“ Its…its…what the hell is it?” Buffy spluttered as she looked at the screwed up, red-like-a-prune thing.

Spike snorted, watching the Slayer with evil humour as she backed up several steps. The thing she was distancing herself from wailed and went redder. Which was odd when it was sort of brownish to begin with.

“Well, its, er, I mean to say, she, would appear, er, um, to be, well she’s, mine apparently.” Giles stood uncomfortably beside the strange shaped carrier housing the even stranger bundle.

The Scooby and neutered, tied-up vamp filled room all turned to him as one, eyes comically wide as they set to refute the news.

“But…but…how?” Confusion was plastered all over the Slayer’s face.

“Come bloody well off it, Slayer. The girly spreads her dimpled knees, ole Rupert climbs aboard, rumpy-pumpy and Bob’s your uncle.”

Whiplash was the new concern as horrified eyes attempted to flay Spike without getting close enough to actually touch him.

Spike grinned maliciously. Right up until his eyes fell on the delightfully blushing face of his Slayer, that is. Then he frowned. Hard. His Slayer? Was his brain malfunctioning from lack of decent blood?

“Giles wouldn’t do something like that,” Willow counteracted, displaying unwavering faith in her responsible father-figure.

Spike leered at the redhead, sniffing out the chaos in the room and cherishing it as the last honest to goodness whiff of evil he’d probably be getting in a while.

“What? The Watcher absent the stones to get a little rough an’ tumble?”

Horrified gasps echoed around the room and Spike felt his grin widen.

“Stop it,” yelled Buffy, fists sexily balled on her hips. “Stop saying idiot British words.”

“Hey!”

“Oi!”

The Brits stood united in their affronted pride.

“As…as vulgar and colloquial as Spike is being, that is no reason to attack a fellow countryman for speaking a language you Americans fail to understand.” Giles almost tore the glasses from his face and rubbed the lenses to a frantic shine.

All this was to the sound of infuriated squalling, the group moving further and further away from the bundle that emitted the awful sound. Except for Spike who was tied to a kitchen chair and wasn’t moving anywhere.

“Got vamp hearing, you wankers. Want to tone the little tyke down a tad?”

No one moved, fear overriding concern as they held their distance.

With a massive sigh formed from irritation and frustration, Spike shrugged off the ropes that held him to the chair and walked over to the small bundle of pink bunny rugs. Eyes goggled as Willow, Giles and Xander looked at the discarded ropes on the floor. Buffy just tolled her eyes and wondered what made her friends think that a little rope would be strong enough to restrain a vampire.

In a gentle voice no one had heard from him—except for the small snippets of moments he’d been overheard with Dru—he retrieved the struggling and squirming package and tucked it under his arm. He hummed and rocked until the noise quieted to almost silence. Spike turned to face the Scoobies with a contented look of achievement flashing in his smile.

“See? So easy even a bleeding vampire can get it done!”

The expressions of horror hadn’t yet abated and Spike was starting to get a bit jack of all the unexplainable fear in the room. If he couldn’t eat it, he didn’t want to smell it.

“What’s the matter with you silly bints? I thought women loved babies. Clucked over cute little onesies and stuff. Know Dru liked ‘em. Bloody convenient for a midday snack an’ all.”

“Spike,” screamed four voices and finally Giles rushed him and snatched the babe from the arms of the vampire. One look at the older, less gentle man and the baby resumed the deafening screech.

“What? Got one of you useless lot to take it off me, didn’ it?

He smirked in self-satisfaction and took to lounging on the sofa.

“Got any reception on this box, Watcher?” asked Spike as he eyed the television with interest.

Er, not alot,” Giles replied with distraction, his eyes round with terror.

“Okay, okay, everyone just calm down,” jumped in Xander, his arms sweeping wide as he mirrored the frightened looks and let his eyes dart around frantically for the quickest way to sweep this dilemma under the carpet.

“You know what?” he began again as everyone watched him expectantly, his lips pursed as if in pain. “I have to go, can hear Anya calling.” His body was a blur as he passed through the door.

“Bloody chit’s not even in town, you cowardly git,” Spike shouted at the retreating back.

The peroxided vamp was just in time to catch the look passed between the Slayer and the witch and his own eyes shot wide open in sudden clarity and concern.

“Don’t you even think of taking one more bloody step. There is no way on this green earth that you’re desertin’ the Watcher to look after the wee one on his lonesome. So you bints better think of a solution to this mess. The bathroom has an echo and I am not gonna try and sleep with this cutie screamin’ her soddin’ lungs out all night, just cause you lot are too useless to know what to do with ‘er.”

The ‘deer caught in headlights’ look was getting old but given new meaning as he was stunned with it double-barrel like.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding.” Spike bounced to his feet, snatched the baby from Giles’s too loose hold and dumped her in Buffy’s arms. All to the sound of angered ‘hey’s’.

Buffy threw him a look of pure distaste, appearing like she had the spawn of Satan in her arms.


“I don’t know what to do,” Buffy whispered, a hint of tears at her lashes as she put that wounded, ‘help me’ look on her face.

Spike clenched his jaw. Hard. And—not for the first time since working out what the chip in his head was going to mean for his continued existence—he contemplated suicide.

“It’s a human, pet. Not gonna hurt you. You might even find out you enjoy it.”

Buffy watched him, sudden hope blooming in the wild forest green of her eyes, and Spike found himself aiming an honest smile at her. Returning to the sofa, he scooted over to give her room and patted the seat beside him. He tingled in anticipation of her sitting so close to him, the blood pumping loudly through her body an invitation to something other than feeding. Which the incongruity completely set him off his game.

“Come take a load off, luv. Take a look at the little one. Seems settled in your arms. A lot more ‘en in the Watcher’s at any rate.”

Buffy settled in beside Spike, sitting a little stiffly with the restless babe clutched tightly in her hands. Spike reached over to loosen her grip slightly and smiled as she seemed to relax.

When he looked down at the child all swaddled against the world, the gurgling acceptance of the tyke made him feel all satisfied with his lot. For the first time since he’d parted from Dru—or possibly even before. Made him feel like when he’d made a decent killing for the night.

Yeah, with the Slayer by his side, a baby in her arms, it made him feel all… His smile slipped.

Made him feel bloody peculiar.


A/N...Please, please, please review...it feeds me and gets the creative juices pumpin' hard....
 

The little face was scrunched up in preparation to let rip when Spike began to stroke the baby’s cheek with a slow and soft-moving finger. He added a lullaby in a low, soothing voice and before long, the little princess had relaxed her facial muscles and succumbed to sleep.

As the vampire relaxed back against the sofa, hands crossed behind his head and nothing less than a self-satisfied smirk on his face, he finally noticed three sets of eyes watching him. Their wordless, intent stares were starting to worry him, and he suddenly ran his fingers through his hair to make double certain that yes, William’s poncy curls were well slicked back, and HELL NO was he sporting any of Nancy Boy’s hair gel. No, he was looking pretty sharp as the good-looking vampire that he was, and he went back to relaxing, content to let the trio squirm on their own.

“You are so going to start singing me to sleep, mister.” In one smooth sentence, the Slayer had set his dick to throbbing. How the bloody hell could she do that? He hated the bitch! Spike could feel internal hysteria tickle his throat, but instead of letting loose with edgy laughter, he pinned Buffy to the spot with a manufactured molten gaze. He swept his burning blue eyes over her body and grinned appreciatively.

“Not a problem, pet. Might put a bit of a dampener on your love life, though.” Despite his derogatory commentary, he was almost hoping she was serious. Sitting on the Slayer’s bed, singing her suggestive rock songs while he got her off with the huskiness of his voice. Oh yeah, he could see real potential there.

Buffy’s cheeks flushed hot as she imagined Spike sitting beside her bed, or better yet, on it and using that oozing sex he called a voice to lull her into the land of lusty dreams. Oh yeah, crampy style might just be of the so worth it if that was on offer.

“So, I guess the question isn’t a question anymore now that we’ve made with all the answers...” Willow paused for effect, then beamed her answer. “It’s a baby!”

“Well you’re a sight more chipper about the event than you were a whole ten minutes ago. ‘He wouldn’t do that’,” Spike mimicked in an alarmingly similar Willow whine.

The redhead blushed and quickly hid behind the clueless Watcher.

“Yeah, it’s a baby. Girl munchkin, too. You people are in bloody trouble if it’s a little bit like this that gets your knickers in a twist.”

“And what the hell are knickers?” Buffy snapped, but shushing him as soon as he opened his mouth with a tart comeback, indicating the bundle on the move.

Everyone stilled, guarding the silence avidly to ensure the baby calmed back into slumber.

Multiple shoulders heaved sighs of relief as they all settled back into the situation.

“So, Giles. Want to explain the sitch? I know I speak for all of us…” Buffy looked around at the smaller Scooby group with a frown. “Well, okay, I speak for Willow and myself when I say a resounding ‘huh’?”

Spike couldn’t tear his eyes off her. The clueless California girl routine was—in his eyes at least—simply adorable. Unfortunately, looking at her gave his dirty mind all sorts of images that had him shuffling uncomfortably in his seat.

“Yeah, Watcher,” he croaked, feeling suddenly hoarse. “Already got a houseguest. Why’d you go looking to get another for?”

“I did not go looking…” The older man froze, his cheeks turning an amusing shade of pink. “I had a friend…”

“That is so not possible,” Buffy barged right in, her body tensing with a strange form of sibling rivalry, jealousy of someone givng him a real child that wasn't her. Giles was hers…where did he get time to go and find someone else to be with anyway?

“Why do you silly bints find it so hard to believe that the Watcher might get lucky? Some deaf, dumb and blind woman might actually find him attractive.”

“Hey,” shouted Giles, the flush having spread from his cheeks to the little tips of his ears. “That’s really not necessary.”

Spike’s smirk was evil as he sat back, taking a deep sniff to determine everything was right and on the edge of chaos in his world. Which it very apparently bloody WAS NOT! He bolted to his feet and took long strides to the bathroom.

“Right then. Be gettin’ out of your hair. Not interested in hearin’ how the Watcher knocked some poor bird up. Prolly was too drunk to remember the mediocre event, anyways.” With one nervous, pained glance at Buffy, he was gone, nudging the bathroom door closed behind him.


