was a big pile of dust. He still didn't think that Xander would intentionally kill him. But he was drunk enough to do it by accident. "And your attitude is the reason she left. You lied to her about the spell. Then you show up in L.A. and try to shove your hate down her throat. You think her bloody calling is so sacred, you try giving up everything, with the knowledge that you probably won't live past eighteen, to save the world on a weekly basis. Maybe she would have stayed if you didn't lie. Maybe she wouldn't have run if you had just been her friend." His head whipped around with the force of the punch Xander hit him with.

"SHUT UP! What do you know about friendship? You are an evil, soulless thing." Xander got right up in his face, the stench of alcohol filtering the air between them. "How many friends have you had in your pathetic unlife? Hm?" Spike refused to answer, because, the whelp was right. Aside from Druscilla, Spike had spent the majority of his life alone. Until Buffy. His hazy mind brought up an image of Mark, and even Willow. He'd only known the Indian a week, did that make them friends? "You can't tell me, can you? That's cause the number is a big zero. Well, I had two friends. Yeah, they were girls, but I loved them. And they have both turned on me. For what?" Xander reappeared in front of Spike again, a knife replacing the crossbow. "You. That's what. And that Indian. They don't need me." That last part was said in a whisper, and Spike's pain addled senses had trouble picking it up.

"Xander. What the hell are you going to do?" Spike's voice was tired, and he felt the call of sleep as the sun rose over the horizon, the deadly rays filtering through the gaps in the boards of the old building.

"I. . ."

Just then, the squeal of tires and the sound of skittering rocks came from the outside.

"They're here," Xander said, moving quicker than Spike thought possible in his inebriated state. He moved to the mechanism holding Spike upright, and released. The blonde hit the floor with a thud, pain singing through his body. Xander looked down at the prone vampire, and they both realized, in the same instant, that he was in the position of the door. Once it was flung open, the vampire would be bathed in sunlight. Spike tried to push himself up to move, as the sound of pounding footsteps became audible. They apparently weren't worried about stealth. Before Spike could register what was going on, he felt a pair of unsteady arms wrapping around his chest, and pulling him out of the way, just as the door flung open wide.

"Put him the fuck down you sicko," Anne spat, taking long strides with her short legs to reach them. Spike hit the floor when she let loose a kick, sending Xander careening backwards. He groaned loud, growling when the dust from the floor rubbed into his wounds. Warm, gentle hands were on his chest, Willow's soft voice filling the air around him. The sounds of flesh hitting flesh overlaid her words, making it hard for him to hear. The pain started to become bearable, with each passing second of her hands on him. He hazarded cracking open one eye, to look at the redhead above him. She was kneeling beside him, her head thrown back, and ethereal type light glowing around her. The heat of her hands intensified and spread, making him feel like he was being wrapped in a warm blanket. His head slumped to the side, and he had a perfect view of the destruction Anne was bestowing on Xander. He could just see Mark, hovering behind Willow, keeping an eye on the fight, but every second or so, his gaze landed on Spike.

Anne didn't speak as she threw punches and kicks at Xander. The fact that he wasn't even trying to fight back not registering. Not that she would have cared if he had. This was the final straw. She was tired of him trying to run her life, doing things that HE thought were right. First with Angel, and now with Spike.

Her right cross to his jaw sent him spinning through the air, his blood stained her knuckles, the sound of his groans filled her ears. Her vision was hazy with rage. He terrorized her son, tortured her mate, she was beyond caring. She let out a frustrated scream when her next punch was caught. She whirled on the offender, nearly knocking Mark back on his ass.

"What are you doing?" Anne growled, her voice tight, her jaw clenched. She could have made him let go, but some part of her brain recognized that would be bad. HE wasn't who she wanted to hurt.

"Annie, he's out cold. Don't do something you'll regret," Mark told her, black eyes piercing through her haze. She turned to look over her shoulder at the prone figure on the floor. Xander was sprawled on his back, blood pouring form his nose and lip, his eyes blooming a brilliant purple over the yellowing older bruises. She knew that his chest was probably just as bruised. "Willow needs your help with Spike." Instantly, Xander was forgotten, and she was moving towards her friend and her man.