Willow and Buffy were back to communicating telepathically, except without the real knowing of what each other was thinking. They shared nervous looks anyway, and then the pungent aroma began to filter through the air.

Buffy was the first to turn up her nose. “Ewwww…” she shouted, hastening to her feet and thrusting the baby back into Giles’s unwilling arms.

“But…what…surely you don’t expect me to…?” Giles spluttered in a perfect balance of confusion and horror.

He held the baby out away from his body, hardly having a small clue of what to do with it. He sought the help of the two girls in the room, the ones who should have possessed even the smallest inkling of what to do in a situation such as this, and was defeated in his expectations before he even opened his mouth.

The three looked at each other, desperation to get rid of the smell overriding all prejudice. As one they turned to the closed off bathroom and opened their mouths to yell.

“SPIKE!!”

“No bloody way!” was shouted back, and instead of seeking again an answer from each other, Buffy marched to the door and kicked it open.

“Oh, Buffy. Now really, I don…” was completely ignored as Buffy grabbed Spike by a fist full of black tee and hauled his ass out into the open.

“Oh no, the mighty Slayer and her fearless Watcher can deal with the Nibblet’s nappy change. This well of knowledge is all dried up,” he said with a satisfied air, but his smile turned way upside down as he found the squirming child back in his arms.

“Oi. What are you lot on about. This is NOT my responsibility. Little Prissy over ‘ere couldn’t keep his ding dong in his pants…torture him with the job.”

Determined eyes were unmoving on the issue.

“Bloody vampire, you stupid bints and wanker. Nappy changin’ is more cruel torture than even Angelus could dish out.” There was a slight edge of panic in his voice now, and he was more than thinking the Whelp had the right idea by bolting from the situation earlier.

The reference to torture gleaned only the slightest reaction and Spike felt oddly guilty as he saw Rupert’s flinch. But there were more important problems to be solved, and seeing his escape, he put the baby in the carrier chair, bestowing a quick and completely uncharacteristic kiss on her downy head, snatched up his duster and made like a hare on steroids right out the door after Harris.

Shock greeted his departure as the girls and Giles stood staring open-mouthed at the open door, eyes drawn in a morbid curiosity as the sunlight bathed the carpet just inside the door.

“I guess Spike would rather risk being a crispy critter than change junior’s diaper. Huh!” Then Buffy’s eyes widened as she realised the implication. Grabbing Willow’s arm, she tugged her to the door. “Got a class. We’ll check in later for the scoop.” She stopped, suddenly grossed out by her own words. “The story, not the…ewww…” and the girls almost dived out the door, leaving an ignorant watcher with a dirty baby and a bag full of mysterious objects.

He pulled out a fresh diaper and struggled with opening it out. The container of nappy wipes followed and he alternated looking at the haul of necessary changing implements, and the baby.

“Oh dear,” he muttered with disgust and grudgingly got to work.


 

Chapter Three

When Buffy finally made it back, Giles was happily strumming away on his guitar, a settled baby presumably cleaned and fed—judging by the empty bottle on the floor—and gurgling happily along with the entertainment. The last dregs of sunshine were chasing her heels as she shut the door behind herself and blocked it out.

“I…I guess we weren’t entirely helpful before. Or, well, you know, supportive?” She offered with her presence, feeling a little sheepish about earlier.

Giles smiled as Buffy came further into the room and peered down at the angelic face relaxed in sleep.

“She’s actually kinda cute.”

“Well, I suppose it was a bit of a shock for all of us.” Giles was forgiving, even if the too recent memory of nappy changing made him shudder involuntarily.

“And what’s with evil Spike knowing more about babies than any of us?” Buffy said with a pout, feeling unusually jealous of the vampire’s ease to adapt to the human world.

Giles chuckled, amused at the vampire’s contradictory nature.

It was a strange moment when both of their smiles slipped in unison.

“Er, where is Spike exactly?”

Buffy shuddered again, a feeling of dread clutching at her heart.

“He left,” she spoke, wondering at her own lack of Slayer responsibility. She had allowed herself to become so swept up in the event of avoiding the baby that she had not even blinked when Spike departed. He could be happily fattened now on fresh blood, draining the innocent.

Well, except for the chip. The chip they still knew so little about and which could easily have stopped working in the interim. Not like Spike had had a chance recently to test its boundaries out. He could be out there now, testing it out on a hundred vulnerable necks.

Buffy jumped to her feet, anxiety twisting her stomach into knots, and wondered why she’d let him out. If she had to dust him…well, it actually kind of hurt. Not that it would stop her from dusting him if she had to, but she had association now, had shared time with him other than fighting. She’d caught glimpses of non-vampire Spike, and secretly, she liked it.

Duty crawled along her arm as she reached behind to take out the stake tucked into her waistband. Hesitation kept her beside Giles while she settled her mind to the fact that ‘on the loose’ Spike could not be good for the Sunnydale community.

Completely unbidden her eyes fell upon the door, and an image of Spike’s look of shock and betrayal as he turned to dust hit her hard. Buffy gulped and took a step toward the door, stopping abruptly when it was flung open and a black blur streaked through.

Only small puffs of smoke escaped the leather covering as Spike threw his duster aside, stood up tall, and ran both slightly singed hands through his flattened peroxide locks.

“Evenin’ all,” he greeted, completely composed and without a hint of guilt. Until his appreciative glance swept over Buffy and rested on the stake gripped tightly in her hand. “Goin’ somewhere, pet?”

Buffy felt something settle in her throat and she squeaked out a response. “Was…” she cleared it and tried again. “Was going to go look for you. You’ve been gone all day,” she accused and he raised a brow in surprise.

“And you were gonna punish me with your fancy stick of wood? How bloody original.” He continued to study her, could sense the slight trembling of her body and let out a mouthful of useless air.

“You thought I’d been out feeding. What part of the excruciating pain from the chip did you miss during my little show and tell?” His voice had taken on a sarcastic edge and Buffy felt slightly ashamed for jumping to conclusions.

“So you weren’t out snacking?” She cringed at the bluntness of the question, but she had to know for sure.

His ‘pfft’ of irritation seemed to be all the reassurance she needed and she replaced her stake and went back to ‘ooing’ and ‘aahing’ over the baby.

“So, Giles. Do you think you can reveal this little mystery to us now?”

Even Spike took a seat, though he slumped back in a big show of being unconcerned.

“Please Watcher, tell the class how you managed to get yourself all tangled in this little web.”

“Yes, well, er, remember Buffy when I asked both you and Xander if you could take on Spike-minding for the weekend? That my friend Olivia was coming for a visit?”

“Uh huh!” replied Buffy while Spike scooted closer to the edge of the seat and leaned in for the big revelation.

“Yes well, apparently Olivia wasn’t coming over to…er, this is very difficult.”
“Take it one step at a time, Rupes,” calmed the vampire without a hint of derision in his voice.

Giles looked at him startled, yet smiled at him in gratitude; at least he would have some support in one corner, as bizarre as that concept was. And even stranger was the look of pleased confusion on his Slayer’s face as she contemplated the vampire. Oh, dear. He couldn’t help but feel a little anxious about it.

But for now, it was on with the details of his current predicament.

“O-Olivia came to see me early, and, well, she brought with her a little surprise.”

Three sets of eyes turned to the well-behaved little baby girl still fast asleep in her carrier.

“Can’t keep her sleepin’ in that thing, Watcher. Little tyke needs a cot. That thing will be bad for her posture. Can’t be too comfortable, either.”

“Okay, that’s it,” Buffy interrupted the baby lecture to stand with her feet planted firmly on the ground and her hands on hips in a show of…well…not defiance exactly. More like something akin to bravado.

It made Spike feel all warm and gooey on the inside.

“What’s it, luv?” he smirked, and thoroughly enjoyed the show of her flush as it crept up her neck.

“What’s with all the baby know-how?”

He kinked his head to the side and couldn’t help but picture her holding the baby earlier.

“Don’t know,” he told her honestly. “Just commonsense, really. Guess I remember a bit from when I was still human. Now, if I wasn’t mistaken, your Watcher was filling us in.”

Everything seemingly settled for the moment, they turned back to Giles. As he opened his mouth to resume the story, the little one dressed head to toe in pink started to wake, and the transition was loud.

Spike observed Buffy and Giles sitting in a state of indecision, and instead of barking orders or insults at their inept behaviour towards a baby, Spike stood and ambled toward the carrier and took the little one out.

Returning to his seat, he rocked and cooed until smiles broke out on her tiny face. Buffy and Giles watched, completely transfixed by the uncharacteristic gentleness—but said nothing.

“So, Rupert. What’s the little bit’s name?”

The older man looked rattled for a minute, then something seemed to come back to him and he beamed.

“Her name is Ophelia,” and didn’t even finish before Spike was laughing.

“What a bloody name to saddle a kid with!”

“Yeah, yay with the expectation of insanity in her future.” Buffy couldn’t resist the dig.

Something suddenly occurred to her and Buffy let out a whoop of merriment.

“Hey, that’s how you know how to deal with her! You’ve got an affinity with the sanity challenged.” She grinned and even winked, causing Spike to almost drop his handful.

“Laugh it up, Slayer. An’ how did you get with the big words? Crack open a dictionary lately?”

“Children, children. Let’s keep this calm for now, please.”

“So, this Olivia woman had your brat, and now she’s dumped her on you. When is she coming to pick her up?” Buffy looked at the baby out of the corner of her eye, wanting to ask Spike for a nurse but feeling too embarrassed to.

“Well, that would be the dilemma.” Giles paused and looked at the two watching him from his sofa and prepared for the reaction. Neither spoke, just watched him with an anticipation he was dreading.

“She…she isn’t coming back. She’s left little Ophelia here with me. Indefinitely.”
 

Quick glossary : Pram = stroller, Nappy = diaper, apparently a cot = baby bed, nappy wipes = plain old wipes, or baby wipes...man, who thought writing a fic about babies would get so confusing?

Anyway, enjoy and review!!! I'll love you if you do!!

“Well, that’s not bloody right, Watcher. You need to go track the bint down.” The outrage in Spike’s voice was moving, and Buffy found herself staring at him with a fresh set of interpretations. And a tinge of respect.

“What?”

Spike squirmed in his seat as he became the object of attention, and he suddenly felt embarrassed for his outburst.

“It’s…well, I never suspected you could be so protective,” spluttered Giles in a moment of insight.

“Little tikes need their mums. Not right for this bird to just dump her on you and take off. You need to get her back and get things sorted.”

Buffy’s expression was now filled with open amazement, and while Giles turned his head to smile fondly at his newest family member, she scooted closer to Spike on the sofa. Spike immediately looked at her as if she’d gone loco—but didn’t move away. Buffy could see a little smile tilt the corner of his mouth as he looked down at the floor.

“Well, I suspect she may have returned to England, but I can’t go traipsing all over the countryside looking for her while dragging along a baby.” Giles screwed his face up with concentration while he thought through his options.

His silence stretched into minutes and Spike finally caught on to Buffy’s longing looks at the baby, and decided to give her a reality check.

“Here you go, little Lia…you hop on over to your Aunt Buffy.”

Buffy jumped, then held her arms out eagerly for the gurgling baby. Her hold was awkward at first, but then she became mesmerised by the baby’s eyes and started to coo at her, talking baby gibberish.

Spike watched and felt something so fundamentally deep that it felt like a throb throughout his body. He couldn’t help but wonder what in the bleeding hell he was doing being all domestic with the Watcher and Slayer, but as he watched Buffy play cutesy games with the bub, he couldn’t prevent the tingle in the back of his neck.

“I can’t help but agree with you, Spike.”

Spike was suddenly on alert, knowing that the world was completely whacked out of balance. Two days ago these people had him chained to the bloody bathtub, controlling him through rigid feeding times like he was a zoo animal kept under observation for research purposes. Now they were chatting to him like an old wise uncle, taking his advice and even commending him on it. If he didn’t feel the heat of attraction circulating through his body and zeroing in toward his groin, he’d think they were completely off their rocker, or that they’d dusted him and his ghost hadn’t worked it all out yet.

“Of course you can’t,” was his automatically cocky reply. Then he tilted his head to the side and the wonder took over. “Wait. What are you agreeing with, exactly?”

Buffy’s curiosity got the better of her and she stopped playing with darling little Ophelia and glanced up to watch her Watcher and vampire. She blanched a little at Giles’s new enthusiasm, apprehension swirling inside her gut. She had the very real compulsion to fling the baby away and run for her life.

“Yes. I must take your advice and go and find her. Sort out whatever it is that is going on and see if I can’t make sense of the situation.”

Spike was nodding, feeling all manly about the Watcher agreeing with him, when his eyes shot wide open, drowning in confusion and an escalating fear. One quick look to the side saw Buffy getting red as she started to connect the dots as well.

“One little problem there, Rupes. You said you couldn’t take Junior here while you did the search and rescue. What are you plannin’ to do with the bit?”

He could have kicked himself as soon as the Watcher opened his mouth, knowing he was in for a world of trouble. Buffy had no reservations though. She did kick him. Got to her cute little shoed feet and kicked him hard.

“Spike,” she hissed, and he could sense her heart pounding. But as Giles began to talk, she slumped back in the chair with a sadly defeated whimper.

“Quite right. It just wouldn’t do to take the little one through what could potentially be an unknown situation. I would get nothing achieved if I had to care for a baby as well.” He stopped and stunned them with his infectious beam. “So, I’ve thought of the perfect solution.”

Buffy started to shake and darted quick looks to the door as they waited out his pause.

Spike let his eyes sweep back and forth between the three focus points: Watcher, Slayer and door. It was dark now, so no worries for the flame act. But he had a feeling that Buffy wouldn’t be so distracted and let him make an escape this time. He had a gut feeling she would tackle him before he got half to the door and drag him back to hear his death sentence, offered up with a smile.

Buffy decided to brave it out.

“What…ah what…is your solution?” She risked the question; her voice was husky with building concern for the all important, possibly life-altering answer.

“Well, it’s simple really. Quite the perfect solution.” He stopped while he thought out the details, picturing his best course of action while Buffy looked imploringly at Spike.

They both were frantic for escape, and as they were about to charge to their feet, Giles caught them again with his plan, and they rewarded him with classic ‘deer in headlight’ stares.

“Spike is rather skilled in sensing what a baby needs, how to care for them—which in itself is more disturbing than I wish to face at this juncture. And Buffy, I am sure with your love of fashion and footwear that you would be delighted to earn some extra cash. So I propose,” and both Buffy and Spike cringed, “that Buffy, you move in and mind Spike, while he minds the baby.” Giles grinned, completely comfortable with his suggestion despite the fact that Buffy—as speechless as she was—was on the verge of hyperventilating.

“Have you gone completely burko? What the bloody hell kind of watcher are you to leave a vampire babysitting your offspring?”

Giles didn’t even blink.

“The kind that is thoroughly convinced that your chip makes you as dangerous as a…a…fluffy, white bunny. And the kind who knows that his options of caring, available, child friendly adults is rather limited. I might have asked Joyce, except well, she works, but if I understand from Buffy, she isn’t even in Sunnydale right now. That leaves me with you to.”

Buffy offered a cringe in sympathy of the putdown, but then her eyes bugged as the implications of Giles’s suggestion crowded in on her. He wanted her to sit the sitter, be nanny to the nanny. That kind of meant she would have to be around Spike. A lot!

“Um, Giles? You know I’ve got school, right? I can’t exactly take little Ophelia…” she looked at Spike and remembered, “ little Lia here, to class.”

“And how many hours would that take you away again? Three? Maybe four some days?”

Buffy huffed.

“And the studying! There’s studying time, too!”

She was completely appalled when both Giles and Spike snorted their amusement.

“Fine,” she spat at the pair as she took to her seat again.

“Buffy, I will expect you to move in here for the duration of my absence. I can accept Spike being left alone with…er…Lia… but not for more than those hours for the day.”

Giles seemed beside himself with good humour as he grinned at the pair sitting unhappily on the sofa.

“Right, I’ll go and pack and organise the plane tickets.”

He jumped to his feet and bestowed an uncomfortable pat to his daughter’s head, and took off for the phone.

“Oi! What about all the stuff for the mite? Cot, pram, nappies, clothes? I don’t know how to do all of it, you ponce!” Too late Spike thought of the arguments to get out of this surreal situation.

Giles ducked his head around the corner from his kitchenette.

“Oh, I will leave you some cash and you and Buffy can go and buy whatever it is you think you’ll need.”

Oh, that does it, thought Spike in rising panic.

“You can’t bloody expect me to go nipper shopping with the Slayer. That’s even poor form for you, Watcher.”

Buffy giggled, hysteria beginning to get the better of her.

“YOU!” she pointed as she screeched with laughter. “The Big Bad pushing a stroller and feeding a baby… with bottles!”

Spike stood, very gently positioned Lia in her carrier chair before shooting the Slayer a furious look filled with hatred, and left.

He got all the way into the bathroom and stared at the glaring white of the tub before climbing in and switching on his telly.

“Bitch is gonna get it good. Nanny Spike might get stuck pushing the bloody pram, but she’s gonna cop the upchuck when junior has her bottle.”

Spike reclined as best he could against the cold enamel, and smiled in satisfaction at his inner image of Buffy covered in baby puke. Oh yeah, that was going to be his one really good day.
 

Chapter 5:

Buffy and Spike stood dumbly looking at the lovely pile of cash sitting next to a credit card on the dining table. There had been barely enough time for words in between Giles’s announced trip to search out his daughter’s mother, and leaving to catch the plane. He’d offered up a grin as he laid out the finances on the table, giving them permission to spend freely for little Ophelia’s comfort, and then walked briskly to the door.

A rather loud and obvious throat clearing from Spike had Giles dead in his tracks, a guilty return trek to kiss Lia’s downy forehead, and then he was gone. Leaving Buffy and Spike completely speechless.

Five minutes elapsed in silent contemplation of the table’s contents.

“Huh!” was Buffy’s first attempt to offer anything in the face of Giles’s desertion, her eyes compelled to rest sympathetically on the quiet baby. A weak jab with her elbow to Spike’s ribs didn’t seem to dislodge his stare at the pile of notes on the table and she could practically see him salivating.

“Spike!” she shouted, and he mumbled some inarticulate response, his eyes making sure the cash didn’t move.

Getting impatient, she punched him in the gut and smiled as he keeled over. Cupping his chin she lifted his upper body back up and smiled sweetly at him.

“It’s for the baby, honey.”

Spike’s eyes flew open wide as he watched the playful nature of the Slayer at work.

“This is a load of bollocks. You do know that, don’t you, pet? Bloody Watcher buggers off to parts unknown, leaving a teenager with no experience of kids and a vampire with more of it in the food category than you lot should be comfortable with. He’s no better than the bleeding useless mother that dumped her ‘ere in the first place.”

Buffy frowned, wondering why he hadn’t attempted to bite her head off for the cutesy endearment. Then she frowned some more trying to work out why she wanted to even call him honey in the first place.

Okay, Giles had just completely screwed up her life. What with the making her grow up too fast, and completely unnecessarily with the responsibility of babies, and vamp sitting. She just knew this whole experience was going to scar her for life.

Before she could berate her Watcher much more, Lia began to wriggle and screw up her face. She started to turn red, and Buffy panicked.

“Spike,” she screeched as she grasped his arm. “Do something. She’s going red.”

Spike stood back, rocking on his heels and smirking as he watched Buffy stand shaking on the spot, indecisive and hating it.

“Don’t just stand there. There’ something wrong with her, you idiot.” The tone of voice was frantic as Buffy began to wring her hands, getting rougher and rougher the redder Lia became. Suddenly, the tiny girl opened her mouth and let rip.

“Bloody powerful set of lungs on this one, that’s for bleedin’ sure,” Spike crowed proudly, despite the necessity of covering his ears with his hands.

Buffy stared at him hard, her lip curling with irritation, but almost within seconds she was cringing in desperation, willing to do anything to stop the caterwaul from making her eardrums explode.

“Ah,” she cried with hands clamped tight over her ears. “Please, Spike,” she begged, and nearly collapsed in relief when Spike rolled his eyes but reached for the writhing bundle that was Ophelia.

“There you go, Kitten,” he cooed as he scooped the baby into his arms. Her yowls immediately softened to a whimper and Buffy watched transfixed, having no clue—and no real eagerness to get a clue—how he did it.

“Uncle Spike’ll take care of you.” He rocked her gently and started to sing as he waltzed around the room with the baby girl in his arms, stopping abruptly when his eyes caught hold of Buffy’s amused stare on one of his graceful pirouettes.