Mark walked over to Xander, his dark hair falling over his shoulder as he looked down at the man. Sympathy and pity coursed through him as he looked down at him. Mark sighed, and shoved his hands in his pockets. Everything had been moving on fast forward since Matt found them at the carnival. He and Willow had left and gone straight to his house, gathering the supplies she would need to find the vampire. Then, they had rushed to Anne's who was on the phone trying desperately to find a sitter for Matt. Finally, Molly called and said that she could come over. Matt had been terrified, crying for his daddy, and clinging to Anne like she would disappear if he let go. Finally, exhaustion had overcome him, and he had fallen asleep. Anne laid him down in his bed, draping the child in his father's duster, before going to her bedroom to help Willow. Mark had tried to come up with a story for Molly, so she wouldn't think they were all nuts, or call the cops. He'd finally settled on telling her that Spike had been in an accident, and that's what all the confusion was about, hoping she didn't shine light through all the obvious holes in the explanation. Molly had thankfully accepted it. Then, the girls had emerged from the room, a steely look of determination on Anne's face. Grief, fear, and anger warred across Willow's, and she clutched onto Mark's hand as they made their way to his car. Anne was in no condition to drive, and she wasn't as familiar with the areas outside of town as he was. Willow had shown him the circle on the map that the spell indicated, and Mark knew exactly where to go. He'd barely skidded to a stop when Anne was out of the car, followed closely by Willow.

When they burst through the doors, Anne lost all reason when she saw Xander handling Spike. It looked to Mark like he was trying to pull the blonde out of the way of the sunlight streaming through the door. Annie was too far gone to care. The Indian let her have her licks, but anymore and she would have killed him, and he didn't want her to have to live with that kind of guilt. With one final look at the brunette, he walked over to where the girls were frantically hovering over Spike. The vampire had passed out from blood loss, and his pale skin had taken on a sickly pallor. The front of his jeans was completely covered with blood, and his hair was sticky with it.

"How's he doing?" Mark asked, kneeling down. In this state, Spike looked like a corpse, and even though Mark knew that's what he technically was, it was still unnerving.

"I don't know. The healing spell was designed for humans, not the undead. I think the bleeding has stopped. He needs blood. That's the only thing I know for sure," Willow said, her wide green eyes full of worry. She hazarded a glance over at Xander, her pale skin blanching even more. Anne was stroking gentle fingers over Spike's brow, silent tears tracking down her face.

"Mark, give me your knife," she said, not looking up at him. His brow creased in confusion as he did, the velvet box he had in his pocket coming out as well. Green eyes widened when Willow saw it, looking away quickly as the implications hit her. Mark just put it back, handing Anne his pocket knife, not realizing that the redhead had seen it. He watched as Anne opened the knife and slid it across her wrist. He gasped as the blood bubbled forth, and she immediately put it against Spike's slack lips.

"Come on, baby," she cooed, stroking his cheek. She sighed in satisfaction when she felt his lips start to move, instinct kicking in and making him drink. She let him until she started to feel light headed, then pulled her wrist away, wiping the blood that stained his lips away. "Let's get him home. There's more blood there." She moved to pick him up, swaying a bit. Mark pushed her out of the way and did it himself, cradling the blonde against his chest.

"Find something to cover him with," he said, staring at the patch of sunlight. Anne and Willow began to search through the near empty building, Willow finally finding a horse blanket in the corner. It stank from mold and age, but, it would have to do. "Let's go." He walked outside, leaving the girls to follow. Willow stopped next to Xander, an idea playing in the back of her mind.

"Willow, let's go," Anne said, pausing by the door.

"Go ahead, send Mark back once he gets you home," Willow said, kneeling next to her fallen friend.

"What are you going to do?" Suspicion made her words sharp, as she watched the redhead unbutton the flannel shirt.

"Just go, Buffy. I'll take care this."

"Willow! What about all he's done. . ." Willow's green eyes snapped to hers.

"You forgave Spike." Her words stopped Anne cold. Her head jerked back, almost like she had been slapped. She looked down at Xander, then back up at Willow. "He won't bother you again. Just, go. I'll see you in a bit."

"I love you Will." Anne felt the need to say it, just so the women understood each other. She wasn't mad at the Wiccan need to help him, she understood it. Willow's face softened, and she gave Anne a soft smile.

"I love you too. Send Mark back."

"Okay. Be careful" The witch nodded and went back to her task. Anne gave them one last look before turning away to take Spike home.