“Not a word, Missy. This gets out to the rest of your merry band of mates, an’ I know exactly whose entrails to collect the second this chip stops working.” He’d started out pinning her with a hard stare, but the mirth seemed to be catching and Buffy could only gasp at how the blue altered in warmth.

“So, luv. We’ve got ourselves a bit of a problem.”
Buffy couldn’t help it. She rolled her eyes as her hands rested on her hips.

“Only one?” she had to emphasise with more than a touch of sarcasm.

Spike held up the baby as point of reference. “The bit’s hungry. Rupert didn’t explain any kind of feeding schedule?”

Buffy’s eyes hurt with the width they gained in her panic.

“Feeding schedule? You mean we’re expected to feed the baby?”

There was nothing left for him to do but snort his incredulity and laugh Buffy into a becoming blush.

“You’re not serious, are you?” He narrowed his eyes at her, sniffed the air and immediately lost the smile. “You bloody are. What? You think the mite will survive on air alone? I thought you birds would have a better grip on the practicalities than a vamp that hasn’t cared for a live baby for over a century.”

Buffy pouted and Spike couldn’t help the little shuffle and the drop of the baby rug, which quite conveniently curtained over his bulging crotch area. If he didn’t know better, he’d think the Slayer put out the lower lip for the express purpose of driving him bonkers through the existence of a permanently hard cock. The pressure of an unrelenting hard-on was surely known as a cause of insanity?

Other realities of their situation filtered through to his mind and he couldn’t stifle the smirk that flashed across his lips, completely at odds with the escalating volume of Ophelia’s displeasure. He tilted his head to the side and contemplated the girl who had caused him so much trouble in the past. He wondered what kind of parent she was going to turn out to be over what could be the week.

Buffy was watching him, the lip still poking out beyond the normal line of her mouth, and Spike found himself compelled a little toward her, eyes glazing over as she darted a pink tongue out to wet it and make it glisten invitingly. The boundaries of his pants just continued to get excruciatingly tight, its demanding presence only dimming as the baby’s cry reached deafening decibels.

The squawking broke through the burgeoning lust and both Buffy and Spike cringed simultaneously. It was successful like nothing else in deflating his aching member to a more reasonable tolerance.

“Little one’s hungry, pet.”

Buffy seemed to click to the urgency of the situation and allowed her eyes to dart frantically around her, searching for something that might provide a clue on what the baby needed to consume in order to make her quiet again.

“What do we give her, Spike?” Buffy’s eyes met his and where once he might have rejoiced in the edge of fear in her gaze, he now felt more sympathy than he thought reasonable.

With a sigh of frustration, motivated more for the preservation of his image than for irritation with the little blond, he did another eye lap around the room in search of something, anything that would tell them what to feed the little angel before his ears began to bleed.

“Did the Watcher tell you anything before he left?” he asked hopefully.

The almost hysterical shake of her head dashed his hopes in one, and he began to understand that the Slayer wasn’t all about the everyday practicalities. For a girl who had the world resting on her shoulders, she knew remarkably little about the smaller inhabitants.

“Right, then. Process of elimination. How old would you say this babe is?”

Again her shaking head and body told him he would be making all the judgement calls in this bizarre situation. The huff was real this time, frustration mounting with each denial of an answer the Slayer gave him.

“Okay, littleun. Let’s have a look at you. You’re small, not much fat on those bones yet.” He bravely stuck a finger into her mouth and felt the gums. “No teeth, then.”

“Oh, oh!” interjected Buffy suddenly enough for Spike to jump in surprise.

“Bloody hell, Slayer. Warn a bloke when you’re gonna shout out like that.”

“How could I warn you, Spike, when I would be yelling at you in the first place?”

Spike gritted his teeth and braced himself against the almost desperate howls of the baby, and turned his full attention to the other substitute parent.

“So, what bright little spark of information are you bringing to the party, pet?”

She grinned as if completely taken with her own brilliance.

“We could check for her size on the label on her clothes, Spike. Won’t that help?”

How could he be anything but annoyed with the self-satisfied look on her face, and the first example of rational problem-solving she had attempted since they had been landed in this mess.

“Right you are, pet. Right you are,” he squeezed out through clenched teeth and juggled Lia around until he could comfortably look at the label in the back of her… “What are these bloody things called again?”

The way her confused brow scrunched up her face made his body throb. With a quick jerk, he stopped his thoughts from broaching any other temptations and focused on squinting at the label.

“Ah,” she shocked him again when he was unprepared, and he felt the baby slip a little before he got her back in a secure hold.

“Can you stop with the bleeding loud and unnecessary exclamations. On top of this ones crying…” he stopped in thought. “You know, luv. This one still sounds like a newborn. The wail is enough to set my teeth to bloody powder.”

“I…I was just going to say, that thing she is wearing is called a romper.” Her eyes suddenly looked alarmed, like if she got it wrong she was going to lose the biggest test in the world. “I think?” she finished off in that little girl’s voice that melted the big bad in the Big Bad more than a little.

“It’s okay, pet. Romper it is. But this baby is less than 8 weeks old is my nearest guess. An’ there’s an echo in my head. We have to find a way to feed her, right bloody well now. This kind of torture sends people insane, you know.”

Desperate panic added to the search around the room, and finally Buffy’s gaze rested on a puffy navy blue bag, brimming with something as the sides bulged out.

Without thought, she dived on it, attacking the zip with a zest she usually only showed her pizza.

It seemed like a gift from Heaven when things that looked like feeding implements fell out of the bag, along with a piece of paper. A quick study of the writing had her eyes fixing back on the pile of cash on the table, and when she turned back to Spike, her face was pale.

“Spike? There’s a list. She left us a list. What kind of mother leaves a list? I don’t know what to do with a list…” Tears were brimming at her eyes as her heartbeat increased, thumping a rhythm of hysteria that Spike was quickly finding wasn’t his favourite music anymore.

Two strides and he had the note out of her hand and retrieved a tiny bottle and small container of a powdery substance. The bottom of the note held the short answer to their mystery, however. Without further thought, he shoved Ophelia in Buffy’s arms, took the small bottle and what he was taking on faith was formula and not some other more damaging substance, and followed the instructions to the letter. He returned with a lukewarm bottle of milk and shoved it at the Slayer.

Her eyes widened in alarm, already sensing impending disaster.

“No objections, Slayer. You feed; I’ll look in the phonebook. We’re going to need a few things and I need to find where to go shoppin’. So get that into the tyke to stop her frettin’ and lets get on with it.” He looked angry and Buffy gulped hard.

“Okay,” she squeaked, and went about sitting comfortably, trying to work out the best way to hold the baby while aiming the nipple to her mouth. Buffy sighed in relief as the small mouth puckered and then latched on.

“Mission accomplished.”
 

Chapter 6:

“This isn’t so bad. This is actually kinda neat,” Buffy whispered conspiratorially to her teeny little charge as Spike spoke on the phone. The milk level in the bottle had fallen so fast that Buffy wondered if the silicone actually had a leak and she just hadn’t noticed it yet.

No way could a baby suck that fast!

The last drops gurgled down to the bottom of the bottle and Buffy smiled at how successful she was at her task.

“Okay, Mr. Experience. Princess Lia is all fed, no more gripees for her.” The smile faltered as the baby’s face screwed up slowly into the most adorable pout the Slayer had ever seen, before letting the most heinous cry explode from her lungs.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t the only explosion. As Buffy tipped Ophelia up just a little, leaving her head admittedly a bit wobbly, she screamed in pain, quickly followed by a round of babysick that covered all of Buffy’s front and half her face.

The Slayer—covered from cheek to waist with baby formula—was speechless for all of two seconds, then her own wail built in her diaphragm and she shouted in near hysteria.

“Ewwww…Spiiikke!”

Her frantic eyes landed on the carrier and she quickly put Lia back in, then snatched up a coat—looking pretty tweedy—before rubbing herself raw in desperate need to get the baby vomit off her.

Spike was in front of her in seconds, his smile derisive as he took in her altered state and Rupert’s now ruined jacket.

“Do something,” she pleaded with him, holding her arms out—speckled in puke, her voice all wobbly. “She spit up all over me, Spike.”

He tilted his head to the side and contemplated her thoughtfully. “Did you burp her, pet? Help get her wind up?”

Buffy’s emerald orbs widened. “You couldn’t have told me about doing that?” she spat at him, beyond irritated that her only set of clothes weren’t fit to be worn outside the apartment. Weren’t fit to be worn in the apartment.

“I need to take a shower right now,” she screamed like a banshee at the smirking vampire. He made the mistake of following along behind her and quickly got smacked in the head by her flying top, damp and sodden from Ophelia’s upchuck. That he had his hands buried right in it as he gripped the top in his fists didn’t even register. The bare smooth expanse of her back was the hypnotic focus of his eye as she rushed for the bathroom door, giving the taps over the bath a sharp twist and almost moaning as the water burst through the nozzle.

He’d bumped right through the door as she attempted to swing it closed, not even noticing when he continued to follow her and began salivating when she peeled off her pants, his focus on her back falling as the naked globes of her arse that appeared extremely bitable.

And then she turned around and he felt the fabric in his hand tear as his claws extended and got caught. Holy fuck was she a picture. Bloody perfectly rounded tits that made his fangs itch to taste them, to mark them and make them his property. Her muscular abdomen and arms, the neatly trimmed curls that kept her pussy hidden from his gawking eyes.

And then her hands were intently scrubbing at her skin and he could feel drool dribbling out the corner of his mouth. It must have been a cold breeze that reached her from the open door because she turned suddenly and caught him staring. A scream pierced the steamy air.

“Spppiiiikkkkeeeee! What the hell are you doing?” she screeched at him while frantically trying to cover her luscious body with the shower curtain.

“You know what, Slayer? Lia needs a wash, what with all that baby spew on her.” And he spun on his heel, though unfortunately not quick enough for Buffy to miss seeing the bulge of his pants and flushing bright red over every exposed inch of her body.

When he didn’t come back straight away, Buffy released her death-grip on the curtain and turned back into the water, panting still in shock at his behaviour and then taking a second to wonder at the lack of his snarky comments. She hadn’t expected anything less than his emphasis on how imperfect he found her—too slim, way too small breasts, too muscular for a girl. Not like he wasn’t evil or anything. But he’d been silent, almost an admiring glint in his face just as he was caught and rushed from the room.

Just as her blood pressure resettled on normal and the heat of the water seeped back into her clammy flesh, the shower curtain was torn back and a naked baby thrust into her arms.

“Know what, pet? Best I take off my T-shirt if I’m to help you scrub the little one clean.”

Buffy’s eyes bugged as Spike whipped off the black that hid…the most amazing and sexy abs she had ever seen. No way did Riley or Xander have muscles like that. As she gawked, she completely forgot that she held a baby against her slippery naked body and a Spike poised to do a bit of washing.

He leaned across her, trying hard not to stare at her as he reached for the soap, offering grateful prayers of thanks to the big guy in the sky that good little Ophelia had relaxed her lungs and was finding the warm water soothing.

“Right then, lather up time.” And he soaped up his hands, rubbing them lightly over the baby’s soft skin. Was it his bloody fault if Buffy was holding the munchkin so close to her torso? Course not! So when he went to wash Lia’s back, how could he stop himself from brushing against an agitated nipple? Was bleeding well impossible.

A strangled gasp jiggled the nerves that fed his cock to action, and he felt his hard flesh expand painfully against his zipper, almost wishing for another bout of baby vomit to project from the baby right on his crotch. Any excuse would do in a crisis.

More rubbing, more accidental nipple stimulation and suddenly his hands where on her belly—under the guise of washing Ophelia’s back. Buffy didn’t move, stood completely still as her body began to shake. In Spike’s mind, that was just wrong. Here he was, the Big bloody Bad stroking her tits into delicious peaks and she hadn’t moved or made a noise other than that first painful exhalation. So he let his hand circle her belly, revolutions getting larger and larger until his fingers were brushing the hairs between her legs.

The pounding of her heart stirred his cock some more and he felt like growling—he kept it in with the vicious control on his will that he’d mastered over the twenty odd years spent being piggy-in-the-bloody-middle of Dru and Angelus. Thank fuck that Darla hadn’t wanted a go.

His eyes shot wide as he felt the infinitesimal shift of her position, the subtle parting of her thighs and his finger slipped, diving unintentionally between her pussy lips to attach itself to her clit. Once there it seemed stuck, and the only way he could shake it free was to rub it back and forth. Gently at first and then more vigorously in an effort to get loose.

“Ohhhhh,” she moaned as he desperately tried to get his finger back to safety, grateful again to Higher Powers that she hadn’t at least dropped the baby. Lia seemed to be so comfortable against the Slayer’s warm flesh that she’d closed her eyes, softly breathing the sleep of the innocent as Buffy bucked her hips against his finger.

“Thata girl, luv.” And by some odd fucking twist of hysteria, more of his fingers got caught in her sticky honey, delving up her hole in a way that made him think he was more likely to lose them than ever get them back. As much as he wished to taste whatever it was that held his grip so firmly, he was terrified for his lips and thus stayed on his feet.

She was gyrating against him, dislodging the fingers one minute and giving him hope when they were suddenly sucked back inside, leaving him desperate and with a head full of mush.

So, in the midst of such turmoil, was it so beyond the realm of possibility that he would bend down to kiss the sleeping baby and instead find his head lodged between two scrumptious bodies, teeth latched hard to a nipple as he sucked in a shocked breath.

“Gahhhh,” Buffy told him and he could only nod, the pressure of his suctioning mouth twisting the aching bud from her body. “Spike,” she sobbed and his fingers twisted against the cruel thing that held him hostage, feeling it right to the tip of his cock as the funny nub and the slippery moisture heated and pulsed in his hand.

And only then, when Buffy was panting her way to calm, was he able to pull free, his hand squeezed weak in the nicest way. At the same time, he worked out that the reason he was dripping was because he’d lost his head. Quite literally, even under the pelting shower water. Spike hid a smile as he grabbed up a towel in one hand and turned the faucet off with the other. He thrust the big fluffy towel at Buffy, marvelling at her confused, spaced out expression and took Lia into another. The baby stayed relaxed as he patted her dry.

Then he was gone, dressing and placing his precious excuse into her carry-cot once again.

And Buffy hadn’t moved one lax, brutally satisfied muscle.
 

Chapter 7:

Buffy could hear Spike in the other room; it sounded like he was singing to Lia while he was getting the baby dressed and settling back to sleep. The imagined sound of Spike’s steps forced movement into Buffy’s limbs and she dried herself in a fury of towel fluff, almost left whimpering when she went to dress and came to the sad conclusion she had nothing to wear. Her panties on, she was horribly aware that she had nothing else but the decorative tangle of her towel around her body. Feeling a nervous shake seize her limbs, Buffy looked desperately around the bathroom, hoping for something other than the reality of nothing. And then she saw it and her relief was almost painful.

By the time Spike walked through the doorway, a smirk firmly in place, she had donned his discarded black T-shirt. Despite the fact that she was feeling rather exposed, Buffy twisted her lips into a stubborn line of irritation, unable to tear her eyes away even as he unbuckled his belt and pulled it through the loops. She gulped as his fingers released the first button on his jeans, feeling the jolt as each following button popped open and then he was naked, standing proud and erect in front of her. Every sour word she had gathered for her rant about his audacity flew right out of her brain as her eyes were drawn dangerously to his jutting form.

Feeling a bout of shakes surge through her body, Buffy slammed her eyelids closed and squeezed them tight for that added security measure.

“I am so ignoring this situation. The last hour has been completely wiped from my brain and anything I have seen and…and…” Her lip wobbled as her body attempted to force her to relive those mind-blowing moments when Spike’s fingers played with her.

Her eyes shot open at his amused chuckle, forgetting that he stood full on frontal and showing her things she had never really seen before.

“Gahhhhh, “ she screamed, frustrated tears prickling at her eyes. She turned on her heel, intent on making it to the door, only to have it closed before she got there. Not slammed, ‘cause that’d wake up the baby. But she collapsed against it, defeat in every limb and then whimpered as something hard pressed her into the wood.

‘Spike chest, Spike chest’, she repeated in her mind, feeling the glorious nakedness of his muscles as his cool skin burned through the back of the thin cotton. Her palms rested flat on the door as she felt his hands settle playfully on her hips. Then they swept down and hiked up underneath his own shirt and rested over the thin string of her panties, scorching her skin as he again rested on her hips.

Her breath ceased to flow, caught in her throat as if she had forgotten the trick of breathing, only a thing learned and practised religiously for the last nineteen years.

“Sp…” His name didn’t even quite pass her lips as a heavy weight collapsed in her belly. She’d felt something move. Something twitched against the cleft of her barely covered ass and the moan was caught in her throat as well. The build-up was making her flush; making her shake in fear, and anticipation, and excitement and desire.

She wanted to move—run out of there screaming like a woman abused.

She didn’t want to move. Wanted to push herself back onto him, feel his thickness slide between her legs and rub against the nub that was desperate for further attention. And then because she obviously had no self-control and she was about to burst, she did, feeling his hands clamp onto her flesh as he held her against him. Her panties were useless—too thin and now sopping wet and soggy as the friction increased. The electricity that was passing through her body at his touch sent tiny shocked bumps to mount a revolt on her whole body.

He moved, pulled his pelvis back so that the tip of his erection bumped her hole as he left, before oh so slowly rolling back, stopping only as the belled head teased her swollen clit.

And finally it exploded from her throat—the breath she’d held, the moan and now the mini pants and cries as his hands swept up her ribcage.

Her head fell back on his shoulder when he had at last reached her breasts, letting the underswell rest in the cup of his hands while his limber thumbs rubbed against her sensitive nipples. She was so wet she could smell her own arousal, knowing that the scent must be overpowering for a vampire, and somewhere in the back of her mind that fact made her feel proud.

“Spike? We have to stop,” she told him, force lacking from her voice as she moved over him again, wanting him to abandon her upper half and tear her panties away from her body. “This is so wrong,” she couldn’t help point out the second she grabbed one of his hands and directed it to her panties. She didn’t want to make all the suggestions, but God! She was so stimulated, so wet. And he was here, behind her and so gorgeous and sexy and dangerous and strong, and thank God he had a brain!

She felt his lips at her neck, blowing cool air over the wet marks left by his tongue, kissing it before latching on and sucking some more. His hand brushed over the front of her panties before going back to the side band, and then she was quivering. All turned to jelly as her panties were dragged down her thighs and left in a sodden puddle at her feet. It was so easy to step out of them in her still bare feet.

By the time she realised that his cock was now rubbing her bare, moist flesh it was too late. She’d left for lala land and she wasn’t coming back until the end of the road.

“We’ll stop, pet,” he whispered in her ear and Buffy almost sobbed her objection. “When we’re completely bloody satisfied we’ll finish. Already playin’ mum and dad, may as well work with the fringe benefits.”

She had no clue what he was saying—other than that he wasn’t going to stop. Was going to push her until her face was mashed into the door. But it wasn’t enough; her body was covered and turned away from him. Her pussy ached so badly and her nipples were almost screaming out with her intense need for friction that it was enough to finally get her hands off the door. Within seconds the black cotton tee lay in a heap on the floor and she felt him fully against her skin, finding herself writhing on the flat edge of his cock as he continued to tease her.

She needed stuff so bad, needed to feel him and burn him. One arm curled behind her, drawing his face to hers. Lust-drugged lids barely took in the sight of the other’s capitulation as she dived on his mouth, memories of Spike lips flooding her mind and turning her on even more.

Then he spun her around, diving on her mouth as he sucked the life right out of her. Certainly her sense as he pulled her leg around his hip. A little jump and she had both clamped tight around his waist, feeling her teeth clench as he tried to keep his cock away from her slippery tunnel, seeping now in enthusiasm to take him in. A hand reached for him and directed him to the place, and he stretched her opening.

“Arrggghhh,” seemed strangled from his throat as she sucked him all the way in, her mouth claiming his tongue in an erotic mirror-image. Then she found her back slammed against the door and he was thrusting into her with all the power of an extremely horny vamp, letting go of her lips to alternate little sharp nips at her nipples, at her throat. His hands made prints in her ass as he squeezed her around him, holding her tight.