AN: Sorry if this chapter sucks, I didn't want to kill Xander, so, had to figure out what to do. One more chapter, I think, and this is done. Lisa

Anne went into the house to let Molly go before Mark brought Spike in. She didn't want to freak out the babysitter by bringing in a badly injured body wrapped in a blanket. As soon as she was gone, Mark brought the still unconscious vampire into the house, and took him back to Anne's room, while she went into the kitchen to prepare him some blood.

"I'm going to go get Willow," Mark said, striding out of the house. Anne stood in front of the microwave, her body trembling as her mind finally convinced her of how close she had really come to losing him. Her eyes drifted closed as she fought the wave of tears that burned behind her eyes, and she forced back the nausea that threatened to choke her. She hadn't felt this desperate since that day so long ago, when she watched Angel get sucked into Hell.

The ding of the microwave broke her from her thoughts. She pulled the mug out and went towards her room, pausing to look in on Matt. He was thankfully still sound asleep. She didn't know if, in her current state of mind, she could deal with him and take care of Spike at the same time. Smiling gently at the sight of the curly brown hair peeking out from under the duster, she pulled the door to.

She sucked in a breath when she entered her room, the sight of Spike's pale, motionless body familiar yet so foreign at the same time. The blood covering his skin and clothes made him look too much like the casualty of a car accident. She moved over to the bed, and placed the mug on the nightstand, then went to the bathroom to get a basin of water, a washcloth, and the first aid kit. Taking them back to her room, she went in search of the scissors, using them to cut his jeans off. Her chin trembled as the extent of his injuries became even more obvious. Three puncture wounds marred his torso, a grisly map of where the crossbow bolts had gone. Luckily, they were starting to close. Several angry burns traversed his stomach and chest. His knee also sported a puncture wound. Blood intermingled with his bright hair, giving it an odd punk look. She knew there was more damage to his back, but she decided to deal with the front first.

Sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed, she dipped the cloth in the basin and brought it to his skin, gently washing the wounds clean. By the time she was done, the water was tinged pink, and the washcloth was ready for the trash. He hadn't moved through her ministrations, and she was starting to get worried. It was so hard to tell when something was wrong with vampires. With no heartbeat, and the total lack of breathing, she couldn't determine what to do. She blinked back tears again as she set to work on bandaging him up. She refused to think of Xander, or what Willow might be doing. She couldn't. She might have understood Willow's motives, but that didn't mean she had to like it.

When she was done, she gently rolled him over to deal with the entry wound in his shoulder, and the burns that she found there, as well as the knife wound on his lower back. He groaned a little as she eased him back when she was done.

"Spike?" she whispered, brushing her fingers over his cheek. He leaned into her touch, and she smiled. "Spike?"

"Kitten?" he gasped, opening his eyes to pin her with the blue orbs. Pain clouded them, but she saw his relief, and the love that was beneath.

"Hi. I was starting to worry," she admitted softly. He brought a hand up to cup her face, to prove to himself that she was real, and not some vision created by the devil to torment him.

"I love you," she said, leaning in to brush her lips softly across his.

"I love you, too." He pulled her down for a longer, deeper kiss, passion flaring between them. She pulled back when he tried to roll them, his growl of pain cutting through the haze of want.

"We can't. You're hurt."

"Hmpf. Never so hurt that I can't make love to my woman." He growled once more when he tried to shift, and she raised her eyebrow.

"Wanna try that again, Fang boy?" His eyes narrowed into slits.

"Watch it, pet." A knock on the door stopped what Anne might've said.

"Mommy." Matt's tiny voice drifted through the wood.

"Hold on, honey," she called, going in search of something to put on Spike to cover the worst of his wounds, so as not to scare the boy any further. Once he was dressed in a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt, she went over to the door to let him in.

"Daddy!" the boy cried, scrambling up onto the bed to throw himself into his father's arms.

"Honey, be careful. . ." Anne started, only to be waved off by the vampire. She smiled as Spike wrapped his son in his arms, and went to join them on the bed. She snuggled on the vampire's side, her heart swelling with joy that everybody was all right.

"Did that bad man hurt you?" Matt asked, his eyes owlish.

"Don't you worry about that, poppet. I'm fine," Spike lied smoothly, easing the child.

"Where did he go?" Fear flickered across the young face, causing Anne to tear up again.

"Don't worry about that, honey. He won't be able to hurt us again," she told him, running her hand over his soft curls. Her eyes caught Spike's and she mouthed 'Willow' to him. As he started to nod his understanding, all three hissed in air as a wave passed over them. A flash of red light passed through their eyes and tiny moans of near pain passed from their lips. After a couple of seconds, they blinked, everything returning to normal again.