It was fast and furious, a mindless round of animal instinct and Slayer loss of control. It was like she didn’t understand when his demon appeared in front of her, only looked on in fascination as hot amber eyes burned her senses. His teeth actually seemed desirable, and having no idea what she did, she tilted her head to the side, writhing and moaning when sharp points slit her skin was slammed out with pussy pulsing pleasure.

She held his face to her, bucking against him like a desperate wanton. Everything hurt in the most exquisite way and as the climax finally hit, she could feel everything so intensely. Could smell her own blood along with the spill between her thighs. She could hear her thundering heartbeat, Spike’s desperate pants for useless breath. Could feel the warmth of the door at her back and the heat of their bodies joined. And what she felt most, was the rightness of how it all was.

It was too much, the day had blown her right away with things she had never expected. Sure, Willow’s spell had given her ideas—ones she had taken firm action in dismissing from her mind, even if she slipped up now and then. But to think of herself with the evil vampire like this? She’d never allowed herself to wallow there. And now she had the reality and it was never going to leave her head.

Tears were strong in their push for release, so when her cheeks felt wet, she couldn’t even be surprised. When her body slowly slid down the door, his fangs and cock deserting her, they fell even faster. But rather than admit that what had happened was so, so beyond good, Buffy resorted to defense. One look into his shocked face made her want to cave in and hug him, hold him close while they calmed. Even try that afterglow concept out. But it wasn’t her. She was the Slayer, with a new set of fang-marks for her stupidity. And how could he do that again?

She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to lick his bottom lip. She wanted to reassure him that it was all okay, that they’d work it out—just not yet. Not now.

She hit him. One big slap across the face for the affronted girl’s sake. The embarrassed, shy girl who had just had her first time with the evil vampire up a door. How unromantic was that!

She remained speechless as she snatched up her discarded panties and tee and left the room, determinedly ignoring his look of hurt and the red handprint on his cheek.
 

Chapter 8:

Spike clenched his teeth and swallowed hard. Bloody bitch! Always with the hit and run. Didn’t help that he felt something kind of twitchy. Felt a little like guilt—but that couldn’t be right. He didn’t do guilt. Big Bad here. He scratched his head, rubbed his abs and succumbed to being at a complete loss. What the bleeding hell was a bloke to do when he’d just had an awesome shag and the silly bint couldn’t recognise the power of it?

Well, he was naked and he’d be buggered if he was going to stand around making a fool of himself while she went to hide in the living room. He twisted the faucets on and a burst of heat created a cloud of steam to immediately filter throughout the bathroom. Just before he was about to step into the tub, he saw her small pile of dirty clothing and with a groan of self-disgust, he took them into the water with him.

Soap and water got her top and pants clean and he set them on the side of the tub while he swished his own body with a soapfest. He loved the smell of soap. Not many vamps used it so it was nice when he smelled fresh amongst the refuse of the rest of his kind.

Cleaned and dried, he was left shirtless as he got his jeans back on and cinched up his belt. Spike didn’t mind, though. How could he when he had the comfort of Buffy boob imprints when she threw it back in his face?

Problem was, they had to go out. The little bit needed some clothes and a cot, and a pram. Rupert left money and it was time to go shopping. However, as fetching as Buffy might be in his black T-shirt and knickers, he didn’t think security would let her get far at the mall.

So what he needed was a dryer, and as Rupert obviously didn’t have a washer, he seriously doubted he was going to find the laundry companion. What to do, what to do?

“Slayer,” he called to her, determined to ignore the way she’d covered herself in watcher tweed while she hid in the farthest corner of the sofa.

Her eyes watched him, skittish, and her lips were wordless. He could read nothing of how she felt about their earlier interlude in her face and he rolled his eyes in exasperation.

“Gotta go shoppin’ for the midget, pet. You’ll need some clothes as I’ll wager you’ll want some input in what we get for her. Clothes and some other essentials.”

She nodded, her eyes wide as she felt her body go taut against the thin cloth that covered her.

“I don’t have anything else here. And I wouldn’t be caught dead at the mall in anything from you or Giles.”

Spike felt a smirk tickle his lips. There she was, riled up and ready to shoot her mouth off at him. If only he could shoot something into it rather than put up with the abuse that would come out.

“Right then. I washed your other stuff, but Rupert doesn’t have a dryer. Any suggestions?”

Buffy raised a brow, perplexed that he’d done something so helpful as wash her clothes after what she’d just done. Which didn’t mean she was going to jump in and fix the situation.

“I could call Willow and have her bring some of my stuff over?”

“Or I could just go over and pick it up. Be faster—you know, vamp speed.” He leered at her, hoping she’d say yes so he could have a little gander at what little snippets of lace the little red witch might see fit to include.

“Nah uh, too dangerous, Big Bad. Commandos after your butt, remember?”

He frowned in irritation, sick of his life being held captive to a bunch of weak pussywillows—hiding behind their nifty little vamp-zappers so they could neuter those far more powerful than themselves. Wankers!

He flopped down on the couch, defeat obvious in the slump of his shoulders and the bow of his head as he stared at the carpet, completely missing the hot stare Buffy treated his bare upper half before she staggered over to the phone.

In his head Spike was brutalising the little poofter soldiers in every way imaginable. He was peeling back their scalp to drill in monster shards of metal, shocking their little pea-brains with a direct blast of electricity. He was carving up their genitals so they could feel as impotent as he did. He mumbled the violent images all the while that Buffy gave her directions to Willow. When he left the thoughts behind and looked up again it was to a face of Slayer grins.

“Guess you want to hurt them, dontcha?”

He nodded vigorously, for a second thinking that she was going to actually let him.

“Pity you’ve got that chip in your head. Makes you all, flaccid?” she offered with an evil laugh.

“Didn’t hear you callin’ me flaccid just a while ago now, did I, pet?”

He hit her with his own burst of evil hilarity as her face burned red.

“Willow is bringing my stuff over right away. Xander was over there so he can get her here safely.”

“Oh, bleeding brilliant. Jus’ what I need, the bloody whelp seeing you in your knickers and my T-shirt. Bloody marvellous.”

Spike’s eyes goggled as Buffy sashayed her way over to where he sat and lifted the shirt over her head. She straddled his lap, grinding her pelvis against his hardness. “Do you think it would be better if he see me like this?” she asked, her voice coy and mischievous.

Spike stiffened—in more than one way.

“Are you gonna belt me again if I touch you?” He surveyed the perkiness that bounced gently right in front of his mouth and felt his fangs subtly piercing the gum as they sat and waited.

The way she tilted her head to the side, watching him with a nervousness betrayed only by the pounding of her heartbeat, captivated him completely, and so without waiting for her reply of positive or negative, he latched hold of one juicy pink nipple and sucked on it hard.

“Eep,” she squeaked. “You’re so…bad,” she told him, already writhing with the piercing pleasure of his blunt teeth scraping over the tip of her nipple. “Sp-Spike?”

He buried his teeth in her breast, fangs slipping past the soft flesh to mark her again. Not a lot of blood spurt into his mouth but it was enough to get him as hard as a straining erection could possibly be. He supped at her flesh, his mouth holding on to her with a tight suction as she gyrated in his lap. His hands on one side of her panties stretched the fabric taut until it split, leaving her crotchless with the cloth hanging from one leg. Her flesh met the stiff fabric of his jeans and his demon was going wild with the scent she was transferring to his clothes.


His demon receded through Spike’s force, letting go of her nipple and flesh so he could drag her lips to his. They’d not done enough of the kissing. So he held her head with one hand as his other loosened his zip and his cock sprung free and tall. Then he was directing himself to her slick hole, no thought in his mind other than he needed desperately to get inside. One smooth upward thrust and he met the edge of her womb, tickling the surface and leaving her writhing uncontrollably while she gasped around his lips. Her sensitive nubs rubbed like static friction against his chest as she bounced up and down on his cock.

Then she arched her back and she started leaning back, her hands holding his shins as her hair brushed the floor. Her moans got louder as Spike took control of the movement and he propelled himself into her with avid thrusts. He felt the bounce of her body and it made him harder and frantic, felt the tip of his cock brush against the small protruding bundle of nerves that had her panting and sobbing in need. His hand stroked her belly as he held her with the other, himself falling forward a little as he fell to his knees on the floor, her pelvis arched in his lap and her back close to lying flat. It was so erotic, so hot that he could now touch her tits and pinch the tantalising little pink peaks into hard and aching little peas. He bent her legs and directed them around his neck and started to pound her into the ground, his cock swollen and needy for the end. For the pinnacle that would see his juice flow out of her and tickle her arse crack.

He could feel her muscles pulsing around him, could feel the push of his cum in his balls as it told him to let go. He did so with a shout of pure satisfaction when her hand cupped his balls, giving a firm squeeze before she bucked at him a little more. Knowing that Willow was probably getting close to being at the flat, he grinned as he recognised the excuse. He pulled out his cock and milked it on Buffy’s breasts, little spurts catching at her bottom lip. His finger latched hold of her clit and he rubbed—distracting her burst of vitriol with a little mindless end to their activity.

It was firmly set in Spike’s mind that they were screwed. And not so much in the good way. He’d had her now, felt the warmth of her pussy and her blood and if he had to stay and help out with a baby, there was no way, no how he was giving this little sideline up.

Their breaths matched as they desperately gasped for air. Despite not needing the air to expand his lungs and promote speech, it was Buffy that came to first.

“Oh My God,” she said, her legs still would around his neck and licking experimentally at the pearl of dead semen on her lip. Her face screwed up waiting for the moment of ewww, but it wasn’t there. As she tasted her once mortal enemy, he took to rubbing his spendings into her nipples, delighting in the slick movement of his fingers over her flesh. He only stopped when he smelt approaching danger.

“Right you are, pet. But it might help if you take to thankin’ the Big Bad. God had little to do with it. An’ now you need to wash up. I’ll get your bag from the witch.” His sentence finished with a full stop of a knock at the door. Buffy shot him a panicked glance as she fell about untangling herself from his neck. He grinned as he spanked her arse hard, laughing low in his throat at her heated glare as she ran for the bathroom.

Spike stood, tucked himself into his jeans and slinked back into his tee, already loving the warmth of Buffy boobs against his pecs. Christ it was erotic and had him wanting the little spitfire Slayer all over again. Still, first things first.

Lia woke up just as he opened the door. Spike grinned proudly at his little girl who knew just when to keep to sleep, so dad could get in his not so little poke.

Willow stood at the door with a nervous smile, offering her equally nervous wave as she offered the bag. The sound of the baby had her rushing by Spike, though, as she raced over to pick Lia up.

“She’s so adowable,” Willow pouted at the tiny Ophelia, rubbing the baby’s chubby cheeks in an expression of delight. “Where’s Buffy?” she asked, looking around Giles’s apartment curiously.

“In the shower. Baby puked on ‘er. Bloody hilarious. Slayer freaking over munchkin vomit. She of the one used to wearing demon slime on an almost nightly rate.” He chuckled as he collapsed back on the sofa, imagining again slick slayer skin as she was probably washing him off her body.

No doubt about it the night was turning into something quite memorable.

He rolled his eyes back as an emasculating thought bounced around his brain in a similar enthusiasm to when she’d bounced on his cock. If he could just get the bint moving so they could go do some shopping!

 

Chapter Nine

What on earth was wrong with her? Buffy stood once again in the shower, hot pulsing water washing essence of Spike from her body. The memory of what he’d done, what he’d sprayed all over her; it set a fire in her belly that just kept building and causing the rational part of her brain—the part that was saying she should grab stake, dust now, think later—to completely and uselessly shut down. She was a Slayer of sensation now; a girl balanced on the precipice of change, of growth that might just connect on too many levels with a dangerous vampire.

It scared the living crap out of her.

That she really, really enjoyed what they had done—that she rejoiced in every new, softer layer of Spike that was uncovered—was really beside any kind of point she could think of.

Okay, deep breaths. Who needed points anyway? Then her mind wandered to lovely hard points that did so well at pointing out certain spots that it made her garble incoherently a language completely foreign to her. Alrighty then. Spike had a nice point, of the rounded fleshy kind. And it brought up many, interesting…points. But no way could she let this go any further. Her own best-friend could have just walked in on her while Spike sprayed her with his load and she lay there like a ho and licked her lips clean.

Buffy whimpered at her riot of thoughts as she attempted to scrub herself clean, but then her hand slowed and she thought again of him rubbing his cool fingers in the slimy mess and how it had warmed every cell in her body.

Deep breaths just weren’t cutting it. The bathroom suddenly held too many memories. Her first time with Spike. Sex with Spike. Her third time ever in the intimate realm of sex, and despite the venue—which even she couldn’t deny was way hot—it was by far the moment that blew the lid off her preconceptions of sex. Spike blew the lid off everything. And what was she thinking again? Oh yeah, she was thinking with that thing that was reacting to the cool slide of him between her legs.

Gahhhh. Stop. Thinking. Now!

Right, what had he sent her in here for? Other than to hide from the all-seeing, all-knowing eyes of her witchy friend? Shopping. The thought brought a wide and almost painfully excited smile to her lips.

SHOPPING!! Oh God, this was gonna be such a blast. Someone else’s money, to splash out and really spoil a girl. So, that girl was a baby on this occasion. Buffy could work with that. She could see pretty pink sleepsuits and funky coloured socks already. And those adorable curls. Did they have baby hair accessories?

The enthusiasm of this venture swept her mind clear of the other more confusing thoughts and she rushed through her shower, drying and tucking the towel around her body once again. She’d left Spike’s T-shirt out in the living room—not that Willow should really see her in such a thing. Buffy blushed already just imagining the questions and raised eyebrows.

It left her resorting to squeezing her head through a small gap of the opened door and trying to get the attention of her friend, indicating a need for her bag of clothes while determinedly ignoring the leering vampire that had her heart thumping wildly. She didn’t even need to lay eyes on him to know he was trying to see her through the narrow slit of the door. Evil peeping vamp!

Oh God! Buffy thought, relief relaxing all her limbs as she snagged her pack from Willow and dived into it to find something to wear. The horrible colour clashes and completely mismatched items of clothing caused Buffy to cringe—finally accepting how negligent she had been as a friend in not trying to take Willow’s quirky style a little more in hand.

A tight orange spandex top fell out first, and Buffy nearly collapsed when she managed to find some close fitting black pants that would go okay. Not how she usually wore either of these two things, but beggers so weren’t choosers right now. This definitely wouldn’t be too bad, she decided with a nod. She was dressed, hair brushed and make-up applied within the next twenty minutes.

Just as she packed away her left over belongings there was a harsh thump on the bathroom door.

“Bleeding hell, Slayer. We’re only going to the bloody mall, not the Ritz for dinner. Put a bit of leg into it and get your lovely arse out here, pet. Mall won’t wait forever.”

Just the throwaway reference to that part of her body—which had had its fair share of Spike attention—made her flush right down to her gaping cleavage. Buffy frowned. Not really the best kind of top to wear when out shopping for baby things. Oh well. Thanks Willow!

The redhead had her arms full of baby when Buffy rushed from the bathroom, steam and faint fruity smells drifting out behind her. Spike hovered at Willow’s elbow, attempting to act all cool and evil, but Buffy felt stunned by the look of protective concern for the little girl that clouded the clear blue. His eyes were trained on Willow like a hawk, ready to spring to action should he not approve of any of the witch’s moves. Buffy didn’t know whether to smile affectionately or gulp in horror.

Who the heck was this evil murdering vampire that was gushing over a tiny baby girl in Giles’s living room? This situation, this vampire—and okay, mucho with the hot steamy sex—had her way beyond wigged. Shaking her head and leaving the oddness to sort out much later when she wasn’t still hazy from the sexfest that kept her body singing said vamps praises, Buffy turned to collect the collection of bills and credit cards that Giles had left for this trip. The clear empty table didn’t compute with her for a moment, her inner eye replaying an hour ago as she sunk onto big powerful and hard Spike.

Spike pinned her with a knowing glance when her heartbeat accelerated, smirking and eyeing her top lewdly. If Buffy didn’t feel the tight hold of the fabric keeping her in her top, she might have been convinced that Spike saw a lot more than was possible. One reassuring look found hard pebbly outlines where her nipples were and she couldn’t prevent the groan of embarrassment as she quickly covered her breasts with crossed arms.

“So, looks like Spike has money,” Buffy proclaimed with a steely look at the not even slightly guilty looking Spike. “Let’s go then.” Buffy grabbed the coat that Willow had brought to match her hastily chosen clothing and cringed at the pale green. She was so stopping at her dorm before they brought the baby home again from their shopping trip.

Home. The thought made her flush return as she thought of the things that home entailed for her right now. Home was a bed in Giles’s apartment. An apartment that only had one bedroom, one bed and knowing evil nasty Spike, he wouldn’t be giving it up so Buffy could get a decent sleep. Which added to the images of sharing that she was trying desperately to keep out of her head. She swallowed, hard, as naked Spike images persisted, limbs entwined with her own as they moved together.

Damn, this top felt tight. Right in front of her, right in front of softly cooing Willow, Buffy’s eyes fell to Spike’s crotch and she felt both horrifyingly fascinated and fevered that he seemed to be growing.

Buffy flapped her lips, desperate for some kind of noise to get her back to thinking with something other than hormones. Spike beat her to the punch.

“Can’t do that yet, luv.”

The sexy promise of his voice completely robbed her of her usual cool and she started to fidget nervously, her mind flashing rapidly over her morning activities that she suddenly wished hadn't been interrupted by Willow’s arrival.

“Wh-why not?” she stammered, wondering if she was going dumb. Could sex with Spike make her lose braincells? ‘Cause she so wasn’t thinking. Not if she was getting hot again just because he used all those stupid pet names. Pet names that were driving her wild.

“Haven’t got the baby bag together. Need to take some nappies and things. Bottle incase she gets hungry. Not sure yet what her feed times are.”

Buffy watched him and completely flew to the next wiggy level of wigged.

“Huh? And again I say wha? And who are you again? And what the freak is a napp-whatsa-hoovy? Feed times? Like in the zoo? And when did going to the Mall get so hard?” Buffy felt herself approaching a tearful breakdown. For the first time since Giles dived out the door, leaving his pile of lovely guiltfree-in-the-spendage money and a sexy vampire she suddenly couldn’t keep her hands off, Buffy felt close to hyperventilating. She’d suffered, dammit. That baby had puked smelly milk all over her clothes, leaving her to resort to Willow’s wild and whackily uncoordinated dress sense. This burden was proving completely out of her league.

“I don’t think I can do this,” she pushed through wobbly lips, and then the sobs began and in front of a stunned Spike and Willow she ran for the bathroom.

Spike eyed Willow to ensure she was still holding the baby correctly and instructed her to stay put and guard the littlun with her life if she knew what was good for her, and he headed into the uncertain Slayerhaven to find out what the hell was wrong now.

He found her sitting on the toilet lid, her face in her hands as she cried quietly and her body shook.

“What’s wrong?” His voice wasn’t exactly cold, but neither was it infused with much sympathy or interest. He felt exasperated, not sure why she had collapsed in this weird emotional slump when they had things to get done.

“As if I’m gonna tell you,” she mumbled miserably, her head rising to hit him with the impact of a Slayer all red and snuffly, face saturated with tears. There was no sign of her usual Slayer fire and insult.

He groaned and crouched down in front of her, tugging her hands down and holding them firmly as he looked into her shimmering green eyes.

“Please tell me, pet. Can’t put things right unless you do.”

She looked at him like he had horns sprouting out the top of his head.

“That,” she said and he scrunched up his face in confusion. “Right there. Who the hell are you? Because I did not just have sex…twice…with my number one mortal enemy. He with all the baby info and knowledge. And having a baby is so much responsibility. I’m only nineteen. I’m too young to play mommie.”

Spike grinned and hauled her off the loo, thrusting gently against her as she settled into a rather good feeling straddle.

“Stopped being mortal enemies when I came to you for help, I reckon. And moreover, I think we should wait to discuss what happened earlier when little Scooby ears aren’t so much present. You pick up stuff about things when you’ve lived as long as me, and contrary to what you might think, I didn’t kill every woman I came into contact with.” That revelation seemed to embarrass him and Buffy looked intrigued as he dropped his head, avoiding her eyes. But then she felt her body heat as he seemed hooked on her breasts, the revealed slope of them so very close to his mouth.

Buffy jumped when he laid his lips against her warm skin, sweeping them gently over the swell before moving up to place gentle caressing ones on her neck. He reached her chin and then nipped at her lips.

“An’ yeah, it’s a big responsibility, ‘specially for a girl like you.”