Anne smiled as she looked down at her men.

"Daddy, d'you prawmiss to be carfull when you drive?" Matt asked his father, a stern look on his face. Spike mock saluted him, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

"Absolutely," he said, a smile curling his lips.

"Yeah, buddy. You need to remember, that just cause you're undead, doesn't mean you're immortal." Anne scolded, giggling at his annoyed expression.

"How was I supposed to know that the bleedin' deer was going to jump out at me?" he defended himself. "Ugly bastard too." Anne smacked his arm lightly, a reproachful look on her face.

"Language," she scolded.

"Sorry," Spike mumbled, scowling.

"Daddy, don' do that. Your face will stick," Matt said with a giggle.

"Oh, really?" Spike said, vamping. The boy squealed with delight at the sight of his father's vampiric face.

"Can't be much worse than this, now can it?" Matthew giggled hysterically at the funny faces his father was making, all the while in his demonic visage. Anne joined in, her own heart light that the accident hadn't taken him from them. Even though Spike looked like he had gone a couple of rounds with a pissed off lumber truck, the DeSoto had escaped unscathed. Spike pridefully said something about things being made to last back then. The rest of the day was spent, just the three of them, huddling on the bed together, laughter filling the room.

~*~*~

Fighting back tears, Willow undid the buttons of Xander's shirt, hissing when she saw the bruises marring his chest. Buffy had been wild when she had attacked, defending her family with the ferocity of any mother bear. Placing her hands on his chest, she whispered the healing spell, her body starting to glow once more. As she spoke, the bruises began to fade, and the open cuts closed. When all the damage had been repaired, she stopped, and leaned back to wait.

A loud groan escaped the brunette's lips as he shifted, his eyes fluttering open.

"Will?" he gasped, pushing himself into a sitting position. She knew the moment that memory returned to him, as his shoulders began to shake. Torn between anger and the need to comfort, Willow sat there while he cried. "What the hell is the matter with me?" he asked the air. Turning to face her, she flinched as she looked into the guilt ravaged eyes of her friend. "How could I do that to that little boy? To Buffy?"

"To Spike," Willow added, anger winning for a brief instant. "I don't know what's going on with you anymore, Xander. I don't know you," she said. He closed his eyes, and scrubbed a hand over his face.

"I don't know, either. I really don't. Oh God, how they must hate me." Pain laced his words and he started to shudder again. He shook it off, and looked back at her. "What I did to that little boy. I'm no better than any vampire," he mumbled, misery written on his face. This is what drinking did. It made you ignore logic and rationality. He'd seen it enough, growing up, how could he have forgotten?

"I hope that you've finally learned something from this. Because, you've ruined any chance you had at getting back into her life. You terrorized a four year old little boy, Xander. You shot his father in front of him." Her voice rose with each word, his head dipping lower as she spoke. "There's no fixing this. You've burned your bridges, I hope you're happy," she finished, silent tears tracking down her face. He looked up at her then, the stark anguish in his dark orbs making her heart break.

"You can fix it," he whispered. Her eyes widened a fraction, her brain not catching his meaning. He just continued to stare at her, not blinking or moving, and not clarifying himself.

"What do you think I can do, Xander?" she cried, throwing her hands in the air. "There's nothing I can say that will smooth this over. You were wrong."

"I know. I don't want you to say anything," he said, raising himself up onto his knees. "Make them forget. Make ME forget," he whispered, his face imploring. Green eyes widened at his plea.

"What?" she asked, not quite sure she had heard him.

"It hurts too much. Make me forget." She stared at him in disbelief, her head shaking no. She studied his face, not really believing what he was asking her. She saw so much pain in his eyes, she nearly choked from it. She could heal his body, but she couldn't heal his heart.

"I can't," she gasped. He leaned forward and gripped her shoulders, his eyes shiny with unshed tears.

"Please." She knocked his hands away, backing away on her knees.

"What you're asking me to do, is wrong. It's an abuse of magic. . ."

"Why?" he interrupted. "I'm asking you to. You're not sneaking around behind my back, or anything." He reached for her again, only to be evaded. "Wipe it all out, Will. The Hellmouth, demons, Buffy."

"Me!" she cut him off, agony lancing her heart.

"You're better off without me." She shook her head, vehemently denying his words. He moved forward again, bringing a hand up to cup her cheek, his thumb gathering the moisture sliding along her skin. "Let me go. You have the opportunity to have a great life. Take it, and don't look back. I'm sorry, for everything." He brushed a kiss across her forehead, fighting the ache tearing at his chest.

"Xander. . ." his name was barely a whisper as she pulled back to look at his face.

"You can fix this, Will. Make it better. For that little boy. For me."

"What am I supposed to do without my best friend?" she whimpered.

"You have a new best friend now." She was crying in earnest, her heart shattering in her chest. He had been the only constant in her life, the only one who cared when her parents didn't. "Please, Willow." The look of steely resolve on his handsome face was what finally pushed her over to his side. Surging forward, she wrapped her arms around him and hung on for dear life.

"I love you," she whispered, sobs shaking her slim frame. His arms tightened around her waist, his own sobs breaking free. She sat back, running her hands and eyes over his unshaven face, trying to imprint everything about him into her memory.

"I love you, too, Will. Always." He moved away from her, avoiding the hands still reaching for him. "Do it, Will. Before Mark comes back. Then, you hold onto him, and you never let him go." His face twisted in agony as he broke into fresh tears.

Still crying herself, Willow pulled her bag to her, and pulled out her supplies with shaking hands.

~*~*~

A half an hour later, Mark found her, sitting in the middle of the old barn, arms wrapped around her knees as she cried. Saying nothing, he walked to her and gathered her up in his arms, gently rocking her. Tremors wracked through her as she began to speak, telling him in a hitching voice what Xander had wanted, what she had done.

He cradled her in his lap, a strong hand running down her back as he talked. They were the only two who knew the truth now. She had wiped the memory of Xander Harris from everybody that knew him, just like he had wanted. Except for hers and Mark's. She needed to keep him alive in her mind, because, technically, he was dead to her now. And she had needed Mark to remember, as well. So she wouldn't go crazy from it.

The Indian just sat, his mind turning in a million different directions at once. He wasn't sure about the ethics of what Willow had done, or the cowardess of what Xander had wanted. He was sure that he was thankful that Matt would have no memory of the events. Shaking the thoughts away, he looked down at the grief stricken woman in his arms. Her pain tore at his heart, and he knew that he would stand by her. He wasn't judgmental by nature, and he didn't feel the need to start now. Not when she looked so tiny and broken in his arms.

"I love you, Willow," he said softly, brushing a kiss across her hair. She shifted in his lap, until she was straddling his lean hips. Cupping his face in her hands, she kissed him, expressing all the love she felt with the press of her lips against his.

"I know what I did has a lot of hazy moral implications. I don't practice magic to abuse it. But, in this situation, I think it was best, for all of them. He was in so much pain, and Matt. . ." She trailed off, resting her forehead against his. "Please, don't ever doubt me. I will never do anything like this again. I swear to you. I love you, Mark, please believe me."

"Hush, now," he whispered. "I know. I understand. I do," he said when she looked at him doubtfully. "You're my world now, Willow." His throat threatened to close with the force of emotion he was feeling. Her large, luminescent green eyes searched his face, the last vestiges of doubt dissipating under the black eyes filled with love. She thought of what Xander had said to her, before she performed the spell.

"Grab hold of him, Will. And don't let go."

With a smile, she kissed him again, then settled back to look at him.

"I think you have something in your pocket for me," she said, giggling through her still flowing tears at the look on his face. He blinked and pursed his lips, fighting his own wave of tears. He didn't ask how she knew about the ring. He just shifted his hips and reached into his pocket, pulling out the little velvet box. They both stared down at it for a long minute, each thinking about the ways their lives were going to change once it was opened.

With a pounding heart, and suddenly sweaty hands, Mark opened the box, and turned it towards her. The dim light glinted off the simple, round diamond set in a gold band. Willow sucked in a deep breath when she saw it, tears of joy replacing her tears of grief.

"Willow," Mark started, stopping to clear his throat. "Will you do me the extreme honor, of becoming my wife?" he asked, holding his breath. She looked at the ring, then back up at him, feeling as if all the answers to all of the questions she'd had about them had been given with that one question. Giving him a wide, watery smile, she shook her head yes, laughter bubbling for her chest. Mark released the breath with a whoosh, and with a shaking hand, pulled the ring from it's resting place. He slipped it onto her slim finger with ease, their eyes locking as it slid into place.