Her eyes bugged at the automatically assumed insult, and he chuckled at her. She was so predictable it was hardly fun.

“I meant that you’ve already got the world on your shoulders. Don’ need to be mum on top of that. ‘Cept the Powers have seen fit to bring you this. An’ me. I’m here too.”

His voice had lowered to almost a sensual rumble and Buffy forgot her panic and wondered how it would have been if this was real and Lia did belong to her and Spike. Sadness consumed her when she had to be strong with herself, reminding herself that the current situation was because Ophelia was Giles’s. A niece, or sister maybe to Buffy, but not her daughter. It felt wrong.

Buffy couldn’t help but feel like his lips on hers were right, that he was comforting her about something that was theirs, that he was sharing something personal. It felt too good to kiss him, feel his tongue roll against hers and push at her teeth, nibble her lips and hold her close. Her tears wouldn’t stop flowing as she dealt with this need. She held him tightly against her body, crushing herself against him as she took some more of his yummy taste, the kiss becoming more passionate.

They were stopped by a cry from the living room, Willow’s attempts to placate becoming more distraught.

“Time to go be heroes, goldilocks.”

Buffy blushed at the new name, feeling more than confused and yet happy that he was branching out on her.

One more quick kiss and she released him, allowing him to pull her to her feet.

This sitch was way with the weird, yet Buffy followed him, smiling past the blur in her eyes. She could handle responsibility. She ate responsibility for breakfast. She owned responsibility.

And Lia was hers!
 

Chapter 10:

Spike stood in the middle of the store and let his eyes spin around the floor and wondered what the hell he’d done to be tortured in such a manner. Within thirty seconds of stopping, they had been bombarded by the gushing enthusiasm of a salesperson. The woman’s eyes passed quickly over Buffy and lingered on Spike before finally falling on the baby.

“Oh, isn’t she the most precious thing,” she cooed as she let Lia play with one of her chubby fingers. Spike counted to three before he grinned at the woman’s change in expression. “She…er…doesn’t look a thing like either of you.”

“We’re bab—“ Spike began before his explanation was completely run over by Buffy.

“She’s adopted. We’ve been waiting ages for her but now we have her she’s just the love of our lives.”

Spike just watched in horror as Buffy seemed to be all dazed about the romanticism of their apparently much longed for adoption.

“Oh, how darling. Congratulations. You are such a handsome couple, too. So what do you need?”

Buffy looked at the woman with a weak, sort of helpless expression on her face, almost panting in sincere looking relief that an expert had arrived to save the day.

“Oi, let’s keep it simple, huh. We’ll need a cot, a pram, a bottle steriliser for the microwave, and a supply of bottles.”

“Oh,” the saleswoman breathed, turning to Buffy in one awed moment. “You lucky, lucky girl. That is the sexiest voice I have ever heard.”

Buffy giggled her agreement and looped her arm through Spike’s spare one, the other dangling with the baby carrier clasped tight in his fist.

“And now you have a little bundle of joy to coddle. I’ll bet she’ll be Daddy’s girl in no time.”

Spike flinched at the wording that conjured up images of how much a Daddy’s girl Dru had been, then shook his head clear and tried to catch up to how this expedition had turned on him.

“I’m so sorry, sir, but I’m not so sure about your terms. A cot…?”

Both women looked at him in expectation and he was silenced in confusion. “You have different names for baby furniture? Well I’ll be buggered. That’s just takin’ the whole independence from the motherland a bit too far, innit?” He shook his head. “Right, cot. Thing so long, slats on the side to keep the tyke inside, adjustable base for the different ages…”

Understanding drifted across the woman’s face and she broke into an impressed smile.

“You certainly know your product, sir. Right this way and I’ll show you what we have.”

Buffy and Spike followed along obediently, Buffy looking at all the little knick-knacks and gadgets with an enthusiasm that was making Spike’s wallet hurt.

Before they even reached the section where all the selections were lined neatly beside one another, Buffy had torn herself from Spike’s side and was walking fast to a polished oak with a pretty pink frilly bedding set.

“This one, honey. It’s perfect for Lia,” Buffy oozed, making Spike’s groin tighten painfully and his brow furrow in shock. He’d never seen the little actress in the Slayer before, but it was fairly dripping from her lips now. No way could she be falling into a pipe-dream, no matter how much the thought of sharing this child was doing to Spike’s ego and libido.

“That’s a lovely one, dear. Sir, we call these cribs over here. Same functions, though,” she winked as she mentally began to tally the cost. “This one is called the Erika; beautiful handcrafted Italian design. Isn’t it just the most gorgeous thing?”

Buffy nodded, completely enamoured with the cathedral style crib.

“Are you sure you don’t want to have a look at the others…?” She stopped as Buffy shook her head emphatically, her mind very made up.

Spike rolled his eyes as he looked at the price tag. “You sure about that, luv?”

“Oh honey, of course I’m sure. Besides, it’s not like we don’t have the money,” she said as she petted his butt cheek. “And these sheets with little angel’s all over them are just perfect.” She shot him a cheeky smirk just as she curled her arm back around him.

“It truly is an excellent choice, and we have some in stock if you need it straight away.”

“Absolutely,” Buffy breathed in obvious relief and approval, almost falling to grasp the woman’s hand in gratitude. “Now the other things my husband mentioned?”

“Oh yes, a…pram?”

Spike was about to squeeze something hard when he saw the perfect thing. He stomped his way over to the assortment and eyed the navy pram, the high carriage and big wheels offering perfect cushioning comfort for this new little charge. The tray underneath was bloody brilliant to hold weapons if they happened to get caught with her out and about.

“This is the one,” he told them confidently, completely ignoring Buffy’s fish-like gawp as she eyed the price tag.

“But sweetie, that’s awfully expensive,” Buffy giggled nervously while shooting Spike an icy glare, as if he didn’t already know she wasn’t amused.

“Ah, but as you rightly pointed out sweetling, we can afford it. An’ if not, ‘m sure the council will help out with a bit of overtime. Our princess deserves the best of everything.” He winked at Buffy before pulling her back to his side and draping a leather-clad arm over her shoulders.

“Can I just ask,” butted in the saleslady with a sweetly concerned voice. “Has the little darling been stuck in the carrier for long?”

Buffy nodded hesitantly, suddenly worried that she was about to get into trouble for something. “We haven’t really had anywhere else to put her. Is that a bad thing.”

“Oh, don’t worry dear. It isn’t the best thing for baby to lie in a carrycot for extended periods, but maybe you could try a baby sling? Your husband could give your baby a bit of something different and carry her around in one of those while you go about the rest of your shopping?”

Spike’s eyes widened in alarm, ready to bite the woman into shutting her lips before Buffy got any embarrassing ideas. He knew it was too late as he watched her light off and run after the woman.

“Ooh, ooh, Spike. This is perfect.” She waved him over, her body fairly vibrating with excitement. “Can we use this now? My husband would love to be able to carry Lia around in this. Give his arm a bit of a rest. He’s a bit of a weakling, you know.” She gave the saleslady a conspiratorial wink.

“Oi, cut it out, Slayer,” Spike practically snarled, the dent to his pride almost enough for him to test the workability of his chip. “I’m not wearing that around the shops. You’re off your bleeding rocker if you think that I am.”

The disappointment in Buffy’s falling face and the disapproval in the saleswoman’s was enough for Spike’s insides to wither. He clenched his jaw, struggling against his temper.

“Bloody hell,” he exploded, his fist balled tight. His eyes fell on one that was on display, seeing how he could nurse the baby on his front, leaving his hands free for whatever he might need them free for. Random vamp dusting, playing cards, wielding the remote control, drinking from his bottle of scotch. The thing was a bloody miracle of invention.

“Right,” he said, shocking them with his complete about face and his energetic pace to the display. “Do you have this one in black?”

Buffy smirked at his back, hiding her mouth behind her hand as she imagined him wearing the sling over the top of his duster. Three quarters of an hour later and they were loaded down with purchases, standing at the checkout and signing away on Giles’s credit card, Spike loaded up with a lovely shiny baby sling and a sleeping Lia being rocked to comfort on his front.

Buffy eyed the stack and turned to the helpful assistant with a touch of worry on her face.

“Is it at all possible to leave this stuff here while we go and buy some baby clothes?”

The woman smiled, completely on the right wavelength with the pretty young blond. She was completely sold by the hunky sight of dad nursing his baby girl in the fashionable sling. It matched his leather coat beautifully and brought his precious bundle so much closer that he could look lovingly at her face. The little family was truly a picture in her eyes.

“Oh, of course dear. You go and pick up whatever else you need. I’ll keep this for you for when you get back.” The woman beamed at the young family.

“Thank you so much,” Buffy said, her hands clasping the older woman’s matronly body in a spontaneous hug.

Spike was beginning to worry about how into this scenario the Slayer was getting. It was becoming a bit disturbing. Except for the affectionate way she seemed to claim his arm. That was kinda sexy in a really innocent way. Yeah, that made him feel pretty good.

They left the carrier and Spike walked off, his big boots clomping on the floor, his duster swishing impressively around his legs and a baby attached to his front in a slick black baby sling. He ignored Buffy’s quiet giggles as he led them out of the shop.

They walked quietly for a while before they passed a store that looked like it sold clothes for children and Buffy took no time in hauling him inside. An hour later, Lia was starting to fret, and Buffy was loaded down with clothes.

“Oi, pick her out a red top and a pair of leather pants.”

Buffy looked at him horrified. “What the hell?”

“You can’t dress the mite up in all that pastel pink. She needs somethin’ a bit classy.”

“She’s a baby, Spike. Besides, I’m pretty sure they don’t make leather pants for baby girls.”

Spike pouted, then turned on his heel and went to lean against the counter. “Bloody hurry up then, luv. Clock’s tickin’ and the bit’s gettin’ hungry.”

Buffy looked moody as they wound the trip up, a last minute dash to buy some formula and they were beginning to collect all the big stuff. Some big guys from the mall helped them lift it all to the car.

Packed to the rafters, Spike thanked his lucky stars for his Oldsmobile that had a boatload of space and settled the baby in and drove carefully off.

“Buckle yourself in, Slayer. It’s Home Sweet Home for us now.” He leered at her top, letting his eyes slide all the way over.

“Time all good Slayers and Vampires retired for the night.”

And he left her body to burn.

 

Next