"Perfect fit," he whispered, piercing her to her soul with his deep, black gaze.

"I know."

Epilogue

Alex Harris stepped off the bus and into the sweltering heat of the city in summer time. With curious brown eyes, he surveyed his surroundings, smiling to himself. It had been three months since he had woken up confused, and with no memory of his life before that day. The pretty redhead that had been there in that barn had told him that she had found him outside, passed out from the heat. He had no idea what he had been doing in the desert, or why he was walking in it. She had told him that he had said his name was Alex Harris, and even though all his ID was gone, he decided to take her at her word. He couldn't say why, but he felt that he could trust her. She had offered him the use of the truck sitting outside, to get him as far as the bus station, and had even given him some money. He had thanked her, not really wanting to leave the sad looking woman alone, but she had said that she was waiting for somebody. Then, she had done something really strange. She hugged him. Him, a total stranger, and told him to take care of himself, her green eyes shiny and wet. He had nodded, surprised, and touched.

Then he had turned from her, and left, taking the old junker into town, following the instructions she had given him, and leaving it in the bus station parking lot. He had then purchased a ticket, traveling everywhere, and taking odd jobs to fund his explorations, desperate to try to figure out who he was. Then, about a week ago, he just woke up and decided it didn't matter. He somehow felt that he had a new lease on life, and really didn't want to know who he was before. Something told him he wouldn't really like himself.

So, that's when he decided to head to New York. Get lost in the Big City and recreate himself. With the help of a man he met traveling, he secured a new ID, and even a social security number, then took the next bus headed east. Now, here he was, and he felt a strange sense of peace and freedom overcoming him. With a smile, he picked up his bag, and started down the street, quickly getting swallowed by the throngs of people going about their daily business.

Sunnydale, Ca

"Coming!" Joyce called, wiping her hands on a dish towel to dry them. It had been a week since Willow had called her, telling her she was coming home with some exciting news, so Joyce prepared herself to be faced with the redhead, and the man that had so enraptured her attention. Giles was at the library, helping Faith train, so she would have to play hostess by herself until he got home.

"Goodness Will. . ." The name died on her lips when she looked into the hazel eyes of her daughter. "Buffy," she gasped, afraid that her eyes were playing tricks on her. Anne stood nervously on the stoop, fingers twisting the simple gold band on her finger.

"Hi, Mom," she said, her voice quiet as she looked up at her mother. They stood, staring numbly at each other, for what seemed like an eternity. Then, it seemed like time just melted away, and Joyce was holding her daughter in her arms, tears of joy streaming down their faces.

"Daddy?" Matt asked, twisting in his spot in the front seat to look at Spike, who was casually smoking a cigarette while he watched the reunion at the door.

"Yeah, bit?"

"Why do ladies cry if they're happy?" Spike snorted at the question, wondering how he was to explain one of the mysteries of life.

"Dunno, really. Guess they're just made that way," was all he could come up with. "Let's go meet your grandmum," he said, when Anne turned to wave at them. Matt scrambled out of the car after his father, taking his hand as they walked up to the women waiting at the door. Joyce looked down at them, her hands clasped in front of her chest, eyes drinking in the little boy in front of her.

"Say hello, poppet," Spike whispered. Matt looked up at the woman and smiled.

"Hello, gramma," he said brightly, letting go of his father to move closer to the woman he had only seen in pictures. She kneeled down to his level, tears still streaming down her face.

"Hello, Matthew. I've been waiting a long time to meet you." She tentatively held open her arms, inviting the child into them. He tilted his head up to look at his parents, Spike having moved up to take position behind Anne. They both nodded, large smiles on both of their faces. Turning back to Joyce, he smiled again, and stepped into her waiting arms. She had to force herself not to scoop him up and smother him with all the years of saved up grandmotherly love. Closing her eyes, she relished the feel of her grandson for the first time.

Anne watched the scene before her, reaching up to link her fingers with Spike's. He had been right, she decided, to push her to bring him here. She really couldn't say what had kept her away so long.

"Tell me something," Joyce said, reluctantly letting Matt go. "Do you like hot chocolate?" Matt eagerly shook his head. "Well, I just happen to have some in the kitchen, and I think it has your name on it," She finished, standing and holding her hand out. He took it, and followed her into the house.

"You got any of those little marshmallows?" Spike asked as he closed the door behind them.

~*THE END*~